I wait until Dad’s in a good mood before bringing up London. Don’t know why I’m surprised it takes a few days. If anything, I’m glad a slot’s opened up at all. It could’ve been decades.
Loud laughter from the patio is the first sign it’s go-time. He’s with Mum and Trent and work’s done for the day, which means there’ll be cheese and bickies. If Dad’s on the patio, there’s always cheese and bickies. Throw in that I’ve been on my best behaviour, Trent’s still lying low, and Mum’s happy ’cos Dad’s happy, and conditions are as sweet as they’ll ever be.
As I creak open the flyscreen and step outside, it feels like I’ve entered the lions’ enclosure at the zoo without safety gear. Dad’s bellowing laugh is echoing around the yard, and I consider whether it would’ve been easier to pay a doppelgänger to cover for me while I’m in London rather than telling my parents I’m leaving Durnan.
Maybe.
Or maybe I’m just the biggest coward in Australia.
I choose the seat next to Trent, who’s sneaking glances at his phone between his knees, and opposite Mum, whose eyes are glistening as she strains to keep them open while Dad drivels on. They don’t know it, but they’ll come in handy if Dad blows up like Vesuvius.
White froth spits from Dad’s mouth as he tells us, hands thrashing around, that his brain was literally exploding with excitement over the shop’s numbers this week. I remind myself to break it to him what ‘literally’ means the next time he’s in a good mood. Which could be never.
But first, London.
I wait for Trent to finish punishing Mum with questions about what’s for dinner, and for Dad to slice off a hunk of blue vein and smear it on the last cracker, and then I blurt it out.
My hunger to see the world. The feeling of treading water in Durnan. The need to push myself. To try something on my own.
The toothpaste is out of the tube. But I’m hit with nothing but silence from my family.
Even Trent looks like he’s about to choke. ‘Wait, are you serious, bro?’
‘Yeah. Hundred per cent.’
‘Holy … England! That’s freakin’ awesome. Can we visit? Mum, we’ll have to visit.’
‘Um …’ Mum falters, lost for words. ‘I …’
Dad clears his throat. ‘Jen, shall I clear these plates and get dinner started?’
Trent scoffs. ‘Dad. Get ya head out of your bum and say something.’
‘Trent …’ Mum warns.
‘Nah, Milo’s talking about leaving and visiting the Queen, and Dad’s worried about his next meal.’
‘Let’s all calm down,’ Mum says as Dad just glowers into his stubby. It’d be easier if he yelled at me. ‘Milo, darling, you can’t think this is a smart idea? You’re just a boy.’
‘I know I’ve been useless around here, but it’s like you can’t see I’m trying to do something about it.’
Dad finally speaks. ‘You’re only eighteen. You don’t know what’s good for you, and you’ve proven that time and time again.’
‘Yeah? Well, eighteen’s old enough to buy fireworks. To sue someone. Freakin’ hell, I can be sued. To get married. To buy a place — and you were gagging for us to do that. I’m not a kid. It’s not even like I need anything from you — I’m paying for it myself.’
Mum sighs. ‘I know you think you’re independent, but —’
‘People can join the army at sixteen, Mum, sixteen,’ Trent says, before elbowing me. ‘You gonna spot me a ticket, bro? Imagine us Dark boys tearing up Edinburgh.’
Jesus. Not helping. ‘That’s in Scotland, man.’
‘Same diff, isn’t it?’ he says with a shrug.
‘You stay out of this, Trent.’ Mum’s eyes set on mine. They’re still glistening. Dad’s avoiding eye contact again. ‘You don’t want to go to uni?’
‘I do, just not yet. One day.’
‘And you don’t want to stay here?’
‘Not when I don’t know what else is out there.’
Dad gets to his feet, collects the plates, then leaves the table without saying anything.
‘I’ll talk to him,’ Mum whispers. She reaches across the table and takes both my hands in hers. ‘We’ll just need some time to adjust.’
Should’ve hired a doppelgänger.
* * *
Milo: Hey, so more news … tix are booked! I leave on the 3rd at 4 pm outta Sydney (if Dad doesn’t kill me first)
Layla: Oh my god! That’s huge
Layla: btw 3 is my fave number
Layla: WAIT! THAT’S YOUR ACTUAL B’DAY?!
Milo: I know but cheaper tix. (Pov, who me?)
Layla: This feels real
Milo: Too real?
Layla: The right amount maybe
Layla: I looked at my list — we still haven’t yelled at idiots lapping the main street
Milo: You mean … EVERYONE IN DURNAN? We should do that today
Milo: Actually I can’t. Forgot that Trent’s helping me buy a new backpack. Soon tho?
Layla: Sure, have fun #bromance
Milo: You too
* * *
Milo: Evening, Chicken Girl, how’s your day?
Layla: Max crapped in my shoe! Still love him tho
Milo: I’d never do that
Layla: Ha! Good to know. And you?
* * *
Milo: Sorry for delay! Hopeless. Life update: my map fits in my new backpack. Tell me more things bout you
* * *
Layla: Sorry, now I’m battling with replying. Puppy-sitting is booming. Making it RAIN
Milo: Dollar dollar bills! CEO of the year
Layla: Layla Enterprises, baby. Will write back properly ASAP