by Steph Bowe
She tries again to fall asleep, but it doesn’t come as easily as before.
PART TWO
July/August
Nina
It’s Friday night, the fifth of July. Nina’s seventeenth birthday. They’re having a family dinner at home to celebrate. Her idea. Something low-key.
‘You could’ve had some of your little friends over,’ says Sophia, sitting on the couch cross-legged, rereading The Secret. She likes books that tell her she is entitled to money and success.
Nina ignores her mother’s condescension. She will be going out with Spencer and Bridie later. She’s trying to keep her two lives separate: her life with her family and her life away from them. For everyone’s sake. To avoid complication, or her mother’s meddling, or her friends finding out what her mother is really like.
Nina is lying across an armchair in the living room, fiddling with her phone. Today Tonight is blaring on the TV: how to save money on your grocery bill. No one suggests shoplifting as a strategy.
She texts Spencer: Did you know that if you add up all of your blinks, you spend an hour a day in the dark?
She thinks of another: Did you know that when you were in the womb, you had amazing night vision, but could only see in black and white?
Which leads into a favourite of hers: Did you know that your pupils dilate when you are looking at someone you love?
And then of course she has to add: Or someone you hate? And just before you fall asleep? And when you’re under water?
She’s not supposed to send more than two texts in a row, is she? She’s bad at social etiquette.
Paul is out on the balcony, cooking lamb cutlets on the barbecue. He has a cigarette in one hand and tongs in the other. The wind looks ready to pick him up and lift him and the barbecue into a cyclone, then set them down in Oz. Tom is on his laptop at the dining table, playing a video game.
‘Are you still enjoying the work at the vet’s?’ asks Sophia.
Nina nods. ‘The people are really nice. I’ve got a favourite cat there and everything. Probably best not to get attached to a cat someone else will adopt, though.’
‘You always did like cats.’
She decides to test the waters. ‘I was thinking I might become a vet.’
‘Gosh,’ says Sophia. ‘You know, when you were born I could never imagine you being this grown up. Seventeen. Almost an adult.’ This does not really count as a response.
‘Seventeen’s a weird age,’ says Nina.
‘Yeah,’ says Tom, looking up from his game for a moment. ‘You still can’t get drunk.’
‘Tom, really,’ says Sophia, but smiles at him.
‘That’s the only reason everyone looks forward to turning eighteen,’ he says. ‘It’s not like anyone’s excited to vote.’
There are three hundred and sixty-five days until Nina is eighteen. She is not looking forward to voting or drinking.
‘They’re always talking these days about twenty-somethings who won’t move out of their parents’ houses,’ says Sophia, putting her book aside. ‘I don’t see why it’s such a problem. The big flaw in today’s society is that there is no value placed on the family unit. In other cultures, three generations will live in a house together. But in western culture it’s all divide and conquer now. Capitalism is the problem. The system just wants more money out of you. The industrial revolution ruined everything. What I’m saying is that you don’t have to leave the nest.’
Perhaps this would be a valid thing to say if there actually was a nest. A life on the road, endless bad motels, and a few months in a rental every now and then, does not constitute a stable family situation, let alone a nest. Sophia is very close to sounding like a conspiracy theorist.
Her phone pings. Do you have unlimited texts? Spencer asks. The scientific word for pupil dilation is mydriasis.
She texts back: Did you just Google that?
‘Who are you texting?’ asks Sophia, with a little too much intensity.
‘A girl from school,’ says Nina.
‘Did everyone wish you a happy birthday today?’
Nina nods. Everyone who knew it was her birthday did, which was only Spencer, Bridie, and whoever Bridie informed throughout the day.
No. I’m a human dictionary, texts Spencer. I’ll check if your pupils dilate next time I see you.
‘This time seventeen years ago you were an hour old,’ observes Sophia. ‘Don’t times change?’ She sounds wistful.
I have a new favourite word. Jayus. Indonesian for a joke that is so unfunny and badly told you have to laugh, texts Spencer. Sums up everything I say perfectly, doesn’t it?
‘We’ll do gifts after dinner, shall we?’ says Sophia. ‘Your father and I have got you a nice piece of jewellery. I do hope you like it. Come over and I’ll give you a birthday hug.’
‘All right!’ announces Paul, coming in from the balcony, reeking of cigarette smoke. He has a plateful of charred cutlets. ‘Dinner is ready, birthday girl!’
Three hundred and sixty-four and a half days.
Nina
Almost four months after her arrival at Evandale, Nina is called out of an English class. Her mother is waiting at reception, laughing uproariously with The Caro. Tom’s there too, looking bored. Sophia’s hair is up in a bun and she’s wearing a cable-knit jumper and blue jeans.
‘What’s happened?’ asks Nina.
‘Thought we’d have the afternoon off,’ her mother says, grinning. ‘Have a bit of an adventure. Why didn’t you tell me your principal is such a delight?’
The Caro beams. Nina is filled with a sense of dread.
‘Your husband has been a great History teacher for us,’ says The Caro. ‘The students have been very engaged. Such a shame you can’t stay.’
‘Wonderful,’ Sophia says. ‘It’s been so good to be here.’
‘We’re leaving?’ Nina hisses at her mother, as soon as the front door of the school is closed behind them and they’re walking across the grounds towards the parking lot. She shifts her schoolbag onto her other shoulder. She can feel her heartbeat in her ears.
‘I don’t appreciate your tone, Nina,’ Sophia replies, looking taken aback. ‘You knew we were. I’d imagined you’d only be surprised if I announced we were staying.’
‘We don’t need to leave.’
‘No. We want to.’ Sophia strides ahead. Nina tries to keep up. Tom dawdles behind. He is silent.
‘I would be looking at your use of the word “we” there, because I don’t think you’ve consulted the rest of us.’
‘Consulted? Darling, you’re my child. This is called parenting. I make the decisions.’
‘What about Dad? What does Dad think? Dad has half of the decision-making ability, doesn’t he?’ Nina can hear the desperation in her own voice.
‘His contract’s almost over here. He wants to move on too, find work somewhere else. Don’t you enjoy going on adventures, darling?’ She turns and smiles, and she sounds so kind and thoughtful, but she isn’t really listening to Nina.
‘I want to stay.’
‘I cannot think why. This is one of the least exciting towns we’ve stayed in. Is it the private school? I thought you’d find the snobs annoying.’
‘What about you, Tom?’ Nina asks, glancing back at him. ‘You want to stay too, don’t you?’
Tom shrugs, noncommittal. ‘Whatever.’
When they reach the car, she throws the keys to Nina who fumbles and almost drops them.
‘You want to drive?’ Sophia smiles, seemingly forgetting about Nina’s wish to stay. Nina got her learner’s permit last year, in another state, but her mother rarely gives her an opportunity to drive. ‘Tom, put on the L-plates, please!’
Sophia had leased the blue sedan when they arrived here. Paul has the other car, the one he’s owned for years, a black station wagon. This car is a mess inside, filled with magazines and papers and fast food wrappers. Despite being neat at home, Sophia is the opposite when it comes to the car.
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Tom slouches in the back and Sophia sits in the passenger seat. ‘Little old lady, five points,’ she jokes as they approach a zebra crossing and wait for an elderly woman with a walker. Nina doesn’t smile.
‘Shouldn’t you be instructing me how to drive?’ she asks. She’s only spent ten or so hours driving in the year she’s had her permit, and always with her father supervising.
‘It’s an automatic, Nina. It’s like a toy car. You’re doing fine. Tom would probably be able to drive it. Actually Tom, we could always let you have a drive around a parking lot later. We’ll wait until the shopping centre’s closed, shall we?’ She turns around to look at him.
‘Great,’ says Tom.
‘I don’t think there’s a need for Tom to learn to drive yet,’ says Nina. ‘He’s too young to be responsible.’
‘Rubbish!’ he says, putting on his iPod earphones.
‘Nina, Tom already has parents. You don’t need to worry about him. Take a right here, would you? Has it occurred to you that you’re being a bit irrational at the moment? Not everything is bad and robbery-related. Kids learn to drive at Tom’s age out in the country.’
‘We’re not in the country,’ says Nina.
‘We could go to the country.’
‘And I’m not being irrational. You’re the one with the compulsive need to move on.’
‘I don’t know what your friends are like at this school, but I certainly hope they speak to their parents with more respect than you show me. Anyway, who decided that humans should live in one place and stagnate? Spend their lives socialising with the same boring people? You think that’s a more fulfilling life than ours? You think spending your days doing the same work in the same place—your evenings watching TV in the same bloody house for years on end—is a life to aspire to?’
‘That would perhaps be a valid point if the reason we were always moving wasn’t simply to prevent the police from catching up with us.’
‘You need to follow the signs to the highway. We’re going to a town that’s a bit over an hour south. You can drive at the speed limit, you know. Driving too slowly is also dangerous.’
‘And you’re so concerned with living safely!’
‘I would calm down a bit if I were you, Nina. I would hate you to say something you’ll regret. I know this is a normal teenage phase. I went through it too. Okay? If you were aware that this is all going to pass, you’d behave differently. Now why do you want to stay? Please explain this to me.’
‘I can’t. You wouldn’t understand.’
‘You wouldn’t understand… Oh, how I love those words. It’s so condescending but people don’t seem to realise that. It implies you have total knowledge of another person’s lived experience and capacity for empathy, which you can never actually have. You can only see inside your own head. How do you know I wouldn’t understand?’
‘I don’t. I just feel like I belong here.’ Nina tries to concentrate on driving.
Sophia considers this for a moment. ‘It’s all perception, Nina. You think you belong, and so you think it’s true. I think popular culture is to blame for people feeling the imperative to find a place where they belong. And advertising. Buy this car, buy these clothes, and you will fit in. Like magic. The reality is that your family are the only people you truly belong with.’
They’re silent for the next half an hour. Tom keeps listening to his iPod; it’s turned up so loud they can hear the bass in the front. Sophia is the first to speak again.
‘You know when you think about something so much that it doesn’t make any sense?’ she says. ‘Like when you say a word a dozen times. Like, “dozen”. It stops meaning anything. It’s just a bunch of letters, a bunch of lines. Like, if you really think about money, it’s meaningless. Giving people little bits of paper in return for some thing, or a card that has a certain number attached to it, that’s even stranger. But no matter how much you think about the concept of family, no matter how much you break it down, it always, always makes sense. Your blood, that’s forever. That’s all you’ve got.’
Nina stays quiet. She’s heard variations of this speech a million times before. Usually she just agrees, doesn’t contest a thing. Not this time.
‘What about love?’ asks Nina. She wants desperately to challenge her mother on this, but she also has to focus on driving. She doesn’t want to get pulled over; who knows what weapons or cash her mother has stashed away in the car. ‘Isn’t that even more important than family? More meaningful?’
‘Love is transitory, like money,’ Sophia says. ‘It’s subjective and fleeting. You can’t prove it. People love cake and shoes and boy bands. It’s all about circumstance and feeling.’ She says ‘feeling’ like it’s a dirty word. She leans back and props her feet up on the dash. Nina wishes she wouldn’t do that. ‘Love is not about truth. You could love everyone in the world if you really wanted to. But it wouldn’t last. The bond you have with your family is a permanent one. Romantic love is incredibly overrated. I think we have poets and musicians to blame for that. You know, I could have been a motivational speaker.’
‘You still could be. You’re not even forty yet. Plenty of people change careers.’ She wants to say: Plenty of people settle down and give up illegal activities when they realise it endangers their children, but she’s not sure how true it is.
‘You’re wrong, Nina. They say—psychologists say—that who you are at the age of six is who you’ll be your whole life. Your personality’s set. I never went to university, I barely finished high school, so I’m not really in a position to disagree with psychologists, am I? I was robbing people when I was six. I’m set. You’re set. Tom’s set.’
‘Why are you telling me this?’
‘We have to share things with each other, you know?’
They’re quiet again. Sophia’s obviously shared her portion of philosophical musings for the day already. After forty minutes on the highway, she tells Nina to take the next turn off. They enter a big country town. She slows down. The town is all wide roads and old but well-maintained buildings. They pass vast parks and a lake, and a number of bed and breakfasts and a winery, before they reach the centre of town. It is a clear and beautiful day.
‘Okay, let’s stop here,’ says Sophia. She points to a space on the side of the road just ahead.
Nina parallel parks. Across the road on the corner, there’s a quaint-looking brownstone building with a high roof and frosted-glass double doors. It seems busy, people bustling in and out. It could be a pub or a post office or some other establishment, but it’s not. It’s a bank.
Nina is not surprised.
‘I like it,’ says her mother. ‘Do you like it?’
‘It’s just like the other ones,’ says Tom. He winds down his window. He’s always been involved in casing the banks, even though he has never participated in a robbery. He sounds unimpressed. This is not what Sophia was aiming for.
‘You know, I’ve always been such a fan of those names the media give to serial criminals. “Angel of Death”, “Postcard Bandit”, things like that,’ she says. ‘I was hoping they’d pick up on my love of small, country banks, the banks nobody robs, the neglected ones, but I think we have to be a bit more overt. I mean, the old modus operandi was working well, but we need to keep it fresh. Now, we won’t be ready by the holidays next month, but I’m thinking we can start here in the December school holidays. I’m working towards “The Holiday Bandits”.’
There’s a long silence in the car.
‘Is this a game to you?’ Nina asks her mother. The question is a genuine one.
‘Life’s a game, Nina,’ she says. ‘It would be delusional to suggest otherwise. Is “bandits” too old school?’
‘I like it,’ Tom offers weakly.
‘You mispronounced modus operandi. It’s pronounced like “die” at the end,’ Nina adds.
‘I know you’ve been talking with your father, Nina. He’s spoken to me about it. You don’t need to worry so much. Life
is what you make it and, to be honest, I’m not sure why you want to make yours like everyone else’s.’
‘I just…’ Nina is sick of her mother, sick of the robberies, but she doesn’t want to alienate her. If she doesn’t have her family, she has nothing. ‘I find it stressful.’ This is a very, very watered-down version of what she’s actually feeling.
Sophia reaches over and pats Nina’s hand, still resting on the steering wheel. ‘You’ll come around. I just think the atmosphere here’s perfect. So old-fashioned. We can pretend we’re in the 1940s. You can come along this time, Tom.’
‘Awesome!’ says Tom. The moods of twelve-year-olds seem to entirely lack consistency. He hated her last week.
Nina feels ill.
‘Hey, I’ve got a game,’ Sophia says. They’re five minutes from home, passing a shopping centre. It’s been a two-hour round trip. ‘Let’s move someone’s car. Pull over.’
Nina wants to get home, sleep for a few hours, try to suppress the dread of leaving, the dread of the next robbery, but she parks at the side of the road because her mother is clearly on a mission…again. She also wants to see Spencer before she leaves. Not to say goodbye—she doesn’t think she can—but just see him. Before they go away and start planning for the robbery.
There’s a car park opposite, outside the shopping centre.
‘Go on, Nina. I’ve got a coat hanger here somewhere.’
Tom passes it from the back seat. ‘Here you are.’
This is Sophia’s disturbing idea of a game. ‘Pick a car and move it across the car park and we’ll watch for the reaction from here, yes?’
Nina looks across at the car park, thinking how stupid this task is. ‘What do you want me to prove to you?’ Nina asks.
‘Nothing, darling. This is your problem. You need to relax. Are you morally opposed to having fun? You’re not stealing the car. You’re not borrowing it, either. You’re moving it. It’ll be entertaining. The owner won’t think twice about it. After the initial confusion, of course.’
‘Then why do I have to do it?’
‘Oh, you know, keep your hand in. Tom reckons it’ll be funny, don’t you, Tom?’