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Jake sighs. “I think he blames himself. You know, because he was in the car and he survived but dad’s…” his voice trails off.
“That’s ridiculous!” I look over at Jake in surprise. “It was the drunk driver who…wait, are you saying he wishes he were…” I can’t finish my sentence.
“I don’t know.” Jake shakes his head. “He just makes these comments like,whyDad,why not him.I don’t think he means it. I mean, shit, it could have been him driving if they weren’t running late, but Dad had this thing about learner drivers not driving when we’re in a hurry… I don’t know, but he won’t talk to me about it.” With only fifteen months between the two of them, Jake and Oliver are close. Besides me, Jake’s the only other person Oliver confides in.
“Mum’s really worried about him,” Sam says. “She wants him to go talk to someone – like a professional or something, but he won’t. Stubborn arse. He thinks because he’s eighteen in a couple months he’s an adult and he can work it out on his own. He needs to realise it’s not weak to ask for help.” Being four years older than Jake, Sam moved away for university when Oliver was fourteen and they barely have anything in common. Because of that he sometimes acts like a bit of a pompous jackass, but today is not the day to be thinking these things.
“What about you guys?” I ask, looking back and forth between the two of them. “How are you doing?”
Sam shrugs. “Still can’t believe it’s real, I guess.”
“Yeah.” Jake sniffs. “I keep turning around to tell him something or ask a question, but then I forget he’s not here anymore.”
“And your mum?”
Michelle stands across the yard with a couple of men who worked for Mr Johnson’s landscaping business.
“She’s just trying to make out like everything’s okay, you know? Trying to be normal.” Sam clears his throat. “I know it’s killing her though. She cries all the time when she thinks we can’t hear her.”
“I’m so sorry, guys.” Silence settles over us and we sit there lost in our own thoughts. “I should go check on Oli.”
I make my way inside, relishing the cold blast from the air conditioner. The Christmas tree in the corner of the living room brings on a fresh wave of tears and I can’t imagine how difficult it will be for them to celebrate Christmas only a few days after laying their husband and father to rest. I help myself to a tissue off the kitchen bench and wipe my eyes before making my way down the hall to Oliver’s bedroom.
I knock before letting myself in. After thirteen years of friendship, this bedroom is like my second home. My best friend lays on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. I step over the clothes strewn over the floor and pick up the copy of Dustin Martin’s biography, placing it on his cluttered desk. After moving his footy bag off the chair, I sit down at his desk. There’s a photo of him and his family at Sea World during their holiday to Queensland earlier in the year. The five of them grin at the camera beside a seal posing with a ball balanced on his nose. Tears prick my eyes as I pick it up off the desk, studying their happy faces. This was the last family holiday they would take with Mr Johnson.
“Sam and Jake won money at the casino.” Oliver’s despondent voice startles me, and I almost drop the frame.
“Huh?”
“Sam and Jake.” He rolls over to look at me. “I was pissed I couldn’t get in because I’m underage and they went without me. I was stuck with Mum and Dad back at the hotel. They felt bad afterwards so the next day they paid for us all to do the seal experience at Sea World.”
“That was nice of them.”
“Uh huh.”
Despite the ceiling fan whirring above us, Oliver’s bedroom is hot and stuffy. I move over to the window, almost tripping over his sneakers, and slide it open. A warm breeze tickles my skin.
“I want to say something,” I choke out, trying not to cry again. “But I don’t know–”
“There is no right thing to say.” Oliver sighs. “It’s just a shitty, fucked up mess.”
“I want to help,” I say in a small voice.
“I know.” He pats the bed next to him. “You’re helping by being here.”
I make my way over and lay down next to him. My hand falls between us, brushing against his, and he clasps it, interlocking our fingers. A jolt of electricity passes between us, and, for a moment, I wonder if he can feel it too, but then I push the thoughts aside.He’s my friend. My best friend. That’s it.I close my eyes.
“Hannah?”
“Hmmm?”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Being my best friend. My life would suck without you.”
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