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Hunter
Dad’s taken from the hospital to the courthouse, where he pleads guilty to culpable driving causing death. He’s remanded into custody, and a court date is set for February.
It’s crazy that one of the darkest times in my life is coinciding with one of the happiest. Dad’s locked in a prison while I’m playing house with the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
Annie helps me with farm work since the farmhand quit the day after the accident. The money I save keeps us fed and goes towards Dad’s legal fees. I doubt there’s a person in the district who would put their hand up for the job now anyway. Lucky for me, Annie’s the best farmhand I could ask for.
On Christmas Day, we skip all the festive crap that I don’t like and she doesn’t understand and head to the waterfalls outside Turram. We swim in the waterhole, and Annie squeals every time something brushes her leg. Turns out she doesn’t like eels, and to her, everything she can’t see below the surface is 100 percent an eel.
After a swim, we lie on the mossy rocks next to the running water and let the sound drown out the noise in our heads. We eat sandwiches and plums we picked from a tree on the side of the road on the way here, washing it down with Four X beer to remind ourselves that we’re Queenslanders.
It doesn’t really matter that neither of us likes it.
Over the New Year period, I also teach her how to surf, ride a motorbike solo, tie a farmer’s loop knot, use a nail gun, and drench a sheep. She helps me with the accounting stuff and comes with me to the bank. She teaches me how to cook scrambled eggs that don’t taste like rubber and ways to make the food money stretch further than it should.
We keep grocery shopping to once a week because people in Chirnside have a habit of treating us like lepers. The J-dubs cross to snub Annie, and the rest cross to avoid me. It doesn’t bother me like it does her. She tries to let go of my hand when she sees someone from her old congregation coming, and I hold on a little tighter. I’ve waited too long for the privilege, and I’m not letting go before I have to.
I hate that she cares. I hate how quiet she is when we get home, how much power these people still have over her. All I can do is love her enough for all of them—and without conditions. That’s the point, even if we fail at it sometimes. During the day, I love her in quiet ways. Then at night, under a blanket of darkness, I worship her like she’s a fucking God, until she can barely remember her name, let alone the fact that some arsehole crossed the street when they saw her coming.
The day before her birthday, I drive to Turram to buy her a present, even though she insists she doesn’t want to celebrate. I can’t get my head around the fact that she’s never had someone say ‘happy birthday’ on the day or make her a cake or let her choose what’s for dinner that night.
‘Doesn’t it annoy you that you’ve missed out?’ I ask her.
‘It’s like asking someone who’s never eaten chocolate how they feel about missing out on it. How would they know if they’ve never eaten it?’
In the morning, I bring her scrambled eggs and real coffee in bed and say ‘happy birthday’ even though she can’t look at me when I say it. Then I give her the gift.
‘It’s not a birthday present, it’s a thank-you gift,’ I tell her. ‘For all your help.’
She gives me a doubtful look but accepts it. She’s so careful unwrapping it that I can’t help but laugh.
‘What?’ she asks, face turning red.
‘Just rip it.’
She pokes me. ‘I have unwrapped presents before. I was trying to save the paper because it’s pretty.’
I raise my hands. ‘Fine. It’s your day. If you wanna spend a large portion of it removing gift wrapping, go for it.’
She suppresses a smile as the last piece of sticky tape comes away. She sets it aside and studies the box. Her face softens. Removing the cardboard sleeve, she places the wooden box on the table and lifts the glass lid, staring down at the silver clasps, earring hooks, and other bits I don’t recognise.
The smile comes, slowly. ‘This is so thoughtful. It’s almost as if you’ve been paying attention.’
‘Now you can add clasps and make earrings.’
She picks up one of the earring hooks and studies it. ‘You know, I think this might be the best birthday present I’ve ever gotten.’
I put the box aside and tackle her back onto the bed. She starts squirming and laughing so hard that her eyes are closed. She sounds happy.
‘There’s two more things we need to tick off,’ I tell her.
She opens her eyes and looks at me. ‘Which two things are they?’
‘First, I’m going to make you a birthday cake with candles.’
‘To be clear, I have blown out candles before, just not birthday ones. And won’t it be easier just to buy a cake from the bakery?’
I brush hair back from her face and kiss her. ‘Easier, sure. But every kid needs to experience a homemade lolly birthday cake.’
