The Crush (10 page)

Kelly stood up. ‘Sorry, but I'm tired. I'm going to bed.' She grabbed Gibraltar by the collar. ‘C'mon, girl. Time to go inside.'

They both walked towards the front door as though Matt didn't even exist. He deserved it though. He'd treated Kelly exactly the same way earlier.

‘Please, don't go. I came over to apologise for running away from you today.'

‘Don't worry about it.'

‘I also wanted to explain why I acted like I did.'

‘Can it wait until the morning? I've had a bad night.'

‘I can tell. Do you want to talk about it?'

‘What's there to say?'

He shrugged. ‘I don't know. But I reckon neither of us is going to get any sleep tonight. We might as well talk to somebody.'

Kelly thought about it but wasn't convinced. ‘Maybe some other time.'

‘I'll tell you what. If you want some company, I'll meet you down at that kids' park. I'll stick around for an hour or so. If you don't show by then, I'll head home.'

 

Hands wrapped around the steel chains, Matt rocked back and forth on a swing. The points of his shoes dug into the dust and he shuddered to a stop. He hung his head and rubbed his eyes. His aggro had worn off and fatigue had caught up with him. He'd
waited seventy minutes for Kelly but she was a no-show. Time to find a bed.

His seat shook as someone sat on the second swing.

‘I couldn't sleep,' Kelly said.

He looked up at her with tired eyes. She had changed out of her uniform and into jeans, a shirt and thin red jumper. She had a spare one for him. ‘You must be freezing.'

‘I am. Thanks.' He gratefully pulled it on. Its cotton softness smelt of vanilla. It was too tight around the arms and waist, and baggy around the chest but he didn't mind. She'd cared enough to worry about him.

‘It's funny,' she began, getting her swing moving and balancing herself with her good arm. ‘Every time I turn around, you're there. It's like you're my fairy godfather.'

‘Without the wings and guns,' he joked.

She half smiled. ‘So who wants to go first?'

‘You can,' he said.

Resting her head against the chain, she stared idly across the road. ‘Aaron and I had another misunderstanding, that's all. We'll be okay in the morning.'

‘What was this one about?'

‘He wanted me to sleep over at his house. I said no, my parents would kill me. He drove away angry. End of story.'

‘Does he treat you like that often?'

‘No. He's so sweet when he's in a good mood. Very affectionate too. There was this one time when we were twelve that he couldn't afford a friendship ring so he tore off the ring-pull of a Coke can and gave it to me instead. I still wear it, see?' She reached for her leather necklace and showed him the metal tab dangling from it. But Matt looked at her fingers. There was still no real ring from her Porsche-driving boyfriend.

‘He's your first boyfriend?'

‘Yeah, and I couldn't be dating anyone better,' she said, looking sombrely at the ground. ‘He's so popular. Everyone adores him. He could've picked any girl he liked but he chose me, Plain Jane.'

‘You're not plain.'

‘Yes I am. Nobody even paid me any attention before Aaron. I was the dorkiest twelve-year-old alive.'

‘Second only to me.'

‘I doubt that.'

‘Oh yeah? I nearly drowned at a school disco.'

‘You nearly what?'

‘Drowned. I've always been a hopeless dancer and I was bopping away at this particular disco when I backed into the drinks table. I crashed into it and fell to the ground. The water cooler fell on top of me, busted open and poured about twenty litres onto me. The teachers ended up calling an ambulance.'

Kelly laughed out loud as Matt's cheeks fried with embarrassment.

‘And you thought you were a dork.'

‘Sorry, but that takes the geek of the week prize,' she said.

The laughter continued some more before a fight between a possum and a cat broke out. The ringtail came off second best and shot up a gum tree.

‘Okay,' Kelly said. ‘Now it's your turn. Why did you run away from me today?'

Matt breathed in and out. He stared at his boots then gave a weak smile.

He told her the whole story—the card, the restaurant, the letters, his grandmother at Balmain, the secrets, the hurt and the grief of finding out he'd been lied to from birth.

When he finished, Kelly's mouth was agape. ‘Why didn't your mum ever tell you?'

‘Beats me. And that's what upsets me the most. I'll never trust her again. Or Nan.'

He got up and walked away. Kelly followed him to the jungle gym, where he buried his head in his arms against a metal bar. She placed a soft hand on his shoulder and her touch rippled across his back. ‘What are you going to do?'

‘I don't know. I can't keep on living like this.'

‘Have you thought about going and seeing your dad?'

‘But he's in jail.'

‘He'd have visiting hours, wouldn't he?'

‘I guess.'

‘Then go find out the truth.'

He looked at her with sad eyes. She smiled back at him.

‘But what if we don't get along?'

‘Then you'll be like every other teenager who has parents.'

Heads collided and shoulders jolted as the scrum packed down. Big brawny blokes grunted, swore and heaved as they pushed against the opposing team's pack, fighting for territory like two enraged mountain goats locking horns. Standing outside, Matt glanced at the scoreboard: 14–10 with forty-eight seconds left. They had to hold onto that lead. It wouldn't be easy. The Mongrels had been bulldozed back to their own twenty metre mark by the Punchbowl Boys team. One quick try and the Mongrels were goners.

Biting down on his tongue, the wily opposing halfback fed the footy into the scrum. Boots stomped, kicked and jabbed at the ball as both teams fought for possession. Matt watched intently, praying
that his team would win the scrum against the feed. But it finally rolled out the Punchbowl side and the halfback was away.

The ball switched hands fast. A quick flurry of passes saw it rocket left. The Mongrels defensive line charged forward only to have the ball whiz past it. The Punchbowl five-eighth caught it, dummied, sidestepped then threw a long, low pass towards the winger. The Mongrels were in disarray. Plenty of gaps exposed their tryline. If the Punchbowl winger caught the ball, he'd certainly dive over to score.

But Matt had read the play. As the Punchbowl winger waited eagerly for the ball to land in his hands, Matt pistoned forward and … Intercept! He snatched the ball from the air and ran the final eighty metres of the field for a try.

The Mongrels ran to hug him as the final siren wailed.

‘You legend!' Grover said, scruffing his head.

Hazem couldn't find the words to express his delight so he screamed instead.

‘Two more wins and we're into the grand final, Matty!' Chris announced, slapping his mate on the back.

Rhino, being Rhino, grunted once.

The high lasted all week. Friends and family gave them a surprise victory party. The Dragon Lady called a special assembly to congratulate them in front of the whole school. And at training, the guys were more determined than ever to win. The celebrations were a distant memory for Matt by the weekend, though. He had more important things to think about.

With one knee banging like a jackhammer, Matt sat at a long table in the prison's mess hall. Scores of wives, girlfriends, brothers, lawyers, children and seedy types slouched in the cheap, hard plastic chairs beside him. He dared not look at them, preferring instead to focus on the pink walls. Coldness hummed from the air conditioner, forcing him to wrap his jacket tighter around him. He didn't know how much longer he could wait. He was busting to go to the toilet. But time seemed to be stuck in those walls.

He'd never been in a prison before and wasn't keen on returning. Everywhere he'd walked, he felt spied upon or cramped. Even the air seemed to be trapped inside. The quicker this meeting was over, the better.

Finally, the guards reacted to a rap on the other side of a metal door. A giant latch was thrown and the door squealed open. Matt and those waiting
around him strained to pick out faces as the inmates walked in. He thought they'd all look scraggy with beards and long hair. But they were clean cut, just as they had been the day they were incarcerated.

The prisoners slid into chairs across from their visitors. Kisses were swift and impersonal. Hellos were stale and cool. Even in front of their families, they were afraid to show their emotions.

The last inmate walked through the doors before the guards closed it. Matt scanned the line of faces, trying to match them with the one in the photograph that his grandmother had shown him. The guards solved the puzzle for him. They grabbed a man in tracksuit pants and a sleeveless T-shirt and pointed at Matt.

A heavy breath hitched in the fifteen-year-old's chest.

It was his dad.

A tall man, he had intense brown eyes, a goatee, dark hair streaked with premature grey and funny-shaped ears. His body had once been stocky and well-defined but his muscles were losing their hardness. His skin was pale from a lack of sun and his eyes were developing crow's-feet, although he was thirty-two. Each step was slow and faltering, similar to those of a mule broken by the weight of its labours.

The excitement of seeing his father for the first time overwhelmed Matt. He reached out to shake his hand and drag him forward for a hug. But his dad ignored him, flopped down in a seat and scouted the rest of the room. With bored annoyance, he snarled, ‘Yeah?'

‘Are you Leith Ryan?'

‘Maybe.'

‘Son of Margaret Ryan?'

‘So what if I am?'

Matt grinned crazily and felt tears behind his eyes. ‘You won't believe this, but I've been waiting to meet you all my life!'

His dad snorted, laughed to himself and shook his head. Leaning forward, he stared at Matt, finally acknowledging his existence. ‘Look, kid, I'll save you a lot of bellyaching. You're wasting your time. If you want to hear about my life story, then go to a second-hand bookshop. You'll find it in the crime section for fifty cents. That part of my life is over, right? Look around you. Fat load of good it did me, huh? If you want to be the next Big Thing, go right ahead. I'll see you in here in twelve months.'

Matt sat, stunned.

‘Don't you get it, kid? Get out of my face!'

‘I'm not—'

‘Go!'

Dumbstruck, Matt sat there gasping. The guards stopped patrolling the room and exchanged glances among themselves. All eyes were on him.

‘Get out of here!'

Slowly, Matt rose from his seat. This wasn't meant to happen.

‘What's going on here, Ryan?' one of the guards said, towering above them.

‘Leave us alone, Lewis,' his dad answered. ‘Me and the boy were just having a bit of fun.'

‘And I'll get the goon squad onto you if you tell me how to do my job, got it?'

His dad shut up and seethed.

The guard hooked his hands under his belt and readjusted it. ‘Don't get any ideas from this maggot, sonny,' he warned Matt. ‘He's just another forgotten headline at the end of the day.'

The man walked away and Matt found himself half-frozen out of his seat.

‘Sit.'

Matt stayed still.

‘Sit,' his dad repeated. ‘I want to finally meet my son.'

‘But how'd you know—'

‘A hunch. Mum said she'd tracked you down.
I knew she'd find you again. Where is the old lady anyway?'

‘Outside,' Matt replied, even more confused. ‘She signed me in but didn't want to come in herself. She said it would be better if we met alone.'

His dad surveyed the mess hall and snorted. ‘If this is what you call alone.'

Matt shifted in his seat. ‘Why did you tell me to leave just then?'

‘It was a test. A lot of losers show up here wanting to meet me. I wanted to see how you'd react if I gave you the cold shoulder. You passed though, eh? You didn't start swearing and yelling and calling me a has-been. I figured ya must've been someone who really wanted to see me.'

‘You … You have groupies?'

‘Dozens. A lot of them write to me too. There's a lot of mental cases in here, mate, but there's an equal number of them outside too.'

‘Why do they want to see you?'

His dad laughed sharply as if the question was ridiculous. ‘Don'tcha know?'

‘Know what?'

‘That I'm the famous Laughing Skull Bandit? The bank robber who had half Australia's police force after him?'

‘You robbed banks!'

‘Yeah, heaps of them. You haven't heard of me?'

‘No.'

His dad gave an incredulous look. ‘What are they teaching you kids in school these days?'

Matt didn't know what to say. His dad was a bank robber? Wait until Chris found out.

‘Didn't ya mum ever tell you about me?'

Matt blushed. ‘No. She said you were dead.'

‘Dead?' He laughed. ‘Well, that's a new one. I know she wants me to be, but the Reaper hasn't come for me yet. I bet she went berserk when you told her you were visiting me today.'

‘She doesn't know yet.'

‘She what?'

‘I haven't told her that I've found you.'

His old man crowed and ran his hands through his hair. When he finished, he had an enormous grin. ‘Boy, is there going to be fireworks at your place soon.'

‘I can handle Mum.'

‘I hope you can because I never could.'

His dad shook his head, still grinning. He glanced around at the other inmates then leaned forward over the table. ‘Enough of me. I want to know about you. What school do ya go to? What foods do ya
like? What sports are ya into? What hot little numbers are ya scoring?'

Matt blushed at that last question.

‘Um, well I go to Bankstown Central High. I like Chinese food. And I play footy.'

‘Footy?' his old man piped up. ‘Which code?'

‘League.'

‘All right! A real man. Who do ya play for?'

‘School and for a side in the local Saturday comp.'

‘What position?'

‘Halfback.'

‘My old position! You any good?'

Matt shrugged. ‘I do okay.'

‘None of this “okay” business. Tell me the truth. You any good?'

‘There's talk a couple of Sydney clubs are interested in me.'

‘Get out of here.'

Matt nodded. ‘They've watched me play too.'

His dad nodded with pride. ‘Go, my boy. It's about time one of us Ryans produced a champion, eh?'

Ryan? The name sounded funny. But Matt guessed that was his name too.

‘So what team do ya follow?'

‘The Doggies.'

‘Those losers!' his old man spluttered. ‘Why would
you want to go for them? You should be a Dragons supporter, mate.'

‘What, and watch the Dogs flog them again like they did earlier in the year?'

‘Hey, that ref was a dud. He should be a screw, mate. Your guys got away with murder. But don'tcha worry. The next time the Dragons take on your mutts, we'll see who's best.'

‘Sure, sure.'

They laughed together for the first time. It felt good.

A squabble between an inmate and his lawyer started in the far corner. The guards took a while to calm it down before Matt and his dad turned back to each other.

‘So, how's your mum anyway?'

‘Good, I guess.'

‘What's that s'posed to mean?'

‘We aren't talking much these days.'

In fact, they weren't talking at all. Since that night in the middle of the plaza, Matt had tried to avoid his mum. He'd leave before she came home from work and return when he knew she'd be asleep. She'd waited up for him one night and they'd had another row. He was hoping to crash at Chris's place that night.

‘So what do I call you?' Matt said, before his dad pushed him more about his mum.

‘Call me whatever you like: Leith, dad or even scumbag. But whatever you do, don't call me the Laughing Skull Bandit.'

‘Dad'll do,' Matt said sheepishly.

‘I'd like that.'

They both did.

‘Dad, can I ask you something?'

‘Yeah, anything.'

‘Can you tell me what happened fifteen years ago? You know, with you and mum.'

The question caught his old man off-guard. The words rolled around in his mouth as he looked at the exits and fidgeted in his chair. Scratching his goatee, he was about to answer when the guards signalled time was up.

‘Maybe next visit,' he answered.

‘Can't you tell me now?' Matt pushed, reckoning they had another minute or two before the guards dragged his dad away.

‘Nah, come and visit me again next week. I'll tell ya what you want to know then. It takes a while.'

Seeing his disappointment, his dad tried to get his attention again. ‘In the meantime, make sure you win over those talent scouts. The next time I see you, I
want you to tell me they've asked you to play for their club, got it?'

‘Yeah, definitely.'

Matt and his dad rose to their feet. They stared at each other and Matt felt a swell of emotion inside of him. Finally, the man he'd been searching for all his life was standing in front of him. It was still too hard to believe. Reaching forward, he attempted to hug his old man but his dad shied away. He coughed and glanced round him at the other inmates. Matt understood. It wasn't the right thing to do in a place like this one. Emotions were left at the front gates. He'd be marked as a soft target if he showed any weakness. So Matt lowered his arms and stood firm, instead nodding to his father. His dad nodded back as he was marched away.