Dad came to pick me up from Mel’s farm. We’d stayed up all night watching Telethon in the sitting room. Her parents were cool; they let us pile up the mattresses and cushions in front of the fire and drag the phone through from the kitchen so we could dial in our pledges. We made a list: a dollar to see Jason Gunn do a handstand, two to hear him sing ‘Please Don’t Go Girl’. We never got through in the end. We took turns, but the lines were clogged, and we fell asleep before the sun came up.
Driving home, fence posts blurring my vision, I began to hum the Telethon theme song. ‘Mmm, mmmmm, mmmmm …’
‘Be quiet,’ said Dad.
I stopped humming. The coins I’d been saving up for weeks bulged in my pocket. ‘Telethon’s all about the children this year,’ I said, repeating what I’d heard Judy Bailey say the night before. ‘She said we’re going to make our country a safer place to live. It’s our chance to change things.’
Dad didn’t say anything. From the back of the ute, I could hear the dog whining – pressing his slobby lips against the glass to be near me. I twisted in my seat, tapped the glass and made kissing sounds. ‘Wanna go for a walk, boy? Yes? Yes?’ I looked over at Dad. ‘Can we take him to the beach?’
Dad moved his jaw like he was chewing on his words before they could escape his mouth. I made a sad face at Rocky. ‘Sorry, boy. Not today.’
I turned to count the fence posts as they whizzed past. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. Four times four. That’s the rule. I asked if Jason was home, and Dad scowled.
‘Where else would he be?’
I shrugged, feeling the car begin to slow down. ‘What’s wrong? Why are we stopping?’
Dad got out, slamming the door behind him. I turned to watch. He was bent over like he was looking for something in the grass. His shoulders began to heave, and he sent forth a stream of foamy, yellow fluid from his mouth. A few moments later, he straightened up and hoicked into the long grass. When he got back into the driver’s seat, his fingers were shaking.
‘Are you all right?’
‘What?’
‘You’re sick.’
‘No, I’m not.’
‘But I saw you.’
‘Saw what?’
‘I saw you spew up.’
‘No, you didn’t.’ His voice was calm and even. He started the car and indicated to pull out. I looked out my window and began counting again. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. One, two … But again, the car slowed down, and again the door was flung open, and again I watched as Dad heaved his guts out into the ditch. When he got back into the car, he brought the smell of vinegar with him. This time, I said nothing. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and cleared his throat. I was annoyed. Being interrupted on the fourth count of the fourth cycle was bad luck. Now I had to do the four count, four more times. If I didn’t, something bad would happen. I might lose my big race next weekend. Kirsty would beat me for sure. What if Rochelle beat me too? I narrowed my eyes in concentration. One, two, three, four, one, two, three …
When we got home, I went inside to find Jason. He was coming out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. ‘Hi,’ I waved. ‘I’m back!’
Jason slammed the bedroom door with his foot leaving me alone in the hallway. But at least he was home. I turned and followed the sound of the sewing machine down to the basement where Mum was working. A small wall made a partition for her workshop and I leaned on it to spy on her under the machine’s big metal shoulder. Her glasses were on the rim of her nose, the light pulled close, her eyes squinting with the effort.
‘Hi, Mum.’
‘Hi, sweetheart,’ she mumbled. She didn’t look up, and her lips hardly moved because she had a sliver of cotton in her mouth, preparing to thread the needle.
‘Telethon was good.’ I said, chin on my hands.
‘Hm? Oh, that’s good. Damn these covers, they’re gonna cost me more in broken needles than I get for sewing the damn things.’ The spool whirled on top as she pulled the threads under the foot and pushed them out the back of the machine like brushing strands of hair away from her face.
‘We slept in the sitting room.’
‘That’s good.’ She twisted the hand wheel to lower the foot back into position, adjusting the tension.
‘They’re raising money for kids living with violence,’ I told her. ‘They made up this new song.’ I tried to remember some of the lyrics to sing them to her. ‘Something about … love finding a way.’
Finally, she looked up. ‘Did you make a pledge?’
The coins weighed heavy in my pocket. ‘Not yet. I’m still thinking about it.’
‘Well, go on. Go and unpack your things.’ She pulled the top and bottom pieces of fabric together so they lined up perfectly then planted her foot on the pedal. Her face disappeared behind the machine again. I kicked off my shoes and took my bag to the wash-house and began throwing my clothes into the machine, not bothering to sort the clean from the dirty. All of a sudden I heard a sharp bang from upstairs. The noise carried through the ceiling, touching me at the nape of my neck.
‘Who do you think you are, leaving your shit lying around like this? You think I’m gonna clean this up? You think your mother’s gonna clean this up? Who do you think you are?’ There was stomping, followed by a door slamming.
Above me, the tap went on and water began to run. Jason must be cleaning up. I wished he wasn’t so messy. He always left crumbs on the bench too. Dad was always saying, ‘When will you ever learn, boy?’ and for his sake, I hoped it was soon.
Poking my head out the back door, I called to the dog. ‘Here, boy! Here, boy!’
Rocky shot out from his kennel, nearly bowling me over.
‘C’mon, boy.’ I led him over to the trampoline so he could watch me bounce. Each time my feet left the mat, I reached up to grab two fistfuls of sky, counting the bounces as I went. One, I will win, two I will win, three I will win, four I will win.
When my fourth set was complete, I launched myself onto the grass beside the dog and looked up to the clouds to search for an entrance. It took a few minutes but eventually I saw the patterns taking shape above me.
On your marks, bang! The clouds opened up and I took off. A jostle of elbows and spikes and the smell of rubber filled my senses. I settled in behind the twins from Point Chev. My coach called them rabbits; they set the pace but could never maintain it. At the sound of the bell, a group of us began to pull away. Kirsty had the inside rail but I was feeling good, and there was still time. I went with her, right on her heels. Rochelle wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Slowly, as we rounded the bend to the home straight, I began to make a move for the lead. One, two, three, four, one, two, three, four, one …
‘What are you doing?’
My eyes shot open. Jason was standing over me, blocking out the clouds.
‘Nothing.’
‘Counting again?’
‘No.’
‘Yeah you were. I heard you.’
‘I wasn’t.’ I drew up on my elbows.
Jason laughed. ‘You’ve got a screw loose. C’mon, Rocky.’
‘Hey! Where are you taking him? I was playing with him!’
Rocky followed Jason over to the feijoa tree at the back of the garden, the one furthest away that couldn’t be seen from the windows upstairs. Rocky was such a traitor. It didn’t matter how many games I played with him or how much I stroked his ears and put up with his bad breath, as soon as Jason whistled, he would ditch me.
I followed them. ‘What are you doing?’
Jason took a pack of smokes from his pocket, lit one, and shoved the packet back in his pants. ‘What’s it look like?’
‘Dad’s gonna kill you!’
‘Only if he finds out. You gonna tell him?’
I said nothing.
Jason flicked his ash and sucked hard on the cigarette. ‘And stop calling him Dad. He’s not even our dad.’
‘He is so!’
‘Whatever. Not my dad.’
I thought about the photo in the album of our real dad, wearing gumboots and jeans with his shirt open. Mum had long hair in those days: thick and wavy and beautiful. In the photo, she’s looking up at our father with a cheeky kind of look I’d never seen her make in real life. She’s pregnant with me, and Jason is sitting on the blanket – a smiling toddler in a homemade cotton jumpsuit. Then I thought of the dad who gave me piggybacks to bed and came to watch all my races. I thought of the way he sometimes let me sit on his lap and run my fingers along his frown lines.
‘Why can’t you just clean up after yourself?’ I said. ‘It’s not that hard.’
‘Like you do, you mean?’ Jason flicked his cigarette ash towards me.
‘Shut up. I’m only trying to help you.’
Jason laughed in a sarcastic, bitter way. ‘Yeah, right.’
When Jason went back inside, I decided to teach Rocky a lesson. ‘Wanna play hide-and-seek, boy?’ I said.
He frothed in excitement, but this time I decided to play the game differently. Before I went to hide, I slipped his collar around his neck and attached the lead to the washing line. Then I went to find a spot to hide behind the veggie garden. I waited a few minutes then called out for him. ‘Here, boy, here! Come find me!’
Rocky took off, getting up just enough speed before the lead cinched on him, yanking his neck back and splaying his legs out underneath him. He yelped in surprise as he fell, then jumped up again, barking wildly and straining in my direction. I rushed out from my hiding spot and kneeled down, wrapping my arms around his neck and patting him gently.
‘I’m sorry, boy,’ I whispered as Rocky licked me ferociously. ‘I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.’
But a few minutes later, I did. Three more times I tied the dog to the washing line and called him to come. Four times we played – that’s the rule.
Later, on the toilet, I swung my legs and held on to my wee while I read the poster on the back of the toilet door, even though I no longer needed to look because I knew it forwards and backwards by heart.
Be Prepared
Disaster
Check
Water
Supplies
Civil Defence
Emergency
Emergency
Civil Defence
Supplies
Water
Check
Disaster
Be Prepared
After reading all the way through, I let my bladder release, just a little bit. My wee hit the water for a second then stopped again.
Be Prepared
Disaster
Check
When I reached the end of the list, I released again, just for a second, then began again. After the fourth cycle, I bowed my head in my hands and let all the wee come out, a loud gush that filled me with guilty pleasure. I hid from the memory of Rocky’s face every time he choked and reminded myself that The Four was important. Failure to complete The Four meant I would lose: a race, or something worse. I thought about Jason and the last time he ran off. He was gone exactly four days – that’s how I knew.
I flushed the toilet and washed and dried my hands four times, touched the door handle four times with four fingers for four seconds, then skipped off to the kitchen to make some lunch. I was feeling better.
I pulled out the bread and began to slice it, spilling crumbs. I spread the butter then the jam. I rolled up my sandwich, making sure not to touch it with my thumbs, then stuffed it in my mouth. I was still eating when I heard the TV flick on and the sound of Judy Bailey’s voice float through to the kitchen.
I rushed out. ‘Don’t turn that on!’
‘Why not?’ Jason was sitting in Dad’s armchair.
‘Turn it off. Dad’s asleep! He’s gonna kill you if you wake him up!’ I was surprised the TV was even working. He usually fiddled with something around the back of it to make it not go.
Sure enough, next thing there were footsteps on the lino. The jam sandwich turned to sand in my mouth as I remembered the crumbs on the bench.
‘This your mess, boy?’
Jason said nothing, just kept watching the TV.
‘Oi!’ said Dad. ‘I’m talking to you! You made another bloody mess? After I just told you to clean up the last one? You don’t learn, do you?’
I opened my mouth to speak, but first I had to count to four. Somewhere beneath me, I heard the sewing machine and seized on the drones. One.
‘Don’t ignore me,’ Dad said, flicking Jason on the back of his ear so hard he jumped.
On the TV, Telethon was winding up. Six million dollars in donations – a new record – and everyone was singing ‘Love is the answer, together we can change the world …’.
‘Ow!’ Jason said, getting up on his feet and turning around. ‘What did you do that for?’
Another drone from the sewing machine: two.
‘Who said you could turn on the TV? Sitting there in the middle of the day like you own the place.’
‘It’s my house, isn’t it? I live here, don’t I?’
‘Your house? You pay the bills, do you? Do you?’
Three.
‘Fuck you, I don’t have to listen to this.’ Jason made for the door, but Dad took a step sideways, blocking his way.
I waited for the fourth buzzing sound, but there was nothing, nothing to count, just the sound of people singing ‘dry your tears, fill our homes with joy and laughter …’.
‘You got a smart mouth. Think you can talk to me like that?’
Jason squared his shoulders. ‘You’re not my father. You can’t tell me what to do!’
‘That right? Well, I got news for you, boy. So long as you live in my house, you live by my rules.’
Four, four, four! Where was the fourth?
Dad began to unbuckle his belt. ‘Turn around. Pull down your pants. I’m gonna teach you a lesson.’
Jason shook his head. I could see the whites of his eyes, and he wasn’t blinking.
‘I told you, turn around.’ Dad’s belt was jangling in his hand.
‘Make me!’ Their faces were so close they were sharing the same breath.
And then it happened. ‘Love will make the world a better place, stop the tears from flowing, together we can change things …’
Afterwards there was blood and Jason said he was going to go and live with our real dad, and Dad laughed and said ‘Go on then, ring your father, tell him to come and pick you up.’ But when Jason finally found his number – he had to call 018 to get it – our real dad didn’t even know who it was. Jason had to say his first name and last name, and the whole time Dad was standing over him, laughing. I heard Jason whisper into the receiver, ‘I wanna come and live with you,’ but two seconds later he hung up and ran down the stairs, taking them two at a time.
Dad yelled after him. ‘Well what did you expect? No one wants you!’
‘Love will make the world a better place …’
This time when Jason left, he packed a bag. I stood in his doorway and watched.
‘Where will you go?’
‘Fuck knows.’
I thought about the crumbs on the bench. I remembered the sweet taste of the jam.
‘Here,’ I said, holding out the coins, still warm, from my pocket.
‘Forget it,’ he said, pushing past me. ‘I don’t want your money.’
It was the way he said ‘your money’ that hurt. As though he would have taken money from anyone else but me. I watched from my bedroom window as he left, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and striding down the steps. Mum followed him, holding his arm, trying to pull him back. I wondered if the neighbours could hear the sound she was making. Jason shook her off like she weighed nothing, saying, ‘I’m gone. I’m gone.’
I wiped my nose and tried not to blink so I wouldn’t lose sight of him as he walked away. He was getting smaller and smaller. When he reached the corner and disappeared I slumped to the floor. ‘You should have said please,’ I whispered to the empty room. ‘You should have said please can I come and live with you.’
That night I snuck outside into the dark with the dog. By the light of the moon I dug a hole in the veggie garden and buried my coins down deep. A pledge.
‘Bring Jason home,’ I whispered.