The Story of Tom Brennan (7 page)

One of the patients was wheeled back in. You could smell the shit. They drew the curtains around his bed and I heard him groan.

'Let's get you sorted, mate,' one of the orderlies said.

'Fuck off,' he started to scream. 'You arseholes. Get the fuck away from me.'

I didn't want to think what they were doing behind there. I looked over at Fin. He was watching me.

'That's my new neighbour,' he said, his face staring into mine. Then he sighed and looked away. 'Come on, Brendan, I think Tom's had enough.'

'No. No.' I found myself frantically shaking my head. 'I'm okay. I might, um, just go to the dunny.'

The toilets were empty. I turned on the tap and put my head under, drenching my face and hair, tasting the water mixed with my sweat and fear.

I banged my head on the mirror, the dull thud bouncing off the walls. It should've been a happy night. It should've been a great party. There was so much to celebrate. Thanks to Fin we thought we'd escaped sudden death. But we were wrong; instead we'd walked into it.

As Snorter steered the Statesman around that last bend, I was still me, Tom Brennan – Year Eleven, middle child, happy, free, no fuss type of bloke. Didn't think about much except my mates and footy.

But as we turned the corner and the headlights shone on Daniel's blue Falcon up on its side against a tree, the front tyre still spinning, everything I thought I knew about who I was and who the Brennans were changed forever.

I jumped out of the car and started running. The driver's door was open and I could see the silhouette of Daniel stumbling towards the bush, his arms wrapped around his head. The sound of leaves and twigs snapping under his feet echoed through the night sky.

'Daniel,' I screamed. 'Daniel!'

By the time we left Fin and Kath at the hospital, Brendan and I couldn't be bothered going for a surf. It was hot enough, but seeing Fin took up every ounce of energy. Even a swim seemed like too much effort. I wanted to go home or to Gran's, wherever home was now, and stare into space. Brendan must've felt the same 'cause the way he looked at me and sighed, 'Do you really want to go for a swim, Tom?' said it all.

So we were back in the car driving. Another great weekend. The gaol run or the hospital run – take your pick.

'How do you reckon he was?' asked Brendan.

'Dunno.'

'Come on, Tom, you must've noticed something. You haven't seen him in a while.'

I wrapped my hand around my jaw. 'He's starting to remember stuff.'

'You mean about the accident?'

'Mostly before, I think.'

'Be weird, loosing a huge chunk out of your memory.'

Be good, I thought.

'He was conscious the whole time, wasn't he?' Brendan asked.

'Pretty much,' I swallowed hard. My hand ran down to my throat and held it tightly.

'He was lucky to have you there, Tom. Even if he doesn't remember.'

I gazed out the window. 'I'm glad he doesn't remember,' I mumbled.

The lady who counselled Matt, Snorter and me said when the memories come back, let them in, look at them, then move on. But I didn't want to let them in. Why would I want to hear or see that stuff again? The fear in Fin's eyes, the empty stare of Luke, the way Nicole looked like she was sleeping. Or what about the sound of Fin whispering, 'I can't feel nothing,' over and over again. The police siren coming down the track, the metal cutters as they hacked away at the car, Daniel sobbing and chucking in the bushes. No thanks, I could do without those memories. Running towards the car. Running into the headlights. Running into the silence of death . . .

'Daniel,' I screamed, throwing myself out of the Statesman before it'd even stopped. 'Daniel!'

I could see the silhouette of Daniel's body running into the bushes like a silver light streaking through the trees.

'Daniel! Stop!'

'Leave him,' Matt yelled, his footsteps fast behind me. 'We've got to get to the others.'

The Statesman burned off.

'Snorter?' I cried.

'He can't get a fucking phone signal.' I heard Matt's voice crack through heavy breath. 'He's trying to ring an ambulance.'

'Shit!'

Running to the car seemed to take forever but when we got there I stopped. What were we going to do?

Matt seemed to know. I followed him as he frantically moved around the mangled wreck, trying to get a look in the cracked and shattered windows.

'Stay there,' he shouted, running around to the side of the car that'd smashed into the ground, the blue metal folded around the tree.

A muffled noise like a cry was coming from inside. I don't know how, I still didn't know if Fin was even in the car, but instantly I knew that sound was him.

'Fin? Fin! Finny, is that you?'

But while my voice called to Fin, my head shrieked for Daniel.

Daniel? Where's Daniel? Why is he running away? Come back. We need you. I need you. You can't leave me here on my own. Come back!

'Fuck!' Matt started to scream. 'Fuck! Fuck! No! No! No!'

The shriek of Matt's discovery rang through the black night's sky.

We held onto each other, our sobs and choking breath not the only sounds to be heard. For louder than us, much louder, was the piercing silence of the dead.

I had never seen a dead person but Luke and Nicole were so still. There was no mistaking it.

'Tom?' The muffled cry again.

'Fin?' Matt and I searched the wreck. 'Fin? Fin?'

It seemed so crazy, but we couldn't see him in the car. The seats, the steering wheel, the windscreen, the bonnet, the doors, the roof – the whole car was crushed into itself, yet the headlights still shined on the ghost gums up ahead. We only had his voice to guide us.

'Here,' he tried to call. 'I'm under here.'

'Fin!'

I could just see the top of Fin's head poking out of what was probably one of the back doors. It was like he was lying on the floor, the seats and metal crushed on top of him. At least down there he couldn't see the others: Nicole, her head resting gently on her shoulder, and Luke sitting quietly, staring into nothingness.

I crouched on the ground so I didn't have to look at them. Gently I touched the top of Fin's head.

'I'm here, Fin,' I choked, frantically trying to swallow my sobs. 'I'm here.'

I ran my hand across his hair, touching the sticky wet blood like jelly on my fingers. 'Oh shit! Shit,' I cried, wiping my hands on my jeans.

'I, I can't feel nothing,' Fin moaned. 'Nothing.'

'Can you feel that?' I placed my palm firmly over the top of his head. 'Can you feel that, Fin?'

'Kind of,' he whispered.

'It's okay, mate.' I didn't believe those words but I kept saying them 'cause I didn't know what else to say. 'It's okay, Finny. It's okay. Help'll be here soon.'

'Daniel?' His voice was shaking. 'What about the, the . . .?'

'It's okay, Fin,' I wept. I couldn't answer that question. 'It's okay. Everything's okay.'

Somewhere in the bush, hard to say how far away, I could hear the painful sound of groaning, retching sobs. It was Daniel but I couldn't go to him. Part of me wanted to, the other part didn't. I knew I had to stay with Fin, stay with the mess Daniel had made. Yet a voice inside of me was screaming, 'He's alive, he's alive. Daniel's alive.'

Other sounds came in the distance. Sirens. Police, police rescue and ambulances following the Statesman down the track.

'They're coming!' Matt shouted, running towards the noise. 'I can hear them, Tom. They're coming! They're coming!'

It was almost morning by the time they cut Fin out of the car, the metal cutters breaking the laugh of the kooka-burras as dawn shed its light on the damage that had been done.

I sat with Fin nearly the entire time, talking, trying to comfort him, even though the terror I felt inside threatened to choke and steal my words. Every now and then Fin didn't answer, and as panic overtook me the paramedic explained calmly that Fin was drifting in and out of consciousness.

The rescue blokes had cut away enough metal for the paramedics to put in drips and tubes and enough for me to see the fear in Fin's eyes. Nicole and Luke had been taken away but Fin wasn't aware of that, thank God.

Dad had arrived, and in the distance I'd been conscious of him and the police trying to coax Daniel out of the bush. I saw them leave in a police car. I think they said they were going to the hospital.

I wanted to stay with Fin. No one seemed to mind. More police arrived and some of them crouched down on the ground whispering about tyre marks. Some took Matt and Snorter away. Someone even drove the Statesman. I didn't know if they'd taken the fellas home or to the hospital or where. People were telling me things but they made no sense.

I just sat there with Fin, stroking his hair, watching it happen around me, listening to the paramedics who every now and then would whisper words like 'spinal' and 'injury'.

'It's okay, Fin. It's okay.' I wept over and over. 'It's okay.'

The atmosphere after a weekend of visits hung like a black cloud over Gran's kitchen. At least there was some noise to buffer it, even if it was Gran's voice complaining about the price of lamb and that no one knew how to grow a decent tomato.

'The boys are back,' she announced as we walked in.

'How's Fin doing?'

'Not too bad,' answered Brendan, heading to the fridge.

'Yeah?'

And it was back to tiptoeing and pretending. Brendan didn't want to say how bad Fin really was because it'd upset Dad and it wasn't his fault. But then Dad couldn't tell Brendan, or probably anyone for that matter, what state Daniel was in because the general consensus was that Daniel deserved what he got.

I left them to their game and wandered down the hall. The door to the oldies' room was just open, and through the hinges I could see Mum sitting on the bed probably planning her twenty-fifth attempt at coming back to life.

After she'd seen Daniel, you'd always notice a spring in her step. Well, it was really a plod, but at least she was vertical. Sometimes it lasted a day. Once it lasted two, until she decided it was all too hard, surrendered, and headed back under the covers to the preferred horizontal position.

I stood there waiting for the invitation. I couldn't just barge in yelling, 'Hey, remember me? Tom, the middle one.' Besides, I wasn't even sure she wanted to see me.

She was so different these days, so fragile. She'd been a good mum and it was torture seeing her like this. But I missed her.

She looked over and saw me standing there.

'Tom?'

'Yeah?'

'How – how was your day?'

I stood there, watching her rub her eyes and rake her fingers through hair that looked like it hadn't been brushed in weeks.

'Why are you standing there?' Her voice was husky.

'Dunno.'

'Come in and talk to me.'

I stepped into the doorway. Mum shuffled up the bed.

'Come over here,' she said, patting the mattress. 'I've hardly seen you.'

Yeah, well, it's a bit hard to see anything when you're down the bottom of the bed, I wanted to say, but more than that I wanted to be close to her, to hear her voice, smell her skin, and feel her hand smoothing my hair like when I was a kid.

I climbed onto the bed. She didn't smell like Mum. It was more like an old person smell – stale and still. I breathed through my mouth. She reached out her hand and touched my cheek. Her fingertips were cold on my skin.

'Let me look at you,' she said. 'I miss you.'

'Well . . . I've been here.'

'I know.' Mum closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip. 'I'm, I'm just not doing so well.'

'How's Daniel?'

She sighed, long and heavy. I wished I hadn't mentioned him.

'He's very down,' she swallowed. 'They're thinking of moving him.'

'Where to?'

'Somewhere.' She pressed her cracked lips together. 'Somewhere we can visit him more.'

'They're moving him from Westleigh?'

'Just to a different wing.'

I could smell the tiptoe game a mile off.

'You're saying they want to keep a better eye on him, aren't you?'

She nodded. 'You've always been one step ahead. You and Kylie both have. So what did I do wrong with my firstborn?'

'Mum, don't. It was an accident.'

'Well, so they say. But I just can't help wondering sometimes.'

'Mum.' I reached over and held her hand. She closed her eyes and the tiniest of tears slipped down her face. 'Don't, Mum.'

'Daniel was behind the wheel,' she whispered. 'And he had no right to be.'

She was right. The knowledge made me want to tear my insides out. 'Why?' I choked. 'Why did he have to go and ruin – everything?'

'Please, Tom.' She gripped my wrist firmly and I knew I shouldn't have said those words. 'Don't.' Mum squeezed tighter. 'Don't say that about him.'

Things weren't much better in Kylie's room. The music was bouncing off the walls and Saint Rose of Lima looked like she was about to end up a shattered heap on the floor.

I picked up the CD cover on her desk.

'Audioslave,' Kylie shouted.

She was sitting on the floor staring in the mirror. She leant over and turned the music off.

'I hate my hair,' she said.

'I hate my life.'

'I hate my life too.'

'I said it first.'

'So.'

Kylie moved over to the window and lit a ciggie.

'When did you start smoking?'

'I've been smoking for ages. You just haven't noticed,' she said, blowing perfect white smoke rings out the window. 'You want one?'

'Nah.'

'Footy training?' she smirked.

'Dad'll flip.'

'Dad has already flipped. Anyway I don't care,' she answered, even though she held the ciggie outside. 'Do you think they cared when they dragged us here?'

'Did we have a choice?'

'You know what Becky said?'

'Becky! When did you talk to Becky?'

'Last night.' Kylie stubbed out the ciggie and put the butt in a jar. 'I rang her from Brianna's.'

Kylie opened a drawer, placed the jar of butts inside and shoved a piece of gum in her mouth. 'You want some?'

I shook my head. 'Brianna . . . that's the girl whose place you stayed at last night.'

'Derr, Tom. Genius.' Kylie started brushing her hair. 'Brianna said I can ring from her place any time. She can't believe how Mum and Dad just got up and made us all move. She said she would've . . .'

'Hang on!' I butted in. 'You told Brianna about, about . . .?'

'About everything. Yes.'

And now we weren't playing tiptoe, and I wished we were.

'Shit!' I sat on the bed and put my head in my hands.

'Tom?'

I heard myself groan. 'No!'

'Tom?'

'Why did you have to go and do that, Kylie?'

'Do what?'

'Tell.'

'Look, Tom, some of us need to talk about it.'

'I don't.'

'No, you just go round with a . . . a black cloud hanging over you. I can't just shut down and –'

'You don't even know this girl.'

'So?'

'So – why tell her that stuff?'

'Why not? I mean, hasn't anyone asked you why you've moved here?'

'No!' I suddenly shouted. 'And if they did I wouldn't tell them. It's none of their business. I don't feel the need to blab. All that crap, we did that back home with the counsellor. That was bad enough. How do you know you can trust her, I mean . . .'

'She's my friend, Tom! Remember those things – friends, huh?'

'You don't even know her.'

'Don't start preaching to me, Tom!' She jumped off the bed. 'Just because you're so paranoid. People are going to find out sooner or later.' Our foreheads were almost locked together. 'Don't you get that!' She pulled away and walked to the bedroom door. 'Get out,' she spat. 'I don't want you in here. You're such a downer, and I don't need it!'

The talk at school amongst the blokes was rugby and who'd be selected for the firsts. It was so familiar it was weird. Everything else was different: the town, the school, the faces; and yet the talk was the same. I knew St John's footy trials were next week too. Matt told me in an email. I still hadn't replied to his first one, there was no point. I didn't have anything worth saying.