The Rental (15 page)

“What did you do?” I choked out.

“I took the loan.”

I sucked in a breath.

After several silent seconds, I asked, “What was the debt?”

“$80,000 after all the bullshit.”

“But how could you pay that?”

“I had a part-time job, but, no, I couldn’t. If I couldn’t pay financially, I’d end up paying with my life. The dealer had friends, interstate running things in Sydney who needed an extra body, and I was a dead-man walking with no other viable choice other than to get my ass over there and start on those repayments if I hoped for Justin to live.”

“You sold your life for him? You were just across the border, not overseas?” I snaked my fingers around his and reminded him my touch was still here.

It occurred to me if Rick was here, then surely … “If you’re here, does that mean it’s all in the past? Are you safe?” I ran my hand up his cheek, but he flinched at the contact.

“My parents went overseas and my mum begged me to look out for Justin. I couldn’t say no, so I came, and that’s when my friends organised the party. Those strippers were rentals off duty. When I learnt about the company, I stayed here for the work, and so I could keep an eye out on my brother. He fucking hated me being back. I didn’t expect sorry, exactly, just thought he’d express his gratitude another way. But he didn’t, and there’s no point regretting anything now.

“The Rental is slightly less money, but it’s legal, and it means I ain’t going to bed knowing my actions are killing other people’s brothers.”

“Rick …”

There wasn’t anything left to say for the remainder of our evening, even though I was bursting with more questions than ever.

11

I
ARRIVED HOME
after I had changed into my reception work wear, stopping at a gas station to buy make-up wipes to scrub my face. I was lucky for the forethought as I ran into Mum who was resting on the couch and accompanied by a murmuring TV.

“Oh, hey,” I said. I dropped my bag in my room, then came to her side and tucked up my feet under my bum. “I didn’t think you’d be awake.”

“Can’t sleep.”

All I wanted to do was go to bed. The secrets I had to keep about my night’s activities compressed as a physical weight on my head, and the only solution felt like running to my bedside table. But there was nothing there to relax me. I was senseless to think of that stupid ‘out’ when Rick had confessed such a delicate admission on the pier; that and with my own mum at home. I pushed it aside and stood. “Want a cuppa?”

“No, but thanks, darling.” Mum checked the wall clock. “I didn’t even … sorry, I didn’t realise. Are you okay? You’re home late.”

“Fine. I was at the bar tonight.”

“You don’t work there tonight, though.”

I flipped the kettle on and prepared my cup of tea. “I know. Just hung out with a couple of my work friends. The company was nice to get out and relax.” I played with the string of the tea bag. I didn’t want to face Mum if she turned around.

“I’m sorry I’ve made you work so hard, and everything is different. I wish you could take a break.”

I left the kitchen and returned to my spot on the couch. I scooted close and wrapped my arm between the back and Mum. With a heavy head, I leant my cheek on her shoulder.

It was my choice to work as much as I did, and I didn’t resent Mum for a second of it.

However, I resented other things. Comfort used to be a hug from my parents, but Mum and I hardly spoke anymore. On cold winter days, I sometimes lit a joint. It filled me, hot and warm, and the longer I smoked, the more it filled my lungs, slowly soaking up every part of me. At some point, the extinct affection from my parents morphed into the fulfilling feeling of sucking on what could hurt me.

But I hadn’t cared about the consequences. It had been the only time I felt whole again, and the bliss was stark opposite to the dark and broken life I hated.

I hoped I could keep that all behind me from now on.

“Mum, I work like any other contributing citizen of this country. It’s the way life works.”

The shiver down my spine begged otherwise. I stood and approached the kettle upon hearing the heavy bubbling coming from it. I stared at the back of Mum’s head, the lazy way it angled minutely to one side as I made up my tea. She wasn’t watching the TV, but she was waiting for me. I could bet on it.

I returned and spoke into the heated steam rising from my cup. “I had my three-month probation meeting tonight. That’s why I went, and instead of just keeping me on permanently, they’ve promoted me.” I looked at Mum now the lying part was over. “It should cover everything we need.”

“Wow, Vee. Congrats! I’m so proud of you excelling so fast. I wish …” she trailed off, frowning.

I took over. “Dad
will
be proud. He might be gone, but to us, he’s alive in our hearts.”

She broke into sobs, so I embraced her, resting my chin on top of her head. I stroked her arm, which was strangely soothing—the repetition of Mum’s smooth skin and the gathering heat of friction. Soothing like a hot water bottle to my chest.

After our moment, she nudged my shoulder. “I am happy you want to use your promotion to contribute more, but can you promise me something?”

“What is it?”

“I don’t want your money. Do you know how it feels to rely on your daughter’s money? Taking
your
money? Use it for you.”

Déjà vu struck me, contrasting me now to the moment I told my parents I’d get a part-time job to help out. That was half a year ago, and my top concern then was being honest and helpful, showing them my support. I had a job now to help, but it was another roadblock in repairing Mum’s and my relationship. The Rental would give me the money for the bills we drowned in, and it gave Rick and I the chance to be honest with each other in a way we never would have without it. But it also gave me enough money to spend on things Rick and Mum would hate me doing, and it shut me off further from Mum. There was so much I couldn’t tell her about my involvements.

There was a time in my early relationship with Justin I thought I could be ready for sex with him, and I’d even planned to talk with Mum about the ‘whats’ and ‘hows’ of it. We’d always been so open I assumed I had to tell her.

What the fuck happened to the Vee I used to know?

When would all these lies stop? How far would I separate my rental self and my Vee self until I didn’t know who my one true person was anymore? How much of a stranger would Mum become as a cost?

“Hey, I can do what I want with it.”

“Don’t go wasting it all on me. You work hard for it.”

I bit my lip. It left me with a stinging indent, but at least I didn’t spill anything I shouldn’t have said. “Eh, not too hard. Do you want to … go out and celebrate one night? When was the last time we left the house and went out together?”

Mum scratched her head. “I don’t …”

“Okay, then another time soon. ‘Night, Mum.”

She said goodnight and we both went to our rooms.

Rick had texted me in my absence. It was a goofy message about the greasy chips and how the smell still stuck to his fingers after washing. It made me smile. He filled my thoughts, and I wished I didn’t have to sleep without him. I hoped texting him would carry my needs over. I sent back a funny quip about his dirty hands and we continued back and forth for a while as I was tucked under my sheets.

It was well into the early hours of the morning by the time we said we had to go, and his words had put a smile on my face.

Rick:
All right, I’ll let you go to sleep. No more of that stuff tho, ok?

Vee:
Are you disappointed in me?

Rick:
No, I wanna be there right now to hug away all your pain, little vixen. Please don’t look elsewhere for help. I’m right here.

Vee:
I may have fallen into like with you tonight. ;) I promise I’ll try my best not to do any more bad stuff.

Rick:
Same here :) One more thing before you drop your mobile on your face … can I come by when your mum is home?

Vee:
I can let you know when she ISN’T home. Is that what you meant?

Rick:
No, I meant when she IS home. I don’t plan to be your dirty little secret forever. Night LV xoxo

Vee:
OK. :) Night HM (Handy Man) xoxo

• • •

I
N THE MORNING
, I found Mum on her knees in front of the washing machine. Her hair was bundled into a bun, and she had striped long-sleeve pyjamas on and fluffy slippers on her feet.

“Trying a different method for cooking breakfast?” I offered, leaning against the doorjamb.

“Hilarious, daughter,” she replied, pushing her palm onto her knee as she groaned upright. “But this dud machine isn’t.” She hooked a thumb to the offender.

It was about a decade old now and didn’t wash as thoroughly as it used to. Rick had fixed it when he returned that first night, and I felt myself transported to the image of him bent over it, instead of how I found Mum, his strong back tensed through the contours of his top.

Mum must have remembered the same instance it broke down because she shook her finger at me as if trying to prompt the memory fully. “Didn’t Justin’s brother fix it the last time it stopped working? I think Ray wasn’t …” she cleared her throat. “Rick, wasn’t it?”

“Yep. It was just a loose belt, he said.”

“Huh.” Mum walked out, looking to the floor like the issue was merely a passing thought, but she bit at her lip, giving herself away.

She didn’t like Rick much given everything that had happened. Rick had done a nice deed for us, but he also must have been the Bad Boy she didn’t want her daughter ending up with.

As Mum smelt a work shirt tossed over the back of the couch, she blanched and returned, spraying it with deodorant, and then slipped it on. We needed a washing machine, and hiring a professional would cost hundreds; buying a new one would only cost a couple more hundred. It wasn’t worth it. I could tell as she freshened up yesterday’s shirt without a complaint that she couldn’t make herself ask me for Rick’s help.

“Hey, Mum,” I called, still hovering around the laundry door. She snapped her eyes up to mine, smiling innocently. “Did you want me to see if Rick could take another look at it? I didn’t even ask him last time. He was dropping off Justin, I think I told you, and had a quick look. He probably wouldn’t mind.”

“Well, if you’re seeing him anyway,” she said.

Her voice was stern, telling me she knew I’d disobeyed her request when we had our talk. But her words, however, were weakening, unlike her pride.

“I’m happy to strike a deal,” I said.

Mum cocked her head. “And this
deal
would be?”

“You have to accept him. You need to like him.” I paused. Softer, I whispered, “Please.”

She crossed her arms and straightened up. “Nope.”

I contemplated saying Rick wanted to come over while she was home
because
of the approval he craved, but decided the heated moment wasn’t the best time to bring it up. “He needs a chance, and that’s not negotiable.”

“Hmm,” she mumbled, moving about in the kitchen. She removed a knife from the drawer, using it as her pointer. “I can meet in the middle.”

She dismissed me with that answer, so I strolled to my bedroom, coyly grinning. I grabbed my phone and texted the favour to Rick.

• • •

R
ICK HAD BEEN
lying half-naked in our laundry room for nearly an hour now. He’d stripped off his T-shirt long ago and used it to wipe his forehead. He was in work pants and socks, his boots shucked off outside the front door.

Mum and I waited on the couch watching TV until he was done. I offered a glass of water, which he mostly gulped down. The other bit splashed down his front. It dribbled down his chest and slipped under the waistband of his pants. I walked out wiping dribble from
my
mouth, feeling useless and clueless.

It was the longest hour of watching
Two and a Half Men
repeats in my life. I knew the episodes back-to-front, which only made the silent, lurking feelings between Mum and me sharp. We sat stiff and unmoving, like if we moved the tension would really hurt us.

Rick’s steps moved out of the laundry room, loud enough for both of us to turn his way. He’d pulled on his shirt, the dark sweat stained around his collar, under his arms, and slightly darkened on his chest. It was soiled from the accumulated dirt that must have been behind the washing machine and the floor.

And my heart nearly gave out at how breathtaking he was, helping out the two of us girls who had no idea how to cope with situations like this since we had no man to call to our rescue anymore.

“So,” he said, wiping his hands down his pants, leaving marks. “I’m just going to duck out for a sec. The hardware shop down Main Street has what I need. It’s not too late?” he asked with worry lines between his eyebrows. His expression truly seemed like he was worried he was putting us out because it was a bit late. In truth, he would be buying us parts to fix the washing machine we needed.

“Oh, Rick. Please.” Mum stood and rushed to her handbag, pulling out her purse. She thrust a twenty-dollar note at him. “It’s completely fine. Are you sure you don’t need to head home?”

“Not at all, Mrs Wyland. I won’t need that much, though,” he said, nodding at the note. “I’ve already cleared the fluff filter and disassembled the carbon brush motor. I need some new carbon brushes is all.”

Mum flapped it at his hands anyway. “Take it.”

Rick looked it over, and then drew his glance to my face. I gulped down a blend of nerves and desire. I managed a tiny smile and an even tinier nod. In that exchange, we spoke a little conversation, and from our relationship or whatever we were to Mum, things seemed different from when he’d arrived at our house, clean and fresh an hour ago.