Finn wanted to do it properly. Not plastic takeaway containers on the table; not tonight. He decanted the food into china bowls and laid them out. Bridget set the table with placemats and napkins, lit candles. Once, their shoulders brushed in passing and she didn’t pull away from him. He allowed himself to feel a moment of hope.
He had to call Jarrah twice before the boy padded downstairs in clean clothes, his hair slicked down over his blank face.
No television. No devices. The three of them sitting in the soft light as dusk fell outside. The warm smell of curry and coriander and jasmine rice, the hint of sesame oil in the stir-fried noodles. Finn felt a wild urge to fold down his head, shut his eyes and pray out loud. He hadn’t said grace before a meal since he was a boy. But this was a night to ask for help, even if only in his own mind.
They busied themselves with serving, passing the dishes hand to hand. Outside the wind picked up, tossing the palm leaves and ripping through the old gum on the street by the gate. It wasn’t a familiar wind; Finn didn’t know it like he knew the salty south winds of Hobart, carrying their hint of ice. But it was a wind that whispered of summer, a wind he sensed might blow for days.
‘Jarrah. I know it’s a bit sudden. We’ve sold the house.’
Jarrah swallowed his mouthful. ‘Yeah, Tom told me.’
‘Oh.’ Finn’s insides sank at the shut-off tone of Jarrah’s voice. ‘I’m sorry. We thought you had enough to deal with. And the offer came very suddenly today. We had to decide straight away.’
Jarrah shovelled in another mouthful.
‘We don’t belong here,’ Finn said. ‘We need to be with family and friends.’
They both looked at Jarrah, who glanced up, then dropped his eyes.
‘We want to decide the next step together,’ Bridget said. ‘The three of us.’
Jarrah shrugged and shovelled in another mouthful.
‘I promise things will be better once we get home,’ Finn said.
‘How the hell can you promise that?’ For a second the adult Jarrah blazed out of the boy’s eyes, all violence and anger.
Finn was shoved back in his chair with the force. ‘I…’ he managed.
Jarrah scraped back his chair and started to rise. Finn rose too, reached out his hand, stopped before touching the boy.
‘Wait. Please.’
They stood in a frozen tableau for a moment, then Jarrah subsided. Sat again, rested his elbows on the table and hunched over his meal.
‘Let’s just eat together,’ Finn said. He gestured. ‘Look at this beautiful food. Eat!’
But it was no good, he knew. The food was now heavy and greasy in his mouth, the taste overblown and garish. The three of them chewed methodically.
‘If it’s Hobart that’s the problem, we could go somewhere else,’ Finn said.
‘I thought you were going to jail?’ Jarrah said.
Finn lost his hunger suddenly. They were falling to pieces. What hope did he have of trying to hold them together? For a moment he saw the scene from outside his body. The three of them hunched over the scattered, messy plates. Jarrah, set, adult, closed off. Bridget, silent and struggling. Himself, desperately feeling them slip from his grasp.
And somewhere, floating around beyond them, Toby. A wisp. A hint. The thing that kept them all together.
‘We don’t know that,’ Bridget said. ‘It’s only a small chance, and even if it happens, it won’t be for – oh, one or two years. You don’t have to worry about it at the moment.’
‘Two years?’ Jarrah looked shocked.
‘You might be finished school by the time the case gets heard, for all we know,’ Bridget said. ‘It doesn’t affect this decision.’
‘Why does it take two years?’
Finn sighed. ‘That’s just the process. It’s crazy. I go to court for the first mention tomorrow. That’s just a few minutes, entering a plea, setting a date. Then there’s a thing called a committal hearing in a few months. That’s when they decide if the case will go ahead. It might all be over then, but if not, then—’
‘I get it!’ Jarrah interrupted. He turned to Bridget. ‘Do you really want to go back?’
Finn saw Bridget’s face working. She didn’t want to go, still. At night she left him and went into the water and he had no idea why. It frightened him.
‘Your dad wants to go,’ Bridget said finally. ‘We need to stick together. What do you want?’
‘You didn’t answer my question.’
‘I want us to do what’s right for everyone.’
‘Well, let me know when you’ve made up your minds.’
‘We’re asking you,’ Finn said. ‘Tell us what you want.’
Jarrah shoved his chair back again and stood. ‘I don’t want anything,’ he snapped. His voice rose. ‘You don’t know anything! You don’t know fucking anything!’
Before Finn could react Jarrah stormed out of the room, thundered up the stairs and slammed his bedroom door so hard that the house shook.
Finn dropped his face into his hands. They’d lost Toby and now they were losing their other boy. The Jarrah he’d known was disappearing. The Jarrah he’d known never swore at his parents.
‘Now what?’ Bridget said. ‘What do we do now?’
Finn rubbed his eyes and looked up. ‘I have no fucking idea.’