Mike (7 page)

23
BUT NOT COMPLETELY

Mrs Petrantonio invited me in, but I made an excuse and left. I wanted to get to Riny's and find out what this “something” could be.

Ros was out — probably shopping. I knew, because the old Ford was gone from the driveway. I fumbled with my key, pushed open the door, and made my way inside.

The first thing I noticed was that Gretchen didn't greet me, which was more than unusual. I called out, but there was no reply. Only a quiet whining from the front room.

Riny was sitting there in the brown velvet chair. Her eyes were closed, and she looked peaceful. The dog was lying on the carpet at her feet, and as I approached it made the tiny whining sound again.

I wasn't sure whether I should wake her, but after all it was my big day. Our big day. I knew she'd want to share it with me.

I touched her hand where it lay in her lap, but it was cold. Ice-cold.

And suddenly I knew. Why the dog had failed to greet me, why it just whined and lay there. I walked backwards to the window, and stood there holding on to the sill, still looking at her. Then a kind of calm spread over me, and the fear that was rising disappeared. There was something about the look on her face. The expression of … incredible peace. A look almost of happiness.

I looked around that room. That special room, the one she came to when she felt alone, when she needed to be with him. Her Tony. “He's here,” she said once. “And he always will be.”

But that wasn't true. Not any more. He wasn't here now; he had waited for her, and now they were both gone.

But not completely.

She'd said something else. Something I never really understood until that moment, standing there alone in that room. “We give a part of ourselves to everyone we love,” she'd said. “And we live on. There's nothing to be scared about.”

I looked at the peace on her face, and finally I understood.

I stood a moment longer, then the dog got up. Gently, it placed its head into her lap and licked her unmoving hands. Just once. Then it crossed the room and stood before me. I looked down into those huge, liquid-brown eyes and, without thinking, I began to rub softly behind its ear.

“Come on, girl.”

Silently, it followed me to the door.

I looked back once more before I left. “Goodbye, Riny,” I said, and gently closed the door.

24
THE FIRST OF MANY

A lot can happen in three years. A lot has.

I joined the swimming club. The same one as guess who? We haven't become great mates or anything — that might have been asking a little too much — but we are team-mates. We're both going to Perth in September for the Nationals. Ros is putting me up at her place for a few days afterwards. I can't wait.

Of course, the trip's not going to do much for my chances in the yearly exams, but I'm not setting any records in any of my subjects anyway.

Lisdalia still has to help me with my Maths. Trouble is, it doesn't matter whether we study at her house or mine, we don't seem to get much study done. Not that I'm complaining, you understand.

Funny thing about high school. When you go there all the rules change.
Every
one's new, and all the old rules seem sort of … old. There was I, worried about being the “new kid”. A few weeks later, we're all new kids, and all the old groups don't mean a thing.

All that heartache for nothing.

There are new people in Riny's house. They moved in about nine months after she died. It took a while to sell the house, it was just a really bad time for the housing industry. But it wasn't because of the garden — or the pool. I kept my side of our deal — I was still doing most of my training there until Dad got his discharge. Now he drives me to the pool every morning. He reckons it gives us a chance to talk.

As well, every month until the house was sold, Ros sent me a cheque for forty dollars. “Pocket money”, she called it. Who was I to fight it?

We'd arranged it a couple of days before she went back to Perth. She came over to see me about it. Or so she said. But there was another reason.

“My mother left this for you, Mike. It was all wrapped up in the kitchen on the day she … It had your name on it.”

I don't know if she knew what was inside. I had the sneaking suspicion that she did. But she didn't wait for me to open it.

I took it down to my room, and ripped the paper off. It was a large round tin. Riny's favourite brand of Dutch coffee. But when I opened the lid, it was empty — except for a small, flat box.

I struggled with the clasp, but finally it clicked open, and I caught the gentle gleam of gold.

European Championships, 1938
1OOm Freestyle
R. Blankevoort

“The first of many”, the card said. I had to smile.

You have to do it for yourself
. I remember, she told me that.

I'm sorry, Riny, but you're only half-right. If it is the first of many, the
next
one is for you.

First published 1993 by University of Queensland Press
PO Box 6042, St Lucia, Queensland 4067 Australia
Reprinted 1994, 1996, 1997, 1999, 2001, 2002, 2005, 2014

www.uqp.com.au

© Brian Caswell

This book is copyright. Except for private study, research, criticism or reviews, as permitted under the Copyright Act, no part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any foram or by any means without prior written permission. Enquiries should be made to the publisher.

Typeset by University of Queensland Press

Cataloguing in Publication Data
National Library of Australia

Caswell, Brian
Mike

For upper primary school students.

I. Title.

A823.3

ISBN 978 0 7022 2527 7 (pbk)
ISBN 978 0 7022 5660 8 (pdf)
ISBN 978 0 7022 5661 5 (epub)
ISBN 978 0 7022 5662 2 (kindle)