The Crush (9 page)

This revelation blew him away. ‘Where is he?'

‘You should know something first—'

‘Where is he?'

She breathed in, reluctant to answer. But she realised she couldn't keep it from him. ‘In jail.'

Numbness. It became his worst enemy and his best friend. Homes, streets, cars, skyscrapers, people then homes again blurred past him as he sat unmoving in a bus looping through the suburbs and city. Not that he saw any of them. He stared at his reflection instead, wondering who was looking back at him. The eyes, hair, nose and ears were his, but his life?

It had all been a fable. A fairy story turned scary story. Except the storyteller had been his own mum.

‘Hey kid! The ride's over!' the female driver shouted. Blankly, Matt looked past the aisles of dark, empty seats. He hadn't even heard the engine stop.

Unwanted, he sauntered away.

Hugging himself, he sat on a dirty sandstone step outside Sydney Town Hall, his mind full of mental
traffic. He no longer wanted to be in his own skin. He'd gladly swap his body for any of the Saturday shoppers making suicide runs across George Street with their parcels and kids. They were all heading home to normal lives where their toughest problem was what they were going to watch on the tellie. Matt knew he should be doing the same, but home had suddenly become alien to him. It was supposed to be a place to run to if he ever felt afraid. Where did he run to if he was afraid of home?

Tucking his legs against his chest, he started rocking back and forth. He wished he had never found those letters. Some secrets should be left just that. Feeling tears, he denied them. He didn't know whether he should cry, be angry, or both. Nothing seemed real any more, except the lies.

His mum. Why hadn't she told him the truth?

He needed noise. Lots of noise. He submerged into the labyrinth of Town Hall Station, hoping the noise there would scramble his thoughts like static.

Commuters swamped the underground train station, flooding past its newsagent, flower stall, takeaway joints and ticket machines. Matt stood in the middle of the masses, watching a street prophet hand out copies of the
Good News Bible
in English and Mandarin. Sitting cross-legged across from him
was a street kid holding a cardboard sign scribbled with pleas for work. The irony wasn't lost on Matt. Heaven and hell, side-by-side. Ignored as people walked past.

Fighting the tide, he trudged from Town Hall Station to the belly of the majestic Queen Victoria Building with its floor after floor of expensive clothes, jewellery, opals, art work, cafes, cappuccinos and stuffed toy koalas and kangaroos. Matt took the escalator up to the street level, once again turning into a zombie. Being brain dead felt better than thinking.

‘Hello, I'm a talent scout for the Bulldogs. I'm willing to pay you a million dollars if you turn around …'

‘Huh?'

He stopped and looked over his shoulder. A girl was smiling back at him like she knew him. What was she so happy about?

‘I thought that might get your attention,' Kelly said. ‘I've been calling out your name since Town Hall.'

‘Sorry,' he said dryly. ‘I've been … distracted.'

‘I can tell. I almost thought you were ignoring me.'

‘No, I didn't hear you, that's all. What are you doing here anyway?'

Not that he cared. He wanted to be alone.

‘I've just finished work. Can't you tell?' she said, playfully modelling her daggy pink and grey uniform. ‘Embarrassing, isn't it? I look like a galah.'

She did. ‘Or a mouldy jam sandwich,' he offered.

‘Oh thanks!'

She laughed but he didn't. Couldn't she go away so he could suffer alone?

‘Do you want a doughnut? They're from work.'

At least that explained the uniform.

‘No thanks. What happened to your arm?' he asked, noticing the sling.

‘I, um, burnt it at work. Some hot oil splashed on me.'

Funny. He didn't know any kind of oil that left bruises.

‘How about you? What are you doing here—apart from ignoring friends?'

‘Just bumming around.'

Kelly wasn't convinced. She saw his pain and dropped the happy act. ‘Are you okay?'

‘Yeah. Sure. I'm fine.'

‘You look disturbed. Is something wrong?'

‘Er …'

‘Matt?'

‘Sorry, I've got to go. I'll catch you later, okay?'

He quickly backed away, feeling tears again. Kelly made a move towards him and scared him. Flustered, he crashed into a high-class lady, knocked her off her stilettos before bolting out of the building.

Kelly called out his name, but he kept running.

Three hours later, he found himself sitting on a bench in the middle of the Old Town Centre Plaza. His sleeves dangled lifeless against his sides as he crossed his arms under his shirt. Home was just around the corner, but he dreaded walking in the front door. She would be there. He'd only headed back to Bankstown because all the shops had closed in the city. If he had his way, he'd still be wandering the streets, or catching a train to Wollongong or the Gold Coast. Crashing on a beach for the night sounded pretty cool.

He wanted to get smashed. So smashed that every thought and feeling would be washed from his brain. Pity Chris wasn't home. He'd see if he had any of that bourbon left. Maybe he could bribe a drunk to buy him a six-pack instead.

Stressed, he ran his fingers through his hair, hoping it would clear his head. He was thinking crazy thoughts. He hated drinking. Hard to imagine him being a guy and all, but he'd never got the taste for it. Seeing too many fights and
messed up mental cases in housing estates had scared him sober.

To his right, a taxi driver suddenly laughed. The man shoved a white parcel under his elbow, searched for his keys then waved goodbye to Mr Nassaris. He was the last customer for the night. The old Cypriot locked the front doors, turned off the lights then flicked on the alarm system before pulling on his Andy Cap hat to head home. Wafts of salty crabsticks and garfish would stink out their upstairs unit all night.

The farewell was the last sign of life for at least twenty minutes. So Matt jumped when his mum spoke behind him. ‘I was wondering where you were.'

‘What are you doing here? You scared me.'

‘I was about to ask you the same thing. Mr Nassaris saw you sitting out here and said he was worried about you.'

‘I'm okay,' he answered, turning away from her.

She walked in front of him but he avoided looking at her.

‘What's wrong, mate?'

‘Nothing.'

‘So that's why you're sulking out here on your own?'

‘I'm not sulking.'

‘Yes you are. You never miss dinner unless you're sulking.'

Matt clammed up.

‘C'mon, confess. What's going on?'

‘It's nothing, all right?'

‘Are you fighting with Chris?'

‘No.'

‘Another of your mates then?'

‘No.'

‘Is it school?'

‘No. Look—'

‘It is a girl?'

‘
No
.'

‘Is it me?'

A pause. ‘No,' he lied, breathing out.

‘It's your dad then, isn't it? You always get stroppy round your birthday.'

‘No I don't.'

‘Yes you do. Every year without fail.'

Matt huffed. He hated how his mum could read him so well. He wondered if she could play his game of truth just as competently.

‘It just bugs me, that's all,' he added.

‘Why?'

‘It's not fair. Everyone else has a dad.'

‘Grover doesn't.'

‘Yeah he does. He lives with his mum, but he still visits his dad on weekends.'

‘But they fight all the time.'

‘It's better than having nothing.'

‘So what am I?'

‘You know what I mean.'

The seat tilted suddenly as his mum flopped down next to him. Boy, how he desperately wanted her to lose weight. Didn't she care about her health?

‘Why can't I have a dad?' he asked out of frustration.

‘You know why, Matthew.'

‘Didn't you ever think to ask him for his name or his phone number at the party?'

‘I was drunk. I forgot to ask, okay?'

‘But you let him sleep with you!'

‘Hey, don't get an attitude with me. I got enough grief from your grandparents back then. I don't want any from my son now.'

‘I'm not getting an attitude. I just want answers.'

‘Why? It's not going to change anything. I was a silly girl who wanted to grow up too fast. I got in way over my head.'

‘But that's what I can't understand. You slept with him then did nothing even after you found out you
were pregnant. Surely one of your friends would've known who he was. It should've been easy to track him down.'

‘And he should've done the same thing before he died.'

‘How do you know he died?'

‘Because I saw the car crash on the news. I recognised the numberplate.'

‘Did they say his name?'

‘No, just his age.'

‘It could've been one of his friends.'

‘No, it was him. He didn't have any friends.'

‘Weren't you his friend?'

‘No. Like I've told you again and again, we only knew each other for one night.'

‘Didn't you call the cops to find out his name?'

‘Matthew, I was too shocked to talk let alone ring anyone.'

‘Then why didn't you check the births, deaths and marriages column? Surely—'

‘Why is this so important to you? I thought we'd discussed this a hundred times already.'

‘We haven't discussed it, that's the problem. You never talk about him.'

‘Because I've told you everything I know!'

‘Everything?'

‘Yes, everything.'

‘I don't believe you.'

His mum hesitated then recovered. ‘Fine. Then don't,' she said, leaning forward to stand. ‘You can sit out here all night and sulk. I'm going to bed. If you decide to do the same, then make sure you leave your attitude at the door. I don't want it in my house. And I never want to discuss your father again, got it?'

Matt turned away to ignore her glare. Failing to get his attention, Heather shook her head then started shuffling back to their unit.

‘Don't worry,' he called out after her, when she was a safe distance away, ‘I'll go find out about him myself. Who knows? He might still be alive and locked away somewhere.'

His mum spun around. ‘What did you say?'

Matt stood up. ‘I'm outa here.'

‘Where do you think you're going?'

‘What do you care?'

‘Don't be stupid. Get back here.'

He kept walking.

‘Matthew. Don't you walk away from me. I mean it.'

Too late. He was gone.

The last thing he wanted to see was the blue Porsche. Lights on, it was parked but humming outside Kelly's place. Matt wondered if Knuckles knew his son was joyriding again.

The passenger door opened and Matt hid in the darkness behind a tree. Still dressed in her pink and grey uniform, Kelly escaped from her seat but Blackwell's hand grabbed the back of her skirt. He tried dragging her back into the car but she resisted, begging him to let go. She kept her voice down at first, but when he grew more determined, she started shouting at him.

‘Stop calling me that!' She freed herself and stepped towards her house.

Blackwell climbed out the driver's side. ‘I'll call you anything I like,' he said. ‘You're my girlfriend and that makes you my property.'

‘Can't you leave me alone for just one night?'

‘I'll do whatever I want. And you're going to like it.'

He pulled her towards him and kissed her hard. His lips slimed over hers and he slammed his hips against hers. Kelly fought back but her boyfriend was bigger and stronger than she was. Growling, Matt was ready to pounce.

‘Stop it, Aaron!'

Gibraltar suddenly barked from the backyard as
the words carried clearly throughout the crisp night air. Conscious of her voice, she lowered it again.

‘If you don't let go of me, I'll call out to my dad.'

‘Go ahead. I'm not afraid. He loves me like a son. I can't do anything wrong in his eyes.'

Blackwell made a second attempt but Kelly freed herself. Gibraltar was in the front yard by then and barking loudly at a distance.

‘Please, Aaron, just go before mum and dad wake up. We'll talk in the morning, okay?'

Blackwell looked at the dog then back to Kelly.

‘Stupid mutt,' he spat, before stepping back into the Porsche. Matt wasn't convinced he was talking about the dog.

The Porsche squealed away, leaving Kelly standing in her driveway. She bent down to stop Gibraltar barking by giving her a hug. As Matt approached, he could hear sniffling.

‘Whatever you do, don't hit me this time,' he said, raising his arms in early surrender.

Kelly turned around and wiped a tear from her face. ‘How long have you been standing there?'

‘Long enough.'