The Rental (2 page)

• • •

T
O CALM MYSELF
, I spent the night finding my own answers to Rick’s whereabouts. I stayed in my bedroom, wedged between my scratched wooden desk, the flimsy seat, and my bed, which was not even a metre behind me. I checked Facebook, but it said nowhere about where he lived. He posted statuses only twice a week at most and often, one or two weeks apart. His pictures were never his own snaps, but graphics of something or another from the internet.

When Mum trudged through the door at ten thirty after a long shift at the supermarket, I was caught up in my detective searches. I shut the laptop and met her in the living room as she lumped her handbag by the couch. I plopped down on the couch to watch TV and she took the spot next to me, sighing.

“Hey.”

She planted a big kiss on my cheek. “Hi, darling.”

“Thanks, Mum,” I said, wiping the slobber—or at least the idea of slobber—off my skin. “That grew old, like, a decade ago.”

“But you’re still my little girl.”

Mum was the type of woman you could look at and think,
Yep, Mum material
. She only showed cleavage during dinners or nights out. She loved straight-leg jeans, T-shirts with prints on them, and her chestnut hair stopped an inch above her shoulders.

“Yeah, and that excuse grew old a while ago, too.”

She flicked between channels, and in the meantime, I blended a berry ice cream smoothie for us in the kitchen. When they were done, I poured them into glasses and handed Mum one with a green straw.

Instead of having a go at me, jokingly, about keeping the pink straw, she just sipped it and placed it on the coffee table. “I want to apologise for your dad and I.”

“Huh?” I pushed my smoothie on the table, too. “What’s wrong?”

Mum pointed to it. “Drink it.”

“Not thirsty anymore. What’s up?”

She traced the stitching along the arm of the couch. “Ah, just with work. He said he’d retire from trucking in a year. Just enough to give us some more cash for Rob’s uni, your schooling, and the bills and mortgage. It won’t be forever. Or, hey! Maybe I’ll become one of those door biatches outside clubs! Is that what they’re called? I bet they make a tonne of cash.”

I had meant to say consoling words about how I didn’t mind, but Mum had a way of keeping doom and gloom to a minimum. I followed her tone. She seemed plagued by these work and money issues. “No, it’s door bitch, and plus, you’re too old to say ‘biatch.’”

“When was the cut-off?”

“About the time Dad knocked you up with me.”

“Uh-huh.” Mum tapped her finger on her chin. “I see where I went wrong. Maybe when I get this almighty promotion, we can buy deluxe smoothies from a takeout place instead.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

Mum picked up hers and said, “I’ll finish it in bed.” Being on her feet all day, she was wrecked and needed sleep.

“That’s okay, Mum. I’ll be fine by myself.”

• • •

T
HE STORY OF
Rick and I began with my best friend, Cara. Sort of.

Cara and I have been friends since we were twelve, a friendship forged when a random class seating arrangement lumped us together.

Rick was school captain of sports in his last year of school. He became the sudden reason attendance spiked during assemblies. The teachers were rapt with our interest, even if they didn’t know why so many girls were there. We would all sit there holding our tongues at the sight of him in sneakers and workout shorts, revealing crafted calves from years of running, and his tank hugging every curve.

In one English class after such an assembly, Cara wrote a lovey-dovey poem about some guy who could run like a bolt of lightning, who had killer legs, and a perfect set of broad shoulders. That and he had tousled, medium brown hair and dark eyes. She denied it when I asked her, but every other boy in our year level and the one above had pimples, too many bones, and squeaky voices. It was obvious after her extreme lusting for Rick it was about him.

I, too, crushed on him, so when Cara made me ‘get a word in,’ I didn’t complain. That day after school, I pulled him up to chat. He was with Justin, who was in our year level and fifteen like Cara and I. Rick was eighteen, although not by much because he hadn’t gotten his licence yet. He said they were waiting for their mum.

Justin got right into chatting, but Rick eyed me over his shoulder, smiling, but giving me a touch too much attention to be purely polite. I still cringed when I thought about my level of nerves hanging with two cute boys.

I decided the best lead to see if Rick wanted to ask Cara on a date was the weather. Maybe I thought mentioning the word ‘hot’ would heat up the conversation. Or I could find a lead-in by mentioning how good Cara looked in her bikini.

What
happened
was I waved my hands everywhere and tripped on nothing at all but my stupidity. Rick lunged for me and picked me up the moment my knees crashed into the dirt. I sat there, legs dangling over the school fence while Justin washed off one of my knees with his water bottle, and Rick did the same with his other. I held my lips together in a firm line, refusing to let my lip wobble, and focused on the blinding sun. At least it made it impossible to cry.

Rick ended up letting Cara down by saying he needed to concentrate on schoolwork, which we both translated to she was too young. I frowned with her in disappointment, saddened by the fact if she was too young, so was I.

But Justin kept talking to me and developed rapt feelings. We found friendship while Rick and I dodged glances and conversations that were heated and angsty. Between Justin’s interest and the age difference between Rick and me, any more than what we were was too premature.

When Rick upped and left the country last year, Justin advanced as if a barrier had been lifted. I told him I wasn’t ready, but Justin was very much so and hung around me at lunches, parties, and with groups of friends at the shops after hours. Months passed and Rick wasn’t coming back. We never had anything, so I stopped feeling guilty for wanting to move on. And one day, when Justin asked me out as his girlfriend, I didn’t say no.

I had gotten high with Cara and some other friends in the shadows of the garage at some house party while everyone else inside danced. Justin kissed me and I let him, and we kept on fooling around.

Now I was in my senior year, but in another sense, I was in the same place as three years previously—a knobbly-kneed girl who first met the Delaneys.

How could I date a guy and still be so breathless when I came within sniffing distance of his elder brother?

It was late, and I was meant to be sleeping, but I lay there and played with the trimming of my sheets, lost in thoughts and weighed by shame. I’d never cheat on Justin, but the way Rick still looked at me … sweeping in to my rescue … I gulped and wiped my forehead feeling hot and sweaty.

I had wanted to do things tonight.

“Stop it, Vee,” I whispered to myself. “Sleep.”

But I remained awake for hours in thought about one brother, his water bottle, and him bended below me.

• • •

W
HEN
D
AD ARRIVED
home, we sat at the dinner table for an hour, talking over the TV, and then turned it off to hear each other better. We ran out of water and talked ourselves dry. He and Mum headed straight to bed, so I left for my own bedroom.

I should have studied, but that wasn’t what happened as I closed down an empty Microsoft Word document, opened Facebook, and scrolled through my feed. I saw that Rick was online, so I opened a chat box, not knowing how long he’d stay. It might have otherwise been weird to chat to him, but I was here for answers about Justin.

Vee:
Hey

I scratched the back of my head, then slammed the enter key. I waited, unable to walk away as I anticipated the reply notification. He saw my message instantly and typed seconds afterwards.

Rick:
Hey. What’s up?

Vee:
Bumming around. Wanted to apologise for Justin again. Sometimes he’s fun & awesome but lately he’s just being a selfish dick.

Rick:
I’ve noticed that about him … for the last 17 yrs

I waited to type with fingers hovered over the keys. I rubbed and flexed my fingers and imagined Justin last night. And at school, days earlier, when he arrived twenty minutes late to meet, and when he’d warned me to be there
sharp
. And at a party where a girl called me a skank and Justin shook his head, a slight frown, and walked into the crowd, not toward me for comfort.

I narrowed my eyes at the Delaney in Rick Delaney. Why did I only see this side of Justin now, after I gave in and committed? After I tripped—knees, heart, and mind—and fell into his heart? Or so I thought. My feelings resembled a forgotten, droopy flower. Surely, true love didn’t whither that fast.

Was this another side to Justin I should now expect?

Vee:
Better to know late than never, although you’re biased being his bro …

I leaned close and felt the brightness of the screen burn my eyes. I couldn’t help but wonder how Rick would play off that one.

Rick:
Ask our next-door neighbour.

Vee:
Why

Rick:
Justin thought the dude next door stole our good whiskey. He popped him one in the jaw. Then when our neighbour sprung his ankle, tripping on the way down, Justin shoved his foot in his throat, daring him to try it again. I came flying across the house to see what was going on and the guy was blue in the face, hands clutching his neck. Justin obviously pressed hard.

My mouth hung open as I read and then re-read the message. That wasn’t the same person I knew. No way. I swallowed my shock and typed.

Vee:
You were there? I know taking your friend’s alcohol is shitty but that’s a harsh reaction! Is your neighbour OK?

Rick:
Yeah, all fine now. I happened to be back visiting, luckily. The poor guy
GAVE
us a bottle to celebrate before our parents went overseas.

By the sounds of things, Rick had been back for a while. Before Mr and Mrs Delaney left the country. However, neither brother had told me—just left me to assume he’d returned yesterday.

Vee:
What did Justin do when he realised the mix up?

Rick:
It was the next morning. He shrugged and shovelled another spoon of cereal into his mouth.

Caught up in staring at the conversation for so long, I hadn’t pressed a key and my screen dimmed. The initial assault made bile rise in my throat, but that wasn’t what worried me for the rest of the evening.

Justin shrugging did.

How he continued on with his breakfast.

In the wake of his error and brutality, why didn’t he feel remorse?

• • •

I
TRIED TO
sleep, but two hours passed and it never came. Frustrated, I threw off my sheets and sat up against the bedhead, tucking my heels close. I picked up my mobile phone from the bedside table and tossed it around in my hands while I stared at my toes.

I didn’t get a chance to speak to Justin today, and since chatting with Rick, my mind was in a greater state of unrest. At lunchtime, I had to eat and work in the library with a girl from class. An assignment was due by close of school hours, and I had forgotten about it with everything the night before, so we finished it there. Justin and I only had one class today, and the teacher had sprung a pop quiz on us.

I opened a new text to Justin and wrote half a dozen questions before I settled on the original and pressed send.

Vee:
What was up last night?

Justin:
What do you mean?

Vee:
You disappeared on me. I was worried.

Justin:
Oh. Had stuff to take care of.

Vee:
Really? That’s all you’re gonna give me?

Justin:
Yes

Vee:
Well while you “took care of stuff” Rick and I were stressing. We were just in another room. All you had to do was say you were bored or busy or something. I don’t understand. Did I piss you off? I know things haven’t been good between us for a while, and I want to sort it all out.

Justin:
Jesus, enough with the essay. Talk tomorrow.

Vee:
Hang on a second. Do you want me to call instead? I want to understand if you were OK last night, and if you and I are OK.

Justin:
Babe, I’m tired. We’ll talk. Night

I was still clutching my mobile as I slid down to the pillows. I punched my pillow into shape with my free hand and then pulled the sheets up to my chest. I was even less tired than before and left with even more questions somehow. But it wasn’t really
somehow;
Justin was avoiding me. Plain and simple. I furrowed my eyebrows and unlocked my mobile. The bright light lit up my room. My ‘essay’ as he called it only took up a third of the screen.

Justin had been acting weird for weeks now. Rick had been back for weeks now. I wondered if it was a coincidence that they lined up, and if not, why his brother’s return impacted our relationship.