No Worries (7 page)

14

Dad had disappeared on one of his fishing trips with his mates. A note pinned to the shed door said ‘Back Thursday'. That's the way he'd always done it before and I hadn't minded, but this time — for the first time — I felt like he'd let me down. I wasn't angry enough to have a go at him about it, because he wasn't to know that Mum would go off her head, but I was angry just the same. Maybe I was jealous too. I would have loved to pin a note on my door: ‘Gone to the North Pole. Won't Be Back.' No such luck.

Having Mum at home all day was not fun. She didn't do anything quietly. When she wasn't dancing and singing, she had the TV bellowing as it competed with the vacuum cleaner. I gave up trying to sleep and pitched in to help.

‘I want all that disgusting wallpaper gone,' she said. ‘I must have been out of my mind to put it up in the first place.'

More than likely, I thought.

‘Do you think you can do that without completely destroying the wall?'

‘I'll give it a shot, Mum.'

She took a break from her frantic schedule to smile at me. That wasn't all that usual these days. But now Mum was overflowing with joy. The world was good.

‘This is the best move I ever made, Brian. It's so wonderful to be out of that dreadful shop and to be doing creative things. It's bliss! And who knows, if the business takes off you could give up working those awful hours you do and you could work with me. Would you like that? I know I would.'

‘That'd be cool.'

I tried to sound enthusiastic but I think my terror showed through.

For two days she raced around the house, bursting with excitement.

She blazed like a sunflower until she virtually fell asleep where she stood. Then she'd wake up refreshed and blaze again. But gradually her energy levels dropped and her frustrations grew, until the tiniest thing stressed her out.

By that time the sunflower had vanished.

‘Take a look at your room, Brian. Would it be so hard for you to dust in there occasionally? It's a pigsty!'

‘It's my room, Mum. Can't I have my own space for once?'

‘No! Not when you live in my house!'

If she wasn't on my back about my room, then she was going off about something going wrong. Endlessly.

‘This paint is so thin — it's like water!'

‘Look at this brush! I just bought it and it's falling apart!'

‘Oh God, this is hopeless. Hopeless!'

From anywhere in the house I could hear her bellyaching. And I couldn't talk to her without her yelling at me. She was like a plane spinning out of control. I knew she couldn't pull out of the dive. I knew the crash was sure to come, just didn't know when.

* *

Thursday.

I was waiting for Dad when he came home.

‘Wish you'd told me you were going away.'

‘Pinned a note on the door. Didn't yer see it?'

‘But I might've needed you to be here.'

‘Did ya?'

‘Not this time.'

He shrugged.

‘I'm glad you told me. It won't happen again.'

He held his right hand over his heart.

‘Swear to God.'

‘It's not funny, Dad.'

‘Only muckin' around with yer, matey. Now give us a hand here, will yer?'

I told him all that had happened as I helped unpack his car.

‘It's nothin' new for your mother.' He wasn't the slightest bit concerned. ‘Always been a drama queen. Always will be.'

‘But she's got a reason this time, Dad, losing her job like that.'

‘It had to happen sooner or later. She's a loose cannon, Bri.'

I followed him inside and held the fish he'd caught as he cleared a space for them in the freezer. That job out of the way, he opened a can, and drank it like he was dying of thirst.

‘You want one?'

He tossed it before I could answer.

‘Now don't dob me in to yer mother.'

‘This is different, Dad.' I left the beer unopened on the table. ‘The other day she was gunna kill Joe. Next morning she's high as a kite. Now she's frantic — trying to do a hundred things at once. She's unravelling. I don't know what's coming next.'

‘That's yer mother.'

‘But doesn't it worry you?'

‘Bri, me boy, you got a lot to learn about females. Us blokes, we go along good as gold, never change from day to day, but women are firecrackers, mate. Sometimes you just gotta keep yer head down. Your mother'll come good again. Always does. But you go worryin' about ‘er — and I'll tell you this for nothin' — you'll end up as silly as she is.'

No matter how much I tried, I couldn't get Dad to take her seriously. Defeated, I opened the beer.

‘Not a bad little drop, is it?'

‘Yeah, great, Dad.'

He held up the can in salute. ‘Down the hatch.'

As we drank I told him about Cusack.

‘Jeez, that's no good.'

‘He wasn't a nice bloke, Dad. No one liked him. Yelling all the time. Angry. But I felt sorry for him. Still do. I think about him a lot.'

‘I know where yer comin' from, son. Knowin' someone who gets killed — it's not pleasant for anyone. Blokes dyin' sudden like that, it's somethin' yer never get used to.'

At least Dad was listening. But he had no idea what to do or say next. We weren't into hugging. Wrestling was the closest we got to that. A head lock was a sign of affection. If he almost broke my arm it was undying love.

‘Got another beer for yer if yer want it.'

‘No thanks.'

I got up to leave.

‘This bloke who died …'

‘Yeah?'

Dad crunched up the can and popped it towards the bin. It landed on the floor with all the rest.

‘Matey,' he said, with a sigh, a shrug, ‘we all gotta die.'

‘Right.'
That really helped, Dad.
‘I'll see ya.'

‘All right then. Seein' that young sheila, are yer?'

‘Probably.'

‘She keen on yer?'

‘No!'

‘I see … well, good luck to yer, Bri. Only tell yer one piece of advice. Wear a raincoat.'

‘What?'

‘Raincoat. Always have one handy, just in case. Today might be the big day.'

‘Huh?'

‘Condom. French letter. Rubber. Jeez! Everyone knows what a raincoat is. What are yer?'

‘Oh, that. I won't need it. We're friends, that's all.'

‘You don't have to get measured up, yer know. One size fits all.'

‘
Goodbye
, Dad!'

15

I biked over to Emma's house. I'd been past there often but never had the nerve to front up. Thought maybe I wouldn't be welcome, by Emma, by her dad — I wasn't into taking chances. But now there I was at the door, overflowing with all kinds of fear, but ringing the buzzer anyway.

‘Bri!'

‘Hope you don't mind me turning up. If you're busy —'

‘Of course I don't mind. Get in here!'

Who is it, Emma?' A voice from upstairs.

‘It's some really creepy guy, Dad. Come down and save me.'

‘Don't tell him that.'

‘Bring your shotty, Dad.'

‘What if he believes you?'

She grinned wickedly. ‘Then you die, loser.'

Emma's dad clomped down the stairs. Luckily for me, he carried a newspaper, not a shotgun.

He was tall and broad, with reddish grey hair and not much of it.

‘Dad, this is my friend, Bri Talbot.'

‘Hello, Bri. I'm Tony. Emma's told me about you. Good to put a face to the name.'

He didn't try to break my hand when he shook it. As he draped himself on a lounge, he patted a space beside him.

‘Take a load off your feet, Bri. Make yourself comfortable.'

‘He can't,' Emma cut in. ‘He's got this really important thing he has to tell me. In private. In my room. Now.'

‘Have I?'

Emma slapped a hand across her eyes, shaking her head.

Her dad smirked.

‘She's always afraid I'll say the wrong thing, Bri.'

He swivelled around to face Emma.

‘I was only going to make polite conversation, Emma. Nothing sinister.'

‘I know you, Dad. You want to interrogate him. He's a lawyer, Bri — thinks every boy I know is a serial killer.'

‘I have never said that. I've said they
look
like serial killers. There's a big difference.'

‘But Dad —'

‘Polite conversation, that's all.'

‘Okay. If you must. But you've only got two minutes' — a glance at her watch — ‘starting … now.'

‘Why only two minutes? Is there something to hide?'

‘One minute fifty-five to go.'

‘Why do I let her get away with this, Bri? Does she do this sort of thing to you, too?'

‘Not as bad as she's doing it to you.'

‘Time marches on.'

‘All right, I'll play along with your little game, Emma. Tell me about yourself, Bri. What team do you follow?'

‘In football?'

‘Yes.'

‘I'm not into football much. I like tennis.'

‘Do you play?'

‘When I can find a partner.'

‘I'll give you a game,' Emma offered.

‘Any time.'

‘But can you handle being beaten by a girl?'

‘You, beat me? Not in this lifetime.'

‘I'll even give you a start.'

‘You're kidding yourself, Emma.'

‘Excuse me, guys. I still have some questions.'

‘One and a half minutes to go.'

‘You two used some of my time.'

‘Tick, tick, tick …'

‘Right … Emma tells me you work at a milk factory, Bri. Do you like it there?'

‘It's okay for now. But I'm probably going to do something else.'

‘Good stuff. Any definite plans?'

‘Not yet.'

‘He likes writing, Dad.'

‘Really? Maybe you could do some kind of writing course.'

‘Never thought about that. That'd be good.'

‘One minute left.'

‘Okay, Emma, game over. I have just one more very important question to ask Bri.'

‘If you must …'

‘The truth is Bri, I don't care all that much about the job you've got, or what team you follow — not important. I only want to know that you're being good to Emma. She's all I've got.'

‘Dad, please.'

‘I'd never hurt her or anything.'

‘That's what I like to hear. Good. So I have no need to worry, do I?'

‘I don't think so.'

‘Fantastic. Because if anything happened to her —'

‘Dad …'

‘Sorry, Emma, but I need to finish that sentence.'

‘Then don't say anything dumb.'

‘If anything happens to Emma, Bri' — he paused for a friendly smile — ‘I'll have to kill you. It's nothing personal. But that's what fathers are for.'

‘Um … okay.'

‘Dad's a pussycat, Bri. Don't believe him.'

Her father stood up and headed towards the kitchen, tapping the newspaper against his leg.

‘You two have fun,' he said. ‘But not too much.'

‘So, Bri,' Emma said, as if nothing had happened, ‘what did you come over to see me about?'

‘I have no idea.'

‘Then let me show you around the house. Come on.'

The carpet was white and soft, the walls pale blue. Everything looked so bright and clean. It made me realise how dark and dull our place was.

Emma glided from room to room — ‘Check this out, Bri' — and then we climbed the stairs, photos all the way up.

‘This is my mum. She died not long after this was taken.'

Same red hair, same eyes, still alive in Emma.

‘There's Dad looking dorky — he can't help it — and that's Claire and Marie, my best friends. You'll meet them one day.'

I felt like I should pinch myself to make sure it wasn't another daydream. Emma was talking about the future, and I was part of it.

We reached her study.

‘I call it the Emily Dickinson Room. Have you read anything of hers, Bri?'

‘Not yet. I'm waiting for the movie.'

‘You're a sick man.'

She pulled back a curtain to reveal a window ledge lined with trophies.

‘Ta-dah!'

‘Where did you buy these?'

‘Excuse me! I won them. Netball and swimming. You're looking at an elite athlete here.'

I picked up a trophy that showed a girl running.

‘You into track and field as well?'

‘I can't run to save my life.'

‘So how come you've got a running trophy?'

‘Blame Dad. I finished last in a race at school. I was twelve. It was the worst day of my life. Bawled my eyes out. He goes straight up to the shop and buys me this. See what it says on it?
Emma Freeman: Best and Fairest Daughter
.' She took the trophy from me and gazed fondly at it for a moment. ‘Such a cornball thing to do — but it means more to me than all the rest.'

Her bedroom was next. I looked for a photo of me above the bed.
Yeah, sure, Bri
.

She fell backwards onto the bed.

I sat next to her. We were in bed together, in a way at least. Maybe this was a good time to …

‘Dinner's ready!'

Her dad's voice was so loud I thought he was in the room with us. I jumped off the bed real fast.

Emma eyed me strangely before calling back, ‘Won't be a minute, Dad.'

‘I'd better go.'

I hoped she'd beg me to stay, but …

‘Okay, Bri. Nice to see you.'

We left the bedroom and started back down the stairs, Emma leading the way. In a minute I'd be out the door and gone, and it was so hard getting to that door in the first place.

‘Hey, Emma.'

‘Yes?'

‘Maybe we could go to a movie one day. If you like.'

She turned around, smiled.

‘I'd love to go to the movies with you, Bri.'

I don't remember going down the rest of the stairs — that must be what happens when you're floating — and suddenly I found myself at the doorway, with her dad shaking my hand again.

‘You're welcome here any time,' he said. ‘And Bri, I was only messing with your mind. I rarely kill anyone — unless I have to.'

Emma had her arms around her dad, but her smile was all for me.