Outside In (2 page)

Jordan wasn't sure she wanted her dad to get out of the car. But she wasn't sure she wanted him to sit there either, window down, tapping away to some stupid out-of-date song on some stupid out-of-date radio station. Especially in his suit and tie.

She opened the boot and chucked in her overnight bag and her school bag.

‘Hi, Poss,' her dad said, as she slid into the passenger seat. He was acting as though it was a regular event, this leaving work early to pick her up. What a Committed Daddy. Give the man an Oscar.

Jordan reached out and switched stations.

‘Hi,' she said.

‘Thought I'd cook carbonara,' her dad said, motioning backwards. There were two plastic 7-Eleven bags sitting on the back seat. When her mum did the shopping there were loads more and she always used green enviro-bags.

‘I just have to finish off some paperwork. It'll take an hour. Two at the max,' he said.

Some things never changed.

They took a side street, and then turned onto the highway. Part of her pulled in the opposite direction, towards her real house.
Ta-ta. Bye
.

Jordan stared out the window. Closing her eyes, she felt her head bumping on the glass in a rhythm.

‘It's not far away. We take the next exit, and then it's just up here.'

He should be one of those navigating systems you stick on the dashboard.

There was a tiny park at the bottom of the street. A little triangle with swings, a slide and a seesaw. The grass underneath it was impossibly green. Like an apology for the rest of the street being lined with concrete and bricks.

Her dad pulled into a car park underneath the building. It was dark and cold, a place that locked out sunshine. Her dad opened a door leading up some stairs. It was an echo chamber in there.

Jordan held onto the railing. Her dad walked in front, carrying the shopping and her overnight bag. The one that didn't have Zebra inside it.

In the foyer was a tricycle and a two-wheeler. They were covered with streamers and shiny bells. As if childhood existed.

Jordan knew better. Childhood was just another illusion. Sooner or later, it would crack.

Another flight of stairs. And another. ‘Now, you know this is just short term, Poss?' he said over his shoulder. ‘It's just temporary.'

Like everything.

‘Can I use your laptop?' Jordan asked as he put the key in the door.

‘Sorry, Poss. I need it to finish my work. Why don't you settle in?'

Jordan wandered down the hall and looked around the spare bedroom. ‘Why don't I settle in?' she asked herself aloud. Like a crazy person.

She recognised a cakky brown doona and pillow case stolen from the bottom of the linen press at her real house. The scent of Earth's Dolphin, her mum's choice of washing powder.
Safe for the Earth and great in cold water!

The doona set was taken out when guests came to stay. Mainly when Nana arrived, dressed in bowling whites and equipped with little jars of Darrell Lea lollies. Bo Peeps for breakfast, dished out by kind old hands from under that doona. Secretly given. Secretly scoffed until only the blacks remained, stuck in little clusters at the bottom of the jar.

Where would Nana stay now? Now that her dad had custody of the doona, and only one spare bed?

Jordan pushed away the question and looked around the room.

There was a chest of drawers, and an old wardrobe with the door half-open. Inside there was a heap of wire coat hangers with nothing on them.

She unzipped her bag and changed into track pants and a T-shirt. She hung up her school dress. The she put a hand back into the bag and pulled out the photo.

Should she put it up? On top of the chest of drawers? On the windowsill, between the two dead blowflies?

Jordan sat on the cakky brown doona. Like a stranger in a hotel.

The photo was of her mum and dad, Jordan standing in between them. They wore giant grins. Jordan's looked like a mini version of her dad's. Her mum's dark eyes in her own face. The three of them were on skis, paused to race down a mountain.

We haven't been happy for a long time.

It wasn't taken that long ago, the photo. Maybe a year. It was on the holiday they'd been on before he started the dream job. Were their smiles faked, like everything else?

Jordan tucked the photo back into her bag. She noticed she'd forgotten her pjs.

How was she supposed to kill time in this hole? Smother it with a cakky brown pillow case? Hold it while it thrashed its last breaths?

The floorboards creaked as she walked down the hall.

The tapping on the keyboard stopped for a moment. He even turned around to face her. ‘Do you have everything?'

‘Forgot my pjs.'

‘Oh.'

His body was half-turned back to the screen. His fingers were creeping towards the keyboard.

‘I might just go down to the park for a while,' Jordan said.

She could smell his relief.

‘OK, Poss. Go and have a play,' said his back.

‘Ah, yes,' she muttered under her breath to the background of tapping keys. ‘I shall
frolic joyfully
in the sunshine.'

Jordan opened the front door and looked around the landing. A sensor light registered her presence. There were two other doors on the landing. Two other flats. Other lives inside, she supposed. Pretend families with pretend children?

She made her way down to the second landing. No sensor this time. Instead, a window. Jordan paused, she sat down. A poem her mum used to recite bounced around in her head. ‘Halfway Down.' Halfway down the stairs.

A poem about being contented. About being happy, just to be. Wherever you were.

Her dad used to join in. When they were.

A family.

Jordan had known it off by heart. Now, the words were hazy. Ghost words …

From her spot on the landing, Jordan could see the triangle park. An old man let his silky terrier off the leash. She could see him motion for the dog to sit. When it did, he pulled something out of his pocket. The dog leapt up to his hand.

The old man patted the dog and started all over again.

‘That's Frank. Dog's called Wanda.'

Jordan felt her body jerk. She hadn't heard anyone coming.

‘Jack?' she asked, looking up. Which was pretty stupid because it was definitely Jack. ‘What are you doing here?' Her voice would have sounded more annoyed if she could be bothered.

The flat was another universe. A parallel life. She shouldn't have intruders from the other part of her life. That Jack was here, basketball Jack, seemed very wrong.

Jack didn't seem to notice her tone. He sat beside her, his extra-large sneakered feet tapping the landing.

‘Ha. I guess your dad had the same idea as mine,' he said. ‘Not so far to school. Short-term rental available. Although
my
dad's probably going to be here forever. I used to come every Monday night but had to change to Wednesdays. Alternate weekends too, depending on sport. You?'

Jordan shook her head. It was none of his business when she had to stay in this dump. It was none of anyone's business.

‘Frank's got no idea how to train that dog,' Jack added when Jordan didn't answer.

Jordan stared out. Wanda was up on two legs, spinning around. Sometimes, she'd get to four or five spins, like a ballet dancer, before falling back to the ground, regaining her balance and starting all over again. The treats were coming thick and fast.

‘Frank gives her treats for
everything
,' Jack went on. There was criticism in his voice, but also something else. Jordan could tell that Jack liked Frank. She could tell that Jack even quite liked that Frank was too easy on his dog.

‘He's a cool old man. Come on, I'll introduce you,' Jack said.

He took the stairs, three at a time. Kind of bounced down them. Jordan wasn't quite sure why she was following him.

‘Hey, good game today,' he said, turning back as he reached the stairwell.

‘Yeah, I bet you don't know too many people who can catch a ball with their face,' Jordan replied.

Jack's laugh echoed.

Jordan tilted her head to the side, listening for a moment. Jack's parents had split. But he was laughing. Seemed happy.
How could that be?

In a private spot, deep inside her, Jordan tucked away the question.

Then she followed him out the door.

The light had faded but still she followed.

Frank's flat was like a flipped-around version of her dad's. A mirror image, but with different furniture.

‘They're all pretty much the same,' Jack said. ‘Some have more bedrooms.' His blue eyes rested on her brown ones and focused. ‘You'll get used to it all.'

Jordan breathed in. Held the breath. She felt like he was seeing inside her, into the mess. It was strange that it seemed all right.

She looked away first. Around Frank's flat. She breathed in the smell of loneliness.

Jack took a seat at the kitchen table while Frank banged around in the kitchen. His kettle was the old-fashioned type, where you had to light the stove and wait until it whistled. Wanda leapt up onto Jack's lap.

‘Don't let Wanda jump up on you like that,' Frank grumbled.

Jack lowered Wanda to the ground. In two seconds, she was back.

‘Geez, Frank,' Jack teased, ‘seems like Wanda might be used to doing this. For some reason.'

Jack shot a grin at Jordan and stroked Wanda's fur under her collar.

‘Gotta train the dog,' Frank said, putting a teapot on the table. He brought over three cups that rattled on their saucers.

‘Yeah, you have to be strict, don't you, Frank?' Jack said, straight-faced. Jordan felt as if something was tapping at her heart. The something had the same rhythm as the pats Jack was giving the dog.

Jordan took a sip of sweet tea and looked into the lounge room. On the mantelpiece was a sepia photo.

‘Ruthie and me on our wedding day,' Frank said softly.

Jordan felt a lump in her throat. She didn't need to be told that Ruthie was gone. The lack of her was everywhere.

‘It's been better since you got Wanda, hasn't it, Frank?' Jack said.

Jordan froze. She was staring at Jack, couldn't stop herself. She could hardly believe this was basketball Jack. The Bouncing Jock.

He was so still.

‘It has, Jack,' Frank said. His fingers rubbed Wanda's neck. She was the recipient of all that spare love. ‘It has.'

Jordan tucked her toes under a cushion and flicked on the new plasma with the remote control. It wasn't a Wednesday, so the building was Jack-less. But she could still feel him there.

Her mum was out for the evening at some stupid work function, so they'd decided that Jordan should stay at her dad's. That meant they had spoken to each other. Made arrangements. They had arranged her.

The couch at home was much harder. Leather. Old imprints of Jordan had softened it in places. But this, this new one at her dad's, was really comfortable. It was maroon velveteen. Jordan wouldn't have chosen the colour, but it was sinky. When she stretched her body out, it billowed around her, cloud-like.