Coming up for a fourth breath, Finn’s world exploded. Water rushed into his eyes and up his nose; waves slapped him. Three heads broke the surface and his wife’s laughter pealed out. They’d bombed him. Toby clutched his mother, gulping, on the brink between laughter and sobs.
‘You’re on the pizza run, mister.’ Bridget swooshed Toby through the water into Jarrah’s arms and splashed Finn. ‘And later you’ll pay for forgetting dinner.’
He dived at her, found her, kissed her. ‘Promise?’
‘Get going! We’re starving.’ She leaned in, voice low. ‘Take Jarrah.’
Finn lifted his head to look at his oldest son, who was bouncing Toby in his arms. ‘Jarr, come for the ride?’
‘Sure.’
‘Me! Me!’ Toby demanded.
‘Go on, take all the testosterone. I need some girl time.’ Bridget dived, pushing herself away from him, a dark streak under the surface.
Finn stroked to the steps and hauled himself out, glad of the dusk. They were a family comfortable with nudity, but lately he’d realised Jarrah was growing out of that. Going on for sixteen, last thing the boy wanted to see was his parents in the nick. It was a pity; Finn had loved the easygoingness of it in this hot climate. He scooted for a towel.
‘Hurry,’ Bridget reminded him from the end of the pool. ‘I’ve ordered, and I hear the whimper of chorizo on the chopping block.’
A scramble of pulling on clothes, sprinting to the car, belting Toby into his seat. Finn spun out of the carport, kicking up a bit of gravel for Bridget’s benefit. They were boys. It was Friday.
He glanced over at Jarrah as they swung out onto the suburban street. The light striped Jarrah’s face and for a moment it wasn’t his son there at all. Someone older, stranger, sat in the passenger seat.
‘Jarrah?’
They passed a streetlight and Jarrah turned to him in an easy, familiar movement, an eyebrow raised slightly, and the moment was gone. ‘Yep?’
Finn swallowed. ‘Sorry about dinner, mate. But hey. You avoid my cooking.’
‘Yeah.’ Jarrah turned away to look out at the garages and driveways and curtained windows flipping past.
‘Got any weekend plans?’
Jarrah adjusted the window minutely. ‘Dunno. Homework. Might go to a movie with some kids from school.’
A wave of helplessness broke on Finn. Until a year ago, he’d known his son. He was the stay-at-home parent. He’d seen Jarrah more or less every day of his life. But since then, he’d lost him. He still wasn’t sure if Jarrah had overheard the furious whispers in the bedroom when Bridget found out, of what Jarrah understood about their sudden decision to move north. Did he wonder why no one ever mentioned the Neumanns any more?
He glanced again at the silhouette of Jarrah’s face as they passed another light. They’d had enough change. Finn didn’t want any more.
‘Dadda,’ Toby said from the back seat. ‘Where we live?’
Finn took a deep breath. ‘Ready, boys?’
‘Oh no.’ Jarrah rolled his eyes.
‘Forty-eight Tumbulgum Road, Mur-will-um-bah…’
Toby, still unable to get his tongue around the early syllables, hit the car seat with his fists. ‘More!’
‘New South Wales, Australia, Planet Earth, the Milky Way…’ Finn paused. Were they with him?
‘THE CENTRE OF THE UNIVERSE!’
Toby yelled what he could manage, in rough unison. Jarrah at least joined in, if not enthusiastically. Finn felt his shoulders relax. It was all good. They were all good.