One Long Thread (8 page)

‘No. Really. You couldn't be further from the truth.' He didn't look convinced. It was hot in the car and I wound down the window for some air. And then I worried it might break us out of that cocoon into the real world and I didn't want that. I wasn't ready to get out of the car and face what was inside.

‘She was coming back to you,' I said, not knowing if it were true at all.

‘We'd better go, Sally,' Barry said, not registering the slip.

I think of Sally, sitting behind the wheel of the car, taking a quick glance in the rear-view mirror to see that the caravan is still following behind, before leaning forward to turn up the music. The window is down and her hair blows around her, free and unrestrained. The music runs through her veins and she's singing at the top of her voice. Keeping one hand on the wheel, she uses her left hand to fumble on the passenger seat for the packet of cigarettes and she manages to open the pack and take out the last smoke and put it in her mouth. She catches sight of the speedo but doesn't register the excessive speed because, as she flicks the lighter, the small erupting flame almost catches her hair alight. ‘Shit', she says, taking her finger off the lighter switch. The flame disappears and she laughs again, shaking her head to catch the wind full on, blowing her hair back from her face. She lights the cigarette easily this time, throwing the lighter on the floor on the passenger seat side. She holds the cigarette in between her fingers, both hands on the wheel, pushing her back against the seat to stretch her muscles.

But this image I have could all be a lie. We'll never know. The only thing anyone knows for certain is that she was driving Barry's old car, his old caravan on the back, coming back from whatever faraway place she had been to, heading towards Darwin. On a lonely stretch of road, she lost control of the car, swerved off the road and crashed head-on into a tree. When she was found, she still had a pulse, but it didn't take long for the doctors in the hospital to realise she would never regain consciousness.

Her heart pumped a cocktail of drugs through her body to keep her blood at the right pH level and her lungs expanding and contracting. But nothing could repair the damage to her brain. Or take away the stain of blood that burst and flooded inside her head, robbing her of any chance of making it out alive.

I followed Barry closely as we walked through the main doors of the hospital, down the corridor that smelt like disinfectant and false hope. We waited at the elevator and I pressed the ‘up' button too many times. We watched the lights flick from one number to another, one floor to another, until it stopped, doors opened and we walked out.

I don't know if it was my imagination or not but I felt Barry press close to me as we neared the group of people waiting at her door. Our shoulders touched, our fingers brushed each other's as we moved to let an elderly couple pass us by.

I couldn't see Mum at first, among the group of about ten people or so. They stood beside the door, holding hands. Their heads bent down, nodding in agreement with Brother Daniel who led them in prayer. I stopped well before them, felt my feet cling to the floor like glue. I could deal with Sally, with Barry, with what had happened, but Mum and the Aberdeen were a force I felt too small to negotiate alone.

Barry noticed my hesitation and stopped soon after me, and turned back. Dad should have been here with me. I don't know what Barry was thinking or what he thought of me or my family. We hadn't discussed Mum at all. But he knew something of what the Aberdeen were like.

‘It's all right,' he said, holding his hand out towards me. I wanted to believe him. Absolutely. I reached out and took his hand. And I saw Mum look up from the group.

As Barry and I approached the Aberdeen group and my mother, Barry dropped my hand. Mum stepped forward and hugged me to her. Her arms felt stiff and angular and desperate. She ran her hands over my hair and held me like I was a child and cried.

Brother Daniel stood behind her, resting a hand on her head, and asked me to pray with my mother. Trapped, I felt no option but to close my eyes. I didn't hear their words, only my own heart thumping hard. Eventually I pushed away, through the crowd, towards Sally's door. Before opening it I looked though the window to see her blanketed body flat on the bed, connected to cords and cables, surrounded by machines.

I turned to look for Barry but I couldn't see him through the crowd. ‘I want to go in by myself,' I said to Mum. I felt her inhale sharply, although she said nothing. As I stepped into the doorway I felt her behind me, ignoring what I'd just asked her. ‘By myself,' I said again.

I watched her face dissolve into fresh tears. She shook her head and tilted her chin towards me. ‘Well,' she said. But I was determined.

I crossed the floor to Sally's bed and took her hand, sitting down on the chair that was angled towards her. I don't know what I expected, but part of me hoped I would find they had gotten it all wrong. That, once I saw her, it would be all right. I squeezed her hand, but there was no response. Her body felt warm but empty. I could not feel her at all. Her eyes were closed, her mouth slightly open. She looked like she was asleep. Just asleep. And could wake up any moment.

I had been looking at her face, holding her hand. Avoiding that other part of her altogether. And I thought about that image I had of her in her car, coming home with her music playing, her cigarette lit. Stretching her back and gripping the steering wheel, aware of the pressure low in her stomach. She felt the restless flutters of her baby, testing its legs or arms. The feeling spread a glow around her body. She put one hand on her stomach, took a drag, caught an image of what it might be like to hold him. She fantasised about striking it rich and having everything they'd ever need so they could stay free and independent from the world. But the feeling melted and the taste of the cigarette soured in her mouth and the music hurt her ears and she was tired of driving. Her body slumped back in the seat and she watched the road. Endlessly stretching on before her. She remembered a time when she thought Barry would be the one and how she had no idea how to hold on to that. She hoped he'd take her back.

Then there was only the impact of the car around the tree.

I looked down from Sally's face to that small bump rounded under the blankets, level with my eyes. ‘Why didn't you tell me?' I whispered.

I could hear my mother on the outside of her door. Her sobs and the low-voiced reassurance of Brother Daniel. ‘What did I do wrong?' she said, over and over.

‘Everything is God's will,' responded Brother Daniel.

I could feel the tension around me, like a nylon thread stretched tight. It was wrapped around us, caught in our limbs, Sally and mine, pulling in opposite directions, cutting our skin. It was as though she had climbed the Faraway Tree and disappeared through the clouds into some other land. Only it had taken her away. Without me.

‘Wake up,' I whispered. ‘Please wake up and come back. Or take me with you.'

15.

I watched Barry drive off from the hospital and I didn't know what to do. I felt completely numb and drained. I couldn't face going inside again to where Mum and the Aberdeen hovered outside Sally's room. So I called Dad.

‘You should be here,' I yelled at him. ‘You could still come, you know.'

‘Your mother—'

‘But she's your daughter, too!'

There was no response.

‘What do you want, Dad? What is going to happen to her?'

‘It's complicated,' he paused and cleared his throat. ‘There's just no point prolonging . . . I mean . . . the baby is too young and there are all those drugs pumping through—'

‘Please, Dad,' my voice wavered. ‘I want you here with me.'

‘If you want to come back home right now, that's fine, Button. You can do whatever you need to do. I love you,' he added before hanging up. But I wanted to hear him say he loved Sally. I wanted him to fight Mum for her. I suddenly felt so guilty for having Dad when Sally didn't. It wasn't fair. It was crazy, this whole situation was wrong. I waited outside the hospital, sitting on the small garden wall until Mum was ready to go home.

In the backseat of a car driven by someone from the Aberdeen, I sat beside Mum wearing a plastic smile, nodding and agreeing with whatever was said. Mum took my hand, squeezed it tightly and held it to her chest. I wanted to reach out to her somehow, but I didn't know what to say. I don't think she was aware of me. I mean, she knew I was there – and in some way was glad of it – but it felt like there was no room for me or my feelings. She was just glad I was there for her.

I left the Aberdeen, seated around Mum's couch, took my suitcase downstairs into the sewing room and shut the door. I closed my eyes against the white space, still as I'd remembered it from my last visit. There was no mattress on the floor – I guess there was no time for Mum to get my room ready – so I sat on the chair at her sewing machine. I ran my hands over the frame of the machine, my fingers making silent circles around the wheel. The house breathed loss and emptiness already. I felt secrets wedged in between the bricks. On the floor above my head one man's steady footsteps walked from the lounge down the passage to the bathroom. I followed his movement with my eyes. At that moment I wished I had been in that car with Sally. And we were dying together on that bed in the hospital.

I took out my mobile phone and scrolled through the names in my contacts list. I wanted so desperately to talk to someone but every name felt wrong. I was too angry with Dad and I wanted something more than any of my friends could provide. Becky would want the drama of it all and I would still be left, aching with the need for someone to understand.

I lay down on the concrete floor and the shock of cold creeping up my spine almost hurt and the pain felt good and as real as I felt. Pressure built up in my chest, my heart actually hurt. I put my palms across my heart for comfort. But it wasn't enough.

I flipped my phone open again and dialled Barry's number, the one he'd given Dad before I'd arrived.

‘Hello?'

‘Barry. It's me, Ruby. I'm sorry—'

He cut me off. ‘I'm so glad you called.'

‘You are?'

‘I wanted to see how you were.'

‘I know it's a lot to ask. But. Would you come and get me? I can't stand being here by myself.' I was sure I had become someone else. In my normal life I would never have talked to a boy like this. Only, it didn't feel like that with Barry.

‘Um.'

‘But if it's too much trouble, really, it's fine.'

‘No, it's not that. It's just—'

I could hear the voices of other people in the background. Barry hesitated, listening to something they were saying.

‘You're busy. It's okay. I—'

‘No, I'll be over soon. I'm with friends. But you can join us.'

‘As long as it's okay with you. Thanks.'

I trod up the back stairs and in through the kitchen door, the glass door sliding noisily along the ball bearings. I didn't think it would be fair to slip out without telling Mum, but I suddenly feared she would hold on to me and not let me go.

‘I'm sorry,' I began. ‘But I just have to go for a walk. I can't sleep.'

Mum looked up from the group and I could see she was wrestling with herself.

‘Barry is going to come with me.'

‘I think you should stay with your mother,' Brother Daniel said.

My heart ached again. I knew if I stayed any longer I would start crying and they would descend on me and the thought of that was overwhelming.

‘I'm sorry,' I said. ‘I'll be back soon.'

I took a pen from the bench and scribbled my mobile phone number on a shopping list held to the fridge with a magnet advertising pet food. If they really wanted to get in touch with me they would find a phone. I left quickly before my mother found her strength and demanded my obedience.

‘This is Boof,' Barry said, introducing me. ‘And Cassie.'

I took a seat on the couch beside Barry, as he sat down. The room was quiet. Boof and Cassie stared at me unashamedly.

‘It must be a shock,' I said, glancing at Barry.

Boof shook his head and blew air out through his mouth, slowly. The pair of them looked mismatched. Boof was skinny and smallish while Cassie was large and full. She sat, shoulders back and legs slightly parted, stomach out. She was heavily pregnant. That thought made me swallow and look down. My fringe fell across my eyes and I tugged at my shirt.

There were a few empty beer bottles on the coffee table and a splattering of playing cards, discarded hands and a small pack, upturned.

‘You play five hundred?' Boof said and I shook my head.

‘That's too bad. We could have played partners,' he added, smiling.

‘We're really sorry for what's happened,' Cassie said, leaning forward awkwardly.

‘Thanks. I'm sorry to interrupt your evening. It's just. I don't know anyone else in Darwin and I couldn't take being at home much longer. Bit selfish, really.'

‘Not at all,' Boof said. ‘Just you'll have to excuse our gawking. Sally worked for us, you know.'

I nodded again. Barry was quiet but he felt like an anchor beside me. I felt the same fluttering in my neck being beside him.

‘Barry was kind enough to keep us company,' Cassie says. ‘Thought for a minute it was time.' She glanced at Boof and they shared a warm smile. You can tell some people love each other just by looking at them. They share an invisible glue that separates them from the rest of the world. Cassie and Boof were like that.

‘Oh,' I said, feeling even more uncomfortable, forcing myself on people who thought they were about to have their baby.

‘You're very welcome,' Boof said, standing up. ‘Hasn't been any action for more than an hour and a half.'

‘Do you play cards at all?' Boof asked me.

‘Um,' I said trying to remember the last time I played cards. Names of games were passing through my head, canasta, euchre, bridge. None of them I had ever played. It wasn't ever something our family did. Sally and I went through a Monopoly phase, intense, but short-lived. I named the only card game I could actually play with any confidence and that I might remember the rules.

‘Fish,' I said a little too confidently. Boof laughed from the kitchen and Cassie held her stomach as she laughed, too. Barry's laugh was quiet and restrained, but no less enthusiastic.

I blushed, thinking they were laughing because Fish is a kid's game. Not serious cards. ‘Bit childish,' I said.

‘Na, it's not that,' said Boof, returning with a plate of milk coffee biscuits. ‘Do you know Barry's full name?'

I looked at Barry.

‘Barry Mundy,' said Boof.

‘Yeah, yeah,' Barry said, trying to downplay it all.

I smiled.

‘Not that he's been a fish out of water for a long time,' Cassie said.

Boof placed his hands on Barry's shoulders and shook them affectionately. ‘So Fish it is.'

Somewhere over the next few hours, we stopped playing cards and turned on the television. I must have felt so comfortable being with them all because my eyes became heavy and I drifted off. You can never tell how long you've been asleep, but the sound of a glass being placed on the coffee table woke me.

Before I opened my eyes, I heard Boof say, ‘Bit weird if you ask me. Freaky how much they look the same.' Boof lowered his voice. ‘I can tell you like her, mate. Better be careful you're not wishing for the past.'

I pretended sleep for a few minutes so there was no chance they'd worry I heard what was said. I was genuinely alarmed when I ‘woke' and apologised for sleeping on the couch.

‘I'll take you home,' Barry said, standing up.

‘Thanks so much,' I said to Boof.

‘You're welcome, love.'

‘I guess the baby's not coming tonight, then,' I said.

‘Na, false alarm.'

All the way home Boof's words echoed in my mind. The possibility thrilled me and I was completely irrational, imagining moments we might share together. Holding hands, kissing. I couldn't stop thinking about it even though I felt like a traitor. And then I realised it was Sally he loved and I was just an impossible reminder of what he once had and could never have again. I would never be me, I would always be the girl who could have been Sally.

‘How do you stop it hurting?' I said, then felt stupid for saying it.

‘I wish I knew,' Barry said. ‘But it must be worse for you.'

‘Really?' His concern ripped through my defences and I melted. Tears pooled in my eyes. ‘You wouldn't believe this if you read about it, would you? I mean. It all sounds so absurd.'

‘I know what you mean.'

‘I feel like I don't belong anywhere. I just want to stitch everything back together just the way it was.'

We pulled up outside Mum's house and I closed my eyes and opened them slowly. I wanted it all to disappear. I was leaning on the window, looking outside, away from Barry. ‘Do you ever feel like you just want to drive forever, away from everything?'

Barry was quiet. I had this moment of clarity, of understanding something of Sally. I could see her inside that house, trying to reconcile herself within the world our parents had created for us. I could understand how she must have felt. I was no longer the same girl that lived with Dad and the thought of going back felt hard, even though I longed for it at the same time.

‘I've spent my whole life feeling like that,' Barry said.

I wiped the last of my tears from my face. I felt a little calmer. ‘That's a lot of loneliness.'

‘I'm not the father of her baby, Ruby. Even if I wanted to be, I'm not.'

A sickening feeling crept up inside and I thought of Bob. I didn't want that to be true. ‘But you could have been,' I said and it sounded hopeless and weak.

‘It wouldn't make any difference.'

‘It's only a few weeks. That's what they said. A few more weeks and the baby might have survived.' I felt a glimmer of hope, a light of possibility. ‘But no one would know you weren't the father. You could plead with them, tell them you couldn't live without your child. You have rights, too.' Even after I said this I heard the stupidity of it. I didn't want to be practical. I didn't want to think through the details of anything that would happen next. I didn't want implications, I wanted a possibility, to give her a chance.

‘Tomorrow is her last day.' I felt like a tornado of opposite feelings. I wanted to hate someone, to make it someone's fault, all because I didn't want to lose her. And my feeling for Barry flooded up in a rush. I leapt across my seat to him. I kissed him, hard and clumsy and god knows what I expected from him. There was nothing passionate or warm, there was no space, no response. Shame was quick and instant. I pulled back and fumbled for the door handle, muttering apologies as I made an undignified exit from the car. I heard him call my name as I ran across the grass around the back and up the stairs. But there was no way I was going back to him. In fact, there was no way I wanted to see him again. Ever. I wanted to get as far away from here as I could.

The Aberdeen were gone. The door to Mum's room was slightly open and I saw her lying on the bed.

‘I'm home,' I muttered.

‘Will you lie next to me?'

I lay down on the bed beside her, but there was a turmoil inside my body. Grief and shame were thundering inside me.

‘My baby,' Mum kept saying over and over again.

I wanted to say it was all right. That she still had me. But I didn't. I wasn't Sally.

Sometime in the early hours of that next morning my mother's breath was even and steady and I slipped off the bed and out of the room. I had brought two suitcases with me. One containing my own belongings, but the other was full of the contents we had pulled from the boxes in our garage. Mum's patterns, some of her fabric and Pearl's red coat, her
History of Silk
and her scrapbook. That suitcase was still beside the front door. I laid it down on the floor and opened the zipper. The red coat was on top and I took it out and shook it.

It was worn and faded, something you would find in a jumble sale at St Vincent de Paul's. I slipped my arms inside and fastened it, threading the large buttons through the buttonholes. I had rarely seen buttons this large. They were covered in the same fabric as the coat. One was missing in the middle of the jacket.

I began to sweat soon after putting the coat on. I tiptoed up the passage to the bathroom and examined my reflection in the full-length mirror. I tried to imagine my grandmother inside this coat, but I couldn't. And why, when there were so many possible things, had she held onto this coat for so many years.

I let myself sweat, forcing myself to suffer with the discomfort. It was nothing compared to what Sally would have felt at so many times in her life. I thought about what it would feel like to die from overheating. Shame was like heat. I kept thinking of my ridiculous attempt at kissing Barry and wished I could take it back. ‘Please,' I begged the moon. ‘Please make it all go away.'