Unfamiliar flashing lights woke Calli in the early hours, red strobes revolving and decorating the walls of her room with colour. She sat up slowly, shaking her head to clear the dream, realising with horror it wasn’t make believe but there was an emergency vehicle somewhere on the property. Going to the bedroom window, Calli saw nothing outside, but for the reflection of the strange, eerie lights strobing across the garden. She opened her doors onto the veranda and stepped outside in her tee shirt and long pyjama pants, shivering as the chill night air enveloped her and stroked her skin.
The sound of voices attracted her to the front of the house and Calli swiftly made the journey traversing the building using the balcony. An early autumn nip was in the air and as she passed Allen and Alison’s bedroom, she saw it was brightly lit but empty. Panicking now, Calli worked her way around the outside of the house to the front, where the sight of an ambulance parked on the driveway met her. Alison’s hair was strewn out over the stretcher, blowing around her face in the strong breeze and Calli’s hand went automatically to her mouth. Her foster mother’s prone body was loaded into the vehicle, followed by Allen, who climbed in behind her, his jeans flapping at his ankles and his feet bare. Just as the doors were about to close, he glanced up and saw Calli on the veranda. His face lit with compassion at the sight of her lonely form, alone and lost, high above the action and he waved his hand once. The single motion conveyed calm, telling the girl everything would be ok. Then he moved his hand to his ear, promising to call her.
Calli’s hair flew back from her face as she waited on the veranda for the ambulance to hit the main road. Oh God, oh God, she muttered into the wind, feeling fearful and abandoned. The strobe lights stayed on for the entire length of Borman Road and she watched until its aura was long gone, winding its way to the Waikato Hospital in the south of the city. Loneliness and isolation crowded in on her almost as fast as the cold and she waited outside until her toes were freezing on the wooden decking. The house was lit up like a Christmas tree, realisation creeping into Calli’s numb brain slowly that she should go inside and sort it out, ready for Alison’s safe return. She worked her way back round the outside of the veranda and through her bedroom doors, closing and locking them behind her against the silence of the night.
Calli began in her own room, cleaning, polishing and vacuuming before moving out into the hallway, leaving every area spotless in her wake. The ambulance left at two in the morning, carrying away the girl’s last bastion of hope and she rubbed and scrubbed in honour of them, occupying herself until after school began.
Allen called her at nine thirty and reassured her Alison was much better. He sounded exhausted. “It’s just her condition,” he said tiredly. “It happens like this sometimes. They’ve said she can come home at the weekend this time.”
This time. The finality of the Multiple Sclerosis which racked the graceful woman’s body hit Calli like a wave. Nothing lasts forever, it was the first simple premise of human existence. Yet it was the one people chose to ignore most, perpetually convincing themselves tomorrow would be the same as today and next year could be planned for with certainty. Allen arrived home after lunch, looking haggard and grey. Despite his apparent exhaustion and worry, the gentle man still made a comment about his immaculate home and praised the effort Calli had made. He went off to his marital bedroom to sleep, falling onto the huge king size bed with the freshly laundered sheets and literally passing out fully dressed. Unable to concentrate on school work, Calli fired up the lawn mower and tidied the garden, mowing and trimming for a solid three hours in the sunshine.
Allen got up at six in the evening, poking around in the fridge and eventually settling on left overs from last night’s casserole for dinner. He gave Calli an enfolding hug, patting her lovingly on the back and trying to soothe her tattered nerves, while he dished up two portions which neither of them could finish. “Come on love,” he said, touching Calli’s fingers across the table, “we can’t have you getting sick as well.”
Calli pushed her food around on the plate, moving the sausage pieces from one side to the other and back again, when the sound of the front doorbell echoed through the house. Allen attended to its deafening clang, appearing in the kitchen with Declan behind him.
Calli exhaled and sat back in her chair, too tired to even contemplate the kind of emotional detritus a conversation with Declan might involve. Allen perceptively noted her reaction and turned politely to face the boy. “Does your mother know you’re here?” he asked, concern etched into the lines on his face.
“No, sir,” Declan replied, hanging his head slightly.
Allen’s eyes darted back to Calli, who watched the scene unfold with interest. It was clear Declan knew her foster family, but the connection was hazy and indistinct. Declan’s eyes were appealing and begging in some kind of masculine communication which escaped Calli’s understanding and she saw Allen relent suddenly. “You know my wife is in the hospital again?” the older man asked and Calli’s curiosity was pricked. “So,” Allen continued unabated, “Calli has kindly cleaned the house and mowed the lawn for me. I’m sure she would be grateful for help stripping down the mower and putting it away.”
Calli sat up straight. She had dug around underneath the implement with a stick, dislodging the crusty green rings of compacted grass and locked it safely in the shed already. Allen went to the dresser and opened a drawer, pulling out the shed key and placing it carefully into Declan’s outstretched hand. The boy’s fingers closed around its metal form, the fluffy teddy on the key ring dangling from his palm. Allen jerked his head in the direction of the outside shed and then looked expectantly at Calli. Reluctantly she pushed her chair back, scraping it along the tiles in a protest which was wasted on the two men. Declan waited while she collected her gum boots and clumped outside, waving her arm expansively in the direction of the shed and then turning to leave.
“Wait!” Declan said in a panic, seeing she literally meant to abandon him cleaning the mower. Calli turned back to face him, not understanding. “I didn’t come to do this,” he protested.
“So why are you here?” she asked, putting her hands on her hips and tossing her hair. “What are you playing at?”
“I came to see you. Allen was being...diplomatic.” Declan struggled for the words and crossed the distance between them easily. “Levi said you heard Mum sounding off last night. He knew you were upset. She wouldn’t let me come after you, going on and on for ages about you being a runaway and stuff. Then you didn’t turn up in class today and I...”
“You what?” Calli’s tone was acidic, wondering what he could possibly have thought happened to her. Declan’s eyes strayed to the curious brooch which she had pinned to her cardigan after her shower. The little silver man stared back at him, holding his gaze like a determined guard of honour.
“Nothing. I thought nothing,” Declan concluded sadly, turning and looking around at his surroundings as though wondering how and why he was standing in the middle of someone else’s garden. “I’m just sorry,” he said, “again.” He fingered the dirty, fluffy teddy in his frustration, lost now for words.
“Your mum’s right, I am toxic. You should listen to her.” Calli’s words weren’t those of a bitter person, but more one who had given up on trying to empower herself any longer.
“Not gonna happen,” Declan said stubbornly. “I don’t have a choice. Ever since you turned up on my back doorstep, actually even before that, I’ve liked you. A lot. I can’t just leave it. I want...I need to see where this is going because it feels so right. It has to be right.”
Calli was stunned. The clumsy declaration wasn’t what she expected and she was momentarily silenced, the sassy attitude dropping away from her and leaving the teenage girl in its place. Her voice was gentle as she spelled out the obvious, “We know where it goes. We went there and it was a disaster for both of us.”
“Not there. Not that way, I promise. I want to be with you. I want our friendship back, the one we had in the bush, before...I know it’s there under the surface and I miss it. I want to hold your hand, look forward to seeing you and most of all, I want to be there for you. Please Calli?”
He was very close to her now and it was heady and intoxicating. The feelings which Calli suppressed, rose unbidden to the surface and threatened to drown her. She reached internally for her two saviours, numbness and pain and neither came to her summons, leaving her open and vulnerable to Declan’s persuasions. “Shall I ask you again tomorrow? Will you be at school?” Declan worked his jaw nervously, his brown eyes betraying his inner feelings like a museum exhibit.
Calli knew if she really wanted to hurt him, it would be this easy, but when the moment presented itself so readily, she couldn’t do that to him. Her heart gave a curious blip of excitement, tingling and making Calli feel oddly pleased. The electrical current arced between them and she allowed herself to remember his kisses on her soft neck. “No,” she replied. “Don’t ask me again.”
Declan’s broad shoulders stooped as though the air had gone out of him. He looked crushed. He was fast approaching six feet tall, already the sturdy build of a man but right then, he resembled a small and bewildered child. “Can I ask why?” he ventured, a tiny flicker of hope to survive a defeat. “I’m not going to give up.”
“You don’t need to ask again because I get it,” Calli said dismissively, holding out her hand for the shed key. “I feel the same way you do.”
Declan handed it over with shaking fingers, still shocked at her response. He reached for her, wanting to bury his embarrassment in physical contact but Calli had turned away smirking, calling over her shoulder, “See you tomorrow then.”