Portraits of Celina (24 page)

“Pick up? You don’t have anything, do you? He’s a kid, Mum. And it’s the first,” my words choke in my throat, “his first birthday without Dad.”

“You think I don’t know that?” She takes a few steps, then turns back. “I’ll come and see him after my shower. This is hard for me as well, you know.”

Hard for you?
I am shocked – I thought she’d pull herself together for Seth.

“Don’t get all pouty on me, Bayley. You’ll be here and Gran – and Amelia. He’ll have a ball. He doesn’t need a teary mum spoiling his fun.” She slips into her room and closes the door behind her.

This is too much.

We do our best. Even Amelia. Put on our game faces and try to make Seth’s day as birthday-ish as possible, to fill the gaping holes left by our dead father and our absent mother.

Amelia blows up about a million balloons and initiates an impromptu game of burst the balloon. It’s hilarious, especially when Gran’s won’t burst, no matter what she tries. In the end she resorts to bouncing up and down on it until it pops with an enormous bang and sends her thudding to the floor on her behind, laughter tears streaming. Once she has recovered, she heads off to the kitchen with Seth, and they make fairy bread and decorate cupcakes and we have a sugary lunch on the jetty. We spend the afternoon floating and splashing about on the plastic inflatable raft – an excellent gift from Amelia, which came as a bit of a shock. Not often that Amelia outdoes Mum.

Then, just when I start to worry whether Mum is going to get home before dinner, her car pulls into the drive.

Seth jumps to his feet, and squeals at the top of his voice, “MUM! Mum!”

Kids are so loyal. She abandons him on his birthday, scurries out the door on a hug and a promise, and here he is bursting with excitement at the sight of her. Mum waves and starts to walk down to the lake.

But the raft isn’t really built for someone jumping about on it, especially when it is already overloaded with Gran, Amelia and me. It bobs about, with Seth swaying and waving and yelling.

Mum picks up her pace. “Sit down, Seth! Sit down,” she shouts.

Seth doesn’t sit down. Instead, the raft folds in half and chucks us all into the lake. We come up laughing, but the laughter dries quickly at the sound of Mum’s screams.

“Seth! Oh my God! Someone get Seth. What were you thinking?” She is practically shrieking.

I whirl around in an absolute panic, trying to locate Seth, thinking that something has happened to him again. But he is already climbing back on the raft.

“He’s fine, Kath,” Gran calls. “Calm down.”

“Calm down? Calm down? I can’t even go to work without you lot putting Seth’s life in danger. Do I have to be here every second of every day?”

We wade back in to shore, Gran pulling the raft with a bewildered Seth on board. Mum has lost it again. I have no idea how to react.

We stand on the muddy sand, dripping and defeated. Mum rushes down and bundles Seth up and hugs him close. Then she lets fly.

“What is that thing anyway?”

Amelia glares at her. “That thing is my present for Seth.”

“What a ludicrous present. He is only seven. It’s plain dangerous.”

Amelia opens her mouth to reply, but Gran taps her on the arm, and shakes her head. She steps up to Mum. “You’re overreacting here, Kath.” Her voice is soothing. “Come inside and we’ll get the cake. Yes?”

Mum puts Seth down. “I’m too upset for cake.”

“It’s Seth’s birthday.” Amelia rolls her eyes. “Get over yourself, Mum. I know that you are anti-fun these days, but the rest of us are doing our best to get on with our lives – move on, you know.”

It’s the most sense Amelia has made in years. But Mum’s not having it.

“I can’t believe you’d get him something like that.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t get him anything.” I am sorry as soon as the words slide out of my mouth – not because of Mum, but because Seth is standing right beside her, pulling at his ears.

Mum steps towards me. “Don’t you dare–”

“Stop, Kath,” says Gran. Mum glowers at her, and I sense that things are about to turn ugly.

Gran takes Seth by the hand and walks towards the jetty. “Come on, you lot. Grab all this stuff and take it inside for me. And then we’ll get the cake ready for you in a jiffy. Okay, Seth?” Gran looks at Amelia and me. “Help him get out of his wet things, will you, girls?”

We both nod. I don’t know about Amelia, but I feel totally helpless.

As I walk away, I hear Gran speaking to Mum. Her voice is gentle and kind, like I imagine it is when she is helping her people at the Soup Van. “Come on, love, pull yourself together – for Seth. Do it for your son.”

They stay down by the jetty for an hour or more. Two hunched figures sitting on the boards. I hope Gran is getting through to her. But sadly, I don’t think Mum has it in her, and I wonder if our lives are ever going to mend, if any of us has what it takes to push through the pain and come out the other end still standing.

It’s just before lunch. The house quiet, I sit in the shade of the front verandah, encouraging even the slightest murmur of air to find me, while I nurse my laptop, chatting to Loni on Facebook.

Loni:
Got me a hottie
.

Me:
Name?

Loni:
Sure. Just don’t know it. Yet. Lol. Give me time
.

I stifle a yawn. I don’t care whatsoever about Mr Hottie, but I’ve been neglecting Loni, so I am pretending.

Loni:
What about you and Hot Neighbour? Hooking up yet?

Ouch. That hurt. Should I fess up? Tell her everything? That we had indeed hooked up and that he is awesome – the best thing that has ever happened to me – but now I think I’ve gone and ruined it big-time, and I am worried that he hates me. It hurts too much even to think it, let alone write it. I settle for my invented reality.

Me:
Na. Typical country bogan – too busy shovelling cowshit to bother with the likes of moi
.

Loni:
Bummer
.

Gran sticks her head through the doorway. “Bails, you seen Amelia?”

I shake my head.

“Her bed doesn’t seem to have been slept in.” Gran seems worried.

“Are you sure? I mean, how can you tell?”

“Because yesterday I changed her sheets and made it myself. That’s how. She didn’t go out last night, did she?”

How do I answer that one? “Don’t know,” I say, which is the truth, but not as accurate as “probably” which is more of the truth. “Maybe she’s gone for a walk or something.”

“Mmm. Maybe.” Gran peers out across the lake, her eyes sweep to the jetty and the track to the south and then she walks back inside, but I can tell she’s troubled.

Things were pretty tense last night when Gran and Mum returned from the jetty. Mum was trying too hard, and Amelia wasn’t giving an inch. I’ll kill her if she’s run off somewhere.

Me:
Gotta go. Amelia MIA again. Need to head search party. Love you. XXX

Loni:
Okay. Good luck. Love you too. XXX

I log off and try Amelia’s mobile, even though I am sure Gran has already tried. It rings a couple of times, then cuts out. I send her a message.

Where are you? Everyone worried. Message back. NOW
.

I hear Mum and Gran thumping through the house calling out Amelia’s name. Doors are opened and then slammed shut, panic rapidly building.

The only thing I can think to do is to ring Oliver, and I can’t be sure if it is out of concern for Amelia or as a desperate excuse to make contact, to hear his voice again.

Flooded with nerves, I hesitate, then stab at Oliver’s number, chewing on my lip.

I get his cheery recorded voice:
Hey. Not here. But I guess you worked that out already. Cheers
.

I start to leave a message but tear up and it sounds like gobbledegook. I click out of it without finishing and send him a text.

Sorry to bother you but Amelia is missing. Do you know if she was in town last night? Can you check with her friends? That Lee guy
.

It sounds pathetic – apologetic – but I am frazzled and I can’t think what else to write.

This is silly. Why am I so strung out? It’s not like it’s the first time Amelia has taken off or disappeared for a day or so. But this time feels different. Where could she be?

Seth runs past me and down the steps. “Amelia!” he calls and runs around the back. The anxiety in his voice is alarming.

“Be careful out there!” I yell. “There could be snakes.” Gawd. I sound like Mum.

I idly check my email. There’s only one new email in my inbox and it’s from Deb – another person I have been avoiding; I can’t cope with her going on about the wonderful Celina at the moment. I am about to open it when my phone beeps.

A message – from Oliver.

Amelia at Bowlo last night. Left at about eleven with Lee and others. Rang Lee. He said they went to Mitch’s and then he can’t remember much. He’s hell hung-over
.

I message my thanks, then try Amelia’s phone again. Still no answer.

But the phone beeps with another message from Oliver.

Will go into town and look for her. Probably passed out somewhere. Lee is looking too
.

Before I have a chance to reply, Mum and Gran both stride out onto the verandah, their concern clear on their faces.

“I think we should,” Gran is saying. “It’s well after twelve. She must have gone somewhere last night.”

“Would you put that blasted phone and computer away and help us here?” Mum says to me. I don’t get a chance to deliver my defence; she continues, her tone full of accusation. “Do you know anything, Bayley? Because if you do, you should tell us now. We’re about to call the police.”

“She went into town last night,” I blurt.

“Christ, Bayley. You just told me you didn’t know.” Gran’s impatience is clear. “What’s going on?”

“I didn’t know. I messaged Oliver. He saw her. She went to the Bowlo and then to a friend’s place and–”

“A friend? What friend? She doesn’t have any friends in town,” says Mum, confused. “How did she even get into town?”

I confess all. Tell them everything I know – which isn’t that much. Neither is impressed, but they have bigger fish to fry, and I am let off the hook.

“Tell Oliver that we’ll meet him in town,” says Gran, taking charge. “You stay here with Seth.”

I don’t argue. In fact, I am relieved. I couldn’t bear seeing Oliver look at me with disgust in his eyes again.

“They’re treating her as a runaway.” Gran flops onto the sofa, her exhaustion obvious. “She’ll turn up once she’s hungry, they said. They don’t know how stubborn Amelia is though, do they?”

Mum perches beside Gran on the very edge of the cushion. It’s as if she doesn’t belong, shouldn’t be here in her own lounge room with her own family. Her head droops, her fingers work tirelessly at a loose thread on her skirt. And my heart breaks just a little.

I’ve railed against Mum of late, weary of her selfishness and moods, her temper, her neediness, but the woman sitting on the sofa is like a phantom, a shadow of her former self. Where is the woman who ran a successful design studio and ruled a family? The woman who loved beauty and surrounded herself with it? Who seized the day with such vehemence that sometimes one day would turn into the next without her even making it to bed? Where has that woman vanished to? Fate keeps slapping her down and each time she picks herself back up, she is a little less. And I miss the woman she was so much, as much as I miss Dad. I lost two parents that day.