Everything is Changed (14 page)

jake

Mum always makes mince pies at Christmas and packs them up in little cardboard boxes with tartan ribbons to hold them in place. I'm not sure why she still makes them. We used to do it together, with my grandad. But now Mum does it alone. She takes some to work for the staff room, and a box to each unit in the block of flats where we live, and then always makes a box for Alex's mum and dad. So I'm here. On the day before Christmas with Mum's box of mince pies. I had to catch the train and the tram and then walk to get here.

The house is nothing like what I thought it would be. It's bigger and grander than Alex's description. But I guess admitting you live in a mansion to your friend who lives in a dogbox is pretty hard to do.

The front yard is all high fences and plush grass. I'm sure Alex can see me from his bedroom window upstairs, but so far I've been standing on the doorstep for five minutes and nobody has come. I've knocked. Twice. And then I see the little metal doorbell off to the side, and I realise they probably didn't hear me knocking because the house is too big.

I hold my finger on the bell for a bit longer than necessary and it's strangely satisfying.

‘You're here,' says Alex, opening the door.

‘Yep, I'm here,' I say.

‘Come in.'

I follow him inside and it's like a different world. Alex's house was always pretty neat and uncluttered but this is something else. The walls are white. The ceiling's white. Even the carpet is kind of grey-white. There's hardly any furniture, except a giant beige leather couch with a big wooden coffee table in front of it and a large silvery Christmas tree in the corner. It's like a display home.

‘We haven't finished moving all the stuff in yet so it's a bit bare,' says Alex, like he can tell what I'm thinking. But then I see a wall of paintings.

‘Wow.' I don't recognise any of them from the old house.

‘Yeah, there's even stuffed deer heads upstairs, and more paintings than anyone knows what to do with. Grandad was really into his art,' says Alex, sounding as bemused by the place as I am.

‘He must have been really rich.'

Alex laughs. ‘Yeah. I reckon. Sort of makes you wonder about the el cheapo birthday presents he always gave us.'

I realise I'm still holding Mum's mince pies and I wish I hadn't offered to deliver them. I hand them to Alex.

‘Happy Christmas,' I say.

‘Your mum's? I love these,' he says, pulling the ribbon off and diving into the box.

‘Really?'

‘Yeah. They're yum. Best part of Christmas,' he says, shovelling one into his mouth. He holds out the box to me.

‘Want one?'

I haven't eaten a mince pie since my grandfather's funeral. I take one out of the box and it starts to fall apart in my hands. I bite into the pastry that Mum rolled all weekend. It's sweeter than I remember, but Alex is right, it's yum. I grin at him as he takes another one from the box.

‘Come and check out upstairs,' he says.

The stairs are carpeted in the same pale carpet as the rest of the house. I run my hand up the bannister, the wood smooth under my fingertips.

‘Sass was furious when she heard you were coming today,' says Alex as he pauses at the top of the stairs. ‘She's at a sleepover.'

I like thinking Sass wants to see me. Things haven't changed too much if that's the case.

‘My room,' he says, waving his arm at a doorway. ‘Sass's room, the spare room, and the bathroom,' he says explaining the other three doors. ‘Sass likes to say we're sleeping in the trees up here because you sort of feel surrounded.'

As I walk into his room, I see what he means. His window is huge and at first all I can see is green. I walk over and rest my face on the glass, looking out at the hint of the city through the branches.

‘Cool, huh?'

‘No wonder you didn't mind moving,' I say, really meaning it. When Alex doesn't answer, I turn and see the angry look on his face.

‘I wasn't meaning it like that, Alex. This place is awesome.'

He takes a minute but then he softens, perhaps happy that I understand.

‘Yeah. It is, isn't it? Ellie calls it her summer house because she plans on spending all summer here.'

‘Ellie's been here?'

‘Yeah. A few times,' he says and then stops, realising why I'm asking.

‘I didn't mean for her to see it before you did. It just happened like that.'

‘Whatever,' I say, turning back to the window.

‘Come on,' he says quietly behind me.

I don't want to be like this with him. I just want us to be normal. I take a good look around his room. It's even more like a display home than it is downstairs. The bed's perfectly made. The rug on the floor matches the doona cover. And all his posters have gone. I wonder where my friend has gone. He's nowhere to be found in this place.

Alex sits down on the edge of the bed. I see he's not wearing shoes. Just socks. Maybe I broke a rule by wearing my dirty sneakers into this very clean house.

‘Should I take my shoes off?'

Alex shrugs. ‘Nah, Mum's out so don't worry about it.'

I don't know where to sit. I feel like I don't belong here. I choose the floor and immediately regret it. Now I'm down low and he's up high and it's just all wrong.

‘How you feeling about starting school?'

He laughs. ‘I'm not thinking about it. I figure I've got January to get used to the idea.'

I lean back on the rug, not knowing where to look. It's strange seeing him here. In this room, in this house.

‘How you doing?' he asks me and it's so formal, so not us, I frown. ‘Yeah, fine. I dunno.'

‘Yeah, me too.'

As our words dry up in the room, I realise how quiet it is here. There are no hard sounds. No traffic. No horns. I can actually hear birds singing.

‘Where's Lottie?'

I see his strange look. ‘She died last week.'

‘What?'

‘She got hit by a car. I thought you knew.'

‘Shit.'

He nods and looks down, brushing at something on the doona. ‘Yeah. I wasn't there. I didn't see it. Mum had the vet put her down.'

‘Shit,' I say again.

He looks up at me, his eyes shiny like he'd cry if he could. ‘Made me think, you know … the guy who hit Lottie took her to the vet. So we got phoned. Otherwise she probably would have bled out on the side of the road.'

I know what's he thinking, but I've moved past Lottie being hit to the bit where I want to know why this is the first I'm hearing about it.

‘Did you tell Ellie?'

‘Yeah, course I did. She's my girlfriend.'

‘Didn't you think I'd like to know too? I remember when you got her as a puppy.'

Alex stands up, his fists clenched, and I can tell he's fuming. ‘Shit, Jake. It's not all about you and me. My dog died. That man is probably going to die. Don't you get it?'

‘Don't you get it?' I'm yelling. ‘Don't you get it, Alex? You've left me. You're here in your fancy new house and I'm out there. Near the freeway. Alone.'

Alex walks over to me. Right up, so close, he's leaning over into my face and there's a flash of something dark and dangerous in his eyes. I've never seen this in him before.

‘A man is in a coma because of us. And they may as well put him down like they did with Lottie. Do you get that, Jake?'

I jump up and move back, out of his line of fury. Of course I get it. I get it all. Him leaving. Me staying. Us doing something we can't undo.

‘I'm going. Nice house,' I say, storming out of his perfect bedroom. I want him to stop me leaving. I want to stay. I want to hang out in his fancy garden and his upstairs room and talk crap like we used to.

‘Thank your mum for the mince pies,' Alex yells after me.

‘What flavours?' says Mum with a shy smile.

I shrug and her smile vanishes. ‘Sorry, Mum. I don't mind. You pick.'

‘Okay … pistachio and mango?'

‘Sure.'

‘I thought you hated pistachio,' she says in a worried voice.

The shop is packed. There's a queue halfway down Lygon Street, if you can believe it. It's like we're waiting for our lives to change, not like we're waiting for an overpriced gelato. But it's Mum's idea of spending some time together. She heard about this place from one of the patients at work and she thought it would be nice for us to try it. I think even Mum's usual optimism has been a bit dinted by the hour-long wait we've already spent with all the families and couples out together on this warm summer Saturday evening. There's nothing like hanging with your mum on a weekend to make you truly feel like you have no life.

‘Strawberry and nougat,' I say, trying to make an effort because she is and it's not her fault my life has come to this.

‘I'm going to have banana and Nutella,' she says, reading the flavours on the board as we inch slightly closer to the front of the line.

Some little girl elbows me in the back and I move forward, trying to get out of her reach. I know she's not meaning to annoy me, but she's been whingeing and grumbling for most of the hour and I reckon I'm about to snap at her or her mum.

‘Shall we see if there's a movie on soon?' says Mum lightly. ‘Be nice to sit in a cool cinema,' she says, taking out her phone so she can check the website.

I can't believe I'm here, with Mum, buying ice creams and seeing movies like we're on a date.

‘Okay. You choose,' I say, making her smile.

‘We haven't been out in ages,' she says, still scrolling on her phone. ‘How was Alex?'

I know she's pretending to concentrate on her phone while she asks me this so I don't glare at her.

‘Good. He said to thank you for the mince pies,' I say as offhandly as I can.

She looks up, doubt written all over her face. ‘Really?'

‘Yeah. It was great to see him in his new place,' I lie, willing her to look back at her phone.

‘I don't mind if you go out with him on weekends. Stay over at his place. You don't have to be home just for me,' she says gently.

I wish I could tell Mum that she's not the reason why I don't leave the house, and why I lie in my bed with the window open, listening for the sounds of cars on the freeway over the back fence. And why when I'm about to be handed a double-cone ice cream that costs almost as much as Mum's hourly pay rate, I don't feel like I deserve it. And it actually makes the guilt come thicker and faster than ever. Instead, I nod like I'm taking it all in, like I'm truly considering going to stay at Alex's, like he actually wants me in his new life.

I listen to Mum order and tune out halfway through. Everywhere I look there's life. A couple kissing in the queue like they've found the perfect way to waste time. Someone walking a dog. People eating burgers on the street. And then there's me.

‘Here you go, Jake,' says Mum, passing back the cone.

‘Thanks,' I mumble and lick the strawberry that's already melting and dribbling down my hand, as we move out into the balmy night. When I see that Mum just has a small cone, I feel sick at the thought that she's gone without so I can have the big one.

‘Mum, you have this …' I say, offering her my ice cream.

‘No. Don't be silly. This is plenty big enough for me,' she says and then licks the chocolate in circles.

‘I don't want it. You have it,' I say, even though I know this is going to end badly. I can feel it in my body. That charge that makes me yell and sulk and ignore her for days on end. She stops walking and gives me a look.

‘Sorry,' I mumble, hoping it's enough. Hoping we can just eat the bloody ice creams, see the movie and go home.

But Mum isn't content with just surviving the night. She wants it to be memorable. ‘It's yummy, isn't it?'

‘Yep.'

‘I know why my patient told me it was so good.'

‘Yep,' I say, trying to hold it in because she's not Alex and she's not the reason I'm so angry.

‘Is everything okay, Jake?'

‘Yep.' That's all I can manage. Even after she buttered me up with a giant gelato and a night out. Just a yep.

She walks over to the lit-up window of a bookshop. Inside are people shopping. Mum told me once that if she had spare money she'd buy books. And she'd have a big room at home with shelves on all the walls so she could display them. Now she just watches crappy crime shows on TV and reads the magazines she takes from the patients after they've been discharged or have died.

Standing away from her, I can't help but stare at her back. At thirty-three she doesn't seem old enough to be the single mother of a surly fifteen-year-old, working night shifts just to keep it together. If I went to jail, then she could start again. Find someone to love and have a baby. One who wouldn't turn out like me.

I step up to the glass and peer into the window, to see what it is she's looking at. But then I see her reflection and I realise she's crying and trying to disappear her tears. She's still licking her ice cream like that's the perfect disguise for unhappiness.

‘Is there anything gory on?' I say, pretending not to notice her tears.

‘Really?' She looks at me for a second, delight clear in her face. It makes me feel even worse.

‘Yeah. Let's do it.'

She smiles and for the moment I've saved her from knowing just how bad I really am.

alex

My phone is ringing but Ellie is kissing my neck and nothing is going to make me stop her and answer it. Somewhere in the house Ellie's mum is singing to herself, but we're in Ellie's room with the door shut and so far nobody has barged in to check what we're up to.

Ellie giggles. ‘You have to shave. It's all tickly,' she says, sitting up next to me on the bed.

‘Kiss here instead,' I say, pointing to my lips.

With a grin she leans down and gives me a quick peck on the lips.

‘Hilarious,' I say, reaching up for her. I can feel her heart beating against my chest as she rests her weight right along my body. My phone rings again and I throw a pillow from under my head down onto the floor to try and silence it.

‘You know I'm supposed to be doing homework, don't you?'

I answer her with a kiss, just as my phone rings again. I groan as Ellie leans down, trying to reach the phone on the ground, and I hold onto her arm to stop her tumbling off the bed. She's laughing as she grabs the phone and holds it up.

‘It's your mum. She's rung three times. You'd better answer, Alex,' she says. I reach for her, trying to pull her back down but she bats me away with the phone. ‘Answer it. It could be important.'

‘I don't care if it's important.'

‘I'm hungry anyway. I'll go and get some toast. Do you want some?'

‘Yeah. Peanut butter and butter.'

She clambers off the bed and fixes up her shirt so it's back where it should be.

‘Do I look like I've been studying?'

‘Um, maybe studying the art of making out.'

She laughs as she leaves the room. I hit the green button on my phone.

‘Hello, Mum,' I say, stretching out on Ellie's single bed.

‘Alex, where are you?'

‘I'm at Ellie's. I left a note.'

‘I didn't get it and I've been trying to get a hold of you. I'm at the vet. It's Lottie.'

Mum's voice makes me sit up. She sounds softer than usual. ‘What's happened?'

‘She was hit by a car on Riversdale Road. I had to have her put down.'

‘What?'

‘I'm sorry, Alex. I wanted to wait for you, but she was in pain.'

My head is spinning. ‘She's dead?'

‘Honey, I'm really sorry.'

‘But …' This isn't happening.

‘A car hit her this morning and—'

‘How did she get out?'

She pauses. ‘The gate must have been left open.'

As she says the words, I remember rushing through the front yard. I was in such a hurry to get to Ellie's, I unlocked the gate and I didn't …

‘But, Mum …' My hand is gripping the phone so tightly it might break.

‘I know. I'm sorry. I know what Lottie meant to you.'

My eyes are stinging. I don't want to get upset on the phone. Not with Mum.

‘Alex, are you okay? Do you want me to come and get you?'

‘No. I'll get the train. Are you still at the vet's?'

‘Yes, but honey …'

‘It's okay, Mum. I'll get the train.'

I hang up before she can argue. I can see the gate hanging open. I can see myself rushing away from it. I can hear Lottie barking as I left. She must have followed me.

‘Two slices of peanut butter and butter toast. Thought you needed to keep your strength up.'

I look up as Ellie comes in with a plate piled high with toast and everything bursts out before I can stop it.

‘Alex, what's happened?'

But I can't even speak. The pressure in my head feels like it's going to make my skull explode. It's all just pouring out of me. Ellie's arms wrap around my shoulders, but they can't contain anything. My body is shaking with tears. I'm gasping for air. My chest hurts. My eyes burn and each time a wave of grief passes another one begins. It's like something has ripped open in my body and I can't close it. I see his daughter. I see him. His wife. The car. It's all there. We did this. We put him into a coma. And now Lottie's dead. And this is punishment for what we did.

‘Alex …' Her arms wrap tighter around me as I'm hit with shame. ‘What's happened?'

‘Lottie's dead,' I manage to whisper between gasps. Her arms tighten around me like they can stop the hurt.

‘It's my fault, Ellie,' I say through the sobs.

‘No. Why?'

‘It's my fault. All of it. It's my fault.'

I don't know what she thinks as she holds me and rocks me, and lets me soak her shoulder with tears, but I know what I've done.

‘I've gotta go. I'm going to catch the train to the vet's.'

She holds on tighter. ‘I'll come too.'

‘No.' My word sounds so angry. And I am. But not with her.

She kisses me like she doesn't want me to leave, but I have to get out of here. I have to see Lottie.

Two dickheads stare at me on the train. They have their boots up on the seat opposite, and one of them is using a coin to scratch a tag into the glass window. I stare back at them, willing them to start something. I want to fight something. Someone. And the guy with the shaved head and the aggro attitude will do just fine.

But the more I stare, the more he finds other places to look. The more I stare, the more he shrinks. Until he's tugging on his friend's arm and pulling it down so that the tag is only half finished.

My phone beeps. It's Jake. I don't read the text. He's all I need. The train hums along the tracks, the grinding sound buzzing under everything, as it speeds through station after station.

And still I stare.

At the next station, the one with the shaved head stands up. He kicks his friend and gestures to the door. As they pass me, one of them bumps his elbow into my shoulder and I snap around, making them scurry as fast as they can to the door.

And I glare at them as the train pulls off and they yell at me from the safety of the platform, one jokingly grabbing the other around the neck. And I think of Jake, and I know I should call him but I can't bear the thought because then I'd have to tell him I caused her to die. And he loved her too.

Lottie was my birthday present when I was seven. Dad surprised me with her. Bought me a dog because I was scared of them so he thought it'd help. And it did. Nobody could be scared of her. Big fluffy ears and nose so cold that if she rested it on your leg or your back while you were sleeping she could wake you up. It was such a strange thing for Dad to do. He's never been tender or thoughtful like that. But that day he really nailed it.

I'm so lost in my head that I almost miss the stop. I scoot through the doors and out into a day I don't want to have.

The station's busy. It's always busy. I pull my hood up and walk like I'm a shadow, dodging people to get to the right street. I need to check my phone because I'm not exactly sure where the vet is. It's somewhere around here.

Ignoring the traffic, I run straight across the road, a wave of horns following me. Run me over too. I don't care.

Then I see the vet's with its animal paintings all along the front. It's too cheery. My breathing is all out of whack. My chest hurts like it did that night when we ran to the playground and hid in the tunnel. I push the door and hear the bell ring, and the girl at the counter looks up, her smile fading as she takes in my hoodie, my hidden face. I probably look like I'm going to rob her.

‘My dog …' I say as tears prickle my eyes.

‘Just take a seat,' she says in a hard, nasally voice.

But I don't want to take a seat. Not here in the little waiting room with its magazines and wooden chairs. I just want to see my dog.

Then Sass walks out and sees me. She's crying as she crosses the room and falls against me, her arms tucked around my back. I let her hug me as hard as she can, but the more she cries, the more everything in me dies.

‘Do you want to see her?' says Sass, her face red and blotchy.

I don't have a choice.

I nod, and she takes my hand and leads me down a corridor where I can hear other animals snuffling and moaning and barking. We reach a room right down the back. I see Mum through the square of glass at the front and she doesn't look like she normally does. Her hair is messed up. And she's not wearing any lipstick.

Sass pushes the door open and I see Lottie lying on the silver bench, lying like she's asleep.

Mum holds out her arms, awkward. ‘Oh, honey. I'm so sorry,' she says, trying to make it seem like we hug all the time.

‘Not your fault, Mum.'

I dodge the hug and step closer to Lottie. She's been cleaned up but she doesn't look right. Her limbs are positioned oddly like she's not real.

‘We'll leave you,' says Mum.

‘It's okay,' I say, suddenly panicked at the idea of being here alone with dead Lottie.

But Mum smiles a sort of understanding smile, obviously thinking that I want time alone, and pulls Sass along with her.

Once the door's closed, the room feels even smaller, and I wonder how long I have to stay here before I can escape. It smells like methylated spirits and cleaning products, which masks any smell of Lottie. I was supposed to give her a bath. She was so stinky and I hadn't washed her since we moved. I should have washed her.

I know I should go to her and touch her or pat her or something but I don't want to. I just want to get out of here.

I can see her collar peeping out from her furry neck, and before I can even think about what I'm doing, my hand has snaked out and touched her back. Her skin doesn't shiver like it normally does. I try to think of Lottie curled up on my bed but I can't. She's dead. That's it.

It's over.