Give Me Truth (7 page)

Dinnertime and we're all seated around the table. It feels like we're having a tea party in a war zone. It's Mum and Dad's war. And we're all casualties.

We're eating pasta. This is Rory's favourite food because it allows him to be ultra-disgusting. He knows how much I hate seeing him with long pieces of pasta dangling from his mouth and, if he can get away with it, his nose. Tonight he doesn't do any creative eating. He still makes a mess but it's not on purpose. I guess even he can sense the cloud that hangs over us.

Mum and Dad sit opposite each other, avoiding eye contact. The only sounds come from chomps and slurps until Dad pipes up with: ‘Thanks for this, Denise. It's very tasty.'

Mum's fork makes the trip from the plate to her mouth without missing a beat. Dad's words tumble down and die.

When Rory burps I tell him he's disgusting, because he expects it, but secretly, the sound is so welcome I feel like cheering.

After dinner the chill factor coming off Mum drives Dad away, so I help wash the dishes. Rory never has to do them because he's too young and too clumsy. Besides, he has to rush back to his room so he can blow up things in a computer game called, I suspect,
Blowing Up Things
. Any other time I'd be glad to be alone with Mum, but now I feel the chill too. There's ice hanging from her every word. The coldness isn't directed at me, it's become a part of her. We don't have our Saturday morning girl-time anymore. She's too busy. Frozen with anger.

As we stack the plates I find it difficult to talk to her. I'd be so hurt if she pushed me away. But I have to try.

‘Mum?'

‘What?' She has her back to me and doesn't move. I wrap both arms around her. ‘What is it? I'm tired and I want to go to bed.'

‘I understand, Mum. What Dad did was awful. I say give him heaps, make him suffer. But not for the rest of his life. It was one bad thing he did. Just one. And you know he's sorry.'

‘Caitlin, my love, if you truly did understand, we
wouldn't be having this conversation.'

She puts away a plate, takes a broom from the pantry and begins to sweep the kitchen floor, going at it hard and fast. Maybe she wants to exhaust herself so when she goes to bed she doesn't feel anymore.

‘Sorry, Mum. You're right.' I stand in her way to make her look at me. ‘I couldn't possibly know how you feel – all I know is how
I
feel. I can't let you and Dad split up without at least trying.'

‘Well, now you've tried. Okay?'

‘Mum, this is so important. Why can't you talk to him one more time? It won't kill you. Just give him a chance.'

‘I'm
sick
of giving.' She stares me into submission – it only takes a couple of seconds – ‘And we've already done our talking.'

She puts the broom back, kisses me goodnight – her lips are dry and hard – and trundles off to the empty desert that is her bed.

I expect to find Dad on the couch downstairs – the last stop before he gets kicked out for good – but instead I see the light shining from under his study door. I stand in front of it for a minute, unsure of whether to talk to him. What can I say? What good will it do? I have no answers but I can't walk away.

I knock on the door.

‘Dad.'

‘It's not locked, Caitlin.'

He's looking out the window onto the street. A dark blue car is parked in front of our house. There's a man sitting behind the steering wheel. We live in a cul-de-sac so you notice cars that don't belong. I've seen this one before.

‘Has he been there long, Dad?'

‘Half an hour or so.'

‘What's he doing?'

‘Don't know.' He shrugs and steps away from the window, pulling shut the curtains. ‘Forget it. It's nothing.'

Back behind his desk, Dad straightens papers, shuffles through his drawer. ‘Be with you in a minute. I can't seem to find my glasses.'

He needs a carer. Can never find anything. How could he possibly survive without me and Mum? I take his glasses from the top of the filing cabinet and hand them to him.

‘Oh good. Thanks.' He puts them on and sits back in his chair, smiling pleasantly at me. ‘You've got your serious face on, Caitlin.'

‘Have I?'

‘Yes. What's on your mind?'

I have no plan of attack. No questions prepared. I wish I didn't know what he'd done so I could just hug him. But I do know.

‘Caitlin?'

The bravest and dumbest thing I've ever done is to
jump from the highest point of the diving board at the swimming pool. I did it solely to show off to my friends, but I learnt something. When you're scared senseless, don't stop and think about it or you'll freeze with the fear. Just shut your eyes, take a deep breath, and jump …

‘I've been talking to Mum.'

He keeps the smile going, even though he cringes a little.

‘She told me, Dad. What you did.'

No smiling now.

‘Oh. I see.'

‘Your affair.'

The words are ugly but I have to say them. I don't want any more secrets.

‘Yes. Well, it's true.'

‘I thought you might deny it … I wanted you to.'

‘No. I've always told you and Rory to admit it if you've done something wrong, so I think I should take my own advice.' He leans forward to rest his hand on mine, hesitantly, as if he's scared I'll reject him. I don't. ‘I'm sorry, Caitlin.'

‘I know you are. But why did you do it? It's hurt Mum so much.'

He moves his hand away. ‘Look, to be honest, I don't feel comfortable talking with you about this.'

‘Gee, Dad, I'm sorry you're not
comfortable
. Neither is Mum.'

I'm not usually bitchy but I think with more practice I could be really good at it.

‘All right, Caitlin. Point taken. I did it. I'm terribly, terribly sorry. I don't know what else you want to hear. No matter what I say, it's not going to change anything.'

‘But I need to understand what happened, Dad. If you don't tell me I'm going to spend the rest of my life wondering, until I go crazy. You
have
to talk to me.'

‘Yes. I suppose I do.' He takes a deep breath, almost as if he too is about to jump off the high board at the swimming pool. ‘She was a friend. Someone to confide in. That's all it was at first. I never intended to hurt anyone.'

His voice cracks a little but he pulls himself together and comes straight back with a smile, as if to say,
‘That didn't hurt a bit'
. Not true. It hurts him a lot, telling me this, but he takes another breath, ready to go again. Before he does, I burst in with questions.

‘Are you still seeing her, Dad?'

‘No.'

‘Is it going to happen again?'

My gaze never leaves his eyes. I have my own personal polygraph. If he wavers once, I'll know it.

‘No, we've ended it, Caitlin. It's definitely over.'

More questions. The blowtorch turned up high.

He doesn't waver.

When he finishes there are a few moments between
us in which nothing is said. Head bowed, he waits for me to bring down the sentence. The jury isn't out for long. He's my dad. I hate what he did. But I love him.

‘I think Mum will take you back,' I say. I have nothing to base that on, but I need to give myself hope. I also need to ask a really hard question … ‘But do you
want
her to take you back?'

Dad rubs the side of his face. It's part of his thinking process. He does things slowly and that annoys Mum. Her mind works quickly. She knows what she wants and does it. In Dad's mind every decision has to be passed by a committee.

‘I want us to be happy, Caitlin, but I don't know if that's possible anymore … I think sometimes you have to walk away.'

No, no, no!

‘You call it walking away – I call it running away.'

He doesn't answer. He can't answer.

‘I won't let you, Dad. That's all there is to it. You can't break up. Mum's just hurt right now. Don't take any notice of what she says. In a few months it's going to be different. You have to tough it out.'

His hands sweep through his hair. ‘Listen to me, Caitlin.'

‘No, because you don't know anything – you think you do, but – '

‘It's over.'

‘Don't say that, Dad.'

‘I have to. I don't want it to be like that, but it is. It is.'

I could have cut him to pieces with words, if he hadn't already been cut to pieces.

 

Back in my room, I watch TV with the sound muted. It's only on because I don't want to be alone right now with my thoughts. Outside I hear a car engine being revved, way too loudly. It's like someone is announcing,
I'm here
. The squealing brakes say it too, and then the car speeds away.

I send a text.

He answers by ringing me straight back. It's good to listen to a happy voice.

I hear Dad's shoes smacking hard against the concrete. He walks straight and purposeful, the way he's drummed into me.

Shoulders back, David. Don't slouch. Head up. Make me proud.

I follow him to the car park, not caring where my head or shoulders are.

‘Wait. Please. Talk to me.'

‘What is it that you want from me, David?'

He stops beside his car.

‘You. That's all. Then I'll go back to class. Just tell me you're coming back. I can't leave you until I know what you're going to do. I won't leave you.'

He fiddles with the car keys, tossing them from one
hand to the other. Dad's hair is white and thin but I've never thought of him as being old. Until now. Old and tired.

‘I expect you – ' the voice is icy, so is the glare. But then he puts his hands in front of his face and shakes his head.

I go to say something but stop. Silence is better. I look away and wait until he's ready.

‘You and me.' He pauses to clear his throat. ‘There's always been a special bond. You know that, don't you, David?'

‘Yeah. Of course.'

‘Allie, well, she's my princess. My little girl. It um … it kills me that I won't see her.' He pauses again, struggling to hold it together.

‘You'll see her, Dad.'

It's as if I hadn't spoken.

‘But I know she's got her mother and she'll be all right in time. But you …' He puts an arm around me. ‘You know, when you were born, I went running all through the hospital telling anyone I could find about my son. “It's a boy, it's a boy”. And even now, right now when I say “my son”, well – ' He shuts his eyes for a moment, then wills himself back into control. ‘David.'

‘Yes, Dad?'

He looks at me for the longest time. It's hard to predict what's coming but I'm expecting it to be bad.
Finally he pushes some words out. Words I never would have guessed.

‘Why don't we go fishing?'

I gape at him, confused – relieved.

‘I've always said I'd take you. Would you like that?'

‘Sure! Of course. It'd be great.'

It's beyond great. That stuff he said before about having no reason for anything, that freaked me out. But fishing means hope to me. I love it.

‘Good, good. A man who makes decisions.' He smiles and I start to relax. ‘All right. I'll drop you home and you can pick up some gear. I need to change and get a few things together. Then we're off. We'll just go.'

‘You mean now? Today?'

‘No, I mean yesterday.'

He nods and grins. Maybe the happy face is only a mask, but it's still so good to see.

‘Of course I mean today. Let's not waste another minute.'

‘What about school?'

‘I'll fix it. Write a letter. Make a phone call. Whatever it takes. I'm your father. How I do it is not your concern. It's done. So, are you in?'

‘I'd really like to.'

‘Are you coming with me or not, David?'

‘You know I want to – but it's Mum. She's not going to be very happy.'

‘Leave that to me. I'll handle your mother.' He opens the passenger side door.

I still hesitate.

‘We're only going fishing. I won't ask you again.'

‘Okay … cool.'

I get into the car.

 

First thing I do is head for the backyard. Tail wagging, Cindy bounds over to me as if I've been missing for a year. I top up her water dish and give her some kibble.

‘David.' Dad calls from inside the house. ‘Don't be all day out there.'

Cindy ignores the food. She has a ball in her mouth and she drops it at my feet so I'll play with her. ‘Sorry, girl. Haven't got time now.' I grab her under the tummy and as I lift she pushes herself up into my arms and I swing her high then low. And when I gently settle her back on the ground she looks at me with eyes that say,
More, more. Play with me.
I wish I could.

‘Do I need much stuff, Dad? We won't be away long, will we?'

I'm calling out from my bedroom. He doesn't answer.

It's a strange feeling being in our empty house. We left in such a hurry it's like we're all still here. Clothes scattered about and plates on the kitchen table. Reminders of my family in every room. Only half trying I can hear
everyone's voices. I stop and listen for a few seconds, think back to so many good memories. Now, with Mum and Dad breaking up, I can't be sure when I'll be here again. That's the thing that bothers me the most – nothing is sure anymore.

I change out of my school clothes. My new uniform is a t-shirt and boardies, a pair of thongs. Cap and sunnies. Ready for anything now. Then, as if Mum was standing behind me, I throw in some suntan lotion.
Happy now, Mum?
I leave the bag in the hall and go back to my room for the fishing gear. Like soldiers waiting to be called up for battle, the rods have stood forever in a corner. They've never even been wet. Cobwebs on them now, more on the tackle box. One last look around and I find the camera. I'll definitely need that to take photos of the monster fish we catch.

‘All set, Dad. You ready?'

There's still no reply so I walk until I hear his voice. Stop and listen.

‘I am telling you that is what is going to happen. David is coming with me. End of story!'

It's like last night all over again – the anger.

‘I am his father! Do you hear me? I have rights! You will not stop me seeing
my son
! I will not accept the scraps that you throw my way. I will not wait dutifully by to see
my
children every second weekend. You are so wrong if you think that!'

He bangs down the phone to cut Mum off. But he still keeps talking.

‘Did you expect me to stand by and do nothing, Lorraine? You lived with me all those years and you didn't know me. You didn't know me!'

Coldness, that's what I feel. It's in my face and racing down my body. It shakes me. As if I'm walking with robot's legs, stiff and unsure, I go into the room. He's sitting on the edge of the bed.

‘Ready to go, Dad.' I hold up the rods. ‘You want me to put these in the car?'

‘Yes. As soon as I get out of this suit we'll leave.'

The phone rings. I watch as he picks it up and thumps it down, before back-handing it onto the floor.

‘Your mother. The reason we are having difficulties, you see, is that she wants everything her way and I will not be dictated to. I am still a man. I have still got my pride.'

‘She's worried, that's all. Maybe we can do this in a couple of days. Give me time to talk her into it.'

‘Christ!' He shoots it at me. ‘Not one more word like that. Are we clear? If we go away it's about you and me. No one else. Either you come with me or you don't. No one is forcing you. But if it's not today, then you can forget about it. There won't be any tomorrows. Not with me. Life is about making decisions. Now you make up your mind right this minute, David. Right this minute. Make a decision and stick with it!'

‘Okay, Dad. Take it easy. We're going. We're going.'

He stares at me. After the yelling the silence is magnified. It makes me aware of other sounds; a car whooshing past outside, the fridge humming in the kitchen, my heart thudding.

‘You have made up your mind?'

‘Sure. I want to go fishing. I do.'

‘All right.' He sighs. ‘I didn't mean to snap at you.'

‘That's okay, Dad. It doesn't matter.'

‘I want to make this a special time. Years from now I want you to remember this trip.'

‘For sure. I'll always remember this. I know it's going to be good.'

He pushes the anger away and his fist lightly nudges my chin.

‘Only good? No, I promise you, David, it will be great! Let's go fishing.'