Authors: Allie Little
Holding myself together, I take in what he’s telling me. Barely, but I do it.
“Would you like me to call your mother, or would you prefer to inform her yourself?”
Shit
.
My mother
. Not a conversation I desire to have. And Ben. He has to be told too. Are they together? Why aren’t they here already? She’s usually here so early. “Um …,” I cough through a constricting throat. “I think it would be better if you inform her. She’ll have questions and I won’t be able to answer them.”
“Of course. I’ll call her now. So, please excuse me. If you have any questions, please call so that we can answer them for you.”
“Yes, I will. Thank you again, Dr Floriet,” I say, as he almost bows from the room.
Holly moves to my side, hands me a bunch of pamphlets about funerals and grief, and what to do when someone dies. I’m not sure why she hands them to
me
. I’m not ready to deal with this stuff. I really need some air.
Before she can explain my phone rings, muffled by the leather handbag still slung over my shoulder. I rummage aimlessly, finding it vibrating like crazy at the bottom of the bag. I flip open the case.
I attempt to clear my throat and my head simultaneously. “Hey, Ben.”
“Hey. Someone tried to call Mum’s phone. A couple of times. She’s here, Sam. Lying in the dark, completely immobilised. I can’t get her up today. There’s no way I can get her to the hospital.”
I pause, wondering how to do this. The pain that tears me up inside is cutting through my heart. How do I tell my brother that Dad’s gone? Gone like a sunset in a dimming sky. It’s the forever that’s hard to comprehend.
“Sam? You still there?”
I hold the phone closer to my ear. So close I can hear breaths of frustration through the line.
“Yeah, I’m still here. But, um … I have some news. I hope you’re sitting down.”
A sharp intake of air is sucked through the phone. “Oh no. About Dad?”
“Yeah.” I say, bracing myself. Holding it. Holding it together because I must. “He’s gone, Ben. He died this morning at 10.45.” Tears rip from my eyes with the heartbreak. I hear Ben exhale slowly, saying nothing, then snatching for air in violent gulps. I glance at Holly, who I realise is still in the room.
“I’ll leave you for a few moments,” she whispers. “Take as much time as you need in here.”
I nod at her, keeping Ben on the line.
“I thought we had more time,” he says hoarsely, the pain audible in his tone.
***
I drive home on autopilot with rivers of salty tears tracking across my face. I don’t think about where I’m going or how I get there. I just drive. And all I want is to keep on driving. Forever. To rid myself of the heavy, lashing pain that courses through my chest. A baffled stupor has covered me in a haze so thick that comprehension deserts me. Because forever is
so
long. An eternity. And I can’t comprehend a forever without Dad.
The road into Tea Gardens curves with its patchwork of grassy paddocks on either side. When I drive over the rise at the Lion’s Club lookout I see the sea, the vast blueness crying in unison with me. Begging. Drawing me to it. And all I can think about is how I will feel, submerged beneath those waves.
Bennett’s Beach is busy at the Surf Club. Too busy for today. I need solitude. Isolation. Somewhere to hide my heavy-lidded eyes from view. I park further north, near the Golf Club with the buggies lurching blithely over the course.
I push out and lock the car, feeling the comfort of sand below the soles of my feet. And then I walk. Over the rise of the dune, catching my feet on spiky barbs and ignoring the pain. Across the sand to the water, where I dive fully clothed under rolling whitewashed peaks. And there is no distinction between my salty tears and the sea. Just a liquid tranquillity enveloping me within the serenity of its arms. Where the startling cold is my bewildering pleasure. Life let me be.
***
My legs are heavy on the steps to the veranda. These steps I’ve walked a thousand times over, and then some. The front door hangs open with no sign of life visible from the outside. Perhaps there’s no-one home. Perhaps I won’t need this encounter. To endure her pain as well as my own. Because knowing her, and knowing who she is, I know what’s coming.
“Sammy? Is that you?” Ben’s voice creeps from the rear of the house. Tentative. Soft. He meets me in the hallway, drags me into an embrace so tight I can’t breathe. He quickly draws back. “Why are you all wet?”
“I went swimming.”
He stands back and frowns. “Fully clothed? Are you mad?”
I smile weakly. “Not mad. Sad.”
He nods with sorrow filling his eyes. “You would do something like that.” He pulls me toward the kitchen and switches on the kettle. The angst is so palpable I feel it emanating from him. Pulsing in streams of heartache. As usual we need no words.
As I quickly head off to change out of my wet clothing the kettle clicks off. Ben pours water into mugs of instant coffee and stirs sugar through both. He hands one to me when I’m done and we sit on the couch looking over the river. The couch where Dad used to sit. The image in my mind is so strong and I never want to forget it. All the simple things. Just like this.
The river runs south toward the sea. We watch it coursing downstream, taking mulchy, dead debris with it as it moves. Ben runs a hand through his already ruffled dark hair and sighs. “So I told Mum.”
I look at him. “And?”
He gives a defeated shrug. “She just looked at me. Retreated to her room and hasn’t come out.” He glances away, skimming his eyes across the river. “I popped my head in a while ago and she’s asleep.”
In this moment I feel for my brother. Because he needs her to be here. Needs her to be present, like a mother ought to be. The strong one, holding us all together like glue. Instead it’s us, trying desperately to prop her up.
I reach for his hand and hold it. Tight. And when I do he grips it like a lifeline he doesn’t want to let go of. Like I’m all he has. We spend the next few timeless hours just sitting here, talking about anything else, because then today seems like just another normal day. Except my heart’s bleeding out and my head’s all hazy within a thick vaporous fog.
When I think about my mother my traitorous heart melts. Because I know she loves, or loved, Dad. So this must be agony for her. And she
is
my mother, flaws and all. I don’t wish her pain.
“It’s been ages. Maybe I should check on her,” I suggest, thinking about her formless figure lying bereft in the darkness.
“She’s broken, Sam. I’m worried this’ll be more than she can deal with.”
I rise from the couch with fear gnawing at me. I couldn’t count how many times I’ve had to do this. Bring her back from the brink. And it doesn’t get any easier, especially not today. Ben gives me a half-hearted, appreciative smile.
I knock softly on her door twice, holding my ear against the painted timber. Nothing. No sound reaches me from behind the door, and my heart beats faster. I push it open, the blanket of darkness shrouding me in its thick cloak.
“Mum?” I ask softly. “Are you awake?”
Nothing.
“Mum?”
A soft rustle moves from the bed. I shift closer, positioning myself softly on the edge of her chintzy bed. No light peeps through the chunky curtains casing the windows.
Mum exhales loudly. “I’m awake.”
“Are you okay?”
“Do you think I’m okay? My husband is dead.” She pauses, then sits herself higher on the bed. A glint shines from her wet eyes. “Are you okay?” she asks.
For one quick moment I think she cares. She leans forward and wraps me tightly in her arms. Arms that I haven’t felt around me for the longest time. Arms that feel strangely good. But when I lay my head tentatively on her shoulder, she whispers gently into my ear.
“I blame you,” she says, ever so softly.
With my guard down it takes a moment to process her words.
“I blame you for this. For his death,” she whispers saccharine-like while I’m cocooned in her arms. “It’s all because of you. Never here. All that worry. You should be ashamed.”
I try to push away, to escape this ambush. I’m caught, ensnared in her trap. And her syrupy words burn me like a fiery poker through the stomach. Twisting in my head and striking me off balance with her perfectly aimed blow. The gut-wrenching realisation that she blames me for Dad’s death hits me like a brick from above. And all I want to do is run.
“No,” is all I can say as I extricate myself, the tears spilling in rivers over my face. “No. You can’t possibly think that.”
I back from the room, wishing desperately to be away. From her, the pain, the reality, and her crushing, burning, scalding words. Just. Away.
I push past Ben, grabbing my keys and bag on the hall table on the way. “I have to go,” I sob. “I can’t stay here.”
“Wait,” he demands, grabbing for my arm. “You can’t go.”
I pull away. “I have to,” I gasp, trying desperately to draw air into my lungs.
“Why?” he asks, baffled.
“Ask her,” I throw back, needing to escape.
Ben follows me outside. “Sam! Stop! You don’t need to do this. She’s not herself. Whatever she said? She doesn’t mean it.”
“Really? Could’ve fooled me. Because I
am
a fool. Believing that maybe,
just maybe
, my mother loved me.” I watch his face as it drops. “I couldn’t have been further from the truth.”
Ben tries to comfort me. But I don’t need him. I just need somewhere to escape to.
“Can I have your house key?” I ask, the desperation crushing my insides. “I need to stay at your place for a few days. Get my head together. Get away.”
“In Sydney?” he asks. “You’re going all the way to
Sydney
?”
I snigger bitterly. “All the way? Sydney doesn’t seem far enough.”
Ben shakes his head, dragging keys from the pocket of his jeans. He twists the key from the ring. “This is a bad idea, Sam. For a start, you shouldn’t be driving. And second, there are people here who care about you. You should stay.”
“I can’t,” I choke out.
“What about Jack?” he demands. “He’s worried about you. He knows about Dad. I told him, because you weren’t going to.”
“Really? You had no right. He’s been through enough, Ben. Did you know he lost his brother? He’s been through this. He doesn’t need more.”
“How about letting him decide that, hey? He loves you.”
Hearing that cuts me. My heart flips over because I love him too. But I also need to protect him.
Fuck
. From this hideous pain. “Please, just give me your key.”
He hands it over and I back away to the car, just as Lily pulls up in the driveway.
“You’ll be fine,” I say, gesturing toward Lily.
She climbs sombrely from her car, thudding the door closed and meeting me in the drive. “I’m so sorry, Sam. I know how close you were to your Dad,” she says as she hugs me. “I am truly sorry. He was a beautiful man.”
“Thanks, Lil,” I manage, drawing back. “But I have to go now. Look after Ben, okay? He needs you.”
She nods. “That’s why I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
Ben comes up and circles her waist with his arms from behind. She turns in his arms and presses her lips against his.
“I have to go. You know where I’ll be, Ben.”
He moves from Lily and looks down at me meaningfully. “Drive safe. I’ll be in touch.”
Lily looks slightly bewildered as I drive away, no doubt confounded as to why I would leave. Ben holds a similar expression on his face too.
Only once I’m driving do the uncontrollable tears once again begin to flow.
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
It’s almost dark when I reach Ben’s place in Narrabeen, the blue fibro shack on Emerald St paling in colour against the twilight sky. I pull Ben’s key from my pocket and fit it into the lock, turning until it clicks. The door swings ajar, sending a shaft of dusky light over the floorboards.
His place is smaller than I recall, having not been here for months. I drag myself inside, realising in my haste to get away I forgot to bring anything other than my handbag. No change of clothes, toothbrush, nothing. But knowing I’m here alone is a comfort. In some awful way I feel like
her
, because the darkness is soothing.
I switch on a table lamp in the corner. Touches of Lily still adorn the room. Perhaps she’s moved back in, but Ben hasn’t said anything so I couldn’t know for sure. I find a pair of Lily’s old trackies in Ben’s bottom drawer and change thankfully into them. I drag her hoodie over my throbbing head, closing the front door behind me when I leave.
The beach from the end of Emerald St is bathed in night-lit beauty. That I
can
appreciate. With my feet in the sand I relish its coarseness. Rough compared to Bennett’s, and a darker shade of grain. A young couple traverses the sand, giggling with what appears to be beer bottles gripped in their palms. He curls an arm around her waist and drags her closer to the water where they fall in a tittering heap, the sound of their laughter drifting over the coiling ocean. So carefree.
I settle back, the stars peppering the sky like white diamonds. For a moment I think of Jack, of how perfect it would feel to be lying in his arms, my head on his hard chest. Hard but undoubtedly comfortable. But I know this is for the best. He needs to forget his pain, not be drawn into mine. I silently curse Ben for telling him about Dad, then shudder as I realise that of course he’d want to know.
An image of my mother flashes into my head. Of me, cocooned in her arms while she whispers soft, sweet nothings into my ear. My chest hurts with the memory, so I push it away. Push
her
away. Because this is why I’m here. To forget.
And then the fact that Dad is dead hits me again in a single cruel blow. And each time it happens is like a brand new jolt, brutally harsh. My body feels sick, and all I want to do is curl up on this soft Narrabeen sand, here under the sky feeling closer to where Dad must be, and sleep.