Authors: Scot Gardner

One Dead Seagull (15 page)

Y
eah.
Real
bad
some
days.
I
thought
of
a
stupid
little thing
from
Days
of
Our
Lives,
when
Counsel
and
Serena were
facing
each
other
and
just
staring
into
each
other
’
s eyes.
Holding
hands.
T
elling
each
other
that
they
wanted to
spend
the
rest
of
their lives
togethe
r
.
A
stumpy
arm would
get
in
the
way
of
that.
And
clapping
hands.
Sometimes
I
can
hear
the
brick
saw
in
my
head.
Sometimes
I wake
up
from
dreams
that
I
can
’
t
remember
and
my
jaw aches
like
I’ve
been
cracking
nuts
with
my
teeth
all
night. I
thought all
that and
it came
out as, ‘
Y
eah,
not bad though.
It
’
s
all
right.’

Then
Dad
told
me
about
how
his
dad
used
to
beat
him when
he
was
little and
his
mum
would
just
stand
there
screaming.
She’d
never
inte
r
fere
though
for
fear
he’d
hit
he
r
.
He
never
did.
He
told
me
that
’
s
why
he
never
hit
me.

‘
Y
ou
just
did.’

‘
Y
eah,
that
was
different.’

‘How?’

‘
Y
ou
dese
r
ved
it.’

‘What?’

‘
W
ell
.
.
.
you’re
a
bloke
no
w
.
Y
ou
got
to
realise
that
if you
give
people
the
shits
they’ll
have
a
go
at
you.’

‘What,
you
didn
’
t
think
I’d
worked
that
out
already?’

‘Not
with
me
you
hadn
’
t.’

He dropped a
clanger
seven
minutes
into the last quarte
r
.
He
said
that
I
had
a
sister
who
had
died
at
birth.

‘What
are
you
talking
about?’

‘
Y
eah
.
Y
ou
r
mu
m
wil
l
kil
l
m
e
i
f
sh
e
find
s
ou
t
I
tol
d
yo
u
so kee
p
i
t
t
o
yourself
.
Sh
e
wa
s
bor
n
seve
n
month
s
afte
r
your mu
m
an
d
I
wer
e
married
.
Sh
e
ha
d
a
hear
t
defect
.
W
e
called he
r
Carri
e
bu
t
w
e
didn
’
t
hav
e
a
funera
l
fo
r
he
r
o
r
anything.’

‘Why
didn
’
t
Mum
.
.
.
why
didn
’
t
you
tell
me
before?’
W
e
heard a
car
pull
up.
The
door
slammed.

‘Mum
never
got
over
it.
Not
a
word,’
he
whispered
and waved
his
fist
in
my
face
again
and
hid
the
beers
under
the bed.
Mum
thundered
through the
house and
nearly
smacked
the
door
off
its
hinges
coming
into
the
room.

‘Out!’ She
shouted
at Dad.
There
wasn
’
t
any
room
for negotiation.
Dad
just
lay
there
on
the
bed.
She
grabbed the
leg
of
his
pants
and
dragged
his
feet
to
the
floo
r
.

‘Get
out,
Mick.
No
w
.’

‘
I
haven
’
t
finishe
d
wit
h
Sunshin
e
her
e
yet,
’
h
e
sai
d
with
a
smil
e
an
d
kicke
d
hi
s
leg
s
bac
k
u
p
o
n
th
e
bed
.
Th
e
motion mad
e
th
e
bottle
s
clin
k
an
d
Mu
m
doesn
’
t
mis
s
stuf
f
like that
.
Sh
e
wen
t
t
o
wal
k
aroun
d
t
o
th
e
othe
r
sid
e
o
f
th
e
bed.

‘Grab
them,’
Dad
growled
so I
reached
over
and
grabbed
the
full
ones.
He
carefully
pulled
the
others
out from
the
stash
under
the
bed.
Mum
did
the
matron
thing in
front
of
the
telly
with
her
fists
on
her
hips.

‘
Y
a
want
one?’
he
said,
waving
a
beer
at
he
r
.

She
stood
there
huffing
for
a
full
minute
and
we
tried to
look
around
her
to
see
what
they
were
screaming
about on
the
foot
y
.
Her
scowl
melted.
‘
Y
es.
I
bloody
well
do.
Shove
ove
r
.’

And
in
a rare
moment
that
I
will
remember
for
eternit
y
, the
three
of
us
watched
Mum
’
s
team
(carn
the
Cats)
get up
and
clip
Collingwood
in
the
first
semi-final.
By
three points.
It
wasn
’
t
over
yet.

For
a
while,
eve
r
ything
felt
like
it would
be
oka
y
.
Dad talked
about
working
out
some
way
of
modifying
my
bike so
that
I
could
ride,
and
anything
that
I
suggested
would be
difficult with
one
hand
he
said
he
could
make
‘an
attachment’
fo
r
.
But
what
about
girls?
What
about
the
slab
of
my
life
that
involved
being
with
people?
How
do
you stop
them
from
staring?

Dr
Mickey
said
my
stump
was
healing
oka
y
.
I
wondered
if it would
ever
close
over—it
was swollen
and
a
sick-looking
purple—black
and
red
raw
on
the
end
beside
the stitches.
Eve
r
y
so
often
I
could
feel
my
hand
like
it
was
still there,
only
it
wasn
’
t
much
fun.
It
would
feel
like
one
of
my missing
fingers
was aching
or my
palm
was itch
y
.
No matter
what
I
did
I
couldn
’
t scratch
it
or
stop
the
pain. Mickey
called
them
phantom
pains.
That
phantom
sure pissed
me
off.
Mum
changed
the
dressing a
couple
of times
a
day
and
it
felt
weird
but
didn
’
t really
hurt.
She cried
the
first
few
times.
No
noise,
just
a
few
tears.
There
were
times
when
I
totally
forgot that my
hand
wasn
’
t
there.
Like
when
I
went
to
get
some
milk
and
I
knocked
the
stump
on
the
fridge.
It
hurt
so
much
I
swore
flat
out
for
a
minute.
Mum
asked
Mickey
if
my
arm should
be
in
a sling
and
he
told
her
mobility
would
be
good
for
it.
She
made
sure
I
was
full
of
painkillers
but
they
didn
’
t
temper agon
y
,
only
pain.

Mum
went
back
to
work.
T
elly
became
my
best
mate.
I hate
to
admit
it
but
I
started
to
really
enjoy
Days
of
Our Lives
and they
had some
really
interesting
guests
on
Oprah
.

Dr Stevenson
said
that
it would
be
good
for me
to
construct
some
habits
that
I
could
get
used
to.
So
I
did:
a nice
routine
of
what
to
watch
and
when.
Mum
got
me
a
few
videos
eve
r
y
other
da
y
.

Den
started
calling
in.
He’d
jump
off
the
bus
at
Merrimans
Creek
Road
and
walk
to
my
place.
W
e’d
watch
the
cartoons
for
a
while
then
he’d
go
home.
He
never
said much.
I
guess
he
’
s
embarrassed
like
eve
r
yone else.
One Thursday
he
rocked
around
at
about
four
o’clock.
Mum wasn
’
t
home
from
work
and
I
jumped
out
of
bed
to
let him
in.

‘Getting
ready
for
bed?’
he
joked.

‘Nah.’

‘Happy
anniversa
r
y
,’
he
said
smiling
and
handed
me a flower
he
must
have
yanked
out
of
next
door
’
s
garden.

‘Wha?’

‘
T
wo
months
toda
y
,
since
your
accident.’

‘Whoo.
T
wo
months?’
It
didn
’
t
seem
that
long
ago.

‘
Y
ep.
T
wo
months
and
the
only
thing
I’ve
seen
you dressed
in
is
PJs.’

‘
Y
eah.
They’re
comfortable.’

I
pulled
on
the
loose
sleeve
that
hung
over
my
stump.

‘Griz
come
and
beat
the
shit
out
of
you
yet?’ He
choked
a
laugh.
‘
Y
eah,
he
did.’

He
explained
that
when
they
got
back
from
holidays, Griz
rocked
around
to
his
place
and
pinned
him
to
the ground
on his
own
front
lawn.
Gracie
came
out
screaming
and
Griz
nicked
off.
The
cops
paid
a
visit
to
Griz.