You Don't Even Know (5 page)

I remember a tram ride. The city. Grey roads and buildings. Leafless trees and bedraggled gardens. Blank-faced people. The colour and life leeched from everything except my maroon school-bag.

I remember sitting outside the State Library, swamped in a cold, desolate feeling that filled me so completely it spewed out my pores and whirled around me like sea mist.

I remember grey people scurrying down city streets, hunkered down in coats and wrapped in scarves.

I remember the icy murkiness seeping from me to them, consuming them so they shuddered as they passed.

My head hurts. I yawn …

I yawned and staggered from my bedroom to the hall. Mia burst out her door, wearing her pink Barbie swimmers and goggles, which were almost over her eyes. The elastic strap had bunched up her hair at the back.

“It's Saturday morning, Alex.”

“You don't have to put on your goggles yet, Mia,” I said, rubbing my eyes.

“Yes. I do. Or the 'lorine will make my eyes sore.”

“Yeah, but you could leave them off until we're at the rec centre.”

Mia did a little kid groan and stamped her foot. “Why can't you teach me at home, Alex?”

“Because the rec centre has a special pool for teaching kids to swim, and it has shallow areas where you'll be able to touch the bottom, and it's warmer than our pool.” Plus there was less chance of Dad and Ethan turning up and picking on everything I did. “Anyway, we don't have a huge slide here, do we?”

Mia's grin dislodged her goggles. She frowned and pulled them off. “Stupid things,” she muttered, inspecting them. “Promise you'll take me on the slide, Alex?”

“After we've been swimming – cross my heart, hope to die. But can I eat breakfast first?”

Mia frowned again. “Okay. But hurry.”

I distracted Mia with a TV cartoon about ducks and lions and tipped cereal into a bowl.

“Morning, Alex.” Mum kissed the top of my head and weaved around me to the coffee machine. “Sleep okay?”

“I guess.”

“You owe me.” She reached for a mug, raising it as a question.

“I'm right, thanks. Why do I owe you?”

“Because Mia would have had you up at six-thirty if I hadn't stopped her.”

“Thanks.”

“Alex, the essay. Have you–?”

“Done and emailed last night. Thus endeth my punishment.” I scooped a spoonful of cereal into my mouth.

“Your father and Ethan are doing an extra session after rowing this morning.” Back to me, Mum made her coffee.

Of course they were – sucking up so Dad could replace the rowing captain with Ethan.

“I have to pick up Harvey from rowing at ten,” continued Mum, “so I can give you a lift to the pool.”

“That'd be good. We'll walk home though.”

Mum turned to face me, eyes solemn. “Alex, about yesterday. The essay …”

I slammed the spoon into the bowl. “I don't want to talk about it.”

Mum sighed.

Mia slipped her small hand into mine as Mum drove away from the rec centre. Everything – essays, Dad, De Jong, Ethan's crap, Bash and Coop hanging out with Amado – slipped from my shoulders and fell as grey sludge to the gutter.

“How's it going, champ?”

It's easier to open my eyes today. The physio – Ben? Andy? I can't remember – is by my bed. His thick neck, rounded biceps and broad chest scream health and fitness. I barely feel alive.

I raise my hand to acknowledge him.

“We're sitting up today.” He rubs his hands together. “Slow and easy, champ. Sing out if you're dizzy or in pain.”

We're
sitting up? What he means is, I'm sitting up – something I took for granted until now. “Yep,” I croak.

The physio whips back the bedspread and sheets before I have time to adjust the hospital gown. I fumble to pull it down. As he leans forwards to help me, I strain to read the identity tag around his neck. Brent.

Brent slips his hand behind my shoulders. “Nice and easy …”

“Nice and easy, Mia. Relax.” Mia became heavier in my arms. “Attagirl. Now, let your legs float.” As her toes bobbed near the surface, I glanced at Tilly, who stood on the pool deck, watching.

She smiled and gave me the thumbs up. “Now move backwards, but stay squatting.”

“Are you kidding?”

“Just do it, Alex.” Mia's toes bubbled the water as we moved around the pool.

“She's a natural, like you, Alex.” Tilly waved before moving to patrol another area of the pool. Lifeguards have to keep moving around the pool, but every few minutes, Tilly would come back to us.

When I promised to teach Mia to swim, I hadn't actually thought about how I'd do it. Sure, I can swim and I'm a lifeguard, but that's a whole different thing to being a swimming teacher. Lucky for me, Tilly was rostered to work.

Tilly had been on the front desk when Mia and I arrived at the pool, so I started by showing Mia stuff I'd seen swim teachers do. Splashing, blowing bubbles and kicking. All easy for Mia. Before long, she was nagging me to take her into the bigger pool.

That's when Tilly came onto the pool deck for her turn to supervise. Tilly standing over us, calf muscles stretching as she rocked on her toes, scanning the pool made concentrating tough. Her shorts and runners without socks made her tanned legs look even longer.

Somehow though, I pulled it together and followed her instructions. That's why Mia was now floating with my help instead of lying stiff like dried seaweed.

I released Mia's head and backed away. She tensed a little, but stayed floating.

“Hey, look up.” Tilly snapped pictures with my phone and pressed the screen. “I've sent them to your mum and dad so they can see what a great swimmer you are, Mia.”

I groaned. Mum – sure, but Dad?

Mia beamed, stiffened and started to flounder. I grabbed her and coaxed her back into a float.

After an hour, Mia had lost interest in learning to swim, so we stuffed around on the slide and pretended to be mermaids before heading to the family change room to shower and dress. While she stood under the shower, her pink swimmers puddled at her feet, Mia gave me a run-down of why fairies don't ride unicorns. A complicated business if Mia's story was any indication. While she chatted, I checked my phone for messages. Three.

The first was from Mum.

You're so clever, Mia! Xx

The second from Dad.

Clever girl, M! A, did you finish the essay?

The final one was from him as well.

Be out the front in five
.

My thumbs danced across the keyboard.
S'ok, thanks. We'll walk
.

Already here
.

I sighed. “Hurry up, Mi. Dad is here to pick us up.”

Dad was parked in a disabled parking spot at the rec centre entrance. Ethan opened the passenger door and bellowed, “Hurry up!”

I'd buckled Mia into her car seat when Dad pulled out of the park.

“Alex hasn't got his belt on,” bellowed Mia.

“It's okay, Poss. He'll do it up.” Dad's watched me through the rear-view mirror.

I took my time easing the seatbelt over my shoulder.

“Did you have fun, Mia?” asked Dad.

“Uh-huh.”

“So, Dad, do you reckon that new guy, Tran, has what it takes?” asked Ethan, as though Mia and I didn't exist.

“He does have a good work ethic,” said Dad.

Head resting against the passenger window, I stared at the car at the traffic lights beside us. The driver chatted to kids in the back seat. They were all smiling.

“Guess what I can do, Daddy,” said Mia.

“What, Poss?”

“I can float and go down the biggest slide.”

“Wow, that's terrific Mia.” Dad eased the car forwards.

“Tran's height could be an issue,” said Ethan, an edge to his voice.

Mia's shoulders slumped.

“Mia blew bubbles while she held the pool wall and kicked,” I added. “Pretty amazing, isn't it, Dad?”

“You bet. You're clever, Mia. When you start school, you can have real lessons.” Dad shot a smile at Mia over his shoulder and glanced at me. “Did you finish that essay, Alex?”

“Yeah. Friday. And emailed it. After I reread it.”

“Good work.”

“Anyway, Dad, Tran's height,” said Ethan.

“Oh, right. Look, if he works hard on his upper body strength, he may be able to compensate.”

I glared at the back of Ethan's fat head and reached across the seat to hold Mia's hand.

“You did good, Mia.”

Voices rip me from a cottonwool sleep into a harsh, fluorescent world. My sight is as fuzzy as my brain. When I focus, two people stand beside my bed – sunshine nurse, Jenny, and a woman I haven't seen before. She's not wearing a nurse's uniform.

Words slip through the haze.

“He's too heavily sedated for that. Wait until he is on the ward.”

“I understand your concern, but I need to make contact, to build a rapport with him.”

My mouth is drier than I can ever remember. I work to draw moisture into it.

“See, he's awake.” The woman looms over me. She has lank brown hair and wears a blue and tan floral shirt. Glasses with green frames hang from a chain and bounce against her big breasts. “Hello, Alexander. My name is Melinda. I'm a psychologist.” She thrusts out her hand to shake mine. When she sees my right arm's in plaster, she busies herself pulling a chair close to my bed.

“I'm Alex.” I croak.

Liquid is poured into a glass. A hand slips behind my shoulders. Jenny helps me drink.

Melinda opens her folder and smiles. Even though I'm hazy, I can spot a fake smile.

“So, Alex, can you tell me what happened?” asks Melinda, hands clasped on the open folder.

“No.” My head is sodden.

She writes in the folder. “How were you feeling before the … accident?”

My head goes from sodden to painful. I move to try to ease the pain.

Jenny tuts. “He's not up to this.”

Melinda's lips purse. “Jenny, you can leave us, thanks.”

The ache in my head builds to pounding. The light is needles jabbing my eyes.

“Tell me about your sister, Alex.”

“Clear off, Melinda.”

Her startled face and huff remind me of Mum …

Mum stood at the kitchen bench, wearing a
Masterchef
apron, studying her iPad. She pushed hair off her forehead.

“Hey, Mum.” I grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl.

“Alex. Where have you been?”

“Shopping, remember? With Tilly.”

Mum nodded and began grabbing pans from the drawers and stacking them on the stone bench.

“Where are the others?” I asked, looking at the empty family room.

“Your father is at golf, Ethan is studying and Harvey has taken Mia to the playground to give me space.”

Golf – figured. Ethan studying. Right! Messaging. And Mia and Harvey at the playground? That would end in tears.

“So why do you need space?” Juice spurted from the apple as I bit into it.

Mum glared at me and pressed both palms to the stone bench. “Tonight's dinner party. With the Blairs and Alsops. Remember? Your father arranged it last week. I'm sure I told you.”

I'd either not been told that, or had wiped it from my memory because if I'd known Dad's golf buddies were coming over, I'd be on a tram, any tram, travelling around the suburbs until the service stopped for the night.

Dad, Adrian Blair and Carl Alsop together in one room was more a blood sport than a social event. The whole night would be about who had the flashiest piece of new jewellery, whose kid achieved the highest score/won the biggest competition/was the greatest success, and who owned the newest piece of techno-wizardry. And then there were the kids. Stuck up, pains in the arse. I'd rather spend the night with Ethan than with that lot.

“Alex,” Mum paused to make sure she had my attention, “you
will
be joining us.” She banged a baking tray on the bench for emphasis.

“Yeah.” I took another bite of the apple and watched her read the recipe again. This time she followed the words on the screen with her finger. She looked up. “You'll wear something … nice, won't you? Clean.”

Sometimes Mum was insulting. “Because I'm such a dirt bag.”