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Hunter
It’s one of those car trips where you pull up at your destination and realise you don’t remember anything about the drive. Did I stop at all the stop signs? Give way when I was supposed to? The fact that Dad is already waiting outside for me is a strong indicator of the speed I was travelling. Well under the limit, it seems.
The sight of him in regular clothes is enough to make me choke up. There’s no guard with him. He’s free to walk to the car and drive away with me. And when we get home, he won’t go straight to the fridge for a beer. He won’t pass out before dinner. He’ll be sober, and I’m going to make sure he stays that way.
He spots me and heads for the car. I’m not sure whether I’m supposed to get out, maybe hug him. But the closer he gets, the more I realise that I’m not emotionally stable enough for that. So I sit in the car and wait for him to climb in.
‘Sorry I’m late,’ I say when he closes the door.
‘All good.’ He brushes a finger down his nose. ‘I haven’t been waiting long.’
I look over at him. ‘I guess you don’t have any stuff that needs to go in the back?’
He shakes his head. ‘Need to get used to having things in my pockets again. And wearing jeans.’
I start the ute and pull away from the entrance, relieved that I won’t be back here again—hopefully.
On the drive home, we talk about the farm, like we always do, but then he asks, ‘So Sammy’s happy to stay on?’
I nod. ‘He can do it all now. I’ve basically retired.’
Dad chuckles. ‘I’ll have to build my strength up again so I can be of some use around the place.’
‘That’ll make for a refreshing change.’ The words fall out of me before I can catch them. ‘That was a bit harsh, sorry.’
He looks around. ‘Harsh but fair. I haven’t been much use to anyone for a while. It’ll be different now.’
I really want to believe that. ‘When’s your parole officer coming by?’
‘I need to report to the community corrections centre within the next two days.’
We pull out onto the main road. ‘And you understand all the conditions? You’ve got them written down or something?’
He looks at me properly for the first time. ‘I know you’ve had to shoulder a lot of this stuff over the years, but it’s not on you anymore. I’ll manage everything myself from this point on. You can put that stuff out of your head and focus on what’s next for you.’
My hands work the steering wheel. ‘Someone needs to make sure you stay sober. That can’t fall to Sammy.’
‘It falls to me.’
I blink. ‘Given your track record—’
‘Pull the ute over.’
I glance at him, confused. ‘What?’
‘I said pull over.’
I indicate and stop the car on a gravelly stretch of grass.
‘Get out,’ he says, opening the door and climbing out.
At first I don’t move, but his pissed-off stance has me reaching for the handle a moment later.
‘What’s wrong?’ I ask as I approach.
He turns to face me, jaw set. ‘I should’ve thanked you. Before all this, I should’ve thanked you for everything you did. And I probably should’ve apologised a lot more than I did.’
I cross my arms. ‘I didn’t need your gratitude or meaningless apologies.’
