Nick went home this morning. Back to Melbourne, back to his photogenic family and his big job. He stayed longer than anyone expected. In the end, Robbie was counting down the hours to his brother’s departure, wrung out from all the talking, the overload of emotion. Now that Nick is gone, he feels ashamed and guilty. His brother came all the way from Melbourne, tried to bridge twenty years of estrangement by wearing his heart on his sleeve, and this is how he responds? Delighted to see the back of him?
What the fuck is wrong with you, Robbie?
‘Will we see Megan and the kids over Christmas?’ Celia asked as they sat around waiting for Nick’s taxi to arrive.
Her eyes met Robbie’s, and she blinked and looked down at her hands. Robbie left home the week before Christmas. He remembers the overwhelming need to get out, to be far away, to be on his own. It was a snap decision. Don’t some people say that the best decisions in your life are the quick ones? All he took was his rucksack, some clothes, the book he was reading at the time and the money left over from his eighteenth birthday. He left the house in the early hours of the morning, about 4 a.m. He’d been awake all night, thoughts racing, but as soon as he made the decision he felt strangely calm and in control. Nick didn’t stir as he clicked the bedroom door shut behind him. The bus stop was a ten-minute walk from the house. Of course, there were no buses running at that hour of the morning. He waited in the dark, and then in the muted light of dawn and early morning. Plenty of time to change his mind and trudge back home to bed. He waited, and the more he waited the more right it felt. He got on that first bus, empty except for him and the driver, threadbare tinsel twirled around some of the handrails. Merry fucking Christmas.
‘Not sure,’ Nick replied to Celia with a shrug. ‘The kids are at that age now where they have their own plans for the holidays. I’ll let you know.’
Celia went to check on Sienna and Charlie, who had been sent upstairs to get dressed for school. ‘Hurry up! Uncle Nick wants a hug before he goes.’
Nick sat forward in his seat. Robbie braced himself.
‘It doesn’t sound fun, Robbie. Going from shelter to shelter. Scraping by on the dole. You could come back here, to Sydney. Stay with Mum and Dad or Celia. Have the support of your family ... Wouldn’t that be an easier life?’
Robbie looked around the kitchen, cereal boxes still on the counter, smells of coffee and toast, Celia and the kids’ voices babbling from upstairs. ‘I can’t live like this. I’m better on my own. I know myself.’
‘Jeez, do you really mean that?’
‘I know myself,’ Robbie repeats. ‘After all these years, I know what I can take, and what I can’t.’
Nick nodded, and Robbie felt that his brother was at least on the way to understanding. Then the kids and Celia came flying down the stairs and – mercifully – there was no more time for talking.
There she is. A large tote bag over her shoulder. Head bent forward. Svelte in a short skirt and striped top. Wearing earphones. She could be a student rather than a teacher. Robbie is sitting on a low wall across the street. He’s been waiting here more than an hour. Katy stayed long after the bell. She probably had a staff meeting or some paperwork to get through. Conscientious to a fault.
Katy looks in both directions before crossing the road. Any moment now she’ll pass where he is sitting. Will she glance his way? Recognise him?
She walks straight past. He waits until she is further down the street, then he stands up and begins to follow.
What the fuck is wrong with you, Robbie? What are you doing?
He doesn’t know what he is doing, or why. All he knows is that this is the fourth time he has done this: followed her all the way home to her first-floor apartment in Neutral Bay. She takes two buses, both packed to capacity. There’s barely standing room; it’s easy to go unnoticed.
Robbie hangs on to one of the overhead rails and his thoughts flit between Katy and Nick.
‘I’ll be back in a couple of weeks,’ Nick said as he gave Robbie a final suffocating hug. ‘Don’t go anywhere between now and then. Promise me.’
Robbie promised but now he’s not sure he can keep the promise. He’s been told that his urge to run away is in fact a stress response: his body senses danger and wants to escape. It’s triggered by fear, which is triggered by anxiety, which is triggered by depression. Shame plays a big part in it, too.
The bus hurtles over the Harbour Bridge. Then it hits traffic and comes to an abrupt halt. The rest of the journey is stop-start along Military Road. Katy’s stop is a popular one; Robbie blends in with the crowd. She takes a detour into the 7-Eleven to buy some bread. Through the shop window, Robbie sees the attendant – a bearded twenty-something male – say something that makes her laugh. He feels a negative response within himself. Jealousy? Longing? Loneliness? She is still smiling as she leaves the shop. Shortly afterwards, she turns down the side street that leads to her apartment block. He hangs back further; there are fewer people around now, it would be easy to get caught.
Not once does she turn around and notice the man who’s following her. A man who exists in the margins of society. A man who feels perilously overwrought and on edge, besieged with memories of twenty years ago. Annabel Moore gagging and crying within earshot, ‘He’s disgusting. I’m going to be sick.’ Melissa Andrews standing up and moving seats when he sat down next to her. Zach Latham mimicking his walk of shame, to hysterical laughter. Jarrod Harris calling at his house day after day, jabbing the bell button, a knowing smirk on his face.
Katy was his only reprieve. She still is.