Give Me Truth (6 page)

We spill out onto the street after the rehearsal and hang around talking. David is deep in conversation with Megan. Glenna hovers nearby, slightly behind them with her arms folded in a futile attempt to hide the fact that she has pretty big boobs. She's very self-conscious about them when she's around boys. I've got the opposite problem to her. There should be some simple and painless operation where the breast-wealthy can make a small donation to a needy and flat friend. But since there's not, all I can do is fold my arms, just like Glenna.

Lanny and I stand a few steps away from the others, with nothing but awkwardness holding us together. I speak first.

‘You go around giving flowers out to everyone?'

‘Not usually.'

‘How come you did it?'

‘Aw, you know, just somethin' to do. Thought it might make old Boyly happy.'

‘It was kind of you.'

He grins at me as if his Grin Button is jammed. I sense trouble. Either he's about to ask me to go out or he's had a stroke. I make a mental note: Stop being nice to people – Lanny most of all.

‘Well, I better go.' I flash a shop assistant's plastic smile.
You have a good day.
‘See you 'round, Lanny.'

‘You want me to walk home with you? I'm going the same way.'

‘But you live in the opposite direction to me.'

‘True, but I need the exercise.'

‘Maybe some other time.'

I throw another ‘See you' behind me and head for home, without looking back.

Late that night in my room, I think it over. It's flattering to know that a guy likes you. Any guy. But Lanny isn't for me. It's not that I'm waiting for some Prince Charming to sweep me off my feet. I stopped hoping for that when I was twelve. At that age I knew my face was never going to make it past ordinary, just as I knew that ‘tall and willowy' were descriptions of other girls, not me.

For a long time I thought I'd be the booby-prize girl no boy would ever ask for a date. My luck changed when
Jeremy Doyle invited me go to a rock concert. It was going okay until we had a problem because of his poor comprehension skills. He didn't understand what ‘no' meant. As I told him, it definitely didn't mean that he could stick his tongue down my throat as soon as the lights went out. No, Jeremy, that was not a turn-on. Neither was the garlic.

My second victim was Vitas Kazorosky. His girlfriend had just dumped him so I think he was working his way through the phonebook, asking everyone in town to go out. He took me to Luna Park and we rode the Wild Mouse. I was fearless about the ride, but scared to death about being on a date. To get my mind off my nerves I ate a huge tub of popcorn and a choc-top ice-cream. Then I threw up. Instead of shutting up about it, like a gentleman would, he told all my friends. He even said I deliberately aimed at him. I wish I had.

Lanny is very average, just like me, so really we should be the perfect couple. We're not, though. I simply don't feel anything for him, except maybe compassion and empathy. That's not enough.

In another part of the house I hear raised voices. Mum and Dad. Only a handful of words are shouted. The ones I hear clearly belong to Mum – ‘I don't want you near me!' A door slams. There's a part of me that wants to stomp in there and tell them to get their act together.

Work it out, talk it out, buy a punching bag. Get over it.

But that won't make any difference. You can tell a storm to go away but it doesn't stop it from happening. I sink down into the bed and pull the covers over me as if I've just heard the first crashes of thunder from a very deadly storm.

 

In the morning Dad breezes past me, a piece of toast wedged in his mouth. He garbles, ‘Hi, kiddo,' and gives me a wink. I think of what he did to Mum, and turn away.

In under an hour I'm in the long seat at the back of the bus, heading to school with Megan and Glenna on a cold grey day. At the first lull in the conversation I break in with a newsflash.

‘Hey, guys, just thought I'd tell you – I've made a big decision – I've decided not to get married. Ever.'

They want to know why, of course, and I don't mind explaining.

‘It's not worth the trouble. All that finding a guy stuff. Who needs it? There're too many creeps out there. I might still have kids, though – get a sperm donor – that's the only part of the guy you need to make babies. They can keep the rest, thank you very much.'

‘Sperm donor!' Glenna screws up her face. ‘That sounds yuck.'

‘Not as yuck as ending up with some jerk.'

‘Don't worry, Caitlin.' Megan rubs my back consolingly. ‘There's gotta be a guy out there for you somewhere. What about Lanny? He's available.'

‘And he likes you,' Glenna says eagerly, as if it's a good thing. ‘He told me he does.'

There's too many people on the bus to scream out loud so I open my mouth and bellow silently. As silent bellows go, it's a giant.

 

As more doors are slammed at home, the higher become the walls I build to keep out Lanny. This isn't a good time for me. Definitely no room in my life for boys. I tell him this in not so subtle ways. I don't laugh at his jokes. I avoid him during the breaks in rehearsal, and when he proudly shows me his P-plates – he's a few months older than David – I couldn't care less. It's the same when he turns up in his ‘brand new' old bomb Holden. Ho hum.

He wants to take me for a ride.

‘Some other time.'

He asks me to help him choose a name for it.

‘I don't have a clue, Lanny. How about Rover?'

What kind of person names their car?

‘Rover? Hey, that might work. I'll think about that one.'

Poor Lanny.

I'm never out-and-out rude, but I make it as obvious as can be that whatever he has to sell, I'm not buying. Any
normal person would take the hint. I should have known Lanny wouldn't.

One night I get a mysterious text message.

My mobile rings.

‘Just checking. Is it okay if I ring you?'

‘I already told you. Didn't I? No, it's not all right. I'm supposed to be doing my homework. And how did you get this number?'

‘Megan gave it to me – she said you wouldn't mind.'

Megan – my ex-friend.

‘You don't mind really, do you, Caitlin?'

‘No, I suppose not – this once. But I'm very busy, Lanny. What can I do for you?'

‘Nothing – it's what I can do for you!'

‘Have it your way – what can you do for me?'

‘I've got tickets to a show. You wanta come with me?'

I stifle an urge to treat him like a telemarketer for the Nazi Party. Instead, out of politeness, I ask, ‘What kind of show?'

‘Monster trucks.'

I'm stunned. I didn't know he was on drugs.

‘Are you kidding me, Lanny?'

‘No. Why?'

‘Do I look like someone who would enjoy watching monster trucks?'

‘They're really good.'

‘Sorry. Not my thing. But thanks for asking. Gotta go. Byeeee.'

 

Two nights later. Mobile. Him –
again
.

‘Hi, Caitlin. It's me.'

‘I know who it is, and if this is about those trucks, I haven't changed my mind.'

‘No, this is different. I was wondering if you'd like to see a movie.'

‘Not really …' I don't want to crush the poor guy completely, so I throw him a scrap of hope. ‘Which movie were you thinking of?'

‘Anything at all. We'll go to the video shop and you can pick one out. I'll pay for it.'

‘Is this one of your lame jokes?'

‘No. I thought you'd like the idea.'

‘I don't believe this. You're not asking me to
go
to the movies, like any sane person would, you're asking me to watch a DVD!'

‘Is it too late to pretend I didn't ring?'

‘Goodbye, Lanny.'

‘Caitlin …'

‘You just have no clue, do you?'

‘About what?'

‘Girls. What to say, what to do – you're hopeless.'

‘Do you think?'

‘Yes! You tell Glenna that you like me – you tell David – but you don't tell me.'

‘I was working up to it.'

‘And then, when you finally do ask me out, it's to see stupid monster trucks, or to watch a DVD. What sort of date is that?'

‘We've got a big screen TV.'

‘That's not the point! I'm going to hang up now.'

‘Can I say one thing?'

‘All right, but it won't help.'

‘When I asked you to see the monster truck show, that was the first time I'd done it – asked anyone to go out with me. Tonight was the second time.'

‘You haven't asked a girl out before this?'

‘No.'

‘That's hard to believe. You don't have any trouble talking to girls. I've seen you. You're full of confidence – you even gave Miss Boyle flowers.'

‘They were about to throw them out – I got them cheap.'

‘But you still gave them to her. You're not exactly the shy type, Lanny.'

‘I can talk to girls and clown around – there's no pressure in that – but asking someone out is torture.'

I hear the truth in his voice, unmistakeable, and familiar. Torture to ask and risk being rejected, torture to never be asked. ‘You still there, Caitlin?'

‘Only just.'

‘Okay. One last thing: I want you to know that I'm not using you to practise on.'

I stare at the phone, demanding an explanation, but too stunned to know how to say it.

‘What I mean is, I didn't ring you so I could get all the bad moves out of the way and use the good moves on someone better.'

‘Right … well I suppose that's a good thing. Then why
did
you ring me?'

‘Because I think you're fantastic. I don't think there's anyone better.'

Words can rip you apart. These ones do. I pause a moment to regroup, then come out swinging.

‘Hang on a second, Lanny. I have to find a sick bag – hey, get real – we have mirrors in this house. I know what I look like. I'm not stupid. All right? I'll hang up if you try anything like that again.'

‘I mean it, Caitlin. Honest. You look great to me.'

‘Sure I do.'

‘But it's not just about how people look, is it? If it is then I'm stuffed. I've got no chance.'

‘Oh stop it. That's such bull. You look fine. You really do.'

Now
he
pauses. I wonder if my words could have ripped him apart. No. Impossible. He's a guy. He's Lanny.

‘Caitlin,' he says at last.

I have my answer ready.

No, Lanny. Sorry, I really don't want to go out with you. No hard feelings.

But he doesn't ask that question.

‘Do you think it would be all right if I called you once in a while? Just say if you want me to go away and I'll never bother you again. But I hope you don't say it. It's really good talking to you. I'd like to get to know you better.'

I'm an ocean cli?. He's erosion. I feel a large part of me crumbling into the sea, yet somehow I don't mind at all.

‘Sure, Lanny.' I try to sound detached but I'm not certain that I make it. ‘You can call me again.'

Lanny and I sit on the steps outside the Science block.

He gives me room to talk about my cut lip if I want, and when I don't mention it, he leaves it alone except to ask, just once, if I'm all right. When I tell him I am, that's the end of it. A mate knows when to back off, when to give you some space. This time I bury the trouble at home deep inside me and that's where it's going to stay. I'd feel like a traitor if I told anyone about Mum and Dad.

‘Rehearsal tonight,' he says. ‘You goin', Dave?'

‘Probably.'

‘Because Glenna's there. Right?'

‘Don't know what you're talking about.'

‘She asked me if you had a girlfriend.'

‘I know you're lying.'

‘Told her you were gay.'

‘Thanks for that.'

‘She's interested, I can tell. Whenever you're around, her neck turns red – have you noticed?'

‘You're crazy.'

‘You watch next time. She wants your body, Dave.'

‘Shuttt uppp.'

‘I asked her why she liked you and you know what she said?'

‘I'm not listening.'

‘Good things come in small packages.'

‘Hey Lanny – '

‘Told her about your website, too, Dave – littledick dot com.'

‘Lanny – '

‘She said she's been there but she couldn't see anything.'

‘Can I say something?'

‘I told her no one could!'

He's laughing too hard to say any more so at last I get a turn.

‘Lanny, if she likes small things – no one beats you. You're the man.'

He grins at me, holding his gaze a moment longer than he needs to. Then his fist pushes into my shoulder. It's not a punch – it's just being close.

‘I'm goin' to the canteen,' he says. ‘You want somethin'?'

‘No, thanks. I've got to make a phone call.'

He saunters off, still smiling to himself. I head down to the oval. It's the one place where I won't be interrupted when I ring Dad.

I lean against the goal posts and stare at the phone for a long time. Suddenly talking is hard. He's my father but I don't know what to say. And how's he going to react? I heard Mum say she didn't love him. I
felt
what that did to him. I saw him cry. My proud Dad. How can he ever get past last night?

I punch in the number …

‘Hello. The office of Michael Curtis is unattended at the moment, but I shall return your call shortly. Please leave a message or send a fax, after the tone.'

I hang up without leaving a message. Wasn't expecting the machine. Dad has the same routine every day. First thing he goes to his post office box. He's back just after nine and then he doesn't leave his desk until one. I timed the call just right. It's a few minutes past eleven. He should be there. He has to be.

I wait a minute before hitting the number again.

‘Hello. The office of Michael Curtis is unattended at the moment, but I – '

‘Hi, Dad. It's David. Where are you? Just ringing to see how you're goin'. Nothing much happening here. Everything's good. You've got my mobile number so if you want to call me … anyway, I'll try you again later. Okay? Bye.'

I'm so weak.
Nothing much happening here –
that was such a lie.
I'm falling apart here, Dad!
That's what I should have said.
You and Mum get it together and stop stuffing me and Allie around!
Why didn't I tell him that?

Or why didn't I just say I loved him? Why was that so hard?

I'm about to ring again when someone calls my name.

A couple of guys at the top of the hill are waving for me to come up.

‘Hey, Curtis – your father's here. office.'

I run all the way. As I reach the quadrangle the bell sounds and kids file into their classes. I dodge past them, take the steps to the office two at a time.

‘Hi, Dad.'

‘David.'

Today it's the grey suit. Dark blue tie and white shirt. He always has the shiniest shoes in town. But there's something not quite right. His movements seem slower, his energy down. I see silver bristles on his face that I only see on Sundays.

He turns to Mrs Sullivan, the school secretary. ‘Thank you. I won't keep him long. If we can have a word alone.'

‘Of course.'

Once she's gone Dad sits down. He looks at the carpet. I sit beside him.

‘Everything's all right.' I grin. It's so phony but that's what I do. ‘Allie's good. I'm good. Mum's still a bit cranky
but she'll come around. Maybe you should get her some chocolates or something – those peppermint ones that she …'

He isn't listening. Not to a word. I catch a glimpse of the knuckles on his right hand. He's knocked some skin off them and they're red and puffy. Dad doesn't get into fights but he might have punched a wall. I saw him do that once before. He can tell me about it if he wants to, but if he doesn't I'll never ask. For now all I can do is fill up the silence.

‘We stayed at Gran's last night. Hope we don't have to do that again in a hurry. She annoys me. Like, she said you and Mum weren't getting back together. As if she'd have any idea. I should have told her to rack off. I will next time.'

I leave a space for him to jump in and say something. Finally he takes it.

Looking up at me, he asks, ‘How's your face?'

‘Same as always. Nothing an extreme makeover can't fix.'

That coaxes a tiny smile out of him.

‘No, really, it's fine. No big deal.'

‘Good … look, about what happened …'

‘Don't say it, Dad. You don't have to say anything to me. We're cool.'

He nods and gently squeezes my arm. That says more to me than a truckload of words.

‘I want you to do something, David.'

‘Sure, anything.'

‘Will you talk to Allie for me? Make sure she's all right? I didn't want to go to her school and chance running into your mother, getting into it with her. I don't want Allie to ever see that again.'

‘Yeah, I'll talk to her, Dad. No problem. But you've got nothing to worry about there. Allie's on your side, same as me. She just wants us all back home.'

‘I'm going to miss her birthday. Tell her I'm sorry. Will you do that for me?'

‘But her birthday isn't for another week. We'll all be back home by then – before then, I hope.'

‘No. It's not going to be like that.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘I have to go away.'

He waits for my response. So do I. It's all spaghetti in my head. A whirl of tangled thoughts. I'm numb and staring.

‘I don't know what else to do, David. I got up this morning, got dressed. The same routine as always. I was going to pretend that nothing had happened. Just move on with my life. But I can't do it. I can't pretend anymore.'

He stands. ‘Don't make it more difficult than what it already is. Stay here.' Unwavering, his eyes meet mine. ‘It's best if you just stay here.'

Dad walks away from me, opens the office door, and doesn't look back.

The abruptness of it freezes me.

I see him going but for a moment I can't get off the chair. And when I do, when I chase after him, I have so many questions that I don't know where to start. All I can do is blurt out, ‘Dad!'

He pauses to let me catch up. The whole school's probably watching but I don't care. I hug him. He keeps his hands by his side but he doesn't push me away.

‘Dad, you're not going anywhere, are you?'

He takes a step back to look at me.

‘You've turned out to be a fine young man. I'm proud of you.'

I hate him talking like that. Not now. It's too serious. He can save the
proud of you
speech for when I'm twenty-one or when I'm getting married. Today I only want to hear normal talk. Normal is safe.

Then he puts a hand on my shoulder. I don't want that either – and most of all, I don't want what he says next …

‘David, I came here this morning to say goodbye.'

‘What are you talking about?'

His cold stare meets me.

‘I don't get it, Dad. You don't have to say goodbye.'

There's no answer.

‘I don't care what Mum says. You'll be home again soon and it'll be just like it was before.'

‘No. It won't ever be the same.'

‘All right then. So what? If you don't come home for a while I'll still see you every day. I'll bring Allie, too. It's going to be okay, Dad. You never have to say goodbye to me.'

‘I did something, David. Last night.'

My mind flashes immediately to his bloodied knuckles.

‘What, Dad?'

‘I always told myself that I was living an honourable life. The pursuit of excellence. Service to others. I based every day on those principles. Last night everything was blurred. This morning I see clearly what I've become, how far I've fallen. There is no way back.'

‘What do you mean? What are you talking about?'

‘I can't be here with you anymore. It is that simple.'

‘But –'
think of something, anything
– ‘what about your job? You never take a day off. You have to be here for that.'

‘The business was always for my family. Now there's no reason. For anything.'

My mouth is open and I'm breathing hard. I've been scared before, but not like this. Other people talk about doing things. Dad does them. He's really leaving.

‘Go back to your classroom.'

‘No!'

‘Turn around. Walk away. Now, please.'

‘No. I won't. You can hit me again if you like. Go for it.'

‘I will not hit you. Never ever again.'

‘I don't care what happened last night. Nothing matters. But I'm not going anywhere. You're my Dad. You have to stay. You don't say goodbye. You don't – '

‘David.'

‘No, no, I'm not listening. I don't want to hear this.'

‘Goodbye.'

The word crashes down like the last nail in a coffin.