Nothing Matters (Family Matters Book 1) (22 page)

NATHAN

Life was a predictable slog, day after day much the same.  I either biked, or if weather was bad, took a bus to trade school or my job, worked hard, diligently, which my parents said they were very proud of.  It was kind of ironic that I was doing an auto technician's course, considering my license had been suspended for twelve months after the court case. My lawyer had gotten me off  the original charge of vehicular manslaughter to one of reckless driving.  I'd been fined and had been given community service which I did on a Saturday. Lately it had involved gardening at a local church, and my supervisor had added in some hours I had done mowing lawns at my Nan's, so the hours were clocking up.  Like only fucking fifty five to go.  I was playing basketball twice a week, and motocross on Sundays, things were as good as they could be.  I'd been on a couple of dates, one set up by Luke's girlfriend, another the cousin of someone's cousin, which was a two night stand, because she was in town for two nights.  I wasn't actively looking for anyone special; I knew I'd never find them.

Cassian's text came like a bolt out of the blue.  He had last texted me a few weeks after Magdala's daughter was born.  He had written:  Magdala had a baby girl, Cassidy, 18 March, 6lb8.

All well.  I had texted back:  that's great news, hope she's happy.  And he had texted back:  she is, she's a great mom.

My anger, my resentment had dissolved then.  As long as Magdala was happy, that was all that mattered.  After everything she'd been through, she deserved some happiness.  And unexpectedly, I felt a release too, felt a kind of freedom from those strangling, negative emotions, as if it was finally time to move on, move forward, let her live her life.  She deserved better than me, I conceded that Jakey had been right all along, and Mom had been too.

Now it was October, six months later, and Cassian's text read:  Cassidy died on Monday, she had cancer.  I was at work, at Reynolds Autos, the day was Wednesday.  I read the text again, and again.  I was stunned.  I dropped what I was doing, which was removing some spark plugs from a Dodge, and went into the boss, Jim’s office.

"You all right boy?" he asked me.  "You look pale."

"Do you have the newspaper?" I asked.  I knew he always had it, he read it cover to cover.

He pointed to it on the corner of his desk. 

"Where are the death notices?" I asked.  I didn't know my way around a newspaper, other than sports pages.  He looked at me, "Someone die?"  He turned to the page, and I fingered through the names, looking for Strauss, but it wasn't there.  I went through the names again, of course, the baby probably had the father's name.  Jim was looking over my shoulder.  I saw the name Cassidy.  It was listed under the name of Surridge.  It read:

Surridge, Cassidy Julia Strauss.  Beloved darling daughter of Magdala and Flynn, tragically taken, after an illness, aged 6 months old.  An angel only lent.  Most loved granddaughter of Julie and Dan, Trey and Antonia, and Martha and Ben.  Very special great grand daughter of Chris Strauss and loved niece of Cassian, Damon and Dominique.  There were other notices too, from Jakey's family, other aunts, uncles, cousins.

"Your girl's baby?" Jim said, though it was hardly a question.  I nodded, a vague thought of How does he know?  A vague thought of When did I tell Jim about Magdala?  "Take a seat," Jim said, and pulled up a chair for me.

"Fucking hell," I said, feeling numb, feeling devastated.  How the hell must Magdala be feeling?  "She had cancer," I said.

"Six months old?  It doesn't seem fair does it?"

"Oh my God," I said, rereading the notices.

Jim put a cup of tea in front of me.  "I've got to finish the Dodge," I said.

"It can wait," he said, putting a cookie on the plate too.  "You should go to the service.  Take the day off."

"Should I?" I said, "should I go?"

"Pay your respects," he said, "it's the right thing to do."

"But I haven't seen her for, for...ages."

"It doesn't matter," Jim said, "you have to do things sometimes.  And this is one of them. You've got the day off."

"I'll just take the morning," I said, "the service is at eleven.  I'll come in afterwards."

Jim huffed and sighed.  "Just take the bloody day off boy," he said, "I'm telling you now."

I texted Cassian back: I can't believe it.  Just read the paper.  How's Magdala?

It was a half hour before he answered:  a mess.  Everyone is.  You should come.

I texted back:  I will.  I'm so sorry for all of you.  And he replied:  Thanks.

The service was on the Friday, it was being held at the school hall.  Michelle had insisted on going with me.  She was sixteen now and could drive, plus she'd do anything to get a day off school.  She couldn't believe that Magdala's baby had died, well none of us could.  It seemed like something you couldn't ever imagine. 

I didn't have a suit, so just wore good pants, good shirt and one of Dad's ties.  The suit I'd had to buy for the court case didn't fit me anymore.  I couldn't get my shoulders in it.  Michelle looked nice in a black skirt and black top and she wore heels.  She wore her hair up in a knot on top of her head, she looked pretty.  But Michelle lacks a little in self confidence.  She hasn't grown out of what Dad calls her puppy fat, not helped by the fact that she has a sweet tooth and loves to bake.  She's not fat, just say generous in size.  But she said she wanted to come with me because Magdala had always been nice to her about her hair and clothes when she visited; it was news to me, I never knew they had spoken, other than hello, goodbye.

We chose a seat in the middle of the middle, just part of the crowd, but from my position I figured I would be able to see Magdala.  My heart was thumping, my palms sweating.  Magdala was dressed in a black dress, plain, down to her knees.  Her hair had been straightened and her sunglasses were on top of her head.  I felt my hands start to tremble, just at the sight of her.  A guy had his arm hooked in hers, I could only see the back of him, the enigmatic Flynn.  His hair was blonde, straight, the style where it hangs in your face.  He wasn't as tall as me; I could see Magdala leaning into him, but her head didn't look comfortable, not the way it would be when she use to rest it on my chest, so maybe he was about five ten.  He wore a dark suit.  When they reached the front row, he turned, and I saw his face.  It was a good looking face, maybe better looking than me, a straight nose, big, straight teeth.  I felt a crushing feeling, like I had wanted him to be ugly.  Yet where was the common sense in that, like how could Magdala ever fall for someone ugly? 

Michelle tugged at my sleeve, "Is that her boyfriend?" she whispered.

"I guess so," I whispered back.  Cassian, Jakey and Raff arrived, blocking Magdala and Flynn from my view. 

The service was intense.  People were sniffing and crying everywhere, even Michelle and I were dabbing at our eyes with the tissues Mum had given us.  At the end of the service there was a power point presentation on the overhead screen, showing photos of Cassidy, to the song Tears in heaven. There were photos of Cassidy just born, in Magdala's arms, in Flynn's arms, in her buggy, in her highchair, in her crib.  She was a cute baby, a pretty baby with a good crop of hair.  I immediately loved her, because she was Magdala's, I'd wished I'd known her.  Then there were photos of her in hospital, tubes in her arms, in her nose, one of her showing her swollen belly.  Michelle pulled at my sleeve, it wasn't a pretty sight, I wondered if that was the cancer, a tumor  in her belly.  But there was Magdala holding her baby, full of cancer, full of love.  My heart broke at the sight, tears welling up, blinding me. 

The casket was carried out, Cassian and Flynn at the front, Jakey and another boy at the back, a small white casket.  Magdala followed it, her Dad and Jakey's Mom flanking her, Antonia, Raff, Dominique and Damon right behind, other family members all crowding.  Rows of people followed out to the courtyard.  Michelle and I stood amongst the crowd, unsure of what to do.

"Are you going to talk to her?" Michelle asked.  People were now lining up, hugging, shaking hands, with Magdala, Flynn, her Mom and Dad, and I guessed his parents.  I didn't know what I should do.  There she was, right before my eyes, ten metres away in a crowd of people, but I knew she wouldn't see me.  My heart was absolutely pounding, I felt the adrenalin racing through me, I felt the physical attraction, which was entirely inappropriate.  But I couldn't help it.  She could set me alight, even at a distance.  I felt shame at myself, that I wanted her in my arms, wanted to fuck her, when her baby was laying dead in a coffin.

"Are you going to talk to her?" Michelle asked again.  I looked around, trying to spot Cassian.  I saw her Grandad Chris, he seemed to be looking in my direction, but I doubt he would recognize me.  It must have seemed that I was staring, so I kept scouting the crowd.  I saw Jakey, but I didn't really want to speak to him.  Then I noticed Cassian, away from Magdala, from Flynn, and made him my target.  I pulled Michelle along, "I'll say hi to Cash," I told her.

Cassian was in a suit, his sunglasses on top of his head, as good looking as always.  I inched behind a bunch of people who were consoling him.  I could see his eyes, that familiar bright green, clear, not tear stained, like most people's.  The lady before me hugged him, and as he patted her back, his eyes looked to me, and recognition came to his face, a smile.  The lady moved away, and he greeted me warmly, "Nate!  Good to see you," and he sounded genuine, sincere.  We shook hands.

“My sister Michelle," I said, gesturing to Michelle who was clinging to my side, afraid to lose me in the crowd.  Cassian shook her hand too, saying, "The great cake baker!  Thanks for coming," he said to us both.  He then knuckle bumped me and we man hugged for a nanosecond.  "Give Magdala my best," I mumbled, and then someone behind us extended their arm to him and we were moved along. 

He mouthed at me, "Go see her," but I gave him a doubtful expression, and he nodded, as if he understood. 

I glanced back to see her, but she was being smothered now, and the family was going to a private burial service.

"We should go," I said to Michelle, and we went to McDonalds where I treated her lunch.

"I've never been to anything so sad in all my life," Michelle said.

I nodded, "Thanks for coming with me."  It was an uncommon thing for a brother to say to his younger sister.

"Her brother is so hunky," she beamed, "he's so hot!"

"He's too old for you," I scolded.

Michelle was stirring her sundae, something I probably shouldn't have bought her, and said, "Do you still love her?"  I stuffed fries into my mouth and didn't reply.  "You do, don't you?"  I sipped my drink, I could feel those fucking tears again and I didn't want to start crying, not there in McDonalds.

"She once told me I had lovely hair, just like yours.  She said she loved my natural highlights, that I shouldn't color it.  Because that's when I was thinking of putting that blue in it."

I pondered that for a moment, that Magdala would compliment my slightly chubby baby sister, but said, "Nobody should have blue hair."

"That's what she said!" Michelle exclaimed, sounding overly excited.

"What did you think of Flynn?" I asked.

Michelle seemed surprised that I was asking for her opinion.  "He seemed okay," she said hesitantly, as if she didn't want to offend me, didn't want to say anything too nice about him.

"Like do you think he's her type?"

Michelle raised her eyebrows and smiled, "Well he was definitely cute.  Kind of a surfie type I suppose."

Fuck.  That would make him her type.  He probably played the piano or guitar and was in a band too.

"Did you see he only had one hand?" Michelle said.

I frowned, "What do you mean?"

"When people were shaking his hand, he was shaking with his left hand."  She held out her left hand, as if to demonstrate.  "He didn't have a right hand."

I frowned again.  What did that mean, that Magdala's boyfriend only had one hand? What had happened to him?  Had he been in an accident, was it something he was born with, had he had cancer? "Are you sure?"

Michelle nodded.  "Even when he had his arm around her, I noticed."

I shook my head, "I didn't notice."  But then I suddenly, ridiculously, felt superior to him.  And I guessed that he didn't play the piano or guitar, and hope seeped back in. 

"I wonder if they'll have another baby," Michelle said.

"What a stupid thing to say," I chided her.

"Why?" she protested.

"Well for starters they haven't even buried her yet," I said, quite meanly.

"But if they love each other," she pressed on, "I'd want another one."

An unexpected anger was taking hold, "Don't be so fucking immature," I snapped.  "You don't just have another baby to replace one."

Michelle just looked at me.  "You're jealous," she stated, calmly, slowly, and she suddenly seemed older, wiser than a kid sister should be.  "You're jealous," she repeated.  I looked down at my hands, at the tray, at the table.  "You do still love her, don't you?" she said mercilessly.  "You are still in love with her!"

"Don't be so fucking ridiculous," I said, and got up, grabbing the tray and assembling all the wrappers on it.  Again I felt my eyes watering, my denial obviously weak.  Michelle followed me out, and I walked quickly to the car, so she could never quite catch me up.  We didn't talk all the way home, I didn't even criticize her driving once, but when we got out of the car she said, "Nate?"