by M Field
"What are you doing here?" I exclaimed, leaping into a bear hug. He laughed as he caught me.
“Oh thanks, you’re not happy to see me?” He released my arms and I slid back down, stepping back to look at him. His hair was longer so the curls were a bit crazy, and he was growing a little goatee. My mother was going to have fun with that. She hated it when he looked unkempt.
“Of course I am! Just wondering why you’re here? Is there a twenty-first birthday party on or something?”
I wanted to ask if he had come alone, but I didn’t have the courage. For almost two years, I had barely seen Alex.
Up until exams, he and I still ran every Sunday morning—I went from running my other track to going back and running with him again on our original one. Our friendship had repaired almost to what it had been, with the help of the occasional friendly sleepover. But once the boys had graduated and gotten their acceptance letters, Alex made himself scarce. The only time I’d seen him was when my mother had cracked it and forced him to come over for dinner, two nights before the boys were due to leave. Even then, he was polite to everyone, but at the same time distant. I guess the sooner he’d cut ties with us, the freer he was.
As I stood, waiting for Robbie to answer, I wondered if Alex would be weird if I saw him again. Melbourne had changed him. The times he came back to visit were few and far between. At most, he would come to the lake with us to swim, but he barely spoke to me. Instead, he would offer a weak smile and devote his time to shooting the shit with Robbie. Alex treated me like a distant relative at these gatherings. It hurt, but there was no point fighting for something that didn’t exist.
He went to the bonfire parties if he happened to be around, and I spent most of my time glaring across the fire at him while he flirted with the resident thin, blonde bimbo. It was official; I had developed the infamous crush on the neighbour. What a fucking cliché’. Instead of making a complete fool of myself, though, I buried my feelings deep. I could plainly see that if he could barely bring himself to converse with me, there would be no point in trying anything. So I did what any other normal girl would do; I started flirting with other guys, namely Kyle.
Kyle had begun attending the same parties we went to, especially the river ones. Those were a lot more fun and especially chaotic. It wouldn’t be too long into the night before someone would throw aerosol cans into the bonfire or the Merrek boys would drive their Utes with their headlights off while trying to navigate the river track.
"Get in the car and I'll explain why," Robbie answered, opening the door and climbing in. I followed suit and chucked my duffle at my feet. He started the car and headed out of the parking lot. I looked over at him and noticed that his eyes were downcast.
“You all right, Robbie? Is something wrong?”
Robbie frowned and pressed his lips together. He sighed. “Alex’s dad was involved in a serious car accident late last night.”
I gasped and covered my mouth with my hand. “What? Is he all right? Was anyone hurt? Why didn’t anyone say anything this morning?”
“Geez, Trice. Just slow the hell down. Mum only found out this morning, but I knew last night because Alex lives with me, remember? It was really late when it happened, and Alex didn’t want me to worry Mum because it was …” He sighed again. “… too late.”
I blinked hard and stared at his face. “What do you mean, too late? Is he …? Did he …?”
“Yes, Trice. He’s dead. He was on his way home from the races and slammed into the huge gum tree on Dover Road. He lost control around the bend and slammed into it. The idiot wasn’t wearing a seat belt, and they reckon he died on impact. Luckily, he was by himself.”
“Oh no! Poor Alex! That’s terrible. How’s his mum? Is Lily okay?”
"I haven’t seen them yet; we drove back this morning and just got here when Mum said where you were.”
My heart ached in sympathy for Alex and his family. It was hard to imagine what it would be like to lose a parent, albeit a real arsehole one.
It was going to feel strange seeing him. Two years was a long time for us, considering we used to see each other practically every day.
“I’m going to call him when we get back to see how things are. If I go over, do you want to come?”
I shrugged. “Do you think he’ll want to see us? Maybe he just wants to be with his family?”
In my heart, I wanted to see him, but knowing how proud Alex was and that he’d try to hide any sort of pain from us, there was no way he would want us there to see him mourn his dad. I was not sure even Robbie knew the extent of their relationship, and there wasn’t a chance that I was going to tell him.
We arrived home, and noticed straight away that Nonna’s car was in the driveway. For the past forty years, she had driven the same Mercedes around. It was a silver/blue colour and was in pristine condition. Despite all the dirty country roads, it was always clean. Before she went on long trips—our house an hour away was considered as such she would take it to the car wash and clean it. Our driveway was a dirt road, so it always surprised me that she would do this.
Gathering my bag, I climbed out of Robbie’s car and headed inside. Nonna and our parents were downstairs in the kitchen, seated around the dining room table drinking coffee.
“Ciao, Nonna,” I greeted as I approached her for a kiss. She placed her espresso cup on the tabletop and turned to put her arms around my neck, while delivering me a loud kiss on my
cheek.
“Cara, che magra che sei!” Always harping on about how skinny I was, she reached over to
the plate of sliced cake my mamma had placed out and grabbed one for me. “You need to eat!”
Rolling my eyes, I gladly took it and sat down. Munching away, I took a moment to survey
what was going on.
“So, have you spoken to Meg? How are she and her kids holding up?” I asked, mid chew.
“I only spoke with her when she called this morning. She told me that she didn’t want visitors as she just wanted to see Alex and Lily. But I’m sure she will let me know if things change. At least he was alone in the car. It’s sad, but a blessing too.”
“Mamma! The hell?” Robbie exclaimed, “His body’s not even cold, yet. That’s Alex’s dad.”
She sipped her coffee and look directly at Robbie.
“Robbie, there is so much you do not know, and that I cannot tell you. But trust me when I say that it was a blessing. Leave it at that.”
On her last breath, she turned her gaze to me and raised an eyebrow. I froze and swallowed, wondering if she had any idea about his home life. But as she held my gaze, her eyebrow raised as her gaze intensified. My suspicions were verified. Oh, shit.
“W...well, um, I guess we’ll give them some time as a family for a few days. I’m sure if they need us, Meg will let us know.”
Finishing my piece of cake, I excused myself and headed to my room. I had barely made it into the doorway when I felt my mamma close behind me. I walked over to my bed and stared back at her.
Feigning innocence, I asked, “Everything okay, Mamma?”
She pursed her lips and squinted her eyes. “You knew,” she began, “about his father, am I right?”
My breath caught as I nodded, looking down at my feet.
“Sad to find out afterwards from other people gossiping in town. You should have told me, cara. We would have stopped him before this.”
My eyes shot up as I glared back at my mum.
“Like we would have stopped that prick, Mamma.” She stiffened at my tone. “He was friends with those bastard cops in town and to top it off, no one noticed. The bruises Alex had—people thought it was because he was reckless. Nothing would’ve changed. I promised him. Yes, I hated it, but he made me promise. There was no way that I was going to betray him when his family life was so shit. Besides, we hardly speak anymore. He’s at uni and I’m here. ”
Mamma’s gaze weakened and she stepped closer to me. With her arms outstretched,
I rose from my bed and cuddled her.
“Cara, you are too loyal. But I understand. Next time—tell me. Okay?”
I nodded into her shoulder and gave her a quick squeeze before stepping back. I grabbed my phone out of my bag and waved it, thus breaking the tension in the room.
“Just got to call back Trinity. Sounded pretty urgent.” I half chuckled and started dialling. On the third ring, she answered in a low tone.
“Hello?” she whispered.
“Trin, it’s me, Trice.”
“Yeah, I know that from the caller ID, you noob.”
“Ha ha, very funny. Why are you whispering?”
“My throat hurts. I’ve had a shit day.”
“You all right?”
She paused and then whispered even softer, “No.”
My gut tightened. “What’s up? Did you see those bitches down the street again?”
A couple of months back, Haze, Trin and I had gone to the movies to see Seven Pounds. We three single girls decided it would be a fabulous idea to torture our hearts by seeing a single father fight tooth and nail to build a life for him and his son. We had heard that we needed tissues, but were surprised by the tidal wave of tears.
Once the movie was over, we’d quickly dashed to the toilets to get rid of our raccoon eyes. As we’d left, we’d run straight into Stacey and a few people we didn’t recognise. The tension had instantly ignited, and Trin had made a point of standing in front of me to block her off. I was done being afraid, so I gently pulled Trin to my side and turned to walk away. I’d heard a faint “slut” and I’d swiftly turned back to glare at Stacey. She’d stood there with her arms crossed and her eyebrow raised, glaring at me. I’d shaken my head and said, “You’re a fucking idiot, Stacey. Grow up.” Her spine had stiffened as she’d glared at me.
Before she could respond, Trin had stepped forward and begun taunting her. “So, Stacey how is the land of VD treating you? Maimed anyone yet? Hacked off a limb when someone’s cut you off in traffic or some other bullshit reason that your fucking psychotic mind believes?” Trinity had stared her down, continuing, “Perhaps, you managed to screw all the boys at your new school, or have you upgraded to the teachers?” She’d giggled, and continued again. “Oh that’s right, last I heard it was the substitute teacher, right? Do you have daddy issues or something?”
Stacey’s face had blanched as she’d recoiled away from us. Bingo. As petty as it was facing off with her, we hadn’t had any trouble since. Sometimes you had to fight bitch to bitch in order to pacify things. Or, in our case, to be rid of it. Trin had tried to put it down to PMS that day, but I’d put it down to loyalty.
“No,” Trin grizzled, “enough talking about those girls. Stop bringing them up.”
I cringed; she was right. I needed to let it go.
“Sorry, hon, old habits die hard. So tell me, what’s got you in a snit?”
“Trice … my mum’s got cancer.”
My heart seized in my chest. No way.
“What?” I gasped. “What do you mean? What did she tell you? How did—”
She cut me off, “She went for a check-up and they found an extensive tumour in her ovaries. It’s bad, Trice. She had no symptoms, just had a feeling. She …” Her breath caught as she struggled to tell me. “… has only been given a year or two at best.”
“Oh no, Trin! That’s shit, babe.”
She began to sob and I felt powerless to help her. Trinity’s mother, Harmony, was the most eccentric but down to earth woman I knew. She always looked like she was stuck in the 70s in her bohemian-style flowing dresses, while also being one of the fittest people I knew.
“Oh, honey,” I sobbed. “I am so, so sorry. How is your mum? How’s your dad?”
“Pops has taken it pretty hard, but Mum’s showing a thick skin. She’s a fighter, Trice. I know she is going to fight this so hard … but I am so scared.”
We continued the conversation for another hour until we had exhausted ourselves. It felt ridiculous to try to console my friend with the right words, as I felt guilty for having a healthy family. It felt so damn unfair.
I barely slept that night, between worrying about Trin and her family, and feeling pity for Alex and his. I lay awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering how someone like Trinity’s mother—who embraced life and cherished her family—could be dealt such a life-sucking blow, when Alex’s father, Malcolm, repeatedly delivered a shitty life to his family until his selfishness lead to his own death. It just wasn’t fair.
Sunday night I caved and sent Alex a text.
Me: Hey, I hope you’re okay.
I put my phone down, not thinking that he would respond, and was surprised when it pinged.
A: Yeah, thanks. A bit of a shock, but I guess that’s life.
I didn’t know how to respond without sounding like an idiot, and deliberated over what to send.
Me: Yeah, I guess. Let me know if there’s anything we can do.
A: Okay, thanks.
I placed my phone on my bedside table and got into bed. Tomorrow was going to be a terrible day. I knew that he harboured a lot of resentment towards his father, and I only hoped it wasn’t eating away at him.
Chapter Twelve
“Zero”
Smashing Pumpkins
Alex
The occasional sniffle distracted me from the casket. Why were people so sad? Didn't they realise what a worthless arsehole he was? My collar felt tight; was it hot in here? Pulling on my collar, I shook my head and rolled back my shoulders. I couldn’t seem to sit still. This suit made me feel imprisoned, like I was in a cage. With beads of sweat pouring down my back, I couldn’t wait until we got home so I could rip this fuckin’ monkey suit off.
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to hone in my tension before my mother noticed. Not like she’d care too much, anyway; I’m sure the Valium that the doctor gave her to calm down had her seeing clouds in the church. After another exhale, I looked towards the front again and stared numbly at the casket adorned with flowers; a colourful assortment of lilies, fuchsias, and gerberas. All much too colourful for what he deserved. I shook my head, trying to clear the thoughts before I uttered them aloud. I’ve been quiet about him for this long; what’s another half an hour?
My mother sat by me, clutching one of my hands in hers, plus my sister’s hand on her other side. Lily rarely came home. It surprised me that she even came here, but when I looked over the top of Mum's head at her, I was surprised once more to see her expression as tears rolled down her cheeks. The fuck? Did she not remember anything? I quietly grunted and turned away. This show of emotion was testing my nerves. Part of me wondered for a moment if it was all an act, if she wanted the world to think she gave a shit, but the sincere look in her eyes told me it was real. Yep, I was being an arsehole. I was the only emotionless git here and I was his son.
My mother had asked me to say a few words but I’d refused. There was no way that I could speak today without launching into a tirade so bitter and full of hatred that these parishioners would gasp, a confession where my mother's dismissal of me would show even more. Nope, into the facade I go. Instead, my uncle offered to speak, which was fuckin’ fine by me. Poor Uncle Brad had lost his drinking buddy.
While Uncle Brad began talking about what a kind and loving father Dad was, I couldn't help but stiffen. I tried not to dredge up any memories, but I felt the anger curling itself around me. My mother squeezed my hand, and I realised I'd clutched onto hers. I unclasped it quickly and brought my own hands back to me, folding them into my lap. As Brad talked about Dad as a kid, I couldn’t help but remember the family holidays we would go on when I was a child. How Dad would take us to a beach somewhere every holiday and we would practise throwing and kicking the football to each other. How each holiday would start so well, with Dad being happy, and then after a drink, he’d turn into the bastard who couldn’t be tamed.
Anytime I thought of the beach, I remembered being disappointed. How
could something so beautiful and calm on the surface, have the capacity to sweep your legs away from underneath you? Had Dad ever loved us? I was sure he had. Had he ever felt guilt? Of course. But did I want to foster a bond with him now that it was too late? Not a chance. No guilt there. This, “piece of shit”, according to him, was moving on.
I’d stopped listening to Brad’s bullshit eulogy after phrases including “doting husband” and “loving father” attacked my ears. His Google search for eulogies had sure paid off.
I began counting the petals on the casket. Anything to distract me from the web of lies our father had managed to weave around our community. I thought the anger I felt would disappear, but it hadn't. Words left unsaid, forgiveness never uttered left blowing in the wind, out of my grasp.
While I continued counting the petals, I subconsciously picked up on my and my sister's name, causing me to flinch each and every time. It spurred me on to deepen my concentration on the petals and my resolve to not shed one tear. Who knew what memories Lily was thinking about? I didn’t want to be inside her mind right now. I had enough going on in my own.
Once the eulogy was complete, my uncle left the podium to sit down. The congregation was silent while they took a moment and the soft piano chords of Eric Clapton’s “Tears in Heaven” began to play. My resolve to stay calm was instantly threatened. Why did Mum choose a song about a father mourning the accidental loss of his son for a piece-of-shit drunk who beat up his family? My need to count petals was outweighed by the anger that I felt. What type of son was I?
As the service concluded, the priest told the congregation to offer their condolences at the cemetery. We stood and robotically made our way to the hearse, and a cold drive to the cemetery took place. Thoughts of what I should have, could have said ran through my head on repeat, trapping me in my guilt. Was it obvious that I wasn’t sad? Did I need to cry?
Remorse swirled in my mind while the rest of the service took place. Luckily, the conclusion to the service was short. We buried him in a grave near a tranquil hill, which seemed ironic, considering how much noise he’d made in our lives. Watching his casket descend, I couldn’t help but berate him in my mind. Flashes of his temper continued to assault me. Him kicking me in the ribs. The coffin descended one inch. His punch assaulting my face. Two inches. His grip, choking me. Three inches. Once the coffin had reached the bottom, I stood quickly to check that he was there. To check that the coffin would remain sealed shut and that he would never, ever come for me again.