foam. Reaching Ben easily, they float together in the undulating blue.
“So you had another late one last night?” Dad shades his face with a hat and from beneath it his voice is muffled.
“Yes. Very late.”
“Your mother worries, you know.” Hesitancy overcomes him, as if filled with ambivalence over the lecture he’s about to give.
“She doesn’t need to worry, Dad. I can take care of myself.”
“She stays awake until you’re home though, Sam. Every single time.”
I glare at him through the hat, still obscuring his face. “I don’t go out that much, Dad. It’s pretty rare actually.”
“Look, go out and have fun, but just let us know where you’re going, and what time you’ll be home. She does care, you know.”
I sigh audibly. “Do you think? You know what, Dad? She doesn’t give a shit. That’s the whole thing. She acts like she does, but her criticisms get in the way. Every time. Her negativity. The way she holes up in the dark for days at a time. Sometimes weeks. She’s done it forever. For as long as I can remember, that’s how she’s been.”
“You’re being too hard on her, Sam. And you can’t blame her for that. She can’t help it. You know that. We’ve all had to deal with her illness over the years. But if you met her half-way, you’d be pleasantly surprised.”
“I very much doubt it. Because when it comes to her, nothing surprises me, Dad. Nothing . Her need for control. Her manipulation. I’m sick of it, Dad. Really bloody sick of it.”
He pulls the hat from his face and his eyes are out on stalks. “Steady on. She might be difficult, but she does care.”
I shake my head angrily. “Well, it doesn’t feel that way. And Ben’s got it worse. Far worse. Because he succumbs to the pressure to be perfect. I honestly don’t know how he stands it.”
Dad fires across a glary, wounded look, then closes his eyes and re-positions the hat to hide his face. That way he doesn’t have to accept the truth, knowing there’s accuracy in what I say.
And all I really want to do right now is stand up and leave. Smother the anger, rising like bile in my throat. But I don’t. Because it’s Dad.
***
At home, the first thing I do is check where Mum is. I find her in the kitchen, preparing a festive lunch for the prodigal son. Shaken by the conversation with Dad, I slink off to the shower, a safe haven from her wrath. Both Ben and Dad have been at me, and no doubt it’s stemmed from her. I hide in my room for what seems an eternity. Avoidance is often the best policy. Especially when it comes to her . When Jack arrives I plan to intercept him on the driveway, before he makes it to the door.
At two o’clock his ute pulls into the street. It’s diesel and all rattly like the tray has come loose on the back. Creeping to the front door, I dash outside, taking the front steps two at a time and bolting like a wild horse across the lawn.
Jack looks curiously through the windscreen, seeming to take in my bizarre behaviour all at once. “You okay?”
I jump in beside him. “Yeah, I’m good. Quick ... let’s go,” I break off, motioning for him to reverse.
“Sam!” she calls from the front door, gesticulating for me to come back.
I wind down the window. “Going to pick up my car, Mum.”
She frowns and calls something I thankfully can’t hear.
Jack reverses onto the road, sensing the urgency and taking off fast. So fast the wheels spin on our loose gravel drive. “What’s going on?” he asks when we’re far enough away.
“I’m avoiding my mother. I got in late last night. She stayed up waiting so she’s not too happy.”
He raises a brow in disbelief. “Aren’t you old enough to do what you want?”
“You’d think.” I glance at him, feeling like an explanation is required. Especially as he was involved in the get-away. “She’s not easy, my mother.”
He nods, lowering his brow sympathetically.
“It’s like she wants me to be something
“So you had another late one last night?” Dad shades his face with a hat and from beneath it his voice is muffled.
“Yes. Very late.”
“Your mother worries, you know.” Hesitancy overcomes him, as if filled with ambivalence over the lecture he’s about to give.
“She doesn’t need to worry, Dad. I can take care of myself.”
“She stays awake until you’re home though, Sam. Every single time.”
I glare at him through the hat, still obscuring his face. “I don’t go out that much, Dad. It’s pretty rare actually.”
“Look, go out and have fun, but just let us know where you’re going, and what time you’ll be home. She does care, you know.”
I sigh audibly. “Do you think? You know what, Dad? She doesn’t give a shit. That’s the whole thing. She acts like she does, but her criticisms get in the way. Every time. Her negativity. The way she holes up in the dark for days at a time. Sometimes weeks. She’s done it forever. For as long as I can remember, that’s how she’s been.”
“You’re being too hard on her, Sam. And you can’t blame her for that. She can’t help it. You know that. We’ve all had to deal with her illness over the years. But if you met her half-way, you’d be pleasantly surprised.”
“I very much doubt it. Because when it comes to her, nothing surprises me, Dad. Nothing . Her need for control. Her manipulation. I’m sick of it, Dad. Really bloody sick of it.”
He pulls the hat from his face and his eyes are out on stalks. “Steady on. She might be difficult, but she does care.”
I shake my head angrily. “Well, it doesn’t feel that way. And Ben’s got it worse. Far worse. Because he succumbs to the pressure to be perfect. I honestly don’t know how he stands it.”
Dad fires across a glary, wounded look, then closes his eyes and re-positions the hat to hide his face. That way he doesn’t have to accept the truth, knowing there’s accuracy in what I say.
And all I really want to do right now is stand up and leave. Smother the anger, rising like bile in my throat. But I don’t. Because it’s Dad.
***
At home, the first thing I do is check where Mum is. I find her in the kitchen, preparing a festive lunch for the prodigal son. Shaken by the conversation with Dad, I slink off to the shower, a safe haven from her wrath. Both Ben and Dad have been at me, and no doubt it’s stemmed from her. I hide in my room for what seems an eternity. Avoidance is often the best policy. Especially when it comes to her . When Jack arrives I plan to intercept him on the driveway, before he makes it to the door.
At two o’clock his ute pulls into the street. It’s diesel and all rattly like the tray has come loose on the back. Creeping to the front door, I dash outside, taking the front steps two at a time and bolting like a wild horse across the lawn.
Jack looks curiously through the windscreen, seeming to take in my bizarre behaviour all at once. “You okay?”
I jump in beside him. “Yeah, I’m good. Quick ... let’s go,” I break off, motioning for him to reverse.
“Sam!” she calls from the front door, gesticulating for me to come back.
I wind down the window. “Going to pick up my car, Mum.”
She frowns and calls something I thankfully can’t hear.
Jack reverses onto the road, sensing the urgency and taking off fast. So fast the wheels spin on our loose gravel drive. “What’s going on?” he asks when we’re far enough away.
“I’m avoiding my mother. I got in late last night. She stayed up waiting so she’s not too happy.”
He raises a brow in disbelief. “Aren’t you old enough to do what you want?”
“You’d think.” I glance at him, feeling like an explanation is required. Especially as he was involved in the get-away. “She’s not easy, my mother.”
He nods, lowering his brow sympathetically.
“It’s like she wants me to be something
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