No Worries (6 page)

12

I took the bike down the cycle track and rode it as hard and as fast as I could.

Joe was in my head; what I should have said to him, done to him. But even as I thought those things, I knew if I'd been in his place, having to put up with my crazy mum, I would have done exactly the same.

The cycle track ran next to the beach. Liam and I used to be always charging along there, sea spray pelting us in the face, eating up that ocean smell. I don't think we were real clever when we were young kids. But even
we
knew it was perfect.

It's funny how you look back at things and smile to yourself: think yeah, that was so cool then. There had to be a lot of boring, shitty stuff mixed up in those days, but you don't remember that — at least I don't.

One time we were racing to the duck pond and we're going like the clappers. I was about a bike length in front and I must have relaxed a bit, because, next thing, on the bend before the pond, Liam sneaks up on the inside and gets past me. Soon as he does, he pokes his bum in the air and does this loud squelchy fart. A monster, it was.

He's killing himself laughing and I pull up the bike, collapse on the ground, holding my throat and coughing and spluttering like I'd been gassed. Liam rides back, a grin from ear to ear as if he's just made the funniest joke in the history of the world. It seems awfully lame now, but at the time — yeah, funniest joke in the history of the world.

I thought about Liam a lot, wished that I could wind back the clock, do things differently. I had to keep remembering that
he
stuffed up, not me. He just about grew up at my place — should've known what Mum was like. One day she goes off at him for spilling Milo or some nothing thing like that. She's way over the top, like he's just skinned her cat, you know? I nudge him, tell him to let it go, and he does. He's really spewin' but he doesn't say anything to her and I think, ‘Good on yer, Liam. Good on yer.' But then as soon as we're outside, he's goin', ‘Your mother's mental, mate. They oughta put her away. Put her in a nut house and throw away the key. No joke. She's a retard!'

So I hit him. I didn't even think about it. Like a reflex action. Got him a beauty right flush on the nose. I'd never hit anyone before. Always ran a mile if there was a fight on. And then I go and belt my best friend. He went down on his arse, this huge look of shock on his face. Then he felt his nose and saw the blood and tears sprang into his eyes. That was really the thing — that I saw him crying like that. Our whole lives were based on being tough, being cool. But all the time we were king-size wimps. I would have been crying too if Liam had got in first. But I was standing over him and he was down and beaten and crying. That's the real reason he took the ute, why he racked off to Queensland with his dad. I knew I'd never see him again.

Riding back home, I pinned it all on Mum. If she hadn't gone off at Liam for no good reason, we would have still been mates. If she'd been halfway reasonable, Dad would still be living with us. If she'd just shut up and done her job, she could have stayed on at the fish shop for years. She kept on screwing up her life and I was always the one that had to pick up the pieces. And now I was doing it again.

I swung off the cycle track and flew down a side street, factories on one side, the ocean on the other, and I screamed my lungs out, ‘Mum, you stupid, stupid bitch!'

It didn't help.

Back home I listened at Mum's door. The sound of snoring had never seemed so beautiful. For a while at least she could escape the demons and be at peace. So could I.

I went back to bed and crawled under the blankets. This time I didn't think about Emma.

Mum and I slept for ages. We both got up about six, stumbling around like a couple of wrestlers who'd clashed heads. I made us cheese on toast for dinner. She didn't eat it. I don't think she even knew it was in front of her. The TV was on but Mum stared straight through it. I was tuned into her, waiting for another eruption. I'd made up my mind to give work a miss, but right on time she got up and started jangling the keys, suddenly impatient to drive me to work.

‘You sure you're okay to drive?'

‘Yes, yes, yes! Of course I am! Don't nag me. I'm the adult, remember?'

She backed out of the driveway fast. There was a car coming slowly down the street and she was forced to wait for it.

‘Hurry up! What's wrong with you? Hurry up!'

She honked the horn as the other car passed, then caught up to it and flashed her lights as she sped by — Mum against the world.

It was the sickness talking. But that didn't make it any easier for me. And when she was low like this she could say or do whatever she wanted and I'd learnt to cop it. If I snapped back at her, let her know how I really felt, it might have given her the excuse she needed to give up on life.

I don't think that was ever far away from Mum's mind. Those sad eyes of hers were as good as putting up a sign. It preyed on me a bit, the thought of coming home and finding she'd done something to herself.

I thought back to another time. I was about six or seven, cuddling up in bed with her like she was a teddy bear. Everything was great between us. She really was my mum back then. I have no idea why, but I suddenly started thinking about her dying. Probably it had never occurred to me before. Being a little kid, I cried.

‘What's wrong?'

‘Nothing.'

‘But what made you cry?'

A shrug.

She looked at me and in two seconds flat she'd worked it out. We'd never gone anywhere near the subject that day or any other day. But she knew.

‘Are you worried that I might die and leave you?'

‘No!'

She held me tight. Didn't try for any answers. Just held me tight, and without a word she convinced me that she was never going to die.

I wished we could go back to when I was six or seven.

Mum stopped the car outside the factory. I wanted to lean across and kiss her on the cheek but her body language said stay away. Best I could do was to tap the car roof as I got out.

‘Seeya, Mum.'

She didn't answer.

13

It was so normal at work. Eric stirring the vendors. Them probably plotting to blow him up. Bob doing his chimney impressions. Norm paying out on Eric whenever he got the chance. The three of them coasting along until it was their turn for the tunnel. It was like the factory was their great escape. If they had problems at home they left them there. They mucked around and laughed and talked about nothing but sex. School without the teachers.

But I carried my problems with me. I desperately wanted to talk to someone about Mum. But how do you talk about stuff like that? You don't, not with people who were almost strangers. You couldn't trust them. Sick in the body was okay. Sick in the head wasn't.

‘You're a bit quiet, tonight, Dreamy,' said Norm.

Eric looked up from a girlie mag. ‘Get a knock-back, did ya?'

I was trying to think of what to say when he struck again.

‘No, that can't be right. I forgot — you wouldn't have lost yer cherry yet, would yer?'

He called out to Bob. ‘Whatcha reckon, Supers? Yer think Dreamy's ever had a naughty?'

‘None of my business,' said Bob.

Holding his hands behind his head, Eric leaned back, stretched and yawned.

‘I got you worked out, haven't I, pally?' He grinned. ‘You never even been close to a sheila. Never even been kissed. Hey, Normie, we got us a virrrrgin!'

Norm's eyes were all over me. He wasn't laughing out loud, but he was still having a good time.

I couldn't think of a single thing that would shut Eric up.

Bob saved me. ‘Better than bein' a mental virgin like you, Rattlehead.'

‘Hey?'

‘That's right, mental virgin, you are. Next idea'll be yer first.'

Norm's belly jiggled about as he laughed.

‘Fair go,' said Eric. ‘What is this — Pick on Ek Day?'

‘Only stating the facts.'
Puff, puff.
‘That brain of yours is never going to pack it in from over-use, that's for sure.'

‘You're not wrong there, Supers,' said Norm.

Eric forced a smile — better to pretend they hadn't got to him. I knew he wouldn't bother me again for a while.

Cusack drove in at about two o'clock, top speed as usual. He even drove fast in reverse. His truck thumped the dock as he backed it in.

‘Look at the way he drives,' said Norm. ‘Good thing he's not a jockey — whip a horse to death, he would.'

His milk was on the dock ready for him, so he had no reason to gripe. He still looked surly though, with that ‘don't come near me' face as he loaded the truck. He was about to leave when he realised something was missing.

‘Hey, where's my custard?' He clambered into the back of the truck and lifted up crates, before barrelling over to Eric.

‘Where's my carton of custard? I ordered one.'

‘Stuffed if I know.'

Bob nodded towards the coolroom. ‘Grab it yourself.'

Muttering and shaking his head, Cusack stomped off and got the custard, held it up so we could see it, then threw it into the back of the truck. He slammed the door, gunned the engine. Gone.

We were glad to see the back of him.

A few hours later a paddy wagon turned up. A hulking great cop took off his cap and laboured up the steps towards me.

‘You got a milkman here called Cusack?'

‘Yes.'

Bob came over. ‘What's up?'

‘We've had a milko been killed. On the driver's licence it says his name's Cusack. Got his milk out of here, did he?'

Bob rubbed his chin, letting the news sink in. Finally he answered. ‘He's one of ours all right.'

‘Good. That's a problem solved. Got his family coming in to identify the body, but we need someone to drive his truck back here — it's full of milk.'

‘How'd it happen?' Bob asked.

‘He got hit by a car on the highway. We think he jumped out the driver's side, didn't look — whammo. Bounced off the windscreen of the car that hit him. Wouldn't have known much about it anyway, that's one good thing.'

‘Cusack, eh?'

‘That's our boy. So you got someone to drive the truck back, have you?'

I felt like the cop had punched me in the gut. I could hardly breathe.

‘That's no problem,' said Bob without a moment's thought. ‘Might as well do it now.'

‘Rightio then.'

‘You tell the others, will you, Bri?'

‘Okay.'

‘Shouldn't take too long.'

Bob strolled away with the cop as if he was off to buy a loaf of bread.

Eric and Norm had been watching from the office. They were full of questions as I walked towards them.

‘What do the coppers want with Superstud, Bri?'

‘I bet I bloody know,' declared Eric. ‘They've arrested him for growin' marijuana in his vegie patch. The old Supers is a drug baron!'

‘No,' said Norm. ‘They've caught him knockin' off knickers from a clothesline.'

‘It's about Cusack,' I said.

‘What about him?'

‘He got hit by a car.'

‘Holy shit.'

‘Bob's going to drive his truck back.'

‘Is he all right?' said Norm.

‘No … he's dead.'

‘Holy shit,' Eric repeated.

I told them the story. Norm winced at the part about him bouncing off the windscreen.

‘I didn't like the man,' he said, ‘but I wouldn't have wished this on anyone.'

It was such an unreal feeling for me. Two hours back Cusack was his usual angry, obnoxious self. It was so easy to dislike him then. Now I only felt sorry for him.

‘You never can tell, can you?' Norm said. ‘You say goodbye to someone and you think you'll see them again for sure. You don't even think about it really. Not a second thought. But then …' He snapped his fingers. ‘Ah well, that's the way it goes.'

Eric had this way of jamming his lips together and jutting them out as he nodded. He did it this time, as if agreeing with Norm. But then he said, ‘I won't be losin' any sleep over him. Bloody shitbag, he was. Couldn't have happened to a nicer bloke.'

Mum was there in the morning, completely different from the night before. The anger had gone and her eyes were lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. She was full of plans.

‘I haven't slept a wink all night, Brian. I've got some brilliant ideas. Can I tell you?'

She was talking fast and loud.

‘But first I'm sorry about yesterday. Forget that ever happened. I'm really sorry. Joseph did me a big favour. I'm still angry with him, but I refuse to let it get me down. I'm going to be positive. I needed to get out of that job. It was stifling me. I needed to get out and I'd be still talking about it if he hadn't forced the issue. If I ever see that customer I'll kiss him. It was all the frustration — four years' worth just blew up yesterday. I'm really sorry you had to take the brunt of it. But that's over. Finito.'

She paused for breath and I jumped in.

‘One of the vendors got killed last night. He was hit by a car.'

‘Oh dear …'

There must be a user's manual — Sad Words for Dummies — that tells you what you're expected to say when someone dies. It's all empty stuff, but there's not much else you
can
say. Mum had read the manual well. She made some clicking noises with her tongue, then rattled it off.

‘Was he very old?'

‘Did he have any kids? A wife?'

‘It's always such a tragedy when these things happen. You wonder why it happens, and how their families cope.'

I wanted to tell her what Cusack was like. What the cop said. What Eric said. How Bob had gone off to get the truck. How the words
the body
freaked me out. Like he's not a person any more. He's nothing. Just
the body
. I wanted to tell her how I felt — I couldn't be sad for him because he was an idiot, but I knew I
was
sad. But was it for Cusack or for me? Death had always seemed so far off before. It only happened to other people. Before.

Mum gave it a few moment's silence — token respect for the dead — then pasted on a smile.

‘There's no use dwelling on that stuff, Brian. There's nothing you can do for him now. It's tragic of course and I do sympathise, but there's nothing else anyone can do …'

She stopped at an intersection, the only sound the beep, beep of the indicator. We slipped into a stream of traffic, Mum looking across at me from time to time. Then after a few minutes …

‘I've got some news that will cheer you up. I'm desperate to tell you. It's so exciting!'

‘Go ahead,' I told her, knowing she would anyway.

‘I'm going to take up painting and decorating — old houses, you know, giving them a facelift. What do you think?'

I nodded with conviction, as though I was taking her seriously.

‘You know how I watch all those home improvement shows on TV? Well, I thought, why can't I do that? I'm sure I'll do every bit as good as them, if not better. Some of their designs are …'

She waffled on for ages. Usually I'd say something smart or make it obvious that I wasn't interested and couldn't be bothered listening. But for once I made an effort.

‘That's a brilliant idea, Mum. You could do that.'

‘You think so? You're not just saying it?'

‘I really mean it. I'll help you any way I can.'

All I could think of was Norm's finger snap; how life could vanish in a moment, how much we took it for granted. Mum could have told me she was going to be an astronaut and, at least for that morning, I would have cheered her on.

‘See, I'll learn from doing our place up first and then I'll start putting ads in the paper. I'll get work, I know I will. I've always loved doing up old rooms, crafts and things. When I was young all I wanted to do was be a painter. I've still got loads of paints and half-finished canvases. Now I can make use of that creative side of me! I told you it was exciting, didn't I? And of course you can pick the colour for your room when I do it. You choose anything you like, Brian. I don't care. Purple, pink — polka dot if you want. Okay, I draw the line at polka dot. Otherwise it's entirely up to you. But I am sick to death of those dismal greys and whites. Let us have some sunshine in our home! And music. Not the thump, thump stuff you listen to. Melodies. Tunes. Opera! We should have more music playing. I've been dancing around all night. I never realised how good it makes you feel. Dancing and sanding the walls. Hey, that's almost a song! Listen –

Dancing and sanding the walls, all night

I've been dancing and sanding the walls!

‘Yeah, Mum, good.'

‘No, it's awful, shocking, but it doesn't matter. It's just good to sing. Oh, there's so many opportunities. I feel so, so — liberated! All night long I've been like this. I should be exhausted but I'm not. I am sorry about the milkman who died — really I am. But you have to move on, Brian. Look at me. Yesterday I felt terrible and now — it's amazing!'

‘It's great to see you so happy, Mum.'

‘I feel like I've come out of a dark, dark room. Even the sky — look at it, will you? Does it seem brighter to you, or is it just me? It really looks brilliant today. And I'm so clear-headed — and I've got energy!'

I knew it wasn't going to last. She probably knew it better than me. It was that old rollercoaster ride again. We both had to hang on tight.