What the Light Hides (17 page)

‘She is very sweet,' I say.

‘Is everything all right?'

‘Yes.'

‘And your cheek?'

‘It's okay,' I touch it instinctively. ‘Still sore.'

‘It was a bad scratch.'

‘Look,' I say. ‘I came because…'

‘There's no need.'

‘Please,' I say, ‘let me apologise.'

‘All right.' She stands aside. ‘Come in.' Pat covers a bowl of dough with cling-wrap and puts it in the fridge. She doesn't ask me to sit, but faces me across the kitchen table.

‘I'm so sorry about what happened,' I begin. ‘I didn't mean to kiss you, it wasn't something I was thinking about and then…did. It hadn't even occurred to me before it happened. Not that you aren't attractive, any man would notice you, it's just…'

‘Please, stop,' says Pat.

‘I'm not doing a very good job apologising,' I say.

‘It's just a bit embarrassing.'

Eloise bounces into the kitchen with Scotty on her heels. She pulls at Pat's cardigan. ‘Mum,' she says.

‘Yes, darling?'

‘We need to go to the park.'

Pat looks over at me. ‘Do you want to come?'

We cram into her car, a beaten-up red Volkswagen, and drive to Camperdown Park.

‘You don't walk?' I ask, when we get out five minutes later.

She shakes her head. ‘Not with Eloise. She insists on saying hello to everyone we meet, dogs and people alike. And if she sees someone without teeth or someone who is carrying a little extra weight she's quick to point it out. Let's just say it's safer for all of us if we drive.'

I watch Eloise sprinting down the green lawn with the poodle. It's like seeing Ben as a child. He would run faster than his legs could carry him. Vera used to say that the only thing that kept him from falling was the desire to run, not the ability.

I haven't given up on you, Ben
, I think.
Everyone else has, but I haven't
.

Eloise throws a green tennis ball with all her might. Scotty bounces after it and returns an instant later.

Pat puts a blanket on the ground near a row of swaying white gums.

‘You said the other day that I was aloof,' I say and sit down next to her.

Eloise runs over to the graffiti wall. She climbs on a bench and throws the ball again.

Pat yells, ‘Stay away from the bins.' Then she turns to me. ‘Eloise saw a man looking through the garbage the other day, so now the bins have become irresistible.'

Someone starts mowing the lawn at the other end of the park. Above us the white gums catch the winter sun.

‘I'm sorry I said you were aloof,' she says.

‘What did you mean by it?'

‘Do you really want to know?'

‘Yes.'

‘You just look like you have this secret life and that no one is allowed in.'

‘You're pretty blunt.'

‘I've already told you that.'

‘I like it.'

‘You're the first to say it.'

‘I've always only opened up to one person,' I admit.

‘Your wife?'

‘Yes.'

‘It must be lonely.'

‘No,' I say. ‘It never was. Not until now.'

She nods.

Eloise returns with the ball. It's covered in dog saliva.

‘Give it to me, darling,' says Pat. ‘I'll throw it.'

‘Don't, Mum,' say Eloise. ‘The sad man needs to throw.'

Pat looks at me and shrugs. ‘The sad man needs to throw,' she repeats.

I take the ball and stand up. Scotty bounces around me.

‘Are you ready?' I say to Eloise.

She nods seriously and then I throw as hard as I can. The ball goes past the bench, past the white gums, and Scotty charges after it.

Eloise looks at Pat, her eyebrows raised in exaggerated admiration.

‘Yes,' say Pat and laughs, ‘the sad man can throw.'

I sit back down on the blanket and watch Eloise run after Scotty.

‘Is it true?' asks Pat. ‘Are you sad?'

‘I hit my mother yesterday,' I say. The words sound strange in my mouth.

‘You hit her?' Pat looks at me.

Eloise waves at us and Scotty looks like he's about to have a heart attack.

‘I've never hit anyone before,' I say. ‘I feel ashamed.'

‘Is she all right?'

‘I don't know. I think so.'

‘You need to apologise.'

‘She doesn't deserve it,' I say and watch Eloise and Scotty's slow climb up the hill.

‘Then do it for your sake,' says Pat.

Eloise comes over and flops down on the blanket. ‘I'm hungry.'

We say goodbye in the park. Pat invites me for lunch, but I've already decided that it's time to look for Kaiser, Ben's friend.

‘Thank you,' I say to Pat, standing next to the Volkswagen.

‘For what?'

‘For the park,' I say, ‘and for not judging me.'

Wanders Cafe is wedged between an abandoned antiques shop and a vintage clothing store that sells 1950s dresses, bowties and two-tone shoes.

I squeeze through a small group of people chatting at the door and find myself a table near the window.

The waitress carries a notepad. Her sleeveless dress shows off her tattooed arms.

‘Hey,' she says and glances at my cheek, ‘what happened to you?'

‘Better you don't know,' I say.

She reaches for the biro tucked behind her ear.

‘May I have a flat white, please?' I ask. ‘And some banana bread.'

‘Sure thing, with butter?'

‘Yes, please.' And then, like a bad detective, I ask, ‘Is Kaiser working today?

‘No,' she says. ‘Did you want anything else?'

‘Kaiser is a friend of my son's,' I say.

She glances at me over the notepad.

‘Ben,' I add.

She puts the biro back behind her ear and studies me. ‘You look alike,' she says. ‘How is Ben? I haven't seen him since the day he walked out after that big row with the boss.' She glances over her shoulder and whispers, ‘She had it coming by the way.'

‘Ben's fine,' I say. ‘I'm actually organising a surprise for him.' I feel bad about lying, but can't seem to stop myself. ‘And I need to contact Kaiser. Do you know how I can get hold of him?'

‘He doesn't work here any more. The idiot stole from the tip jar, how low is that?'

I wait.

‘But he probably still lives around the corner.'

‘Where?' I ask.

‘Darley Street,' she says. ‘Two streets down on the right-hand side. A three-storey terrace, yellow. You can't miss it.'

I knock on the door. Classical string music floats through the open window and blends with the smell of pot. Three bikes are chained together on the front verandah.

I knock again, harder this time.

A man in his mid-twenties opens the door. He has a blond goatee and his shirt hangs loose over his frame.

‘I'm after Kaiser,' I say.

He glares at me. ‘There's no one here by that name.'

There's something a little rehearsed about the way he says it.

‘Do you know where I can find him?' I ask.

‘Who are you?'

‘I'm David, Ben's dad.'

His expression changes. ‘Oh shit, sorry, man.' He shakes my hand. ‘I'm Kaiser.'

‘May I come in?'

‘Of course, if you don't mind a bit of smoke.'

‘I don't care,' I say.

I follow him down the hallway to a spacious kitchen. Dirty dishes are piled high in the sink, but the room is filled with exquisite Balinese teak furniture and a lavish fruit bowl is on display on the dining table.

‘So why are you here?' He sits down and I follow suit.

A woman enters the kitchen and grabs a box of crackers from the kitchen bench. She is tall, with short brown hair.

‘Hey, Lisa, they're mine,' says Kaiser.

She gives him the finger and leaves the room.

‘How many people live here?' I ask.

‘It depends.' Kaiser leans back in his chair. ‘We have nine bedrooms, but at the moment there are only five of us. The house belongs to Lisa's parents,' he says. ‘They're expats in Bahrain.'

‘I was wondering if you could tell me anything about the time just before Ben disappeared?' I say.

Kaiser shrugs. ‘He had stopped coming over. To be honest I thought Lisa and him had a fight. It wasn't until I met Alice on the street that I found out what had happened.'

‘Lisa? Who was just here?' I ask.

‘Yeah. They used to be tight.'

‘And you didn't see him during that time?'

‘No,' he said.

‘But you were friends.'

‘We just hung out from time to time, that's all.' Kaiser picks up a banana from the fruit bowl and starts to peel it.

Lisa returns and puts the kettle on.

Kaiser turns in his chair. ‘Hey, Lisa, this is Ben's dad.' Only then does she look at me.

‘Hi,' I say.

Lisa doesn't reply. Instead she leaves the kitchen abruptly.

‘Hang on.' Kaiser gets up.

I hear him open a door and say, ‘Lisa? Come on, babe. He just wants to talk.'

A few minutes later she appears in the kitchen doorway.

‘I don't know what to say to you,' she says.

I stand up. ‘Could we just talk for a moment?'

I follow her up the hallway and into her room. Kaiser seems to have disappeared.

She gestures to the only chair in the room. ‘Have a seat.'

There are printed pages everywhere, laid out on the desk, the floor and the ancient-looking bed. She pushes some aside. The bed sags in the middle when she sits down.

‘You and Ben were together?' I ask, with a sense of déjà vu.

‘If you're here to tell me that I shouldn't have slept with Ben while he and Alice were still together, then please don't,' she says. ‘Ben did break up with her eventually.'

‘I don't care about that,' I say and look around the room. ‘Do you play?' I nod at the French horn resting on the windowsill.

‘Sometimes.'

‘What else do you do?'

‘Work in a call centre and talk to rude people all day, when I'm not trying to finish my thesis.'

‘And what do you want to be?'

She looks at me as if trying to decide if I have any right to ask. ‘Anthropologist,' she says. ‘I'm doing my masters. I met Ben at uni.'

‘Not through Kaiser?'

‘It was the other way around.' She gets up, walks over to the desk and picks up a joint. ‘Do you want some?'

‘No, thanks,' I say.

She lights it, inhales and says, ‘We met at the Manning Bar. The band that night was so bad, you have no idea—The Smashing Biscuits.'

‘The Smashing Biscuits?'

‘The name of the band. Ben and I bonded in disgust.' She pauses. ‘You look so much like him,' she says.

‘When did you last see him?' I ask.

‘On my birthday. Just before…you know. We had dumplings. Kaiser works at Dumpling King and brought home this huge box of leftovers. Ben gave me that heart.' She points to a purple glass heart leaning against the window next to the French horn. ‘We talked and ate, and then he left. It was the first time he didn't stay the night. I wasn't upset, I knew it was going to happen sooner or later.' She looks at me. ‘Everything was so intense with Ben, you know? He would make you feel like the most important person in the world, but then everything would change. I saw it happen with his friends, one after the other. Suddenly it was as if he could see all of it, you know? All the imperfections, all the flaws in people. And he got… disappointed. It was hard for him.' Lisa takes another puff of the joint, then says, ‘We went there, you know.'

‘Went where?'

‘To the Gap.' She reaches for an ashtray on the floor. ‘We took my car.'

‘You asked him to go with you?'

‘No,' says Lisa. ‘He wanted to go. We went in the middle of the night and it was pitch black. All we could see was cliffs, you know, and a few lights from ships way out. And Ben went right up to the edge. I was shit-scared he was going to fall off, but he just stood there staring out into the night. “Imagine,” he said, “imagine how it will look on the other side. Baby, the light will be so bright.” I asked him what the fuck he was talking about and told him to get away from the edge.'

‘What else did he say?'

‘That's it. After that he was his usual self. We ate Mars Bars on the way and he sang me this crazy Tom Waits rendition of “Like a Virgin”, it cracked me up. That was a week before my birthday, a week before I saw him the last time.'

It's raining again by the time I leave Lisa's house. The footpath is a sea of umbrellas and King Street smells of petrol fumes and cinnamon buns. I look around to see if I can spot a bakery nearby, but I can't see any.

I pass baskets with green-fleshed coconuts and ripe papayas outside a Fijian shop, and step aside to let a mother with a stroller pass. And right at that moment I see him again. Ben. He's walking a little further ahead and this time I can't lose him. This time I see him clearly. And I start to run; I weave in and out of pedestrians while keeping my eyes fixed on him. A dog barks and someone shouts, ‘Watch out, dickhead.'

And he is right there, right in front of me. I grab hold of his arm.

‘Ben,' I say and I have him. For a second I have him back and everything I need to say is right there in my mouth, in my breath, in the air.

He is younger than Ben. Same height, same hair colour, but his face is narrow and his eyes a different shade of blue.

‘Hey,' he says, ‘get your hands off me.'

But I can't seem to let go of his arm.

‘What the fuck is wrong with you? Get your hands off me.'

‘Please,' I say. ‘Please.' The disappointment is too much. I feel like I'm about to break in two.