They’d left the sea behind and were cruising south on the Bruce Highway before Fidel spoke. ‘Okay, let’s recap. I got a call from my hysterical brother yesterday afternoon telling me our father had suicided two weeks ago, my mother had abandoned ship, the furniture would be gone the next day, and the house a few days later, and you didn’t know what to do. Tell me everything that led up to that phone call, starting before Dad’s suicide. If it achieves nothing else it might stop the nightmares. Dumping your problems on someone else usually helps.’
Hylas pulled his lips tight, closed his eyes and let images flood his head. ‘They’ve always argued—at least Mum would nag and Dad would sit in silence. I used to will him to tell her to shut up…anything. But he never did. I once asked him why and he said that was what she wanted him to do. By remaining silent he fucked with her brain. She sometimes hit him when he wouldn’t answer—didn’t care if I saw or not. Usually with her fist, twice I saw her lash at his shoulders with that whip thing that hangs beside the phone. He’d just get up and go to his bedroom.’
‘So he never laid a finger on her.’
‘Never. She’d have told me if he had. She never stopped complaining about him. He was stupid, useless, an angry man. I stopped listening years ago but because of all the things she said I couldn’t like him. Never talked to him unless I had to. A couple of times in the last two years we’ve done things together in the garden, and once we went to an exhibition of old cars. He was really nice, but…I guess my brain was poisoned. And I didn’t dare be nice to him at home or Mum would have had a fit. I wasn’t going to risk that, so I always let her think I agreed with her.
‘Then three weeks ago about midnight I was woken by a loud bang. At first I thought it was a possum landing on the roof, but then decided to go and check. I got out of bed and went to Mum’s room but she wasn’t there. So I went to Dad’s and she was kneeling on his bed. It looked as if she was struggling with him. I ran forward and saw a black hole between his eyes. No blood or anything. Just a hole. Then I realised she was hanging onto Dad’s shotgun. She told me to get out and call the cops because Dad had shot himself.’
‘Was she upset?’
‘No, just angry as usual. Before the cops came I went back in again and noticed Dad was now holding the gun. She was sitting on a chair looking at him. I asked why she’d left it there after having pulled it off him. She said she suddenly realised the cops would want to see the scene as she’d found it. Then she got off the chair and grabbed hold of my hair and shook my head till it hurt and said I mustn't tell the cops about her first taking the gun off Dad because it would only confuse them. Better to let them think we'd arrived in his bedroom together.
‘When the cops arrived Mum faked hysterics so a policewoman took her into the lounge. Two really serious cops held out a recorder and asked me what had happened. I said what Mum told me. After looking as if they didn’t believe me, they told me to go to bed.
‘It wasn’t till then I realised Dad was dead with a great hole in his head. Sounds strange, but that’s how it was. I went all cold and started shaking, but didn’t dare cry out. Couldn’t sleep. Jammed earphones on and put a CD on a loop. Fell asleep eventually and woke wondering if it had been a dream.
‘When I got up Mum was in the kitchen making breakfast, humming. I went to Dad’s room. The bed had been stripped, his laptop was gone, his drawers emptied. I felt just as empty. It was as if my belly was a great hole and I ran back to my room and hid under the duvet. Kept seeing Mum holding onto the gun.
‘She came in and asked if I wanted breakfast, but I couldn’t eat. She didn’t make me go to school, but by the next day something had happened in my head. I felt nothing. I hadn't eaten since the day before so had breakfast and went to school. The death was in the paper. They called it an accident, but no one at school linked it to me, so I never told anyone and just moped around. I felt nothing. Refused to think. Just carried on as usual, came home and listened to music. I didn’t even wonder why he’d shot himself. I don’t think I cared. I remember thinking he was better off dead than living with Mum, but I was also…not sad so much as irritated that I’d never get to know him. The cops didn’t ask to see me again and Mum never spoke about it. She was away most of the time at that group she worked with. She never told me what it was and I didn’t ask. Then one afternoon she told me the coroner had decided it was suicide and he was going to be cremated. Did I want to go? Making it clear she didn’t want me there.
‘Then I began to think she might have shot him and had been putting the gun in his hands when I arrived, to make it look like suicide, and I became so frightened I couldn’t be alone with her. I bought a bolt for my door and locked myself in at night. I don’t think she even noticed. I’d never realised before that our parents had no friends. At least none who came to visit. Then yesterday when I got home from school she was gone and left that note. And if you hadn't come I was going to slit my veins. I searched the Internet and discovered exactly how to make the cuts, you do it vertically not across, and bought a new Stanley knife to do it. But you did come and you cuddled me and stroked my neck and I dropped straight off to sleep for the first time for three weeks and made me feel safe and…happy…and fuck…now I'm starting to cry. I didn’t cry over Dad but I'm crying because you're so nice to me. I'm so stupid.’
‘No, you're not. And you're right about Dad. It is sad. He wasn’t bad like Mum. When she told him to whip me, he refused. He never responded to her taunts and hits because he had zero faith in the cops or the courts. No one believes women do anything bad, but they’ll believe the slightest smear about men. If he’d ever hit her and she’d gone to the cops he’d have been in prison before you could turn around.’
‘Your life was so horrible! I knew…but couldn’t help you. It broke my heart, I…’
‘Hey! You saved me from giving up. You brought me food. You always told me that I wasn’t bad—she was. That's all I needed. It was crazy, but at the time I thought it was normal; that all families were more or less like us.’
‘So did I. but…how did you live when you left home? What did you do?’
‘Lots of things I’ll tell you about when we get to my place. Traffic’s getting thick so I have to concentrate. We’ll be there in half an hour so try to relax. For what its worth, I admire you for the way you’ve coped with things. Honestly, I'm proud to be your brother.’
Hylas was too happy to respond with more than a weepy smile as he gazed at the passing traffic, so many houses and shopping centres, trees and parks, cars and traffic lights that seemed to go on forever. In the distance a group of skyscrapers looking like a collection of rock crystals he’d once seen in a jeweller’s window.
Signs to Gateway and the Airport were far behind and the tower blocks were almost upon them when a sudden left turn took them through a light industrial wasteland to emerge beside a wide, brown river dotted with small pleasure craft. Red brick warehouse conversions on the right of the roadway enjoyed unobstructed views through treed riverside walkways to green suburbs on the far side of the water. A City Transport catamaran was pulling away from a jetty as they pulled into a parking area and Fidel cut the engine.
‘We’re almost there. Just a couple of things you should know. I work in a gymnasium patronised by wealthy people, and live in a small flat on the roof. The owner, Arnold Jurgenz, is an amazing man. A few years older than me, incredibly good looking and rich, but he refuses to act like other wealthy people, preferring to let everyone think he’s just another employee of the place. He knows how I feel about you and is keen to meet you, so we’ll go to his office first, and then up to my place. He’ll probably ask what you want to do now.’
‘Get a job.’
‘Doing what?’
‘Anything.’
‘What year are you in at school?’
‘Twelve.’
‘And you're only sixteen. Must be pretty smart.’
‘I’ll be seventeen in a couple of months.’
‘It’s September. You're going back to school to finish the year.’
‘But I want to pay my way. I refuse to be a burden on you…’
‘We’ll find you a part time job.’
‘Yes. Yes of course. I've got some savings, so I can share the cost of things for a few months.’
‘We can sort out those details later. There’s one last thing…’
‘Yes?’
‘All ten trainers at the gym, including Arnold, work naked, so don’t be surprised. I’ll explain the reasons later.’
‘You too?’
‘Yes.’
‘That's why you’ve no tan line.’
‘Are you shocked?’
Hylas grinned. ‘Turns me on. What do the patrons think?’
‘They think it’s normal—after a while…I think.’ He shrugged and grinned. ‘Whatever they think, they keep coming back for more and treat us with as much respect as we treat them.’
‘I'm getting a hard on thinking about it.’
‘That's a relief. Onwards and upwards then.’ Fidel started the car, turned right at the next intersection and drove slowly along a narrow lane between tall windowless buildings, then down a slight ramp into a car park beneath a red-brick ex warehouse, distinguished by an elegant sign informing them they had arrived at “Natural Fitness”. Fidel parked in one of the bays marked Staff Only.