The Story of Tom Brennan (6 page)

I hadn't seen Fin in about a month: the day after Boxing Day, to be exact. I wanted to see him but it was just so hard. Each time he'd be a bit thinner, a bit quieter, and his initial look of determination and balls was fading to one of anger and bitterness. Or maybe that was what I saw in Aunty Kath's face. I wasn't sure, I didn't want to look too much at anyone.

December had been hot and the hospital air conditioning was busted that day. Fin had no sheet over him. His legs had wasted to long pieces of bone wrapped in shiny skin. I couldn't stop staring. These were the legs that had run the length of the field to score the needed try of the season, then kicked the ball through the posts to conversion and victory.

Now they lay there on the bed, useless, and that was something I just couldn't wrap my head around.

'What's happening in the Billi?' Fin had asked me.

'Nothing much.'

'Got to be more than what's happening in here.'

'Snorter wrecked his trail bike jumping that hill behind his place.'

'Again! Stupid wanker.'

'He reckons it's going to cost him nearly a grand to fix this time.'

'Could be worse.'

And that's another reason I didn't like seeing Fin. There was nothing you could say. Every word had another meaning and every story led you back to the same place – here. A spinal unit, mostly full of young men like Snorter, where risk and danger was what pumped their hearts.

Not the case with Fin. Our cousin, the responsible only child of Aunty Kath, took one risk – always the same – and that was trusting my brother Daniel. It was a bad decision.

'Wash your hands for dinner, Thomas.'

Gran was stinking out the kitchen cooking lamb's fry again. There was no way I would ever eat that stuff. A few bowls of cereal was going to be dinner for the fourth night in a row. Not that I minded. I wasn't hungry and nothing tasted good anyway.

I calculated that the roast on Australia Day was the last decent meal she'd served. Now I wished I'd eaten that charred slab of cow's shit.

The others were at Gran's mercy. Maybe that was her master plan: feed 'em up big on arrival then let them choke on lamb's fry until they're starved into submission. I wouldn't put it past her.

'Thomas, what are you looking for?' I swear Gran had eyes in the back of her perm.

'The Weet-Bix.'

'Finished, mate,' Dad winked.

'What?'

'I don't know why you can't eat the normal dinner like the rest of us.'

'Not hungry,' I muttered.

'At least have some baked beans on toast tonight,' Gran said. 'You can't go all week without protein. Don't they teach you these things at school?'

'Yeah, well, where is everyone?' I muttered.

'Kylie's out for the night,' answered Dad.

'Out? Where?'

'At a friend's.'

'Who?'

'Brianna someone.'

'Brianna Henderson,' Gran corrected. 'Seem like a nice family although I hardly know them. Anglicans,' she whispered. 'But St Benedict's were happy to take Brianna.'

'She doesn't waste any time,' I said.

'She's just trying to make the best of this situation. Isn't she, Joe?'

Dad nodded. He'd undertaken the big job of chewing the lamb's fry.

'I hope you've made some friends this week, Tom.'

I shoved a spoonful of baked beans in my mouth.

'It's important to try and – give it a go. There are lots of nice lads at the school. No point indulging in self-pity.'

I felt like spitting my beans back into the bowl.

'Have you met Simon Whelan yet?' Gran's interrogation continued. 'He's a nice chap.'

I knew about Simon Whelan, he was in my biology class. His face was like a weasel's with little beady eyes that watched the Year Nine girls file out of the lab before we went in. I overheard Rory saying someone caught him sniffing the stools after they'd left. Yeah, Gran, real nice chap.

'What time are you and Theresa leaving in the morning?' she asked Dad.

'Are you going to see Dan?' I said, a bit too loud.

'Yeah,' Dad nodded. 'Just your mother and I.'

'Oh.' Mum who hadn't left her room all week.

'Brendan thought you might like to go with him to Aralen, to see Fin and Kath. Maybe go for a swim afterwards.' Gran looked at Dad as she spoke to me. 'You know he might be moving to the rehab section. The doctors are very pleased with him.'

Dad stared at the gristle on his plate. 'I'll try to get up there next weekend, Carmel.'

'Apparently there's slight movement in his left shoulder.' Gran couldn't help herself. Either she was stupid or enjoyed playing the guilt game. Somehow I reckoned it was the latter. 'He's still very down, well, why wouldn't he be. I think Kath stayed every night with him this week. Terrible, sleeping on those vinyl recliners, especially in this heat.'

I cleared the plates, something I never do, but anything to get away from her. I was afraid of what I might say, and Dad sitting there, letting her go on in that underhanded way of hers, was more than I could hack. At least our home in Mumbilli had given us some kind of sanctuary, some silence for our private guilt.

Saturday in Coghill. Kylie had a reprieve seeing she had her new best friend. She'd ended up staying over at this Brianna Henderson's house and was in no rush to come back.

While Brendan and I were headed three hours northeast, the oldies who'd left at sparrow's fart were driving two hours south-west to see Daniel. They had to be there at 10.30 am: Saturday visiting timeslot. Probably about now they were rolling into the car park with the other families.

'Why are just the oldies seeing Dan?' It was more like a thought out loud.

'Few reasons, mate,' Brendan replied, pulling up outside a house with a yellow stripey sheet hanging in the front window.

'Who lives here?'

'Jonny.'

The engine was still running.

'Is Jonny coming?'

'No. I need you to run in and collect some stuff for Fin,' he told me. 'I'm duckin' up to fill the tank. Be back in five minutes.'

I knocked on the door, waiting for Jonny's big head to appear.

'Hello,' a sleepy voice said.

It was a chick. She was a bit like Jonny, but it was hard to get a really good look as her black hair was tangled all over her face. She tried to force it behind her ears but her fingers got stuck.

'I've got to get it cut.' She giggled in a kind of embarrassed way.

I nodded, not meaning I agreed, but what was I meant to say? Yeah, it looks like a bird's nest.

'You must be Tom? I saw you at school the other day.'

'Yeah?'

'I'm in Year Twelve at Bennie's.'

Again I nodded. I'd just caught eyes with the Bart Simpson heads sprouting out of the slippers she was wearing.

'Classic,' I laughed.

'You like them?' she said lifting a foot.

'Yeah.'

'Anyway, I'm Chrissy.' She smiled, showing the same white teeth as her brother. 'Jonny's sister.'

'G'day. I'm meant to be collecting . . .'

'I know,' she interrupted. 'Stuff for your grandad. I'll just go and get it. You can come in,' she called behind her.

The sitting room was overtaken by an enormous flat-screen TV. Chrissy was rummaging through some bags.

'I think everything's here.'

After the 'grandad' line, I figured it was safer not to question what was in the bags. Instead I went for the TV diversion. 'Flat screen. Cool.'

'Jonny sits there religiously watching every sports show: footy, golf, tennis.'

'You don't like sport?'

'Come on,' she laughed. 'My family's from Tonga. Rugby's second to God.'

Brendan tooted outside.

'Better be off.'

'Bye.' She walked me to the door. 'Hope your grandad's, you know, okay.'

'She thinks it's for Grandad,' I said, shoving the bags into the back seat. 'Whoever that is!'

'Yeah, well, their old lady's a bit complicated,' Brendan replied. 'Not everyone can handle the situation.'

'No kidding,' I mumbled. 'So what's in the bags?' I leant over and pulled a gigantic lamb's wool booty out from the top. 'What do we need this for?'

'It belonged to their father, Peter.'

'Whoa.' I measured the booty next to my shoe. Judging by the size, Jonny obviously took after him.

'He had a stroke, a real bad one,' explained Brendan. 'The whole right side of his body was useless, and then he had another one and that was pretty much it.'

The ute made the loop onto the highway. The sign said Aralen, 289 kilometres, Mumbilli, 670. I felt my guts turn.

'Poor bastard,' Brendan was still talking. 'He couldn't walk, talk, eat. He was such a big strong man.'

'Yeah?' I was only half listening.

'Yeah,' nodded Brendan. 'He died a few years ago now. Got pneumonia in winter and that was it.'

Now I understood why we had his sheepskin stuff. This'd be Fin's first winter. I swallowed hard.

'Look, Tom, I had to spin her a yarn,' Brendan sighed. 'Rose, that's Jonny and Chrissy's old girl, is as religious as my mother. She thinks alcohol is evil. She hassles Jonny for having a beer after work. She believes everything the church says. Let's just say she's zero tolerant, have you heard that phrase before?' Brendan had turned red in the face. 'And anyway, it's not fair to Mum, people like Rose knowing. Mum's too old to cope with this sort of stuff.'

'Jonny knows,' I said.

'Yeah,' nodded Brendan. 'I would've gone mad if I hadn't had anyone to talk to.'

For a while we didn't speak. I wasn't a mind-reader but I reckon Brendan was having the same thoughts as me. How did we end up here? If only things had been different, turning the clock back, all that type of stuff.

Finally he spoke. 'Apparently Dan's in a bad way.'

'No one tells me anything.'

'Look, I don't know if anyone knows that much. That's why they went on their own today. Find out what's going on. At least it gets your mum out of bed.'

'That's the only thing that does,' I scoffed.

And I didn't want to say any more about it. I switched on the radio and fiddled for a station.

We crossed the Dungog River, the tyres bumping over each ridge. In another hour or so we'd be able to smell salt in the air.

As a kid, this had been the smell of excitement, a reprieve from the scorching inland heat and Gran's nagging. A day mucking around in the ocean – boogie boards, meat pies, ice-blocks, burying each other in the sand – then driving home in the evening, licking the salt from our burnt skin. Pa was slack with the SPF 30, he used to say a bit of sun never hurt anyone. We didn't argue. We'd grab our boogie boards and run.

I must've smiled 'cause Brendan said, 'What are you smirking about?'

'I was thinking about when we used to come and stay in the Christmas holidays and Pa'd take us to the beach.'

'Yeah.' Brendan smiled too.

'We'd always go to Aralen. To Maine's Beach.'

'Dad's favourite, and close to the Aralen TAB,' Brendan added. 'I reckon he did some of his biggest bets at the Aralen TAB, where nobody knew him.'

'He'd make us wait in the car and we'd be busting to get to the beach. Sometimes he'd be ages and we'd be boiling.'

'We've all been there, Tom.'

'One time Daniel got out of the car and went for a walk or something. He was gone a long time and Kylie and I got really scared. We panicked and ran into the TAB to tell Pa. I still remember Pa saying, "I'll skin that boy alive."'

'Bet he didn't!'

'He got into a bit of trouble. I remember that 'cause I copped it from him afterwards for dobbing.'

A memory that must've been eight years old surfaced with such clearness it was like watching a home video in my head: Daniel swimming towards me, snarling, 'You dobber.'

'Get lost,' I yelled back.

'No, you get lost, dobber. Dobber, dobber, dobber.' He was getting closer and had that dark look only Daniel got, where his eyes flashed and looked evil and freakish. 'You know what happens to dobbers?'

'Get off.' I started to punch the water but he kept swimming towards me.

'Dobbers get punished,' he shouted, punching back with such force I didn't dare take a breath or I'd cop a mouthful of water. 'I'm going to get you, you dobber.'

He managed to grab my foot. I tried to kick him off but his eleven years had an advantage over my nine. He dragged me towards him and held onto the back of my hair.

'I'm gonna kill you.' And by the look on his face I believed him.

He pushed my head under the water. I struggled under the weight of his hands, and each time I nearly surfaced he'd shove me under again, his grip firmer.

Who knows how long he held me under? A minute, maybe fifteen seconds. What I can remember is the feeling of my head wanting to explode and how silent it was under the water.

The Royal Prince Charles Hospital in Aralen had a better than average spinal unit, and that's where Fin had pretty much been since August last year. Except for intensive care where he'd spent a couple of weeks when things were touch and go.

Dad took me to see Fin the third day after the accident. I found out later they didn't think he was going to make it. I can't recall any conversation. What had just happened to our families was so enormous, so beyond any comprehension, that all we could do was stand around, stunned and silent, watching Fin and a machine that heaved and clicked with each breath it took for him.

'Hey, Tom!'

And here he was six months later. His hair had grown back and he could breathe for himself. But he'd never be the real Fin, the Fin I knew.

'How's it going, bro?'

'Fin,' I said shoving my hand in my back pocket, stopping the instinct to slap his like we'd always done. 'How are you goin', mate?'

'Not bad. They're talking about moving me to rehab.'

'Yeah, the old man told me.'

'Is he with you?'

'Nah. I came up with Brendan, he's just gone to the dunny.'

'Take a pew, mate.'

On the back of Fin's bed read a sign, 'Finbar O'Neil, C5 incomplete injury.'

I don't know why they just didn't write 'quadraplegic'.

He must've seen me looking. 'You checking out my new mate?'

'Hey?' Next to the sign was one of The Grandmother's holy cards. 'Yeah.' I pointed to the serene face. 'Who's the dude?'

'One of Gran's boyfriends,' grinned Fin. It was a joke we had. Fin got a flogging once when Gran heard him calling Saint Christopher her boyfriend.

'I figured that,' I told him. 'But which one?'

At least we still had Gran's saints to laugh about. It wasn't much but it was something.

'I don't think you've met Saint Osmond.'

'Don't believe I have.' I found myself chuckling. 'What's he the boss of?'

'Osmond, my boy, is the patron saint of paralysis.'

Suddenly it wasn't funny.

I looked around the empty room pretending my head wasn't starting to spin out of control. 'Where are the others?'

'The orderlies've been having a slack day. They wheeled the fellas out into the sun so they can have a smoke, check out the nurses having their lunchbreak. Just 'cause it ain't working doesn't mean you've forgotten.'

'Yeah?' I didn't know how to respond to that either. This was Fin's new world. 'Is Martin still in this room?'

'Marvin,' corrected Fin. 'He went to the rehab unit two weeks ago. You're down on the action, mate.'

'Yeah?'

'Marv's replacement's a real beauty. Lucky for us he can't move or he'd be trying to murder someone.'

I opened my mouth then closed it. I'd run out of comebacks.

Fin filled the silence. 'So, the Brennans moved.'

'Yeah.' I wiped the sweat off my forehead.

'You're a Coghill boy now.' There was something about the way his top lip curled. 'Who would've thought.'

I swallowed hard.

'Sorry, mate.' Fin looked away. 'Didn't mean it to sound harsh. Just got too much time up here.'

'It's okay,' I mumbled.

'Wasn't your fault, mate.'

I shrugged and stared at my feet.

'I was thinking about it last night.' Fin's voice was soft. 'That's all I seem to do at night, think. The nights are so long in this place. I hate them. My head goes off and I can't shut it down. I get real scared.' He stared at the ceiling. 'Do you think about it much?'

My back straightened in the chair.

'Do you?'

'Yeah.' I could hardly make my voice work.

'I mean the actual night? Do you think about that night?'

'The whole fucking mess,' I whispered.

'I couldn't remember much for ages, but lately I've been remembering really stupid little things.'

I didn't want to go there. Not with Fin, not with anyone. But there were rules, that I understood. One of the rules was listening to anything Fin wanted to say. It was part of the deal.

'Sounds weird,' continued Fin, 'but mostly I can see Dan's face. The way he looked that night.'

I nodded.

I wondered how much Fin did know. I'd even prayed a couple of times that there was stuff he'd never remember. The doctors told Aunty Kath he'd lost a fair bit of memory and perhaps'd never get it back. Maybe not for Fin, but for the rest of us, it was better that way.

'I got this picture in my head of Dan swaying and yelling. You know that look he gets?' I could tell by his lips curling down at the edges that this was hard for him. How could it not be, Fin lost everything that night. 'That look he gets when he's angry. Really angry. There's something in his eyes that says, "Fuck all of you."' Fin licked his cracked lips and swallowed. 'I can remember walking out of the hall too. I think I was looking for Claire.' His eyes rolled up to the ceiling. They stayed there a while before he looked down and at me. 'Dan had you up against a telegraph pole, didn't he?'

I nodded.

'Yeah,' Fin whispered.

'"You grovelling little prick."'

'Huh?'

'That's what Dan said to me.' My heart felt like it was being squeezed up my throat. '"You grovelling little prick."'

'I don't remember that, Tom.'

'I do.'

Brendan and Aunty Kath walked into the ward, their arms around each other. Even the Cancer Council sunnies that sat huge on Aunty Kath's face couldn't hide her red nose. Brendan went over to Fin while Aunty Kath wrapped her arms around me and squeezed me tight.

'Tom! It's so good to see you.' You'd describe Aunty Kath as solid; she had the wide frame of Gran, whereas Mum had finer bones.

As Aunty Kath took a step back to inspect me, I noticed the muscles in her arms were big, like a bloke's. Her biceps had to be twice the size of mine. It hit me that it was from all the lifting and rolling of Fin.

'You look too skinny,' she scolded me. 'Aren't they feeding you at Coghill?'

I felt my face go red.

'Mum keeps cooking lamb's fry for them,' piped up Brendan.

'Lamb's fry! Hasn't she got over that phase yet?'

'I offered to cook the other night and she looked at me like I was some sort of moron.'

Brendan and Aunty Kath launched into a dissection of Gran's cooking disasters and the lamb's fry farts Pa used to do. I sat down watching them, wondering how they managed to look so relaxed in a place like this. I felt so tense. All I wanted to do was go back to my room, back to the darkness of the cave.