by Nicole Hayes
For a long moment we just stare at each other – this man I don’t know but who is, at least by blood, my brother. My family. If only he wanted to be.
Mum reaches across to take my hand, and I watch Colin fade back into the crowd until I can’t see him at all. I squeeze Mum’s hand. Dad is beside Luke, that mantra about being okay taking over where my strangled version of Pearl Jam left off, and I feel a sudden and powerful rush of energy. I feel stronger, I guess, just because we’re all there. Even Gran’s gruff concern beside me is reassuring somehow. Take out the medical emergency and Luke’s gasping breaths and it’s probably the daggiest family moment imaginable, but I don’t care. I don’t care. Because, whether it’s wishful thinking or reality, gradually, painfully, Luke’s hunched shoulders seem to relax. He arches his back, then his whole body loosens and the hoarse, Darth Vader noises coming from behind the frightening oxygen mask start to ease. It’s still painful and awkward, the way he’s reaching for air, but it looks like the medicine is starting to work.
The ambulance officers ask him how he is and Luke nods. They confer with each other, then one of them calls ahead to the hospital.
The other ambo smiles gently at Mum. ‘He’s stable now, but we need to take him in.’
Mum moves out of their way and Dad presses his hand against her back, moving his hand in small circles just like Mum was doing for Luke only minutes earlier – though it feels like hours. Then Luke is being moved through the pool centre. People shift out of his way, with Mum close on their heels. Phones are out recording our horror and it’s all I can do not to vomit. It’s vile. They are vile.
I hesitate when I see Travis Matthews block my view. He’s still wet and pale-faced, but the shock has faded, and now he’s in charge. He reaches for the first of the phones, snatches it out of a stunned woman’s hands without a word and slides it into his pocket. ‘Everyone get back!’ he snaps in a voice that leaves no room for argument. ‘And get rid of the phones!’
‘Coming, Frank?’ Dad hovers at the exit. ‘I’ve got the car.’
I drag my gaze from Travis and face Dad. ‘Coming,’ I say.
I look back at Travis, who’s arguing with the woman and blocking everyone else’s view.
‘Francesca?’ Gran is beside me. ‘I’ll meet you there,’ she says. ‘Your father’s waiting.’
CHAPTER 42
DEVOLUTION
We drive in silence, shock thick in the air. And then I look over and see my dad’s face wet with silent tears, his focus on the road ahead. When he speaks I have to strain to hear.
‘I’m sorry,’ he says, a sob catching in his throat. ‘Can you forgive me?’
‘For what?’
He takes a long jagged breath. ‘I haven’t handled this well. I haven’t been there for you – or Luke.’
I look down, studying my hands in my lap. ‘I haven’t been here, either. Not really.’
Our car slows to a crawl as we approach a red light, and I feel a strange mix of dread and anxiety. I want to get to the hospital as fast as I can, but at the same time I don’t want to go there at all.
‘If I could do things again …’ Dad’s voice is just loud enough to clear the rumble of passing traffic.
‘He’s going to be fine, Dad.’
‘I know.’ Another dull, stifled sob. ‘I do.’ He shakes his head.
‘None of us has handled this well – me especially. I’ve screwed up pretty much every part of my life.’ I wind down the window, the cool air a welcome relief in the stuffy car.
He wipes his eyes with a rough hand. ‘There’s a song there,’ he says, his voice a little lighter.
‘A couple, I’d say.’
He laughs and changes gears with a steady hand. ‘I thought I could handle it, protect your mum, you and your brother. But …’
‘Really, Dad, it’s okay. I get it.’
He glances across the front seat and smiles. ‘Yeah. You really do.’
I stare out at the traffic, cars moving at a snail’s pace as though deliberately trying to block our path.
‘So, tell me, what about that boy? The big date?’
‘Wouldn’t you like to know,’ I say, smiling.
‘Yes, Francesca, I would.’
‘It’s a long story.’
He squints at me, a half-smile on his face, nodding at the traffic around us as it crawls to a virtual stop. ‘I’ve got time.’
So after I call the hospital to confirm that Luke is stable and has been admitted, in the middle of all that city traffic, I tell my dad about the photos, about finding Colin. I don’t mention Seamus Hale yet – that one might have to wait. But by the time we’ve parked the car, I’m not on my own anymore. All the pieces have been laid out and shared with my dad, these imperfect fragments forming something that resembles my life – the parts I want to share, anyway. And it feels good.
The waiting-room chairs are as uncomfortable as they look. The vinyl covers stick to the backs of my legs and the iron armrests are in exactly the wrong place for a typical arm. I’ve been shifting and squirming in this horrid seat for about an hour now. They let me see Luke straight away, but I’ve had to wait in this room for Mum and Dad ever since.
Gran is off getting a ‘hot toddy’ somewhere – good luck finding anyone who knows what it is – and Harry has been back and forth, calling around to cancel events and warn the media to back off, demanding they respect our privacy. Finally. So far it’s worked; they don’t know what hospital we’re at, which helps, but I can’t imagine that’ll last long. Christie has the job of fielding calls from the electoral office, trying to distract them with actual news.
I glance over at Sarah, who is squinting at her phone, her reading glasses forgotten once again.
‘You can increase the font size,’ I say to her, reaching for the phone and adjusting the settings.
She barely moves when I return the phone to her.
‘Are you okay?’ I say gently.
Tears glint on her lashes. She nods. Her phone rings and she stares at it like she doesn’t understand its purpose.
‘You should take that,’ I say.
She nods again, stands up and puts the phone to her ear, disappearing down the corridor.
I shift in the seat, pull my phone out of my pocket. I’m pretty sure I’m meant to have turned it off, but after today’s disaster, I’ve decided I’ll never turn it off again, except for fear of death. Then again, the blonde-haired nurse with a withering stare who’s been snapping out orders to the growing ER crowd could convincingly slay me with a single look if she wanted to.
I read my phone. There’s a message from Kessie saying simply: CALL ME!!!!
I go outside and dial. ‘Hey, Kess.’ My voice sounds rough and husky. I clear my throat and look at the clock. It’s after five.
‘About time, Frank. So, something weird happened today.’
‘Yeah?’ I ask, my brain too cloudy to think about it.
‘I received some tickets in my inbox. Two very valuable, sold-out tickets.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah. This band? You might have heard of them. Starts with Pearl, ends with Jam.’
‘Sounds familiar.’
‘You’ve got a couple of hours to get here so I can give them back to their rightful owner.’
I’m exhausted. I barely have the energy to reply. ‘No. They’re my gift to you and Tyler.’
‘Holy dumb-arse, Batman. Are you for real?’
I sigh, long and deep. ‘Are you going to stay shitty forever?’
‘Only as long as you act like an idiot.’
‘I said sorry, and I am. I thought this would help.’
‘Help? Can you imagine the guilt I’d be living with? You’d never let me live it down.’
‘I’m okay – really. It feels right.’
‘Then I’d never let me live it down!’
‘I don’t have any way of getting there.’
‘Um, the tram? The train? Far as I know, public trans
port still operates. Unless there’s been a zombie apocalypse I don’t know about, though that would explain why you’ve given me your beloved Pearl Jam tickets …’
‘I’m at the hospital, Kess. Luke had an asthma attack,’ I say. ‘He’s fine,’ I rush in at the sound of Kessie’s gasp, and tell her what happened before panic takes hold properly. I realise I should have called her earlier. She’s his family too. ‘They’re going to keep him here for a few days. The attack was prolonged and it took ages for the Ventolin to work …’ I falter at the memory of Luke’s panicked face. The shallow, mucousy sound of those drowning lungs, the terror in his eyes … I can’t leave him. Even if I could get there, I can’t leave him. ‘Sorry, Kess, looks like you’re stuck with them.’
‘Luke’s definitely okay?’
‘Yeah. Yeah. I mean, it wasn’t good, but he’s stable now.’
There’s a long silence and then I hear someone talking to her in the background. Tyler, I guess. I hear Kessie’s muffled, ‘I am. I’m trying to.’ And then the noise stops and her voice is clear and disbelieving. ‘This is all you’ve talked about for years. Forever, really.’
The sinking feeling in my chest is real, disappointment has already set in, but it’s nothing compared to how I felt at the pool. And then suddenly Colin is standing in front of me, out in the middle of the hospital entrance, and it’s all I can do to not drop my phone.
He smiles grimly.
‘Uh, Kess? I have to go.’ I hang up, not letting myself think about it long enough to doubt my decision. ‘Hey,’ I say.
He tilts his head in acknowledgement.
‘How did you get here?’ I ask, not realising how rude that sounded until after the words are out of my mouth.
‘Taxi. Your gran told me where you were.’
‘Um, thanks for coming.’
He gestures towards the hospital. ‘He all right?’ He smells a lot like he took a detour via the pub.
‘Yeah.’ I smile nervously and glance towards the hospital entrance. ‘He’s breathing properly but they’ve got him in intensive care.’
Colin nods slowly, looks everywhere but at me.
‘Did you want to …?’ I’m about to invite him in but a sharp look stops me. ‘Thanks for coming,’ I say again.
He shoves his hands in his pockets. We both stand there, not knowing what to say.
I try again. ‘Did you want to come inside?’
He glances up at the doors. He shakes his head, looks away. A pungent whiff of beer and cigarettes follows his movements and I have to fight the urge to step back.
‘They’re in there,’ I say. ‘All of them.’
Colin looks at me and I see fear. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘Yeah. Listen, I have to go back in …’ I wonder if I’m meant to ask again and then I shake it off. I could turn myself inside out with all these conflicting emotions. I stand there longer than feels natural but I can’t seem to leave. Should I say something? What’s the etiquette here? Where’s the instruction manual for dummies? How do you convince the brother your mother abandoned that you should be friends? How does that sentence even begin?
‘Frankie! Are you okay?’ Dad is standing in the hospital doorway, taking in the scene.
‘Dad.’ I step towards him, but he moves past me, heading straight for Colin.
I wait nervously, those purposeful strides so loaded with the frustration and hurt of the past weeks, the distance between my dad and the only woman he says he knows how to love – the love of his life.
Colin holds his ground, tilting his chin just a little higher, determination mixed with a faint trace of uncertainty. That chin tilt that belongs to his birth mother. My mother. Dad’s wife.
‘Colin,’ Dad says when he’s standing between us, barely an arm’s length away from the very person whose photos changed our lives forever. But instead of the anger I expect to see, Dad holds out his hand to shake Colin’s. There are several uncomfortable seconds when Colin just stares at him, and then he reaches out his hand too, and they grasp firmly, if a little grimly. ‘It’s good to meet you, Colin,’ Dad says carefully.
Colin nods sharply but doesn’t speak. I’ve noticed that Colin often doesn’t have words. I guess in this way he’s nothing like his mother. And yet there’s something to be said for it. A certain grace, a spirit, both admirable and a little heartbreaking, in his silence.
‘Are you coming in?’ Dad says eventually.
Colin looks at us and I see a flicker of indecision. Then he smiles faintly and shakes his head. ‘No …’ We wait for what seems like an explanation but he just shakes his head again and says, ‘Sorry.’
Before either of us can object, Mum appears behind Dad, carrying a coffee. Colin’s expression is so shocked that I worry he’ll turn and run.
Mum looks fragile standing there. There’s no sign of the Premier now. Only my mum, though she could be any mum worried about her kid. She’s shaking so hard her coffee splashes and spills over her hand, but she doesn’t register the pain, just stares at it dumbly. She sets the cup down on the seat by the entrance, then unsteadily straightens and faces Colin. She doesn’t say his name. She simply says, ‘He’s this way.’
And, like a ghost, Colin follows her. We follow too and wait outside Luke’s room, watching through the window as Mum goes to Luke, taking her place beside him as though she’s been doing this for years, not hours. She leans over and kisses him gently and whispers in his ear, but he’s asleep and gives no suggestion that he can hear her. He looks shattered, even as he sleeps, but his cheeks have faded to a more recognisable pale, splotchy in bits where his blood is still finding its way to his face.
Colin hangs back, unable to cross the threshold into Luke’s room, but when Mum comes out again and stands beside him, he leans towards the window and rests his head against the glass. I don’t move. I don’t dare move. I watch in awe as Mum reaches out to touch Colin’s arm. And holds it. That’s all. Just rests it there on his sleeve. Colin twitches, the tiniest movement, then his shoulders sag and his edges seem to soften.
‘I’m sorry,’ she says, those strong, kind eyes liquid with unshed tears.
Colin straightens. There’s the finest tremor in his arm as though it’s buckling under the weight of Mum’s hand. He looks at Luke. ‘Will he be all right?’
‘Yes. He will.’
He stands there a long moment – we all do. I notice Gran waiting in the corridor, watching us, holding back for once.
And then Colin Leith, the brother I didn’t know I had, the son Mum gave up at birth, the grandson Gran thought would change Mum’s life forever, turns on his heel and leaves.
I’m so shattered when I get home that I almost forget about the concert. But when I check my phone around midnight, I see a bunch of texts from Kessie, one from Tyler and seven missed calls from Jake.
I check the time and call Jake first.
‘How’s Luke?’ he asks without saying hello. That Luke is his first thought is almost enough to undo me. ‘Kessie told me.’
‘He’s okay now. They’re keeping him in hospital for a few days, but he’ll be fine.’
He sighs heavily. ‘Good. Great.’
‘I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier.’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ he says.
‘I am worried about it.’
A low, deep chuckle. ‘So you should be.’
I slide onto my bed and pull the quilt over my legs. I close my eyes, take a deep breath and then force the words that I’ve been avoiding for weeks. ‘Colin is my brother,’ I say.
‘What?’
‘My half-brother.’
‘Wow.’
‘I’ve known a while.’
‘Wow.’
‘Yeah. I don’t know what to do with all that.’
‘Why do you have to do anything?’
I pause. ‘That’s an excellent question,’ I say. I take a deep breath and decide to plunge right in. ‘Any chance you’d like to come see my band play?’
‘Is this a date?’
A slow smile creeps across my face. ‘I don’t know.’
‘I think it might be,’ he says, the grin as clear in his voice as if he were right next to me.
‘So will you?’
‘Yes.’
‘What about your dad?’
‘I’d rather he didn’t come.’
I laugh. ‘I mean, is he angry? Is he going to send you back to Canberra?’
‘The jury’s still out.’
‘That would suck.’
‘Yes, it would.’
‘But you’ll come to the audition?’
‘Yes.’
‘I have to warn you,’ I say. ‘We’re pretty good.’
He laughs. ‘I’ve heard.’
‘You might fall in love,’ I say.
‘Yes,’ he says. ‘I might.’
PART 3
CHAPTER 43
A NEW AGENDA
The TV flickers relentlessly, showing shots of Mum beaming into the camera, another meet-and-greet from yesterday, this time a red-carpet event at an awards ceremony. Despite all the drama, all the criticism and scandal, people flock to see her because she’s still a celebrity and they seem to need that. But her popularity among voters has taken a huge hit, according to Harry, who calls by to report the numbers almost nightly, a deflated, heavy sigh announcing each new debacle.
‘Another three points in the south-east,’ he’s saying, reading off his phone. ‘Two in Northern Hills.’
‘We’re half a point up in the southerns,’ Christie offers cheerfully, then frowns and shakes her head. ‘No, that was last month.’
Harry looks pained and waits.
Christie sets her jaw. ‘Down two point eight.’
Mum comes in with a tray of snacks and drinks, looking a little ridiculous given she’s wearing a vintage evening gown that is probably worth more than a small used car. She’s got another fundraiser tonight and she had to try on her dress and do a camera test before Sarah and Harry would give it the okay.