Page 62 of People Skills

‘That’s not real. That’s something people say when they don’t want to do something. Imagine saying that to the tax office. I have taxation block. Or to your boss. I can’t work today, I have email block.’ Graham laughs heartily, apparently finding himself hilarious.

‘He wrote one of the bestselling novels in Australia in the last ten years, a literary masterpiece. That’s something most writers won’t do in a lifetime,’ Hillary says.

Both Xavier and James react to the word masterpiece. Xavier cringes, and James has a here-we-go look to him.

‘Mum,’ Xavier says, but neither Hillary nor Graham are listening to him.

‘Yes,’ Graham charges on. ‘And I have been there applauding him for it. I probably bought a hundred bloody copies for friends and clients. It was a great book, a great achievement. I even liked the weird second one! But he can’t rest on his laurels for four years. Come on now. What else is he going to do with his life?’

They’re talking as if Xavier isn’t here. He looks resigned to this, eating calmly, and James is the one shaking his head and looking between them.

I try to think of a way to diffuse the situation. Xavier glances at me and I can read in his expression he doesn’t want me to say anything. He can be combative with his mother, but he apparently shuts down when it comes to his father.

‘Charlotte’s helping him,’ Hillary says, which I was really hoping she would not say. ‘She’s helped other authors get over writer’s block and she’s helping Xavier.’

Graham lets out a boom of laughter.

‘What, is that a thing?’ He turns to me. ‘Are you some kind of therapist? Witchdoctor? What?’

I clear my throat, swallow down the chickpea salad in my mouth. Should I bring up the pipe/plumber analogy? The laxative analogy? No. Definitely not.

‘I used to be an editor,’ I say, somewhat pathetically.

Graham says nothing, clearly waiting for more. He and James are watching me. Hillary is giving me a tell-them look. But I have nothing to tell them. I haven’t fixed Xavier. I am a fraud and this is the moment every fraud fears, when they have to produce some kind of evidence.

‘I’ve just been…well we…I have this sort of program…’ I am stumbling over my words in a way I hate. I hate looking weak. I hate sounding weak. But all the things Xavier and I are doing feel private. Bringing them out of our bubble and putting them into the light, letting James and Graham examine it all, feels cheap and awful.

‘Tell them about the cage,’ Hillary says.

‘You’ve got him in a bloody cage?’ Graham says, looking truly interested for the first time.

James’ head snaps around too.

‘No, they put their phones in a cage,’ Hillary says.

‘Can we not interrogate Charlotte about this?’ Xavier says, but everyone ignores him.

‘We have a rule about turning our phones off at night,’ I say. What felt so terrifying and liberating when we first did it sounds incredibly banal said out loud. ‘We go for a few hours without the internet.’

‘They put them in this little cage,’ Hillary says.

‘And he’s paying you for this service?’ Graham says, now looking utterly confused.

‘No, no, I’m just—’ I start.

‘She’s doing it as a favour to me,’ Hillary says, which makes me feel intensely uncomfortable.

Xavier tilts his head a little at this.

‘And what results has this program generated?’ Graham says.

‘Well, I…’ I feel ridiculous. I want to say something about the healing nature of quality sleep, of how it feels to sit down together in the lounge room and quietly read for an hour in companionable silence, that Xavier is working at the bar and surfing and we play chess together and we make each other laugh. That we can’t agree about Mansfield Park.

I can’t say any of this out loud. I need to say something though.

‘I’ve been writing again,’ Xavier says suddenly, looking at me sitting uncomfortably under their gaze.

Hillary looks delighted. ‘You have?’