No Worries (8 page)

16

I knew Dad had only been stirring me before, but the more I thought about it the more it seemed condoms might be a good investment. I just might need them one day. Maybe Emma was waiting for me to make a move. And if I did, she'd expect me to take precautions. So there was no way out. I had to buy rubbers.

Even buying toilet paper made me embarrassed. My daydreams of sex were much easier than this.

I went to the supermarket where I filled up my trolley with biscuits and drinks. Then I casually strolled past the condom shelf. A quick look to make sure no one was watching. All clear. I reached out, but at the same time an old lady turned the corner. Too late to stop. I kept my eyes on her and grabbed the closest packet, before getting out of there fast. I stopped in front of the washing detergent shelves where I peered down at the condoms to see what kind I'd got. If they were glow in the darks, or edible ones, I was leaving the trolley right there. Thank God, they were just condoms. Now all I had to do was get past the checkout chick.

I considered shoving them in my pocket and simply walking out. But if I got sprung … if the security bloke frisked me and found condoms … if it made it into the papers (‘Condom Thief Nabbed in the Act') … if Mum found out … definitely too many ifs.

The checkout girl's name badge said ‘Kate'. She was only about fifteen.

‘How are you?' she said, but she was in the middle of a conversation with another girl and didn't look at me.

I held the condoms between two packets of biscuits, then put them down carefully, the condoms underneath so they couldn't be seen until the last second.

‘So where are you going Saturday?' Kate asked the other girl.

She scanned the items at top speed. Biscuits. Drinks …

Oh, please don't let her hold them above her head and ask for a price check.

She bundled everything — condoms included — into a plastic bag. ‘That's twenty-three sixty, thanks.'

I gave her twenty-five dollars.

‘Ta. I'm going out with Jason.' She thrust the change at me. ‘It's his brother's birthday. Didn't you get an invite?'

I could've had three heads and she wouldn't have noticed.

Back home I took the condoms out of the packet and put two in my wallet — then decided to make it four. The rest were hidden inside the lining of my gym boots. I knew the smell would keep Mum from ever finding them. As for my wallet, that would never leave my sight again.

17

I found Mum sitting at the kitchen table, shaking her head at the half-painted wall.

‘I can't do this,' she said. ‘This colour scheme is all wrong. I realise now why I never made it as an artist, why all my pictures are shoved away half finished, half-baked. I don't have any talent. I kid myself I do. Shoot off my mouth that I'm good at it. But I don't have a single creative bone in my body.'

She wasn't angry or sad. She was simply defeated, not only by the painting, it seemed to me, but by life itself.

‘Don't give up now, Mum. You've done fantastic work. I'll help you more often. Let me have a few hours' sleep in the morning and then we'll get stuck into it together.'

A brisk shake of her head.

‘No. It doesn't matter. I don't care anymore.'

A few hours later she drove me to the factory. Again the walls of silence went up, but for once I tried to knock them down.

‘We have to talk, Mum.'

‘About what?'

‘I hate to see you so unhappy.'

She looked across at me and sighed, shook her head, then retreated behind those walls again.

There were no more words until she stopped the car outside the factory gates.

‘You feeling okay, Mum?'

‘Yes.'

So cold and grim. This time I was the one standing there hoping for a wave as she drove off. But it didn't happen.

That night during a quiet patch Ron the supervisor came over to say ‘How's it going, boys?' He broke open a six-pack of stubbies, and even offered me one. No thanks.

‘Remember that sheila I told you about — the one with the tree,' Ron said.

Eric nodded. ‘Yeah. Saw the letter in the paper. Did Council take the tree out for ya?'

‘I don't know and I don't care,' replied Ron. ‘This bloody sheila, she comes to me and says, “I'm pregnant, Ronny. What'll I do?” And I holds her hand and I says to her, “Sweetheart, if I were you” — she leans in real close like I'm about to solve all her problems for her — “I'd jump off a bloody cliff, but make sure it's a fuckin' high one!” '

Eric cracked up. Norm took a sip of beer as he nodded his approval. Bob suddenly got interested in his bookwork again.

Some people can get away with telling a sick story and you laugh anyway, because they're just funny people. But though I'd never noticed it before in him, at that moment Ron seemed like a cruel bastard. There was a look in his eyes that made me believe the story was true. I didn't have the guts to say anything — wish I had. But no way was I going to laugh.

At seven I hit the bundy clock and walked out to the carpark.

‘I'll pick you up at four,' yelled Norm. ‘Don't forget.'

It was the day of Cusack's funeral. I wished I
could
forget it.

It was Bob who suggested we go.

‘He was a workmate,' he said. ‘The least we can do.'

‘You gotta be jokin',' Eric told him. ‘I wouldn't piss on him if he was on fire. Now you want me to go to his bloody funeral. What for? The only reason I can think of is to perve on his missus.'

Bob rubbed an eyebrow, a burning cigarette between his fingers. ‘Just when I think a bloke can't get any lower' — he stared off into the distance — ‘he sinks to the bottom.'

‘Come on, Ek,' said Norm. ‘Don't spoil the party. Bri's goin', aren't yer, Bri?'

‘I can't. I'm doing my driver's licence test this morning.'

‘The funeral's not until five-thirty. Plenty of time for you to do both. I'll even pick you up at your place. So are you goin'?'

‘I suppose.'

‘That's three of us then. So what do you reckon, Ek? You gunna be the rotten apple? Gunna let the side down?'

Bob puffed away as if he didn't care what Eric decided. But then again, maybe he already knew the decision. They'd probably never admit it, but Norm and Eric looked up to Bob. I felt the same way. He wasn't your dashing hero type. More a mouldy oldie. But he had some kind of strength that got your respect. You knew he was straight down the line. You could trust him.

‘Arr, all right then,' said Eric. ‘Bugger it. If youse are all goin', I'll go along for the ride. I just hope the bloody church don't fall down on top of me.'

A funeral and a driving test in one day. And as well I had Mum to cope with. Life just kept getting better.

18

‘Over here!' Mum's car was across the street directly in front of me but she still tooted the horn and waved.

Her eyes looked tired but she was trying hard to be in a good mood. ‘Hello, Bri! How's it going?'

She hadn't called me Bri in a while.

‘Pretty good. What about you?'

‘Oh, battling on. I didn't get any sleep again last night. But I'm wide awake now, that's the main thing.'

‘That's good, Mum.'

She took a basket from the back seat.

‘I stopped at the bakery on the way. You'll like this. I got your favourite — jam doughnuts.'

‘Yum.'

‘And … because I wanted it to be special, I also made you hot chocolate.'

‘Thanks. Are we celebrating something?'

She got me to hold the cups while she poured the chocolate from a thermos.

‘No, Mister Suspicious. It's nothing special. Believe it or not, I'm trying to be nice. I know I can be grumpy and hard to live with. Am I right?'

‘Sometimes.'

‘Well, this is my way of making it up to you. I don't want to be sad and miserable, Bri, but I can't help it sometimes — you know?'

I munched into the doughnut and nodded.

‘So now I'm happy and I want you to be happy.'

She cupped her hand under my chin.

‘I know I never tell you this these days, now that you're all grown up, but I do love you, Bri. And I want you to know it. Right?'

‘Okay.'

‘Good! Now eat your doughnut or I'll have it myself.'

I was so wrecked. I needed to go home to bed to be ready for the driving test. Then maybe some more sleep before the funeral. All I really wanted to do was go and see Emma. When was I going to get time for that?

‘Mum, this is nice but couldn't we eat the rest of it at home?'

She put her hand up for me to wait while she got rid of a mouthful of doughnut.

‘Look, I'm grateful and everything,' I said, ‘but I can hardly keep my eyes open.'

She checked her face in the mirror as she replied, ‘I can understand that you're tired. But you can't sleep yet.'

‘Why not?'

‘Driving test. Today. Ten o'clock. Does any of that ring a bell?'

‘Sure I remembered the test, Mum. I'm not stupid. I also have to go to the funeral of the vendor who died.'

‘You didn't tell me that.'

‘Well, I'm telling you now.'

‘Don't talk to me in that tone of voice!'

She flared up so quickly.

‘What tone? Aw, forget it. I'm tired, that's all. I don't want to argue with you, Mum. Let's just go home so I can get a couple of hours sleep before the test.'

I could see this fight she was having with herself:
Shall I snap at him? Shall I keep on trying to be nice?

‘Try to understand this, Brian —'

I'd been demoted to Brian again. Not a good sign. There was a sharp edge to her voice.

‘I've been driving you to work and picking you up and I haven't complained. Not once. But now I want to make sure you pass the test today. Is that fair? Tell me if I'm being difficult.'

‘But I can drive, Mum. I'll get my licence for sure.'

She gave an exasperated sigh. Her patience was running out fast. The look she shot me said,
Careful, boy
.

‘Put your cup away, Brian. Hurry up. You're driving.'

As she got out of the car I shimmied over behind the wheel.

‘I'll drive home. But straight home because I need to sleep.'

‘You won't bloody listen to me, will you?'

She thumped her door shut as she got in and tossed away the rest of the doughnut. Mine went out the window too. I made sure she saw it go.

‘I … am … trying … to … help … you.'

She left a gap between each word as if I was new to the language.

‘Okay then,' I said, hating her for it, ‘let's get it over with.'

‘Are you quite sure?'

‘Yes, I'm sure.'

Mum clicked on her seatbelt and I reluctantly did the same.

‘We might as well start right here. Reverse parking.'

She looked behind her at a narrow space between two cars.

‘You should be able to get in there.'

‘You're joking. That's way too tight. And besides, I don't want to do it here. Not while the blokes I work with are still hanging around.'

Her lips were clenched tightly together.

‘Just do it, will you, Brian.'

I could do reverse parking with Dad. Not very well, and not the first go, but I could do it. Dad never picked spaces this tight, though. And there was never any pressure with him. With Mum it was all pressure.

‘What are you waiting for? You will never pass a driving test if you can't get into that space. There's a mile of room.'

I drove parallel to the car in front, then reversed into the space. Or tried to.

‘Stop! You're going to hit that car!'

I drove out again and had another crack at it.

‘Look where you're going! No! No! God, you have no idea!'

She reached over and turned off the ignition.

‘What has your father been teaching you all this time?'

‘I can do it, Mum. Just back off a bit, will you?'

‘No. You cannot do it. You haven't got a clue, Brian. It's pointless you going for the test if you can't do a simple reverse park. You're wasting your time.'

Maybe it was the tiredness that made me go for her.

‘Get off my back, Mum. You give me the shits.'

‘What did you say to me?'

‘You heard. Stop bossing me around. I am not your little boy any more. And I know exactly what this is about. Not reverse parking. It's about Dad.'

‘You're talking complete rubbish, Brian. Your father has nothing to do with this.'

‘Not much he hasn't. Dad taught me to drive, not you. So you're jealous. Why don't you admit it? You don't want me to get my licence, do you?'

‘That's too stupid for words.'

‘Oh, sure it is. Any time I even mention Dad you get angry. You think I don't notice? It must really piss you off that I went to him to teach me and not to you. Well, I've got news for you, Mum. Reverse parking isn't my problem. You are!'

It was as if I'd knocked her down with my words and she was winded and couldn't speak. So when they're down, you put the boot in, don't you?

‘You want to get a life, Mum. Stop thinking about yourself all the time. There are people out there dying and they don't whinge like you do. Every day there's something else wrong with you.'

Still speechless. So I gave her one more hard kick.

‘And if
you're
not going to change, then I will.
I'll
get a life — but it won't be with you!'

Mum folded her arms and rocked back and forth, her eyes dull and staring ahead. I don't think there was anything going on in her brain at all. Total shutdown.

I'd been angry with her for so long, keeping it to myself because I knew she couldn't handle it. Always having to protect Mum and never getting any thanks for it. Now I didn't care any more. I was driving home and going to bed. She could sit there rocking all day if she wanted to.

I turned the ignition key and as I did a pained expression wracked her face.

Then she thumped her head against the glovebox.

‘Hey, stop it!'

I pinned her shoulders to the seat.

She bit me.

‘Mum! Stop it! What's wrong with you?'

She let out a scream.

‘Calm down, will you?'

I wrestled with her, trying to hold her still. Outside I could see Eric leaning against his truck, soaking up every detail.

She got her seatbelt off and pushed open the door. I couldn't hold her.

‘Where are you going? Come back. We'll go for a drive like you said. Don't be silly.'

She was running. I was half in the car, half out, not knowing what to do.

Eric was at my window.

‘You all right there, pally?'

‘Yeah, fine. Fine.'

Mum crossed the road and stepped in front of a car that only just pulled up in time.

‘What's goin' on, Dreamy?'

I shook my head at him. ‘Nothing. I can't talk now. I have to go.'

Eric moved away from the car and I broke the world record for driving from the car park to the corner of the street — a whole fifty metres — then got stuck as a line of cars filed past. I could still see Mum, but for how much longer? When I tried edging onto the road, drivers sped up and cut me out. Horns blared as they whizzed past. Every second felt like torture.

Eric drove up beside me. His truck had a long metal tray. He used the truck for carting steel in his day job.

‘What's the story?'

‘I can't get onto the road. I need to get out right now.'

‘Is that all yer worried about? Easy fixed.'

‘They won't stop, Eric. I've tried.'

‘You just keep right on my tail. Uncle Ek'll look after yer.'

He turned on his lights, jammed his palm down on the horn, then drove out into oncoming traffic.

Cars pulled up. They had no choice. One driver swore at Eric.

‘You can go and get stuffed, pally.'

I followed him through as if we were glued together.

Once we were across Eric pulled over to the gutter. He hopped down from the cabin and stood leaning against the wide open door. I parked the car in front of him and got out too.

‘Yer sweet now, Dreamy?'

‘Yes. Thanks for that.'

I thought he'd bombard me with questions about Mum. But though he must have been very curious, ‘See yer at the funeral' was all he said.

Then he got back behind the wheel and his truck rumbled away.

I took off up the street looking for Mum. For the first time I noticed the blood on the back of my hand where she'd bitten me.

A few minutes later we both saw each other at the same time.

‘Hey, Mum. Wait a second, will you?'

She scrambled over a fence into someone's front yard, and kept on looking back at me like she was a startled wild animal.

‘I only want to talk to you, Mum.'

There was a ‘Savage dog' sign but it didn't stop her. She opened the side gate and disappeared around the back of the house.

I knocked on the front door. What was I going to tell them anyway? There's a mad woman in your back yard? I was almost relieved when there was no answer.

I went back to the gate and found that the savage dog was there to greet me. It threw itself at the wooden slats, barking and growling. How did Mum ever get past that monster?

I retreated a few paces so I could see more of the yard, thinking that maybe she'd taken refuge in a nearby tree.

‘Please come home with me, Mum. I'm sorry for what I said. Everything's going to be okay.'

I felt like I was talking to myself.

After a while I trudged back to the street. And there was Mum. She was trying to force one of the car windows down. I ran as quickly as I could but she saw me and darted into a laneway. She was at the other end and I was only halfway along. Her head was down, her body hunched forward. She wasn't stopping for anything.

‘Mum! Please let me talk to you.'

She spun around. ‘I am sick of you. Do you hear me? Sick to death of you.'

In a house off the lane someone stood at a window watching and listening.

‘Go back to your father. He can look after you from now on. You haven't got a mother any more!'

I couldn't think of anything to say. Where would I start?

She took off again.

I followed from a distance, hoping she kept out of trouble until she got tired or came to her senses. It couldn't be too long …

Mum reached the shopping centre, still glancing back at me every now and then. At the Water Board building she bustled up the steps to the glass doors. I waited a minute or two then went after her. In the lobby I stood at the lifts reading the company signs, trying to work out where she might have headed. There were about twenty floors to choose from.

In one of the offices a group of women were gathered around a doorway. They stared at me.

‘Have you seen a lady go by here a while ago?' I asked. ‘She's a bit overweight … she's fat. Brown, fairly short hair. She had a yellow top on. Black pants, I think. She comes up to about my shoulder. I saw her come into the building a few minutes ago.'

‘What do you want with her?'

‘She's my mother.'

They exchanged glances. A tall woman stepped away from the others so it was just me and her.

‘She's really your mother?'

‘Yes, of course. Why?'

‘She told us you were a stalker.'

‘Right …'

Two cops came through the front door of the building.

Someone pointed me out.

The stalker.