No Worries (9 page)

19

The cops towered above me, their eyes questioning my every word and movement.

‘So tell us one more time, son …'

They checked their notebook to make sure I had my story straight.

People were coming out of the lifts and leaving the building all the time. Mum could have easily slipped past me.

After five or so minutes the cops took a few paces away from me for some heavy-duty whispers. Then they came back.

‘Well, son' — the older of the two paused to look at his shoulder, brushed away flecks of dandruff — ‘everything sounds on the up and up here.' He grinned at his partner. ‘Bit of a turnaround, isn't it? Usually it's the kid who runs away from home, not the mother.'

The younger cop clamped his hand around my elbow.

‘You'd better not be having a game with us. We don't take kindly to liars.'

‘I'm telling you the truth. There's nothing to lie about.'

‘I hope not, for your sake. You remember this, we've got your name and address. All right?'

‘Okay … so can I go now?

‘Yeah, all right,' said the older one. ‘Rack off.'

I ordered a strawberry smoothie and sat in the café upstairs at the mall. I could see nearly every shop from there. If Mum was well she'd head for the craft shop. She was always buying craft magazines; they'd end up as reading material in the toilet. ‘When I've got time,' she used to promise, ‘I'll really get into craft.' But she was like me, I reckon, full of dreams.

She liked the bookshops, too. It embarrassed me the way she'd squat in a corner with her head in a book. She didn't care how many times the manager walked by staring at her. Sometimes she'd press a book up to her nose and take a deep whiff. ‘God, I love the smell of books!' she'd say, loud enough for the whole world to hear. Everyone would turn around to look at her and, naturally, I'd stand as far away as I could.

All those things were pretty bad at the time, but now they didn't seem to matter. I could even smile to myself about them. They were cute. They were Mum.

I spent another hour hanging around the mall. I didn't feel tired any more.

Finally I left the shopping centre and went down the laneway again, peering into backyards in search of Mum. A woman hanging out washing gave me a dirty look. I walked faster, my eyes straight ahead in case she dobbed me in as a prowler. A stalker and a prowler in one day. Those two cops would love that.

I came out of the laneway and looked way down the other end of the street where the car was parked. There was a woman sitting in the gutter. As I got closer I saw that her arms were locked around her knees. And she was rocking.

‘Okay if I join you, Mum?'

I half expected her to bolt when she saw me, but she took no notice. The way she stared at the ground made it seem like the most interesting place in town.

There was an icy wind blowing as I sat beside her. The concrete was freezing.

‘Here you go, Mum, put this over you.'

My coat was in front of her face, but she didn't seem to see it. I covered her shoulders and leaned against her.

People passing by stared at us, then turned away when I stared back. There must be an embarrassment cut-off point somewhere in the brain. When so many things have happened, you stop caring what people think any more. I even put my arm around her shoulder, though I'm sure she didn't know it was there.

Fifteen or twenty minutes went by. A squeal of brakes made her jump and she cried out.

‘It's okay, Mum.'

‘What am I doing here?'

It was the voice of a scared little girl.

‘Um … you went for a walk.'

‘What time is it?'

‘About 11.30.'

‘Have you been for your driving test?'

‘No.'

‘But won't you be late?'

‘It doesn't matter, Mum. I'll do it some other time.'

Just nodding seemed to be a huge effort for her.

‘I need to sleep now,' she said.

I helped Mum into the car. It was like she'd suddenly become very old. She curled up in the seat, hugging herself. I drove home and led her to the bedroom, where she sat on the edge of the bed shaking her head.

‘Come on, Mum. Lie down.'

‘I'm sorry, Brian' was the last thing she said before she went to sleep.

20

I rang Auntie Joan.
Please be home.

‘Hellowww.'

‘It's me — Bri.'

‘Oh, hello, stranger. What a surprise.'

She and Mum weren't close. Birthdays and Christmas they exchanged cards. Maybe the odd phone call every few months. Now I hesitated to tell her what was going on in case she didn't want to know.

‘Go on, Bri.'

‘It's Mum.'

‘What's wrong?'

Her tone told me they were closer than I'd thought. It was such a relief to share it all.

‘Stay right there,' she said. ‘I'm on my way.'

I sat on a chair next to Mum. When I started to fall asleep I lay on the bed, and she rolled over and put her arm across my chest. It was like going back to when I was a little kid.

Two hours had gone, but it seemed like only a few minutes before the doorbell rang.

A white and black cattle dog jumped up when I opened the door.

‘Bah!' scowled Auntie Joan. ‘Get down, Sassy! Naughty girl!'

‘She's all right,' I said, dropping to my knees and patting her. Sassy's tail thumped up and down on the floor. I hadn't seen her for at least a year, but she remembered me.

Auntie Joan held a bunch of flowers wrapped in newspaper. She bent down and pecked my cheek.

‘Hello, darl. You okay?'

‘I'm good. Thanks for coming … glad you bought Sassy. I've missed her.'

‘Put these in some water, will you, sweetie?' She dropped the flowers beside me. ‘They're just ones from my garden but I thought they might brighten the place up.'

Sassy's tongue tickled at my ears. Her paws scratched my hair. It was good to laugh.

‘Now I'd better go and say hello to your mum.'

I held Sassy down and rubbed her belly.

‘In her room, is she?'

‘Yeah. She'll be asleep.'

Auntie Joan was two years older than Mum but she acted younger. She wore tight blue jeans and had loads of energy. Her skin was tanned from days spent picking fruit and vegetables. She only worked when the crops were in season. The rest of the time she enjoyed herself. Playing tennis. Hiking. She never went anywhere without Sassy. Her dark red T-shirt showed off a tattoo near her shoulder. A faded heart.

‘We'd better wake her up then,' she said. ‘She'll want to see her big sister.'

‘Are you going to tell her that I rang you? She doesn't like me interfering — telling people she's sick.'

‘I'm not people — I'm her sister. Now be a luv and make us some strong coffee. All right, darl?'

‘Sure.'

‘And I'll need the number for her doctor, too.'

She was striding down the hallway when she stopped, looked back at me and smiled, her head tilted slightly to one side.

‘Your mum's always been a bit fragile, Bri. When she was in her teens we called her Cactus. All spiky on the outside — tear your head off with a look — but underneath she's soft. She breaks real easy. Always been like that. But the good part is she bounces back. You'll see.'

She walked over to me with arms outstretched.

‘Don't you give your favourite auntie a hug any more?'

Not if I can avoid it, I thought.

Auntie Joan was hugging me before I could reply.

I waited for Dad in the shed, lying on the yellow lounge drifting in and out of sleep. In between naps I worked on the speech I'd give him.

‘It's serious this time, Dad. You have to talk to her. Auntie Joan isn't going to be here all the time. And you can't expect me to do everything. Mum needs you. I need you, too. We're still a family, right? So if we are, you have to try. Will you do that, Dad? Please.'

A car door shut. Laughter. Dad was home and he had one of his postie mates in tow.

“Ullo, ‘ullo. Who's been sleepin' on my bed?'

‘Hi, Dad.'

‘Bri, me boy, this is me mad mate, Dominic.'

‘Call me Dom, son. Good to meet ya.'

We shook hands.

‘He's thick as two planks, Bri,' Dad said. ‘Youse two should have a lot in common.'

Dom held a closed fist in front of Dad's face.

‘Bloke oughta level you.'

‘You couldn't level a sandcastle, mate.'

‘Careful there, Mick, you're temptin' me.'

Dad stuck out his chin.

‘Take yer best shot.'

Mum hated the way Dad was always mucking around with his mates, hardly ever being serious about anything. It didn't bother me usually, but today was different. I didn't want him to be a big kid now. I wanted some help.

‘Dad.'

‘Hang on, Bri — let's see what yer made of, Dommie.'

‘No mate, if I hit that jaw of yours I'll cut me hand on the glass — I got a better idea.'

Dom grabbed Dad's head between his hands and pretended to head-butt him.

‘You're lucky I'm kind to old people, Mick. You'd be history.'

‘Old people, am I? I'll give you old people —'

I wedged myself between them before Dad could start a wrestling match.

‘Can I talk to you?' I said.

Dad turned to Dom. ‘Give us a sec, will yer?'

‘Sure, Mick. You two go ahead. But don't be all day. I'll get your board. Where is it?'

‘Think it's round the back restin' up against the fence — I put a coupla sheets of tin over it. You might have to fight off a few black snakes, mate.'

‘No probs.'

Dom went looking for the surfboard. Dad opened the beer fridge.

‘You want to come with us, Bri? The surf's spot on right now.'

‘No, thanks.'

‘Jeez, I can't remember the last time I had a surf. Dom's been at me for ages to go out with him. He's a bloody maniac, mate — chases waves all over the country, the bigger the better.'

‘Look, I need to talk to you about Mum.'

‘Yer know how to put a dampener on things, don't yer?'

He loaded a six-pack into an esky.

‘Want one?'

‘I need to talk to you.'

‘Yeah, go on then, what's she got up to this time?'

I gave him the short version.

‘We had an argument when she came to pick me up at work. She lost it completely and ran off. When I went after her she told someone I was a stalker and they called the cops.'

‘A stalker, eh?' He grinned at the thought of it. ‘No one can say she's got no imagination.'

I wanted to shake him.

Wake up, Dad! Care!

‘Should have gone on the stage, that woman.'

‘You're making a joke of it, Dad, but I was there, and it wasn't funny.'

‘You listen to me, mate. If you worry about every little act yer mother bungs on, you'll give yerself an ulcer.'

‘But you married her once. Did you love her then?'

‘Aw, Christ almighty. We're not gunna get a lecture, are we?'

‘I just want to know. If you loved her once, how come there's nothing left now? Not a thing.'

There was a shuffling at the door.

‘This is a disgrace, Mick. You gotta look after yer board better than this.'

Dom stood there, Dad's old beat-up surfboard under his brawny arm.

‘Shove it in the car, mate. Be with you in a minute.'

Dad waited until Dom was out of sight, then he came over and put his hand on my shoulder.

‘Yeah, I s'pose I did love yer mother once. I know I would've done anything for her.' He shook his head. ‘I can't expect you to understand how somethin' like that can go so rotten, ‘cause I don't understand it meself. But it does, mate. It bloody does.'

He sat next to me and folded his arms. We both looked ahead of us like we were strangers sitting together on a train.

‘If yer mother's crook right now, I'm sorry,' he went on. ‘But you have to understand that I've been through all this sort of thing with her before. You build up armour over the years — get a thick skin. Was I a bad husband? Guilty, Your Honour. But hey, mate' — his hand crunched into my knee — ‘if things ever get real bad, I'm still your old man. And I'll help you and yer mother all I can. You know that, don't yer?'

Dom tooted the horn.

‘Don't yer, Bri?'

‘Yeah. Yeah, I know it.'

The horn tooted again.

In two hops Dad was at the door. ‘Put a sock in it, yer dopey galah!'

The anger was fast melting inside me. Dad was far from perfect, but I knew he loved me.

‘You'd better go,' I told him.

He came over and threw a soft punch at my arm.

‘Yer mother'll be all right. Tough as old boots, she is.'

‘Hope so, Dad.'

‘You sure you don't wanta go for a surf, mate? You'll never end up a bronzed Aussie legend like yer old man unless you get some sun on that lily-white skin of yours.'

‘No. I have to stay here and see if Auntie Joan wants any help.'

‘What? Not the wicked witch! Don't tell me she's here.'

‘She's here all right, Dad. She's going to stay and look after Mum for a while.'

‘Fantastic! Now I gotta put up with two bloody females that hate me guts.'

Long ago, Dad had explained why he'd fallen out with Auntie Joan.

‘It's simple,' he'd told me. ‘She reckons I put the hard word on her once when I first met her. Bloody years ago.'

‘Did you, Dad?'

‘Nooo! She swears I did, but I tell yer true, mate, the only way I'd ever try it on with our Joanie was if I was as full as a boot …‘ He rubbed his hand over his jaw, his eyes fixed off in the distance as he tried to remember. ‘Well, all right then, I s'pose it is possible,' he concluded, ‘but come on, let's get real here, no one takes any notice of what a bloke says when he's pissed, do they? Except her. Stupid bitch.'