Pig Boy by J.C. Burke Page A

you got potenshall, big potenshall. Ya said ya was going down to the TAFE in Mereton but ya’ve said nothink about it since.’ I keep my mouth shut. All I’m thinking about is the next problem, which isn’t leaving the house at 4 am but not knowing what time I’ll be back. The longer I’m away the more time she has to snoop. I pour an extra measure of bourbon. Maybe she’ll sleep through to the afternoon. ‘Pat, she reckons ya should take a break. What do ya think? Maybe work for a bit. I said to her I’m not sure if the mini-mart will take ya back. But they need me as a customer. Why don’t ya talk to Moe?’
    I wait until she’s had a good slug of drink, then I say, ‘I’ve actually been thinking about getting a job, taking some time off. I can sit my finals next year. In fact, I’ll probably do better next year. What happened at school has really,’ I pause while she has another guzzle, ‘unsettled me.’
    â€˜Love, I know. I can tell. You’re so jumpy.’
    â€˜It’s probably ’cause I’m not doing anything,’ I reply. ‘You know I’ve got all this energy I need to use. I suppose it used to go into my assessments and …’
    â€˜Mmm.’ She takes another sip. ‘I suppose it did, hey.’
    â€˜I’m not sure about going back to the mini-mart. It’s not physical enough. I don’t want to be cooped up inside all the time.’ My eyes flick up to Mum. She’s draining the last drops of bourbon. ‘Would you like another one?’ I smile at her. So far, so good. ‘I’ll have one with you,’ I suggest. ‘We haven’t had a drink together since I’ve been legal.’
    â€˜Well, that’d be nice, wouldn’t it.’
    I jump up to play barman again. Mum’s watching me. I can feel it. I turn around.
    â€˜On the rocks?’ I ask her.
    â€˜Why not.’
    I take the ice container out of the freezer and stand it in front of the glasses. That way Mum can’t see the two healthy nips of bourbon going into the one glass.
    â€˜Cheers.’ Standing in front of her I take a mouthful of my straight Coca Cola. ‘Whoa, a bit on the strong side,’ I lie. ‘But it’s not like we’re going anywhere.’
    â€˜I feel like I should be sayin’ somethink like a speech.’ Mum takes a sip. Her eyes blink a few times but she recovers quickly. ‘Ya know, ya loved that silk pillowcase of mine. One night Arch and I come home late from the club and ya was on the couch with it. Ya said it was the softest thing ya ever felt.’
    â€˜You let me take the pillow to bed that night.’
    â€˜Yeah?’ Mum shakes her head. She doesn’t remember what Archie whispered to her. ‘Let him take it, love, it probably makes him feel like he’s with you.’
    â€˜Do you think Archie ever thinks about us? Mum?’
    â€˜I don’t know, love.’
    I want to ask why she let him go. But this peace between us is so rare and I know it only hangs by a thread.
    The old lady sighs and reaches out her glass. ‘To my boy, eighteen years old now and havin’ a tipple with his mum. It probably don’t get better than this.’
    We clink the glasses together with a ‘cheers’.
    It’s low what I’m doing. I know that. But it’s called survival of the fittest. Darwin’s theory has elbowed its way into everything.

    My door’s open but every few minutes I take the headphones off to check that Mum’s bourbon-tinged snores are still floating down the hallway.
    It’s almost 3 am. For the last four hours I’ve been playing Rage of the Mercenary . I’m not on my game. My heart feels like I’ve sculled twenty cups of coffee, but my brain and fingers won’t cooperate and I’m pathetically slow on the keyboard. Every time Cleopatra666 shouts at me my pulse rate shoots