His voice is gruff. “I’m here.”
We sit there quietly for a long moment as if absorbing each other, my hand in his, my heart pounding, unwilling to let go.
He breaks the silence eventually. “Are you going to open your present?”
My fingers slide from his, slow and reluctant, and they reach for the pouch. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”
“I know. I’m gift enough,” he says, laughing.
I snort. “You have no shame!”
“I thought you could have this for when I’m not here,” he continues as I tackle the sweet little bow, pulling it until it slips free.
“You’re here almost every day.” I roll my eyes, but there’s a smile on my lips as I wedge my fingers inside to loosen the gathered fabric. It opens and I reach inside, my fingers brushing against what feels like a scrap of paper. I ignore it when I feel something cool and metallic. “Oh, Bear,” I breathe, pulling out a silver chain.
It’s a necklace, the metal delicate yet somehow substantial, as if he wanted to make sure it was strong enough to last forever. On it dangles a little silver rectangle, and I realise there are words stamped into it. I place it on my palm for a closer look.
Capital letters spell out LITTLE WARRIOR.
“Do you like it?”
My hand shakes. I couldn’t imagine anything more perfect if I tried. “It’s beautiful.”
“It’s a reminder,” he tells me. “So you never forget who you are.”
“Thank you, Bear.” I undo the clasp, sliding the pretty chain around my neck and securing it in place. “I won’t ever take it off.”
My brows snap together as I twist against the fence, peering through the slats. It’s the Wednesday afternoon following my birthday, and the yard behind me has felt eerily deserted for over an hour now—at least until I heard an odd noise. The sound of a bucket being dropped on cement or something.
“Bear?” I call out.
I get nothing in return.
My hand shifts to my neck, grasping the cool metal, warming it beneath my fingers.
“Bear?”
I don’t even walk inside the house after school the next afternoon. I walk straight to the fence, dumping my bag by the back door on my way. He’s always there first on Thursdays, waiting for me. My skin tingles with anticipation. I still haven’t asked him about the party yet, and it’s only two days away now.
“Bear?” I press my face against the timber, peeking through as best I can. “Are you there?”
Still nothing.
A small knot forms in my belly.
Where are you?
I go back for my bag and bring it back to the fence, doing my homework while I wait. We have required reading for class, and I pull my tattered copy of The Catcher in the Rye free and find my place, slowly immersing myself in the story. Time passes and when I look up it’s eerie and dark.
Shivers skate down my spine.
I twist around in my little groove. “Bear?” I whisper, confused.
Friday afternoon comes and goes, and there’s a sick sense of panic in my belly. Today was my last chance to ask him to my party, and he isn’t here.
Shoulders slumped, I shove my hands in the pockets of my shorts and head inside. It’s enough to have me reaching for the phone and calling Erin.
Her mum answers. “Oh hey, Jamie. Happy birthday for Tuesday, sweetheart.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Tennyson,” I reply dutifully while busting inside with impatience. I need advice. Now. “Is Erin there?”
“She’s upstairs. I’ll call her down.”
A muffled crackle comes down the line then a clunk. “Eeeriiiinn!” Mrs. Tennyson hollers. “Jamie’s on the phone.”
“Coooommmiinnnng!” I hear her yell.
The sound of a teasing sibling fight gets closer, and then the phone clunks again. “Hello?” she answers, breathless.
“It’s me.”
“Who’s me?” she sing-songs.
“Erin,” I whine.
“Actually, I’m glad you called.” Her voice is now all business. “We have to talk party stuff.”
My brows rise. “What kind of party stuff?”
“The best kind,” she retorts. “The food kind. Mum was thinking instead of doing the frozen party pies and sausage rolls, she could make mini hotdogs for us. Maybe even some mini burgers. Sliders, I think she called them, although she mentioned putting some kind of foreign festy cheese on them so we might have to rein her in a little.”
“I like all kinds of cheese.” But it sounds like a lot of work for her mother. And money. Especially for some random girl she barely knows. “She would do that for us? For me?”
“Umm yes! Mum loves to fuss, and it’s our duty as her offspring to let her.”
“If you’re sure. I’ll come over early to help.”
“Yes! Then we can do our hair and makeup together.”
“Makeup? Gross, Erin. I don’t want that stuff slathered all over my face.”
“It’s not like we’re putting pancakes on our face. Just a little mascara. Maybe some blush and lipstick. I have to see what I can hijack from Mum’s makeup case. Then we can put it on just before everyone arrives. That way she won’t have time to make us go upstairs and wash it off.”
It sounds like a lot of work, but it’s obvious my birthday party is the Erin Train now and I’m just along for the ride. Not that I mind. I have no idea how to plan a party. “Well okay.”
“Did you ask Bear yet?”
Erin knows I haven’t been able to catch him this week. It’s obvious, she told me. Apparently my face hangs lower than “a pair of old lady’s boobs” whenever he doesn’t show up. “He wasn’t there again, Erin. That’s why I called. I don’t know what to do.”
“Can’t you just … go over there?”
My heart pounds at the very thought. “You mean just walk on over and knock on the front door?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t … I can’t.”
“Yes, you can. It’s not like your legs have fallen off. Just grow a ballsack and walk over there.”
“Erin!” I wail, shuddering at the word ballsack. “Gross!”
She busts out laughing. “I know.” Her voice lowers as though she’s trying to muffle her words from others. “How freaking hideous. Imagine one day having to actually touch a set of wrinkly, hairy, sweaty balls— Ouch!” The sound of a thump comes down the line. “Matt!” Erin yells.
Her brother’s voice is muffled. “Better than having two airbags hanging off your chest.”
“At least our airbags look good. Yours are just—”
“Kids!” Mrs. Tennyson whips out, as if she had a whole bunch of straws at the start of her day and now she’s reached her last one. “Enough. It’s time for dinner.”
“Woohoo! Food,” Erin says into the phone. “I have to go eat. Go ask him, Jamie. Be like Nike and just do it. Then report back.”
She hangs up.
I put the phone down and contemplate walking over to Bear’s house tomorrow morning. Just walking right up to the front door and knocking. I’d have to walk down the end of my street and then all the way back up to his house, but it wouldn’t take more than ten minutes—fifteen at the most if I take my time.
I have to do it someday. And I want him with me at this party. I’m not sure I can do it without him. My hands shake at the thought of sitting in a room with a bunch of kids from school, all of them pretending they’re not watching me. Watching the kid who killed her dad in a car crash.
Taking a deep breath, I decide to go first thing tomorrow. I don’t have a choice. I’m one hundred percent sure I can’t do this party without him. I just can’t. Not unless I bring the party to the fence, and not only is that too ridiculous to imagine, the fence is our spot.
Lying in bed that night, my head on my pillow, eyes trained on the ceiling, I remember the feel of his hand on mine.
“Never forget who you are.”
I reach up
and clutch the necklace in my fist, feeling the cool metal turn warm beneath my touch. Soothed, I slowly drift to sleep.
5
JAMIE
I step outside the front door, knowing the morning is getting away from me. If I don’t make the trek to Bear’s house, he’ll be gone for rugby and I’ll be too late. My head tilts up, contemplating the sky. It’s overcast and a faint rumble echoes in the distance. An angry storm is bearing down. I should grab an umbrella, but if I take the time to hunt for it, I might change my mind about going at all. Instead, I pull the door closed and lift the hood of my sweatshirt, letting it cover my head and half my forehead, hiding my long dark hair from sight.
Hunching against the cold brittle air, I tuck my hands into the torn, faded denim shorts that only reach the tops of my thighs. The wind bites my legs as I start to walk, prickling my skin. I shiver and shove my hands deeper into the pockets.
Cars whiz past as I walk alongside the road, their occupants eager to beat the rain home. I can’t believe I’m really doing this. Walking to his house. Putting one foot in front of the other, my heart pounding with every step I take. Erin’s voice is an echo in my head. Be like Nike and just do it. How easy she’s made it seem, this friendship of ours. I just know she’ll be my best friend for life.
I have Bear to thank for that. There’s so much hope in my chest now, where before there was none. Hope that he’ll come to the party. That maybe he will be my first kiss. My first love. Maybe even the greatest love of my life.
Before I know it, I’ve turned down his street. Breathing comes a little harder now. My stomach churns and my palms are sweating. Anxiety is taking hold, but I continue on. Bear told me once that I was strong, and if I do this, then maybe I’ll believe it.
His house looms. It’s weatherboard and a little rundown, like most of the properties along the street. Like the one I live in. The one I still can’t bring myself to call home.
I pause at his front path, hesitating, fighting the urge to run. I glance behind me, an instinctive need to ensure my getaway is clear. There’s a noise inside. A bang and crash. My head swings back. Someone is home.
Just do it.
I wipe sweaty hands against my shorts then shove them back in my pockets, forcing my legs to move towards the front door. I reach it, my chest so freaking tight it’s a wonder I can breathe at all as I knock on the screen door. The noise inside the house stops.
I can see partially inside. The floors are timber and worn, the furniture minimal. Footsteps make their way towards me, bringing an older woman into view. She’s wearing tatty clothes, her greying hair tied into a knot on top of her head. Strands have escaped and hang on her forehead, sticking to the sweaty sheen of her face. Is that Bear’s mother? She looks so tired.
She peers at me from the other side of the door, and I realise my hood is shadowing my face. I swipe it from my head with my palm, mussing my hair. I attempt to smooth it as I arrange a polite smile on my face.
“Can I help you?” she asks.
“Umm yes. I’m looking for uh …” Crap. I didn’t think this through very well. “… The boy who lives here. Your uh, son?”
“Oh, honey.” She chuckles and even that sounds tired. “My boys are grown up and long gone.”
My brows pull together, confused. “I’m sorry.” I take a step back, looking at the house to my left and right. “I must have the wrong house.”
“Oh, I don’t live here. I’m just the cleaner, love.”
Bear has a cleaner? Nothing seems to compute.
“You’re probably looking for the young man who used to live here with his mother.”
I pause, my voice the faintest whisper. “Used to?”
She clucks her tongue in sympathy, and I know she’s about to deliver something I really don’t want to hear. I really don’t. “Never mind.” I jerk my thumb over my shoulder as I take another step backwards. “I’ll just—”
“Don’t you know?”
I take another step. And another. She’s talking and I just want her to stop. “Never mind. I’ll just—”
“This row is all government hospice houses.”
“Hospice?” I echo, pausing.
“Housing and care for the terminally ill,” she clarifies. “The young man lived here with his mother. She died a few days ago.” An expression of sympathy is aimed my way. “I’m sorry, love. You knew them?”
Shock steals my breath.
All this time.
All this time.
My stomach churns. A rioting hot mess as memories hit me in the face.
“Go kick your ball somewhere else,” I’d hissed at him so furiously.
Bear met me by that fence, day after day, talking about anything and everything except the one thing that mattered most. He lifted me up when I was down. He was there for me. He saved me from myself when all along …
My eyes burn and anger rises, swift and hard and hot, faster than the incoming storm. Damn you, Bear. Why didn’t you tell me?
“No.” I shake my head at the cleaner, hands clenched into fists. I swallow furious tears, except they’re rising too fast. One slips free. Then another. I scrub at my face. “I didn’t know them.”
I turn blindly, stumbling my way back down the front path, knowing the words I spoke were painfully, heartbreakingly true.
Reaching Sue’s house, I make my way inside towards my room. Grabbing the necklace from around my neck, I rip it free and toss it across the room, enraged.
“Fuck you, Bear!” I scream as loud as my lungs will allow. “Fuck you!”
A bang comes against my wall. One of the fosters trying to sleep the day away. “Shut up, Murphy!”
“You shut up!” I yell, kicking the wall. It felt good. I kick it again and scream.
Bear is gone.
He’s nothing except smoke in the wind now, just like my father. I swallow, fighting back tears, but it’s too much. A jagged sob escapes, and I sink to the floor, my head dropping to my hands, tears falling until I can barely see. When I open my eyes, they land on my necklace where it rests broken on the floor.
“I won’t ever take it off.”
I can’t wear it, at least not right now, but I collect it from the floor. After finding the small pouch it came in, I open it wide and let the little chain drop inside. It emits a crinkling sound. My brows draw together as I peer inside and see a bit of paper. I reach inside and pull it out. It’s a note. A tiny folded note. I unwrap it, almost tearing it in my haste.
It’s handwritten. To me. The words marked out with what seems like painstaking care.
Little Warrior,
I’m sorry. I suck at goodbyes and you deserve a better one than this, but I’m not strong like you. It’s easier to be a coward and leave you this note instead.
My mother died today and it hurts so fucking much. She had cancer. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. You deserved to know, but I couldn’t bring myself to talk about it because it made everything too real.
I’m joining the army. I know it looks like I’m running away, maybe I am, but I don’t know what else to do. I need to find out where I belong. My purpose. And I feel like maybe I’m holding you back from yours. You need to leave our fence behind and join the world again, Jamie. It needs strong people like you.
I wish I met you under different circumstances. And that I could be your first kiss. Maybe one day I’ll regret that I wasn’t. In fact, I’m pretty sure I already do. Please find yourself a good guy. There are too many assholes in the world already—perhaps I’m one of them—but you deserve the best.
I’ll never forget you.
Yours always,
Bear.
6
JAMIE
Two years later.
“The fuck did you just say?” Erin pales beneath the dusting of blusher she’s sweeping across her cheekbones.
She turns from the bathroom mirror to look at me, her eyes rounding like dinner plates and her mouth wide open. I’m seated on the closed lid
of the toilet seat, watching her do her face. We’re getting ready for a night out, my first real one, because I turned eighteen four days ago. Apparently it’s the age the Australian government deems you mature enough to handle parties and alcohol—legally at least. I’m on board with that. School is done with me and I’m more than done with it. It’s time I found my purpose, just like Bear.
“I joined the army.”
“Jamie,” she breathes, clearly at a loss for words. I watch her shocked expression slowly evolve into one of pity.
“Don’t.”
She shakes her head. “You don’t even know his name. Or what he looks like.” The hospice service wouldn’t provide the information for privacy reasons. God knows Erin tried after she found me on the floor of my room the afternoon of my birthday party, the letter crumpled in my hand.
“I’m not looking for him.”
“Then what are you looking for?”
“Myself.”
Her eyes fill. “Dammit, Jamie. You can’t leave.” Her chin lifts, the makeup brush in her hand forgotten. “In fact, you’re not going. I won’t let you. Go un-join or whatever it is you do.”
“It’s too late. I leave tomorrow.”
“This is the stupidest thing you’ve ever done,” she bites out, turning back to the mirror as if she’s too pissed to even look at me right now. “And you’ve done some stupid shit.”
“Umm, I think you mean you’ve done some stupid shit,” I say, chuckling. “You know, like the time Maria Medina said your eyebrows were huge so you shaved half of them off.”
Erin flattens her lips, but I see them twitch. The hairs grew back in all wonky after that particular disaster. “Or the time you stole the blusher from that store, the high-end place where they looked down on us for asking what a lip liner was. What was that colour called again? Watermelon ripple?”
“Watermelon slushie.”
I snort. “And then your mum found out and made you wear it on your cheeks so thick you looked like a clown and then took you out to the shops with it on.”
Fighting Absolution Page 4