You Don't Even Know (17 page)

A man steps forwards, holding a hammer and one of those big arse nails. He wades into the pool. I try to jump off the mattress, but I'm tied down. The man holds the nail against my head, raises the hammer and grunts as he pounds. With each stroke, the mattress is forced beneath the surface until I am submerged. I open my mouth to scream. Water streams into my mouth. Huge silver bubbles float to the surface. Mia is trapped in each one. I stretch out, reaching, reaching for her, but the bubbles burst and she's gone.

I gasp and jerk awake.

There's no pool or pointing people and no silver bubbles or Mia. It's dark – but is it morning or night? I listen hard to the hum of heating and distant beep of a machine.

I turn on the reading lamp and pour a drink, swilling the water around my mouth to ease the dryness before swallowing.

The dream has left me wired. I stand and cross the room to the window where I part the curtains. Beneath me, lights twinkle golden, red and green. A handful of cars slip along blackened roads. I'd guess it's about three am.

When I release the curtains they close with a rustle. In the dusky light thrown by the reading lamp, I glance at Mackie. She lies on her side, facing me. I wonder if she's aware of time, dreams, voices, pain.

As I go back to bed, I take her scrapbook from the table. Pillow end of the bed raised, I open a random page which is framed by movie, concert and exhibition tickets. The film tickets are for the movies Tilly likes and those animated ones, like
Madagascar
, that Mia loved. The concert tickets are to everything from the dude who won that TV talent show to Carols by Candlelight. The exhibition tickets are to craft shows, museums and art galleries. All of them are dated late last year and this year. In the middle of the tickets is another list in black. There are no sketches or decorations.

I
F
O
NLY
…

*
People didn't stare at my bald head
.

*
Mum didn't have to work three jobs to pay for my treatment
.

*
Ash would stop being selfish
.

*
I'd kissed a boy
.

*
Chemo didn't make me feel like shit
.

*
Chemo worked for me
.

*
Everything didn't hurt so much
.

*
I'd never had cancer
.

*
It hadn't spread to my brain
.

*
I could let go
.

I remember something from one of the earlier pages, about wishing she'd seen a sunrise or something and slip back out of bed. After shutting the door, I open the curtains. Back at her bed, I squat beside Mackie's head and check if she could see above the balcony to the eastern sky. I raise the bed until I'm happy she has a clear view over the city to the bay. If she opened her eyes.

Back in my own bed, while I wait for sleep, thoughts bubble like boiling water.

What would be on my wish list?

Only one thing.

I wish it had been me instead of Mia.

But I can't think about her. I search for something soothing. Home? Yeah right!

During an English class before Easter, Mrs Jenkins had talked about home being a haven. Maybe home had been a kind of haven for me once, but not now. Without Mia, home was shit.

Dad either avoided or yelled at me. Ethan refused to acknowledge me unless Mum was around, and Harvey had turned into Mini Ethan, right down to his haircut. As for Mum, she was blanketed in a world of pain that she tried to ease with more charity work.

And school, well last time I was there, I'd turned into one of the weirdo loners who hung out near the science wing. Bash and Coop ignored me and spent all their time with Amado and his mates. Michael Kolo looked straight through me and even the teachers didn't notice me.

It was like I was trapped in one of those huge jars that hold pig foetuses and snakes in the science labs. Only it was worse than that, because at least people noticed those jars on the back shelf, took them down and studied them every now and again. No one paid me any attention.

Until I smashed Bash.

That day flashes across the inside of my eyelids as clear as a movie. Clearer. The smell of body odour, old fruit and aftershave clinging to the locker room walls and carpet douses the cold hospital smell.

A bleak, biting wind ripped through the school corridors. In the stuffy locker room, I chucked biology books into my locker and reached for my ham and cheese sandwich. Around me, books thudded against metal and laughter buffeted my skin. Bash's voice boomed through the laughter. Though I couldn't hear what he was saying, I recognised the tone of his voice. He was bragging. A name cut through the noise as I closed the locker door.

Tilly.

Everything came into sharp focus – the lockers, the smell of freshly sprayed deodorant and the voices.

“Tilly Denaris?” asked Coop.

“The same. We hooked up at Toby's party, Saturday.”

The jeers made my stomach flip.

“You two on now?”

“Maybe. See how I feel when she gets back from visiting her sister in Foster.”

“Does Alex know?”

“What do I care? He dumped her,” said Bash. “Anyway, he's gone psycho.”

I pressed my forehead against the locker. But Bash wasn't done.

“Tilly reckons he's lost it. She said he blames himself for his sister's death.”

I wasn't aware of the rage that had swallowed me until I was on the other side of the lockers, glowering at Bash. With a grunt, I shoved aside the boys surrounding him. I drew my fist back and slammed it into his face.

A cracking, crunching sound filled the air. Pain exploded in my knuckles and up my arm.

Hands grabbed and punched at my ribs, kidneys. Face.

And then I was crumpled on the carpet, pain surging through me, surrounded by school shoes, grey trousers and silence.

“Geez,” said Amado. “Big hit. Check out the blood and shit.”

I sat up and the room came into focus. Coop was bent over Bash, and even though his back obscured Bash's face, I could see the blood soaking Bash's white collar. Everyone gathered around him. While they concentrated on Bash, I staggered to my feet and stumbled out the door.

On the main road, I caught a tram and sat with my head against the window. The rattle and shudder of the tram slammed into my rage. It wasn't until I reached the city that I realised I'd left my phone in my locker. Not that it mattered. There was no one I wanted to message or call and no one I wanted to contact me.

For the rest of the day I sat on the free tourist tram, wandered along the Yarra River and hung out at the Fitzroy Gardens. I didn't notice the strange looks people were giving me until I saw my reflection in the public toilets' polished-tin mirror. My jumper was ripped, my shirt collar bloodstained and my face was battered and swollen. I figured there was blood on my jumper too, but it didn't show up against the navy.

Late in the afternoon, I found myself not far from the rec centre, wandering the streets lined with houses, mesmerised by other people's lives being played out behind glass. A flickering TV screen. A ladder in the middle of an empty room. A man chopping vegies and talking.

When rain fell, not a shower but massive splattering drops, I headed to the rec centre, but instead of going inside, I huddled at the back between two recycle bins. Knees hugged to my chest, I watched the hail flatten grass and smash into gravel. By the time the rain eased, it was dark.

Even though Bash had said she'd gone to visit her sister, I walked to Tilly's place, huddled into myself.

Except for the weak light thrown by the solar lights throughout the garden, the house was doused in darkness. I slunk down the drive to the old cubby where I sat on the
Bananas In Pyjamas
sofa. Foam stuck out where the fabric had worn. On the wooden stove lay an abandoned tea set. Which made me think of Mia.

I burst out of the cubby and ran.

And then I was home. Wet and freezing, bloodied and sore, I punched the code into the gate and felt between the agave's leaves for the key I'd stashed a couple of weeks ago. When I unlocked the door, I expected Dad to be in the doorway, arms folded, ready to attack. But the foyer was empty. A lamp shone from the family room. I tiptoed over the slate.

Mum was curled on the sofa, a rug over her knees. Tucked under her arm was Mia's rabbit.

My heart gave a horse-kick beat.

Mum startled. “Alex! Where have you been? I wanted to call the police, but your father–”

“Why do you let him push you around?”

“This isn't about me, Alex. Where have you been?”

“Thinking.”

“Do you have any idea what the time is?”

I shrugged.

She swung her legs off the sofa and rubbed her face. When she looked back at me, her mouth formed an O. “God, Alex. You're a mess.” She rushed over and reached out to touch my face.

I pulled away. “It's fine.”

“Does it hurt?”

“It's okay.”

She stepped back and studied me. “That shirt is ruined. Have you had ice on your face?”

“I said it's okay.”

Mum sighed. “Did this happen today, after Bashir?”

“Who told you about that?”

“Ethan. And Mr De Jong rang. For God's sake, Alex. Bash has a broken nose.”

“He deserved it.” I hung my head. “So did I.”

“Nobody deserves to be beaten.” The force in her voice surprised me. Mum moved back to the sofa. “Sit, Alex.”

It didn't feel like a request. I wedged myself into the corner where the armrest met the back of the sofa. “Bet Ethan couldn't wait to spill his guts.”

“He's worried, Alex.”

An image of Ethan while the ambos worked on Mia flashed through my mind. “Yeah, I can imagine.”

“Alex, this bitterness – anger – it isn't you. Let me help. Please.”

Once, when I was little, I wrapped a piece of string around and around my finger. After a few minutes, the tip of my finger turned red and throbbed in pain. All I had to do was untangle the cotton and my finger went back to normal. I'd had that same wound up, throbbing sensation, only worse, since Mia. Except it wasn't my finger bound up, but my whole body. It hurt so much I couldn't catch my breath sometimes. But how did I tell Mum that? “I'm okay, Mum.”

“You're not okay.” Mum ran her fingers through her hair. “Try to talk to me, please?”

“What's the point? I stuffed up. Again.” I reached beyond the gap between us to touch Mia's rabbit. He should have been with Mia. But no one would listen to me.

Mum stroked my arm. “It wasn't your fault, Alex. Nobody blames you.”

I recoiled. “That's bullshit and you know it. Everybody blames me. Especially Dad.”

Mum tucked her legs under her so she was facing me. “Alex.”

“Don't. Don't try to tell me he doesn't blame me. Before Mia, he just didn't like me, but now … now he full-on hates me.”

She bit her bottom lip and slid across the sofa, taking my hands in hers. “Alex.”

“I told you to wake me when he returned.” Dad strutted through the doorway.

Mum released my hands and slid back to her corner of the couch. “I was about to come and get you.”

“Where were you?” he snapped, ignoring Mum.

“Nowhere. Walking. Thinking.”

“Hiding instead of facing up to what you did.” His lip curled. “I'm ashamed of you.”

“Yeah, well, you've made that clear often enough.”

Dad lurched forwards, grabbed my wet shirt and dragged me to my feet. “Want to punch me too, big man? Hey? Go on, take a swipe.”

My fists clenched and unclenched. I wanted that rush of hate then relief that had swamped me when I punched Bash. The urge to sink my knuckles into Dad's fleshy gut was so strong, it hurt. Then I remembered the horror after I'd hit Bash.

“Go on, Alex. Take a shot.”

My hand twitched.

Mum was beside us. “Stop goading him, Dylan.”

“Coward.” Dad poked me in the chest with his index finger. “Absolute coward.”

I pulled back my fist, but Mum was faster.

“Enough!” She stepped between us. “Go and clean yourself up, Alex.”

On the breakfast tray, soggy cereal bobs in milk. Beside that, the toast, jam, margarine and orange juice are untouched. I'm over trying to rip off the foil lids on those stupid plastic containers with one hand. Every time I try, I spill stuff all over myself.

Mackie's scrapbook is beside the breakfast tray. I meant to take it back before the nurses do obs, but the moment I touch it, I have to read more. The book opens at a page with only a few sketches and doodles.

In black texta, with the headings underlined, are two more lists, this time with hearts as bullet points.

B
EFORE
T
HIS
J
OURNEY
E
NDS
I W
ANT TO
:

*
Taste snow
.

*
Feel an elephant's skin
.

*
Travel in a plane somewhere. Anywhere
.

*
Win the lotto so I can:

*
Buy Mum, Tim and Ash a mansion with lush lawn and trees with glossy leaves
.

*
Buy Dad a place at the beach so he can fish whenever he likes
.

*
Buy Mum and Tim a car each – Mum a Mazda and Tim a Subaru
.

*
Send Tammy and Granger on the backpacking holiday I won't be able to take
.

*
Donate anything left over to cancer research so no one ever has to do this again
.

*
Kiss a boy
.