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Annie
The phone rings after school, and I can tell it’s Dad by Mum’s stilted responses. I can also tell the second he asks after Bridget, because she turns slightly away so I can’t see her face.
‘No, Tom. No one has heard from her.’
Mum believes Bridget’s lost and miserable without Jehovah—or perhaps she hopes. After all, my sister won’t come back if she finds happiness out there. But I don’t want her to be lost and miserable. I want her to prove everyone wrong.
‘Hi,’ I say into the phone when Mum hands it to me.
‘Hey. How was school?’
And so begins our safe exchange. He has a way of asking about my life but never about me. He never asks how I am. I think he’s afraid that I’ll answer truthfully. In turn, I don’t ask about the Super Mario music I can hear in the background, sounds that make my stomach sink all the way to my feet.
Replacing a wife is one thing. Replacing your children is…
‘I’ll give you a buzz before exams,’ he says, wrapping up the conversation.
‘What for?’ I realise I sound like a snooty thirteen-year-old.
There’s a long, uncomfortable silence before I hear, ‘Because I’m your dad, and I want to wish you luck.’
I press my eyes shut. ‘I only need to pass.’
‘Just because you’ve decided not to go to uni, that doesn’t mean you don’t try.’
He makes it sound like it was my choice. ‘That’s exactly what it means.’
He sighs into the phone.
‘I’ve spoken to Maggie about next year,’ I tell him. ‘I’ll be working there four days a week starting from January.’ The fifth day will be spent doing field service.
‘Well, if that’s what you want, what’ll make you happy, then I support you.’
He knows the decision has nothing to do with happiness. Very few people grow up dreaming of being a sales assistant in a field they have no interest in. My happiness will supposedly come from serving Jehovah. That’s what I’ve been told all my life.
After I hang up the phone, I tell Mum I’m going to feed Charlie.
‘Everything all right with your dad?’ she asks.
I nod. ‘Yeah.’
She doesn’t want the truth anyway.
I head outside, drawing greedy lungfuls of air. As I’m nearing the paddock, I hear a motorbike idling in the distance. I bypass Charlie and go down to the creek. Kevin’s sitting in the tall grass, holding his head, the motorbike on its side a few feet from him. Something feels off about the scene.
‘You all right?’ I call across the water.
He looks up, and I see his face is streaked with blood. My breath catches. A moment later, I’m crossing the railroad tie bridge and jogging up the hill towards him. He blinks in my direction.
‘Did you come off?’ I ask, crouching beside him. The smell of drink almost has me standing again. My throat closes in protest.
‘Bloody bike,’ Kevin mutters. ‘Wheels need aligning.’
I inspect the cut above his ear. There’s so much blood it’s difficult to tell how bad it is. ‘You might need stitches.’
‘No stitches.’
It’s clear I’m not going to get him to a doctor. ‘Is Hunter home?’
