Hey Brother

by Jarrah Dundler

  When I walked into the quad at recess, Ricky, Jade and Jessica were already sitting together at the table that was usually just mine and Ricky’s. As soon as I got there, Ricky leapt up, grabbed Jade’s arm and announced they were going somewhere more private. They scooted through the gap between C and D Block and the toilets, heading for that jacaranda tree where kids went to smoke durries, or to pash.

  I sat down opposite Jessica, put my shaking hands under the table, and cleared my throat. I was about to ask her the first of ten questions I had come up with during History—So, what do you think of our school?—when she said, ‘So, did you cop heaps of shit from your parents about your suspension?’

  ‘Huh?’ I said. ‘Nah, not really, hey. Well, I did at first. But I reckon Mum’s cooled off a bit now ’cause Shaun’s coming home.’ ‘Really? That’s awesome! Awesome he’s coming home and awesome you didn’t cop much shit. Man, when I got suspended from my old school—’

  ‘What? You got suspended? What for?’

  ‘Wagging with my boyfriend and drinking.’

  Drinking? Wagging? Boyfriend? ‘Huh?’

  ‘Oops sorry, I mean ex-boyfriend. He was a bit of a dick. No, a major dick. We skipped school one day and got the train to the beach, where we found a spot in the dunes to, well…Anyhow, on the train on the way home we bumped into one of our teachers. Busted! Mum and Paul were livid. After that they got super-strict and Mum got really funny about boys, which didn’t make any sense ’cause Michael’d broken it off with me—probably ’cause I wouldn’t give him what he wanted in the dunes—and moved on to this skank, Lisa Hall, who was renowned for putting out. And when we were getting ready to move here Mum and Paul were looking at sending me to that all-girls school—’

  ‘What? Over in Big Town?’

  ‘Yeah…Anyhow, I managed to talk them out of it.’

  ‘Well, I’m sure chuffed you did!’

  Jessica smiled, and her eyes lit up. ‘Me too, Trysten. Me too. Anyhow, right before my first day here Paul gave me this big lecture about how I wasn’t to get up to the kind of things with boys that I had at my old school. Carrying on like he’s my real dad.’

  ‘Where is he—your real dad, I mean?’

  Soon as I asked it she broke eye contact, looking down to the corner of the table, and I thought I’d fucked everything up, that she was going to say he was dead or something.

  ‘Shit,’ I said. ‘Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.’

  She looked back at me and smiled. Not a real smile, but. More like a smile a littlun does when they’ve had a real bad stack and are trying their hardest to be brave.

  She sighed. ‘It’s okay. Truth is I don’t know where he is right now. Haven’t heard from him in a while. He left me and Mum when I was a baby and since then has been living all over the country. Up north. Down south. Out west. Anywhere but near us. He gets around.’

  She trailed off and looked away again. Shit, I’d ballsed up for sure. I didn’t know what to say, so I just said the first thing that came to mind.

  ‘Gets around, hey? Sounds a bit like my Uncle Trev!’

  ‘Yeah?’ Her eyes were wide and it looked like a bit of the sadness had left them. ‘Tell me about him.’

  I told her about how Trev was staying with us. All the partying he and Mum’d done, and about the drugs, and how I was ready to blue him, and about the pants-shitting look on his face when Mum burst into the shed. And when I told her that she laughed. I’d heard her laugh before, but she’d never laughed at anything I said, and I swear it was like music to my ears.

  ‘That was sweet of you,’ she said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Looking out for your mum like that.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘I guess.’

  Jessica was just opening her mouth to say something else when the bell for third period rang.

  I looked over her shoulder to see Jade and Ricky emerging from between the blocks. Ricky was grinning. Jade was blushing, scanning the playground to see who was looking at her.

  ‘Great hanging with ya, Trysten. Catch you at lunch, yeah?’

  Then Jessica gently touched the back of my hand, which, I was shocked to see, had crept to the middle of the table.

  We talked again all through lunch and I had her in stitches—this time giving her an impersonation of Old Greggy Boy with his grumpy pants on. Then in Civic Issues last period she sat next to me and we chatted away while the hippy kids crawled up Leckie’s arsehole. She leant in close, angling her body towards me, playing with her beachy hair, telling me all about the overseas holidays she’d been on. Even though I’d heard some of it eavesdropping on her and Jade on the bus, I lapped it all up like her words were milk and I was a hungry cat. Then on the bus home we kept talking, and the whole way she sat just a smidge closer than in the morning so that our forearms were touching.

  When I got home I skipped and danced and jigged and hummed up the driveway. Top-a-the-fucken-world!

  Halfway up I lifted my arm to my nose and sniffed my shirt-sleeve. Yep, the faintest trace—something vanilla-scented and whatever laundry powder she used.

  ‘Afternoon!’

  Trev’s greeting boomed like a cannon. But when I looked over to him, leaning against the wall of the dairy, he was smiling. Not a real smile, though. A big fat fake one, all clenched teeth and flared nostrils. Really bunging it on.

  He nodded curtly, took a step forward and said, ‘And how do we do on this fine afternoon, Master Black?’

  He sounded like one of those ye old English fellas from that TV show Mum got hooked on a few years back—the one with all the fellas with the tall black hats who chased the girls with the frilly bonnets—all posh, well-to-do and civilised.

  Civilised. Yeah, like Mum had said.

  I smiled back, big, wide, gritting my teeth, jutting my chin out, raising my eyebrows. ‘Why, good afternoon to you too, Master McCormack. Thank you for asking. I do very well indeed.’

  ‘Grand, young man. Just grand. Pleasant day at the college, then? Were the teaching fellows of satisfactory standard for that thirsty mind of yours? Learn anything new?’

  ‘Why, yes, in fact I did.’ I smiled, properly this time, remembering the warmth of Jessica’s forearm against mine. ‘And you, sir?’ I nodded towards the dairy, the empty pile of beer cans out the front. ‘Another busy day in the estate, then?’

  ‘Well,’ he said, and then he wasn’t so much smiling as sneering, and his voice went back to normal. ‘Yeah, sure was busy. Hard work getting that place into shape. Still some filth on the wall I can’t get off. Reckon ya could come—’

  ‘Sorry!’ I said. ‘Gotta go!’

  And I flew up that driveway like a bat out of hell.

  10

  Shaun returned from Afghanistan right in the middle of a heatwave. The afternoon was so hot it was like the whole valley was one great big oven. The front verandah, where I waited for him, was the worst. The low roof had been thrashed by the sun all day, trapping all the hot air under it, and the occasional breeze only brought more hot air.

  I sat for an hour patting my thigh and tapping my foot, eyes locked on the bend in Findle Creek Road, waiting to catch the first sight of the Commodore. The only times my eyes strayed from the road were to glance over to the massive fig tree that grew at the top of the paddock. An old eastern grey kangaroo—a big buck with testes the size of cricket balls—rested in the fig’s cool shade. I kept eyeing off that buck and imagined making a move, stealing his spot. Boot him out, I would. Garn, old fella, get! I’d say. And if he didn’t budge I’d hold up my fists and challenge him to a box. Though he was old he still looked like he had some fight left in him, but I’d happily trade a few cuts to my face for that lush shade—so dark and so cool under those hundreds and hundreds of big broad leaves.

  As tempting as it was, though, and as inviting as that shade looked, I knew I couldn’t move. The verandah was the best surveillance post. I wouldn’t be able to see the road as clearly from under the fig. And wit
h the cicadas up in the eucalypts shrilling and thrumming, and everyone inside yahooing like Shaun’d already arrived, I probably wouldn’t hear the car coming either. And even if I did, if I was under that fig, I’d have to race all the way back to the house to alert everyone before Shaun got to the top of the driveway.

  At about half-past two, after an hour and a half of waiting, I couldn’t take it anymore. The droning of the cicadas had risen a few decibels. The temperature felt as if it had climbed another degree or two. Another drop of sweat trickled down my forehead and into my eye.

  ‘Ah!’ I rubbed my stinging eye. ‘That’s it, old buck. I’m coming to get…’

  Vrrrrrrrrroooooo!

  I locked my gaze back on the road.

  Shaun’s Commodore fishtailed round the bend.

  ‘He’s coming! Shaun’s coming!’

  Well, the eruption of cheers that followed nearly lifted the house off its stumps. Then came the stomping and giggling, shooshing and scampering as they all jostled for their hiding spots like a bunch of kids playing hide-and-seek. I was worried they’d never shut up. Worried they’d ruin the surprise and make all my surveillance a big fat waste of time. But as the Commodore crept up the driveway, hauling a swirling cloud of dust behind it, a hush settled inside. And then, everything seemed to settle.

  I dunno, maybe I somehow blocked out the noise, but I swear that for the couple of seconds between Shaun killing the engine and opening his door, those cicadas quit their bloody shrilling. Not only that, the specks of dust twirling above the car seemed to freeze, to hang suspended in the air. And the stalks of grass in the paddock stopped swaying.

  The entire land was holding its breath. Like I was.

  As Shaun walked towards me the first thing I noticed was the fall of his steps. They seemed heavier—his boots crunching the rocks on the driveway as if grinding them to dust—than when he left. He’d gotten bigger, I was sure of it. But when he reached the bottom of the steps, wiping the sweat from his brow, shaking his head and sighing like he’d already had enough of the heat, I sized him up properly and realised he was actually a bit leaner. Stronger-looking, though, somehow—like all that was left of him was wiry muscles and thick skin. And there was something different about his eyes. Still sharp as, but something else as well. Wiser? Older? I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

  Before I could say anything, or think on it further, Shaun looked me up and down—sizing me up as I had just done him.

  ‘You’ve gotten bigger,’ he said.

  ‘What? Me? Y’reckon?’

  ‘Yeah, for sure. How’d you go then?’

  ‘What’d you mean how’d I go?’

  ‘The jobs I gave ya, Little Man. Don’t think I forgot. Took care of my stuff?’

  ‘Yeah!’

  ‘And Mum? You take care of her?’

  ‘Well, I tried to.’

  ‘Not good, eh?’

  ‘Nah. Got pretty bad there for a while, stressin’ about you and stuff. And then, well…’ I glanced over to Kel’s old spot on the verandah.

  ‘Yeah,’ Shaun said. ‘Poor old girl. Ah, well, she had a good run.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s what I reckoned. Set Mum off something fierce, but. She hit it hard, and then Trev came to stay.’

  ‘Trev? Really? Shit, must’ve got bad then.’

  ‘Yep. ’S all good now, though.’

  ‘Where’s everyone now then?’ He looked round to the big grassy patch by the driveway where the cars were usually parked.

  ‘Gone into town for some supplies,’ I lied. Really, everyone’d shifted the cars out of sight, round the back of the house.

  ‘Oh,’ he said, eyes scanning the tyre tracks, the flattened grass round the side of the house. He knew that I was bullshitting, for sure. Couldn’t get anything past Shaun. He didn’t let on, though.

  ‘There was something else, too. That other job I gave ya?’ He scratched his chin and looked to the sky, pretending he couldn’t remember. ‘Oh yeah, that’s right! And you. Did you keep out of trouble?’

  ‘Yeah, of bloody course I did!’ I laughed and kicked the air in front of his chest. Quick as, he snatched my foot and twisted. Not too hard. But I knew if he really wanted to he could break my ankle with a swift jerk.

  ‘Owwww,’ I cried, laying it on thick.

  ‘Owwww! Mercy. Mercy!’ Shaun released my foot and smiled in that way that made me feel big.

  ‘Come here, Little Man.’ He pulled me towards him. Squeezed me real tight and didn’t let go for a good ten seconds.

  Gazing at the polished hallway floor and sniffing the air laced with the aroma of lasagna and shepherd’s pie and roast chook—his favourite meals—Shaun mmm’d and ah’d like he didn’t know what was coming. Then he stopped at the glass cabinet displaying all Pop’s treasures, including his old war stuff. All his service medals and war trophies—daggers, a Japanese samurai sword, an old pistol.

  Shaun turned to me and winked. Slowly, carefully, he opened the door of the cabinet and withdrew the sword, unsheathed it, held it above his head.

  He walked to the end of the hallway and then, just as everyone was bopping up out of their hiding spots with Welcome home, Shaun on the tips of their tongues, he leapt into the middle of the lounge room.

  ‘AAAARRRRRGGGHHH!’

  There were screams and shouts of surprise and a few ‘oh shit’s and a ‘fucken-bloody-hell’ from Trev.

  Then everyone—Shaun’s best mate, Adam, and (as Mum called them) ‘those other two’, Jase and Acker, and Mum’s best friend, Val, who used to babysit Shaun when he was a littlun, Jim and Margie Davis from the end of the road, wobbly-eyed Uncle Trev—burst out laughing.

  ‘Nice try, guys,’ said Shaun once the uproar had settled. ‘But it seems like you forgot who you were trying to surprise. Still…’ He paused, looking round grinning. ‘It’s good to bloody see yas.’

  And with that everyone rushed him. Mum gave him a head-popping hug same as she had when he left. Adam shook his hand and gave him a one-armed hug. Jase and Acker high-fived him. Val squeezed his cheeks. Margie hugged him, pecking him on the cheek. Trev nodded, handing him a freshly poured glass of beer and giving him a slap on the shoulder.

  Shaun grinned from ear to ear, chuffed with all the fuss. Made me feel real good watching it all. Seeing everyone together. The only two that weren’t there were Dad and Amy.

  I’d gone down to the creek to try Old Greggy Boy one last time only to find both him and the Landy gone. I figured he was in town or at Mick’s. Hiding.

  Mum had talked on the phone with Shaun the night before. He said he was catching Amy in Big Town on the way through, at the fancy restaurant where she was now head waitress. She had a weekend shift, arvo and evening, and because she’d just started there she couldn’t get the day off to make the party.

  Amy or no Amy, the party kicked arse. After Mum’d shoved platefuls of food in front of everyone’s faces and after Adam had poured Shaun a few beers, the stories poured out, too.

  We all gathered round Shaun as he told us about the long recon and intelligence-gathering missions in and around the villages peppered through the foothills and rocky valleys of the snow-capped mountains. He told us about the locals: the dusty-faced, weary-looking kids, the women who were still covered in veils even after the Talibanis had fled, and the old tribesmen with faces as weathered, sharp and severe as the cliffs. Even though they could be friendly, Shaun said, you still had to be wary of them. Most of the Taliban’d been driven out of the area, but some of the old villagers were still in cahoots with them. He told us about the abandoned Taliban bases and hide-outs they found, with huge caches of weapons. He told us about their two-week foot patrol and the trouble they and all the other patrols before them had had with the pesky goats stumbling on them, followed by their herder, and giving their position away. He told us about some fellas from another patrol who had to be the guinea pigs for a spray-on repellent the army scientists had made from the only substance known to scare the goat
s away: tiger piss!

  After everyone had a big chuckle Shaun took the focus off himself by asking about everyone else, what everyone had been up to, how everything’d been in Small Town, as if he’d had enough talking about his adventures for a while.

  I kept waiting for more, but Shaun was staying tight-lipped. It wasn’t till later when I was in the kitchen and Shaun was out on the side verandah with the boys, smoking ciggies and drinking beer—Jase and Acker egging him and egging him to tell them more more more—that Shaun finally talked about the action.

  As he spoke, I stood by the kitchen sink, leaning towards the open window, listening to every word.

  ‘It was during our foot patrol, on our way to gather some intel on a remote village near the Pakistan border that we’d heard some remaining Taliban fighters were passing through. It was early morning, just before sun-up, and we were moving to our new OP that I’d scoped out, an area with a few trees, some big boulders, potentially great hides for us all. Ideal spot for watching the movements in the village. We were only ten metres or so from the OP when clack! And then clack clack clack again and again. Rifle shots from this bearded fella in a robe on a ridgeline two hundred metres away. Rusty and Wolfy returned fire, took out the fella with the rifle and as we shuffled low to the ground for the OP eight more enemy fighters appeared on the ridgeline. Once we made it to the OP it was on. Their AK-47s were going puk puk puk puk puk puk—bullets zipping and rocket-propelled grenades whizzing over our heads, exploding into the mountainside behind us and sending rocks down, showering us with dirt and dust. It was fucken mayhem! Even though we were outnumbered, me, Wolfy, Rusty, Smithy, K-Dog and Wally held them off till the vehicle patrol that Rusty called in arrived and helped finish them, taking down a few, sending the rest scattering.’

  While Jase and Acker kept pressing Shaun for more details—How many did they take down? What weapons did they use? Did they take out any Taliban warlords?—Adam stayed quiet as a mouse. I wondered if it was just hard for him hearing it all. If he was jealous that he’d missed out. It’d always been Adz’s plan to join up too, try out the same time as Shaun, but a month before they were planning on going Adam wrote off his Falcon. He’d busted up his shoulder so bad that even after all the operations he would always have restricted movement. He knew there was no way he’d pass the fitness test, so he didn’t even bother trying.