No Worries (5 page)

‘You did?'

‘Yes. That's when I decided I'd like to get to know you.'

All I could do was gulp. And gulp again.

‘So yes, I would like to see you again, Bri. I liked talking to you today. It was fun.'

‘You mean it?'

‘Of course.'

I thought about reminding her of my defects — the ears, the teeth, the daggy hair, the serious shortage of muscles — but I wasn't that stupid.

‘Um … that's good, that's … yeah. So maybe tomorrow? Could I come round to the stable? I'll bring carrots for the horse. For Zeb.'

‘I'd like that very much. So will Zeb. It would be good if you got to know him. Dad's going to be looking after him when I go to Canada, but maybe you could come and say hello now and then.'

‘I will for sure. Every day if you like.'

I could feel myself looking like an idiot, just about dribbling with happiness. But I didn't care. I
was
happy.

‘Then I'll see you tomorrow, Bri.'

‘I'll be there! For sure!'

10

When I got back home Dad's car was gone. That meant he was at the club. I felt like telling someone about Emma but Mum was the only one around. She would've asked a million questions instead of just listening, letting me rave. It wasn't worth the effort.

She was at the sink peeling potatoes. I waited for her to say something as I walked into the room, but not a peep. She'd got off all the skin from this potato and was peeling off great chunks of the white part. She didn't seem to be aware of what she was doing.

‘Hi, Mum.'

Nothing back. I wondered what I'd done to annoy her, but I knew it didn't take much these days. The slightest thing got her going. I wasn't buying into it this time. She wasn't about to spoil my day. It was her problem, not mine.

I lay on my bed, a smile on my face. When I closed my eyes and concentrated, Emma's voice came back, then I could see her. I could touch her. And if I concentrated even harder she could touch me. Curled up under the blankets, we rewrote the Kama Sutra.

I drifted, blissed out. Bed was where I wanted to spend the rest of my life. If we ever made love for real, I'd want it to be like this. So peaceful and warm.

Then I heard a noise. I listened closely and recognised it. Mum was crying.

It wasn't too unusual. The moans and groans, Dad called it. It was always a big deal at the time — end-of-the-world stuff for her. But it usually blew over fast.

‘Hey, Mum. You all right?'

The crying continued.

‘Mum? Did you hear me?'

Nothing. What a pain. I got out of bed, stood in the doorway to check it out, yawning, feeling hungry and annoyed. Mum was still at the sink. The tap was on hard. She had the plug in and water lapped over the top of the sink and onto the floor. She took no notice. Arms straight down beside her, mouth wide, she rocked back and forth as she bawled.

‘Hey, Mum.' I walked over, turned off the tap and took the plug out. ‘What's goin' on? Didn't you see the water?'

I gave her a shake.

‘Mum. Hey!'

She was startled; gasped in shock.

‘What's the matter, Mum?'

It took her ages to snap out of it. She looked bewildered as she noticed the water at her feet.

‘Brian …'

Her hands trembled, so I held them. It had been a long time since I'd had any physical contact with her. Hugs and hand-holding were for little kids. Now it was almost as if she was the little kid.

‘I feel so terrible.'

‘You want me to get a doctor?'

‘You don't understand. I feel hopeless. So empty.'

I had to bite my tongue. I wanted to yell at her,
Get a life, Mum. Whatever the problem is, get over it.
When she got like this I wondered if I loved her any more. If I had ever really loved her. Because now I sure didn't feel loving. There wasn't much going on between us except her giving orders and me giving attitude. But seeing her so pathetic and helpless did make me feel something. Pity. I knew that was a long way from love, but it was the best I could do.

‘I'll make us a cup of tea if you like. Tea and a biscuit. Sound good?'

She tried to force a smile, but it only made her look sadder.

‘You want to talk about it?' I said, even though I dreaded talking to her. She could be so morbid and depressing when she was like this. And no matter what I said to cheer her up, she'd put a negative spin on it. I decided to give her ten minutes.

She took over making the tea.

‘I told you about the psychiatrist, didn't I? I saw her today.'

‘Yeah — meant to ask you how that went.'

She switched off the Sad button and pressed down hard on Angry.

‘A waste of time. Absolute waste of bloody time! I told her she was a stupid bitch.'

Nothing like getting straight to the point.

‘What'd you do that for?'

I tried to play it down, but her voice rose anyway.

‘Because she didn't listen to a single word I said! She kept looking at the clock and fiddling with a pen, twirling it around, looking at the clock. There was not the slightest little shred of interest in what I was saying or how I felt!'

She was in my face as if I was the psychiatrist. The target. I wanted to yell right back at her, tell her to shut up. But I only nodded.

‘Oh, but she wanted her ninety dollars, didn't she? Quick with her hand out for her precious money.'

Ten minutes was looking like an eternity. I took out some biscuits and tipped them onto a plate.

‘So what did you tell her?'

Mum's eyes fixed on her reflection in the kettle. Distorted and ugly.

‘Mum?'

She swung back to me.

‘I poured my heart out for nearly an hour and at the end of it nothing had been accomplished, except I felt worse! And so angry! And as I'm leaving, she says we have to make another appointment. What for? More money? More time-wasting? No, thank you very much!'

Then she was crying again. I pushed a cup of tea in front of her, and sat there calmly as though I couldn't see or hear the crying … having a feast off my fingernails.

‘Have the tea while it's hot, Mum.'

She tried sipping it but her hands shook too much.

‘Look, I gotta get something to eat.' I stood up. ‘I'll go to the shop. You want ribs?'

‘I'm sorry. I don't want to upset you, Brian. I'll be fine.' She blew her nose and tried to smile. ‘I've been going through a bad patch, that's all. And then that stupid woman today … but I've got it out of my system now. I won't talk about it any more.'

‘Great, Mum.'
Thank God.
‘So you want ribs, do you?'

‘Ribs?'

Hellooo, is anyone home?

‘Yes, ribs, Mum.'

‘Oh … that would be good.'

‘Coming right up.'

I knew the kind of things she would have told the shrink: the shrieking nightmares — the neighbours must have been able to hear her down the end of the street — the times she stormed out of the shops swearing her head off when the music drove her crazy. I don't why she was like that. I had fragments of information that she let slip now and then: a violent father, a mother who refused to see what was going on. I think there was more than that too. Whatever it was that happened to her, she never got over it, and I never got to meet my grandparents.

When I picked up the ribs I also hired a video. I took a long time to choose one. Nothing with sex in it. No violence. No horror. I settled on something funny to take her mind off her problems. Mum stared blankly into space like I used to during a maths exam. When her head was in that nightmare space nothing was funny in her world.

Mum had a sleep after the movie — and during it — and, as usual, she slowly improved. By the time she took me to work she was almost back to normal.

‘See you in the morning. Okay, Mum?'

‘The chauffeur will be here.'

‘You sure you're all right? I can have a sickie if you like.'

‘Sickie, my eye. You've only been at the job five minutes. You won't be having any sickie unless you're sick.' She poked me in the chest with a finger. ‘And you're
not
going to be sick. You hear?'

She wasn't angry when she said that. It was her way of loving me, I suppose. Her way of saying you can't get sick because you're all I've got.

I stood under the streetlight and watched until her car was around the corner. I knew she'd be checking in the mirror, wanting me to wave and play the loving son. Sure. Anything to keep her happy. But I was glad when she was gone.

11

The milk company had a promo going — scratchies on the cartons to win free chicken takeaways. Eric was right into it.

‘Give us a hand, Dreamy.' He had cartons strewn all over the dock. ‘I've checked this lot. Got six freebies so far. You go through these ones here. We'll divvie up what we get. What about you, Normie? You in this or not?'

Norm leant on a trolley. ‘I'm not a chicken man, Ek. Now if it was tinnies they were giving away …'

Bob looked on, arms folded and unimpressed. ‘No more after that,' he said. ‘If Ronny catches you, you'll be out the gate.'

‘Come on, Dreamy.'

‘How do we explain all the missing cartons?' I wondered aloud.

‘Spillage,' Eric said. ‘We got this young bloke who's real clumsy — guess who that is, Dreamy!'

I scratched the cartons and didn't ask any more questions. When we'd finished checking them we had eleven chicken dinners.

‘What a rort this is,' moaned Eric. ‘Only eleven live ones out of a hundred and twenty cartons — worse odds than the pokies!'

It's criminal, Ekka,' said Norm, stirring him. ‘I'd get me money back if I were you. You've been ripped off.'

‘Bloody oath I have.'

Bob clicked his tongue as he glanced around at the scattered cartons.

‘His mother was ripped off, you mean, Normie. Fancy givin' birth to the likes of him. It's cruel.' He turned to Eric. ‘The poor woman ever get over the shock, Rattlehead?'

‘No, Superstud.' Eric grinned wryly. ‘She never did.'

We'd finished cleaning by the time Ron strolled over for his nightly visit. ‘How's it going, boys?' I had the letter ready for him.

‘I hope it's all right,' I said, not sounding at all confident. ‘If it's not good enough I'll be happy to do it again.'

Ron shoved it into his pocket.

‘I'll have a look at it later.'

‘Don't be a party pooper,' Ronny,' said Eric. ‘Read it out for us. Let's see what Dreamy came up with.'

‘Go on, Ron,' added Norm. ‘Give us a read.'

Even Bob put his pencil down to give the letter his full attention.

I felt myself turning red as Ron read out my words. How could I have written such a corny letter?

A child trapped and lifeless
— yuck!

I waited for Eric to start laughing, but it didn't happen.

‘Good,' Ron said, folding the letter. ‘It might just do the trick.'

Bob clapped his hand on my shoulder. ‘Well done, Dreamy'.

‘First rate, that,' added Norm. ‘He's full of surprises, this lad.

Don't you reckon, Ek?'

‘Yeah.' Eric grudgingly nodded. ‘It's all right.'

It was only a letter to a newspaper — tomorrow's fish and chip wrapping — but it felt like I'd written a bestseller. And ‘a child trapped and lifeless' suddenly didn't seem corny any more.

Afterwards, as I trundled in and out of trailers with milk, I offset the boredom with a new daydream. I imagined running into Smith in the street one day …

‘Ah, young Talbot, what are you doing these days, boy?'

He'd be expecting to hear that I was on the dole. But I'd be ready for him.

‘I'm a writer.'

‘You're not — are you?'

‘Yeah, I am. Got something published in the newspaper just this week.'

‘But, but —'

And I'd leave him there scratching his head.

Revenge. I loved it.

By seven I was ready to drop. The others looked fresh and set to do it all again. In fact, that's exactly what Eric did. After working all night he saddled up and went to his day job. He'd mope around most of the night doing a zombie impersonation, but at 6 am he'd have a shave, and splash water all over himself and anyone close by — usually it was me. The shave brought him back to life.

‘Come on, Dreamy!' he'd say, all chirpy. ‘Another day, another ulcer. Get into it, pally!'

I could hardly pick up my feet.

Mum waited for me in the car. One look at her told me there was trouble ahead. The demons in her mind were busy as hell.

I mumbled ‘How's things?' as I got in, hoping she wouldn't tell me. ‘Do your seat belt up' was all she said.

I thought about asking her if she'd been taking her tablets, but I knew that would have meant war. She got so angry sometimes I was afraid to say anything to her. I thought it was weird that all of her problems started from having an angry father and now she was angry too. She never hit me the way her father must have hit her, but there's a lot of others ways of hurting someone.

Mum didn't come inside when we got home.

‘I have to go straight to work,' she told me. ‘Damn Joe's going to be late getting in and I have to open up. Of all days. I feel wretched.'

I was grateful she was going to be wretched somewhere else.

She looked behind as she started to reverse, then stopped and her eyes locked onto mine. It seemed like she might be trying to smile but she couldn't quite get there.

‘I'm just tired,' she said. ‘It's nothing personal. Okay?'

I nodded.

‘I'll try to bring us something nice home for dinner.'

‘Thanks. That'd be good.'

* *

At eleven o'clock Mum was back home, sitting on the end of my bed. I'd been asleep but her eyes burning into me soon put an end to that. I put the pillow over my face, hoping she'd take the hint.

‘I got sacked.'

I'd been dreading this day.

‘You know how long I've worked there?'

I wished I'd had a lock on my door.

‘Four years I gave to that place. Four stinking years.'

‘I'm sorry, Mum.'

‘Are you? Does any of this really matter to you?'

I propped myself up in the bed.

‘Yeah, of course. Tell me what happened.'

She began straightening my bookshelves, silently checking for dust like some demented health inspector.

If I'd been counting the seconds I would have got to about five before the bomb went off.

Bang!

She thumped a book down hard, driving it into the shelf.

‘What happened? What do you think bloody happened? I got screwed by Joseph, of course.
Oh, you'll always have a job here, Ruby.
Oh, sure I will! And after I started work early today! Put myself out to help him! And what thanks do I get? “You're sacked, Ruby!” That's how he bloody thanks me!'

‘Just calm down, Mum.'

‘I wish I'd had a knife. I would have stuck it in him up to the hilt, I swear to God.'

She was right into it. Playing the scene out in her head. Stab — stab.

‘Hey, whatever happened, it's all over now. You don't want to talk about stabbing people.'
Think of something funny, Bri. Anything!
‘You'd end up in gaol — food's not too hot there.'

‘Chicken salt. That's all it was. He wanted chicken salt and he got ordinary salt and so he whinged at me.'

‘Joe?'

‘No! This customer. Bored, petty little shit with nothing better to do than whinge about chicken salt. You get it all the time. All day long. Every day it's on. Then you think
Why do I take it?
And you see this bastard of a man standing there with this look — like
I'm so much better than you
— and you want to jump over the counter and smash his face in.'

I'd never seen her this bad before.

‘Fed up. Just fed up! “You're a prick”, I told him. “You're a stupid useless prick!” And then, get this' — she grabbed my arm — ‘spineless Joseph takes
his
side! Can you believe it? I work there for four years and he takes this little whinger's side. Over
me
!'

Crash!

She back-handed all the stuff on my dressing table. A mirror, brush, photos. All of them flew across the room.

‘It's okay now, Mum. It's all over. I'm on your side.'

‘ “You shouldn't talk like that”, Joseph says. Oh, so it's all my fault, is it? Bullshit it is! I'll talk any fucking way I want! I hate you and your stinking job and your shop and I hope it burns to the ground with you in it! I hope you get cancer, Joseph!'

She took off.

I jumped out of bed. I couldn't let her go. ‘Hey, Mum … Mum.'

‘Leave me alone! I don't want you. I'm sick of you. Go and live with your father. That's what you want, don't think I don't know. You don't care if I live or die. I have devoted my life to you and you couldn't give a shit. Could you?'

‘Mum …'

‘Stay away from me. I'm sick of everyone!'

My legs shook so much I could hardly walk. I threw my arms around her.

‘Let go of me!'

I hung on harder.

‘Let … me … go!'

She wrenched my arms free and shoved me back onto the bed.

‘I want some space. Do you understand me?' She pointed a finger at me. ‘Leave me alone or next time I'll really hurt you. I mean it.'

‘Hurt me? But it's Bri, Mum. Bri. You'd never hurt me.'

She stalked out, slamming doors behind her until she got to her room.

I stood outside listening. Hoping to hear her cry. That would break the anger. But all I heard was more swearing and muttering. She kept going over it again and again. Kept talking to Joseph.

Why couldn't she just be a normal mother? Someone who was easy to love.

I needed some help that day. Dad was at work and Mum didn't have any friends — it wasn't hard to see why. I rang her sister — Auntie Joan — and got the answering machine. She called herself a gypsy. Always taking off somewhere for days or weeks. No use leaving a message. I thought about rocking up to school and finding Emma. ‘My mum's gone mental. Can you help?' That'd go down real well. Even so, she might have helped … if I'd had the courage to ask. I wimped out of ringing our family doctor, too. If I told him what was wrong, Mum would've lost it even more. She hated anyone to know.

I had to do something, so I rode my bike to the fish shop, hoping I could get Joe to change his mind.

There were no customers but he made out that he was real busy when he saw me.

‘Hi, Joe. You got a minute?'

He opened a bag of frozen chips and poured them into a basket.

‘Joe …'

The chips sizzled in the oil.

‘Hey, Joe.'

‘In a second.'

He was probably hoping I'd get fed up and walk out, but I sat down and started reading a paper. I'd wait all day if I had to.

A few minutes later, and still focused on the chips, he spoke again.

‘Brian. Brian. Good to see you, but you know, you got me at a bad time. I got phone orders to fill and I'm all alone, so, you know, maybe we talk some other day.'

‘This'll only take a couple of minutes. It's important.'

He turned, sighing as he folded his arms.

‘All right, all right. This about your mother — yes?'

‘Yeah. She's pretty upset, Joe. I was wondering if you could talk to her — try to smooth things out. Just a phone call. She's home now. I think it would really —'

‘Brian, no offence. You good boy, but I have enough with your mother. I don't like to talk to you like this, you understand? I have mother, too. I know this hard for you. But you hear me. She has to see doctor. I have business here. Your mother no good for me. No good for business. You know what I'm saying?'

Business
. That's all he cared about. I felt like telling him that, but I shut up. Mum needed his lousy job.

‘Look, I know she can be difficult, Joe —'

‘Difficult? He threw his hands in the air. ‘Bloody nightmare, my friend. She go crazy today. I tell you, I never seen nothing like it. Not in my life. She no good like this.'

‘I know. I'm really sorry that happened. But come on, Joe, be fair. She's never done anything like this before, has she?'

‘Brian, Brian —'

‘Can you give her another chance? You know what she's like. A pain in the arse today but tomorrow she'll be fine. She's a good worker, she's honest, she's —'

‘Brian. You listen now. You listen. I tell you straight, boy. If Ruby show her face round here, I call police. No question. You tell her I said that. All right? I call police. Finish. You have big job with her. You be man now. She your mother. You do your best. Always for the mother, your best.'

I looked around the shop — saw the drink fridge.

Come on, Bri. Kick the glass in. Grab a chair and bash it on the counter. That'll get his attention.

I saw Joe looking anxious, wondering what I'd do.

Don't be weak, Bri. Push him up against the wall, put your hands tight around his neck and squeeze the mongrel.

‘I am sorry, Brian. I am honest with you. Very sorry, my friend.'

I knew he meant it, and I knew nothing I could do would change his mind.

‘Yeah, that's all right,' I told him. ‘Forget it.'

I didn't even slam the door.