Pizza, she said. And left me with him. Christ, I’d only met the guy twice. We’d been on a jog together. I hardly knew him.
‘Look, don’t worry about it,’ I said, as I heard her reverse-crunch on the gravel, then slam into drive and speed off. ‘I’ll be fine. I’m sure you’ve got plans.’
‘Not really,’ he said.
‘I’ve got homework.’
He drummed his fingers on the bench. ‘Don’t reckon you’ll get much homework done.’
I poured myself a glass of water, offered him one too, gulped it down while I tried to figure out what to do. The sweat was cooling on my T-shirt. A swim would have been nice. My hands shook as I lowered the glass to the sink. Because I’d just run six kilometres for the first time since forever? Or because of the moment when the woman said ‘manslaughter’ and I thought she meant Dad had killed Mum? Or because Toby’s death somehow wasn’t an accident?
‘Let’s get a pizza,’ Tom said. ‘We can bring it back and watch telly.’
‘All right,’ I said, giving in. But in fact I was glad. I didn’t want to sit in the house by myself for hours waiting for them to get home. Way too much time to think.
Tom drove an old ute, the floor covered in soft-drink bottles and empty chip packets. He swept a bit of junk off the seat and I shuffled my feet around and buckled the belt.
‘Any favourite place?’ he asked, starting up and shoving the column shift into reverse.
‘Domino’s,’ I said. Laura might be on shift at Great White Pizza and I couldn’t face her.
We drove there in silence and Tom parked. He looked over at me. ‘You look like shit. Want me to order? You’re not vegetarian or anything are you?’
I rolled my eyes. He hopped out of the car, slammed it behind him, disappeared inside.
It was a hot evening, like summer already. I was still in running clothes. My T-shirt had dried and the air felt good against my skin. It was the only good thing.
I didn’t think things had got so bad. Sure, they were sleeping apart. I’d been imagining them splitting up in a vague, horrible kind of way. But for a second I totally believed Dad had killed Mum. And it seemed like the police thought Dad had somehow killed Toby. I didn’t know any more what they could do, my parents. I didn’t know them.
Finally Tom strode across the car park, a huge pizza box in one hand, a two-litre bottle of Coke in the other, and slid them onto the seat between us. He saw my red eyes.
‘Let’s get out of here,’ was all he said.
Thank God he didn’t ask how I was feeling, like Laura probably would’ve.
It was starting to get dark when we got home. The house felt weird and empty and blank. I hesitated on the steps. Didn’t want to go in.
Tom barged up beside me, slid the door back, stepped in, looked back. ‘Don’t let all the mozzies in,’ he said with a jerk of his head.
I shut the door behind me and followed him to the lounge room. He put the box on the coffee table, flipped it open, fumbled for the remote. The news came on as he headed to the kitchen for glasses. I didn’t want to see any news. I flicked it over to some game show.
I hadn’t eaten pizza since Toby died. Tom had ordered Hawaiian. I poked at it and picked up a slice. Tom came back in, cracked the Coke and glugged it into the glasses. He scooped up a slice and took a huge bite.
I bit into mine. One bite was enough to take me back to the last Friday night Toby was alive. We were sitting around the kitchen and I was stretching the cheese on my third piece of pizza, stringing it out between my mouth and my hand until Toby was laughing so hard he was nearly choking.
I tried to chew but my chest started heaving and I nearly choked too. I forced that bit of pizza down and swallowed. Then my shoulders started shaking. I’d never felt like that. I didn’t know crying could be like someone grabbing you by the shoulders, lifting you off the ground, and shaking you so hard that your teeth knocked together.
After a while I realised I was sort of lying down, and I turned my face so it was buried in the cushions and curled up. I couldn’t stop crying.
I felt something. Tom must have moved. He didn’t do anything weird, just moved to the end of the lounge, against my foot. Didn’t say anything. Just a few centimetres of contact. Nearly nothing. But he stayed there.