Ding. Dong.

Uh! Oh! I’d forgotten I was supposed to be going out with Jake tonight. We go out most evenings lately, racing his car around Bayport or hanging out at the skateboard park. It was Jake who got drunk with me last week. My parents, needless to say, hate Jake!

The front door opens. I leap out of bed, run to my door and listen.

“Hi, Mrs H, is Joe ready?”

My mother detests being called Mrs H.

Her voice is steely.

“Joe will not be coming out tonight.”

I can only imagine the look on her face right now.

“I said he is not coming out. He is grounded. That is final!”

“Oh dear, has Joe been a naughty boy. Again?”

I can hear the mocking laughter in Jake’s voice. I bet he never gets grounded. Grounded at 17. This just isn’t fair. I am not 13.

“Goodnight, Jake.” The door is forcibly shut.

I can hear Jake’s taunting voice as he goes to the car,

“Joey’s been a naughty boy, Joey’s been a naughty boy!”

And like a very stroppy 13 year old I begin to trash my room.

                          * * * * *

“I hope you are planning on cleaning this room?”

I am sitting on the floor, snot and sweat running down my face, sheer chaos all around me. I try to stand up but my legs are too wobbly. My Dad grabs my hand and helps me up, walking me over to my bed. I sink down, trembling all over. Dad pulls my chair up to the bed, clearing a trail as he does and sits down on it.

“I think you and I need to have a talk.”

He runs his hand through his hair, then leans forward, resting his arms on his legs. I can see his eyes clearly. The anger is still glinting. I am still in big trouble.

“O.K.” I mumble, my face closing over, hardening with rebellion.

“So, do you want to tell me why you attacked your brother?”

No, not really, I think to myself, beginning to rip at a fingernail.

“Do you really think that that was o.k?”

I snap.

O.K?!  What’s o.k? Iola dead?! Iola dying?!

Am I screaming this? I’m not sure. The words are exploding like machine gun fire in my mind.

Iola blown to bits! Her coffin full of stones as there was nothing left of her! Just bits of flesh and skin and bone. Just bits of her clothes. Just bits of her hair. Dust! Just dust!! Floating around!

She’s gone.

Then I feel icy fingers pushing into my brain, slowly freezing my mind. Colder. Colder. Colder.

She’s gone…they’re gone.

Chilled to the bone I stare straight at him, defying him to look away which he does, but not before I see the look of despair that shadows his face. He’s defeated, he is not going to fight.

“O.k, then”, he whispers, ”I take it you don’t want to talk.”

He goes to get off the chair, but then stops and sits back down.

“I wish you would let us try and help you, Joe. We all know you are hurting like hell, but this behaviour is not going to help…racing cars, getting drunk…”

Uh-oh.

“Yes, don’t think we didn’t notice that. You were so drunk you could barely walk. How do you think you ended up in bed? God only knows how you got home. You could have been killed!”

So…

“We know you are angry. Of course you are angry, but if you keep pushing us away we can’t help you. You tear into us at every opportunity, you talk to me like I am a piece of dog crap. You wilfully defy me. Maybe that is my job, to take all your anger but I still find it really hard, Joe. I want to make things better for you but you just seem to hate me so much. And I don’t know why…”

I can see his eyes glistening as he looks at me.

But all I feel is ice and snow and cold.

“Because it is your fault!”  My words as cold as I feel.

“Joe”, he puts a hand on my shoulder, “what’s my fault?”

I shrug off his hand and move to the back of my bed, just enough to be out of his reach. I am going to be in control now. This is my room. My safe place.

I am going to make him suffer.

“It is your fault that Iola died. I blame you. I hate you.”

His voice catches in his throat.

“How?  Why? What the hell are you on about?” His voice is nasty with fear. The air between us has frozen. There is nothing but cold, hard facts.

“It was your case. The bomb was meant for us, to get back at you. To make you suffer. Iola died because you took that case. I will never forgive you. You killed my girlfriend. I wonder if she felt any pain? I don’t know. I pray she didn’t. But I hope in the middle of the night you feel those flames scorching your skin. You smell that smoke and the burning flesh. You hear her screams. And just know how much I hate you.”  I spit every word in his face.

Then there is nothing left to say to him. He knows it all now, well nearly all. There is a mist in front of my eyes, swirling pictures of a long haired girl riding a horse, a long haired girl holding my hand and softly telling me her secret…

I hear his chair being scraped back and his faltering steps going out of the door.

Exhausted beyond belief, I lie back then turn over and bury my head in my pillow. Too tired to fight anymore my sobs tear through my throat, threatening to choke me.

“I want Iola. I want our baby”…

“What did you just say?”

A gentle hand touches my shoulder.  Frank!  When did he come in?

I lie still, forcing down my sobs.

“I said, what did you just say?”

Rolling over, I cover my eyes with my arm, not bothering to stop the tears flooding out. I am not sobbing now but, weirdly, the tears are still pouring relentlessly, making my ears all wet.

The bed sinks as he sits down next to me.

“Joe, what did you mean? You were talking about Iola…and a baby.”

Lying still and silent, I pray, “Please work this out, big brother. I can’t say it. Please…”

“Joe”, his voice low and concerned, “tell me if I’m being stupid here, but…Iola, was she…pregnant?”

Another long, very heavy silence.

“Oh, God, Joe! She was, wasn’t she?”

A moan escapes my lips, then a sort of wail, then all of a sudden I am howling and screaming, blindly reaching out for my brother. I feel his arms go around me, I feel his hand stroking my hair, I feel him kissing the top of my head.

“I want her back, Frank. I want them both back!”

And I cry and I cry and I cry.

I cry for myself. I cry for Iola. I cry for Frank and that black eye I gave him. I even cry for my parents sitting quietly hurting downstairs. And I cry for our baby.  My baby.  Growing secretly and silently. Loved by its parents.

Iola and I.

Epilogue

Obviously, I didn’t go on that computer course today. How could I? Joe may think that I am a geek and a study freak but I couldn’t leave him like this. He’s my little brother. I love him even if he’s given me one hell of a black eye. Oh, yes, and nearly throttled me! Mom and Dad were fine about it. I think they are quite relieved not to be left alone with Joe. I feel really sorry for them. They just haven’t a clue what to do with him. But then, they don’t know the whole story. Maybe he should tell them, it might help Dad understand. But then, Joe is right, if Dad hadn’t taken that case…

So, we came to the creek today instead. He’s over there, sitting on the bank, splashing his feet in the stream. Like a kid. He is a kid. He still reads comics and rides his skateboard, he still has to watch the cartoons on a Saturday before he’ll do anything else. A child who was going to be a Dad. Once upon a time, before the fairytale turned bad.

I leave my spot under the tree and go and sit next to him, watching him absently pull the petals off buttercups, dropping them into the water.

“Hi”, I say quietly.

“Hi”.

Looking down I see my reflection in the water. Boy, do I look bad!

“Guess I won’t be attracting much female attention for a while, unless I go for the sympathy vote.” I gingerly touch the vicious, purple bruise.

I hear Joe gulp loudly.

“I’m so sorry, Frank, I’ve been so hateful”. His voice is just a whisper. I give his shoulder a squeeze as we watch the ripples.

“No sweat, little brother,” I reply.

“Ready to go?”

“I guess so, I am feeling a bit hungry.” Joe actually smiles. Putting on his trainers he scatters the last of the yellow petals into the creek.

The two boys walk slowly and companionably back to their car. Pausing briefly, Joe turns back to the creek and waves shyly. The smiling young girl with the long hair and the chubby blond baby boy in her arms wave back before dissolving into sunlight dusty with pollen and the smell of pink grapefruit.

THE END