Give Me Truth (12 page)

Driving again.

‘How far is Relay Point, Dad?'

‘Not far now. There's a club at Tumburra. That's a few minutes away. We'll get something to eat there. You hungry?'

‘Yeah, sure … but do you think we'll be back tonight? I've got a rehearsal for the play.'

‘The play, yes. How's that going? You're doing the lighting, is that right?'

‘Lighting and music. I didn't want to go for an acting part – I'm the worst actor in the world.'

‘As long as you're doing your best. Achieving. That's what it's all about.'

‘Right … So, do you think I'll make it for the
rehearsal? It starts at six but if I get there at seven it will still be okay.'

‘No. I'm afraid not. They'll have to get by without you this once.' Dad doesn't think about it for a second. ‘How would you like to camp out tonight? We'll still go fishing, of course, but we can make a real adventure of it. Find a good spot. Build a fire. Sleep under the stars. It's a fantastic night. What do you say? You want to go camping with the old man?'

‘Um, yeah. I suppose.'

‘Don't be too enthusiastic, David.'

‘It's just that …'

‘Say it.'

‘Well, it's Mum. She's gotta be wondering what's going on.'

‘I told you before – your mother is not here. It is you and me!'

‘I knew you'd get angry.'

He shakes his head, lips sewn tight together.

The silence pushes down on me and I know it's only going to get worse if I wait it out. I'll talk. I'll babble. And I'll keep on until he has to say something, even if it's only
shut up.

‘You're right. The rehearsal doesn't matter. I was wrong before. I want to go camping. It'll be fun.'

The speed builds again. All around us the fields are yellow and dry. Farmhouses are a hazy blur in the distance.
It's desolate country, outside the car, and inside it too.

‘I really want to do it. I love doing stuff with you, Dad. You know that.'

‘What is your problem, David?'

‘There's no problem.'

‘I am trying to make an effort. Can you see that? It is not easy for me today. It is not easy!'

There's a sign pointing to a bowling club. Dad turns the steering wheel hard and we blast along the road towards the club.

‘We're having lunch. Is that all right with you? It's not too difficult, is it?'

I don't dare to open my mouth.

 

He cruises once around the parking lot, fast. The only vacant space is reserved for the club president. It's near the clubhouse door where a burly security guard stands. He's got tattoos on his muscled arms and he's staring at us. Dad sees him and still backs into the president's spot. Actually, I think it's
because
the guard is staring that he does it.

‘You better move, Dad.' The security guy is on his way over. ‘You're not allowed to park here.'

‘I am fed up with petty offcials telling me what I am
allowed
to do. I'm not in the mood to be dictated to. If he doesn't like it, he can come and see me. I'll be happy to discuss it.'

The guard raps on Dad's window.

‘You can't park here, sir.'

Dad winds down the window.

‘Oh really? Well I think I just did.'

The guard's expression changes. He's got a face he keeps for this kind of situation and a voice to go with it. He brings them out.

‘Yeah, real smart – jerk. This is a reserved parking space.'

‘Is that so?' Dad turns to me. ‘Hop out, David. We're not moving.'

We both get out. The guard is in Dad's face.

‘No, no, mate. This is not on. I won't muck around with you. I'm tellin' you for the last time. You have to park somewhere else!'

‘Wrong, my friend.' Dad casually locks the car. ‘I don't
have
to do anything.' He starts walking to the club. We both do.

The guard brushes past me to get ahead of us. ‘No further. Not a step.' He points a finger at Dad. ‘Forget about lunch. You can rack off. I want you out of here.'

‘We are going to have lunch – here. Now get out of our way.'

‘I'm warning you, mate.'

‘Dad.'

‘Stay out of this, David.'

He walks straight at the guard. Big hands grab him
by the shirt-front and he's driven backwards. It happens too quickly for him to say or do anything. His legs buckle under him and he's hauled along like a sack of potatoes until he's dragged onto his feet and rammed face-forward against the car. When Dad struggles the guard bends his arm up high behind his back and bears down on him.

‘How does that feel?' he says. ‘You want some more, eh? Do you?'

I hear my voice. ‘Leave him alone.'

But it's just a voice. I've got nothing to back it up. I don't move.

‘Piss off, kid.'

Dad kicks out behind him.

‘You bastard!' The guard doubles over. Free again, Dad stands waiting to fight. ‘Come on,' he urges. The guard pulls a baton from his belt.

‘No, Eddy! Hold it right there. Come on now. Settle down, settle down.'

The clubhouse door has opened and an older guard steps out. His grey hair is cut way short so it's a mass of spikes on his head and he's got hardly any neck. He's a bulldog who doesn't need a baton. Striding quickly, he holds his hands in front of him, palms facing Dad. ‘How about we all take it back a notch or two,' he says. ‘Let's talk about this.'

‘We came here to have lunch.' Dad tucks his shirt back in. ‘And if you get out of our way, that's what we'll do.'

‘Look where he's parked, Steve.' Eddy, the tattooed guard, points at the car. ‘I give him every chance to go. Bloody won't listen.'

Steve rubs his chin, nodding. ‘Now it's like this,' he tells Dad.

‘No!' Dad snaps. ‘I don't want your advice – your lecture. I will not be told where I can park by some
thug
. That's all there is to it!'

Steve remains calm. ‘Look, mate, me and Eddy here, we're family men. You know, wife and kids and that. We don't like hurtin' blokes. We just want to get through the day without any trouble. So let's not make life any harder than it has to be. Now be a good fella. Move yer car for us. Hey, I'm askin' yer real nice. Whadda yer say?'

I'm wishing, I'm praying.
Do what he says. Please do it.

‘Come on, David.' Dad nods to me. ‘There's nothing more to be said here. Let's go and have something to eat.'

I don't move but Dad does. He doesn't get far. Eddy clamps a hand onto his shoulder and Dad swings a wild punch that misses. In an instant he is forced to the ground, the weight of both guards on him.

‘You can't park there, matey!' Eddy bellows it. ‘You a slow learner or somethin'? How many times have we gotta tell ya?'

It feels like I've been watching it from a distance,
behind a wall of glass. Watching it hypnotised. Terrified. Finally a message seeps into my brain.

Do something. This is your father. Do something.

I throw myself at Steve, trying to pull him away. Eddy drags me off and pins my arms behind my back.

‘Let him go!' Dad forces his head up. ‘Let him go!'

Steve gives a nod and I'm set free. He releases Dad, too. ‘Listen, buddy,' he says. ‘I'm almost out of patience. Now get into your car and take off.'

Dad climbs to his feet. There's dirt and blood on his face. He takes the keys from his pocket and tosses them to me.

‘Sit in the car, David. Lock the doors.'

I can't believe it. The guards can't either. He won't quit.

He squares up to them like a boxer. Both guards grab him.

Steve grunts at me. ‘Open the car.'

Dad shouts, ‘No!'

I do it anyway.

They shove him into the driver's seat and slam the door.

Taking the keys from me, Steve leans into the car, his face close to Dad's. ‘Whatever's got you stirred up, my friend, don't drag yer kid into it. All right?' He pushes a key into the ignition. ‘If you care about him at all, you'll bugger off out of here and you won't come back. Now go!'

Steve steps away from the car. Dad doesn't attempt to jump out, so I get in and sit beside him. He's breathing heavily and quickly, anger steaming off him. If Hate is a physical thing, in that moment, I know what it looks like.

The car starts up. Dad floors it. We're speeding backwards. Then he brakes and I'm thrown towards the dashboard. Somewhere in a cloud of dust there's our car and us in it. One of us screams abuse, the other cowers. The engine roars and we leave the club far behind.

I can't look at Dad or talk to him. He's a wild animal caught in a trap and lashing out. Don't get too close. Just hang on, that's all I can do.

We barrel along a narrow road and in a furious minute we're in another sleepy country town. Dad pulls over next to a bus stop. He leans out the window and looks at a timetable on a post.

‘Right.' He reaches across and opens my door. ‘There's a bus in an hour. You're on it. Get out.'

Just by shaking my head, I use up all my bravery.

‘David. We end this here. I've had enough.' He thumps down his wallet beside me. ‘I don't want any arguments. Take all the money you want. You are getting out of this car and taking the bus home. No questions. No tears. Just go. Is that clear? I've got nothing more to say to you. Or to anyone else. You have to go. Get out.'

I shut the door.

‘Do you want me to
make
you, David? Because I will.'

‘Why can't we just stay together?'

He stops listening and he's out of the car, heading for my door. I lock it.

‘Open up.'

It must be on my face plain as day –
You're freaking me out. Please stop.
But he doesn't see it. He pounds on the window.

‘Open this door!'

I lock the driver's side, too, as he storms around to it.

‘Fine! Fine! Then
I'll
go! Just don't you dare come after me! You hear? Don't you fucking dare!'

He stomps off – swearing, muttering. If anyone saw him coming their way they'd cross the road.

I have to go after him.

‘Dad.'

‘No! No! I told you! Don't you talk to me!'

He whirls around and raises his hand. I'm a frightened mess but I stand as straight as I can and wait for the blow. Instead, he grabs my shoulders and shakes me.

‘Why? Why won't you let me go? I'm no good to anyone! Can't you see that? Catch the bus! Catch the bus and leave me alone!'

I don't move.

‘Please, David …'

‘No. I won't leave you.'

He slumps to the gutter where he hunches over like
one of those lost people who live on park benches. When I see them I always wonder how anyone could fall so far. Looking at Dad now, I see how easy it is to be lost. I sit beside him.

‘I want to drive the car into a tree. Plough into a tree and have it over with. If you would only get on the bus …'

His voice is straight out of a nightmare. It makes me shiver, uncontrollably. It sweeps from my shoulders to my legs. I will myself to stop, but I can't. The fear in me won't let go.

‘Stop shaking, damn you.'

‘I can't help it, Dad.'

‘Why? Why are you shaking? What is the matter with you?'

‘I'm scared.'

‘Of what? I am not going to hurt you!'

‘It's you, Dad. I'm scared for you. You're acting real crazy and I wish you'd stop … I love you.'

I shake even harder after saying that.

‘You get beyond love sometimes, David.' Turning his back to me, he sighs heavily. ‘It can't reach you. It becomes just another word. Another empty word.'

‘No, no. That's not true.'
I don't know whether I'm saying it or thinking it.

He stands up. I think he's going to walk away and leave me there. I'm sure that's what he's considering as he
looks down at me with his burnt-out eyes. But he doesn't do it.

‘There has to be some place to eat in this lousy town,' he says. ‘You want to help me find it?'

 

We're in a café. A couple sits one table away holding hands. Somewhere else a baby cries. The waitress is young and pretty. Every time she comes over with a knife and fork or a plate, she smiles and I thank her as if she's donated a kidney to me. It's like I've stumbled out of darkness and re-entered the world on a sunny day.

Dad's coffiee arrives. He stirs in the sugar, around and around, as if mesmerised by the swirling. His scrambled eggs reach our table on soggy toast and turn cold as he stares – out onto the road, at the floor – always into nothing. For me it's wedges dipped in sour cream with sweet chilli sauce. The wedges are too hot, and anyway, I suddenly don't have an appetite anymore.

I start to think that Dad's forgotten that I'm there, until he speaks.

‘This trip isn't about fishing or camping,' he says.

I already know that but I don't say anything.

‘I was trying to fit a whole lifetime into one day. Being a real father. Sharing and teaching. All the things I've never done with you.' He reaches for my hand and I give it to him.

‘I am so sorry that I hit you.'

Tears flow and he doesn't try to hide them.

‘You didn't mean it.'

‘Yes, I did. You know I did. I wanted to hit out as hard as I could. It didn't matter who it was. I was in such a rage for so long. Last night, after your mother had taken you and Allie, I was in a terrible place. Just going insane. I did an unforgivable thing, David.' He stares at me, through me. ‘I went to a man's house to kill him.'