The Story of Tom Brennan

by J. C. Burke

  For a while we didn't speak. I wasn't a mind-reader but I reckon Brendan was having the same thoughts as me. How did we end up here? If only things had been different, turning the clock back, all that type of stuff.

  Finally he spoke. 'Apparently Dan's in a bad way.'

  'No one tells me anything.'

  'Look, I don't know if anyone knows that much. That's why they went on their own today. Find out what's going on. At least it gets your mum out of bed.'

  'That's the only thing that does,' I scoffed.

  And I didn't want to say any more about it. I switched on the radio and fiddled for a station.

  We crossed the Dungog River, the tyres bumping over each ridge. In another hour or so we'd be able to smell salt in the air.

  As a kid, this had been the smell of excitement, a reprieve from the scorching inland heat and Gran's nagging. A day mucking around in the ocean – boogie boards, meat pies, ice-blocks, burying each other in the sand – then driving home in the evening, licking the salt from our burnt skin. Pa was slack with the SPF 30, he used to say a bit of sun never hurt anyone. We didn't argue. We'd grab our boogie boards and run.

  I must've smiled 'cause Brendan said, 'What are you smirking about?'

  'I was thinking about when we used to come and stay in the Christmas holidays and Pa'd take us to the beach.'

  'Yeah.' Brendan smiled too.

  'We'd always go to Aralen. To Maine's Beach.'

  'Dad's favourite, and close to the Aralen TAB,' Brendan added. 'I reckon he did some of his biggest bets at the Aralen TAB, where nobody knew him.'

  'He'd make us wait in the car and we'd be busting to get to the beach. Sometimes he'd be ages and we'd be boiling.'

  'We've all been there, Tom.'

  'One time Daniel got out of the car and went for a walk or something. He was gone a long time and Kylie and I got really scared. We panicked and ran into the TAB to tell Pa. I still remember Pa saying, "I'll skin that boy alive."'

  'Bet he didn't!'

  'He got into a bit of trouble. I remember that 'cause I copped it from him afterwards for dobbing.'

  A memory that must've been eight years old surfaced with such clearness it was like watching a home video in my head: Daniel swimming towards me, snarling, 'You dobber.'

  'Get lost,' I yelled back.

  'No, you get lost, dobber. Dobber, dobber, dobber.' He was getting closer and had that dark look only Daniel got, where his eyes flashed and looked evil and freakish. 'You know what happens to dobbers?'

  'Get off.' I started to punch the water but he kept swimming towards me.

  'Dobbers get punished,' he shouted, punching back with such force I didn't dare take a breath or I'd cop a mouthful of water. 'I'm going to get you, you dobber.'

  He managed to grab my foot. I tried to kick him off but his eleven years had an advantage over my nine. He dragged me towards him and held onto the back of my hair.

  'I'm gonna kill you.' And by the look on his face I believed him.

  He pushed my head under the water. I struggled under the weight of his hands, and each time I nearly surfaced he'd shove me under again, his grip firmer.

  Who knows how long he held me under? A minute, maybe fifteen seconds. What I can remember is the feeling of my head wanting to explode and how silent it was under the water.

  The Royal Prince Charles Hospital in Aralen had a better than average spinal unit, and that's where Fin had pretty much been since August last year. Except for intensive care where he'd spent a couple of weeks when things were touch and go.

  Dad took me to see Fin the third day after the accident. I found out later they didn't think he was going to make it. I can't recall any conversation. What had just happened to our families was so enormous, so beyond any comprehension, that all we could do was stand around, stunned and silent, watching Fin and a machine that heaved and clicked with each breath it took for him.

  'Hey, Tom!'

  And here he was six months later. His hair had grown back and he could breathe for himself. But he'd never be the real Fin, the Fin I knew.

  'How's it going, bro?'

  'Fin,' I said shoving my hand in my back pocket, stopping the instinct to slap his like we'd always done. 'How are you goin', mate?'

  'Not bad. They're talking about moving me to rehab.'

  'Yeah, the old man told me.'

  'Is he with you?'

  'Nah. I came up with Brendan, he's just gone to the dunny.'

  'Take a pew, mate.'

  On the back of Fin's bed read a sign, 'Finbar O'Neil, C5 incomplete injury.'

  I don't know why they just didn't write 'quadraplegic'.

  He must've seen me looking. 'You checking out my new mate?'

  'Hey?' Next to the sign was one of The Grandmother's holy cards. 'Yeah.' I pointed to the serene face. 'Who's the dude?'

  'One of Gran's boyfriends,' grinned Fin. It was a joke we had. Fin got a flogging once when Gran heard him calling Saint Christopher her boyfriend.

  'I figured that,' I told him. 'But which one?'

  At least we still had Gran's saints to laugh about. It wasn't much but it was something.

  'I don't think you've met Saint Osmond.'

  'Don't believe I have.' I found myself chuckling. 'What's he the boss of?'

  'Osmond, my boy, is the patron saint of paralysis.'

  Suddenly it wasn't funny.

  I looked around the empty room pretending my head wasn't starting to spin out of control. 'Where are the others?'

  'The orderlies've been having a slack day. They wheeled the fellas out into the sun so they can have a smoke, check out the nurses having their lunchbreak. Just 'cause it ain't working doesn't mean you've forgotten.'

  'Yeah?' I didn't know how to respond to that either. This was Fin's new world. 'Is Martin still in this room?'

  'Marvin,' corrected Fin. 'He went to the rehab unit two weeks ago. You're down on the action, mate.'

  'Yeah?'

  'Marv's replacement's a real beauty. Lucky for us he can't move or he'd be trying to murder someone.'

  I opened my mouth then closed it. I'd run out of comebacks.

  Fin filled the silence. 'So, the Brennans moved.'

  'Yeah.' I wiped the sweat off my forehead.

  'You're a Coghill boy now.' There was something about the way his top lip curled. 'Who would've thought.'

  I swallowed hard.

  'Sorry, mate.' Fin looked away. 'Didn't mean it to sound harsh. Just got too much time up here.'

  'It's okay,' I mumbled.

  'Wasn't your fault, mate.'

  I shrugged and stared at my feet.

  'I was thinking about it last night.' Fin's voice was soft. 'That's all I seem to do at night, think. The nights are so long in this place. I hate them. My head goes off and I can't shut it down. I get real scared.' He stared at the ceiling. 'Do you think about it much?'

  My back straightened in the chair.

  'Do you?'

  'Yeah.' I could hardly make my voice work.

  'I mean the actual night? Do you think about that night?'

  'The whole fucking mess,' I whispered.

  'I couldn't remember much for ages, but lately I've been remembering really stupid little things.'

  I didn't want to go there. Not with Fin, not with anyone. But there were rules, that I understood. One of the rules was listening to anything Fin wanted to say. It was part of the deal.

  'Sounds weird,' continued Fin, 'but mostly I can see Dan's face. The way he looked that night.'

  I nodded.

  I wondered how much Fin did know. I'd even prayed a couple of times that there was stuff he'd never remember. The doctors told Aunty Kath he'd lost a fair bit of memory and perhaps'd never get it back. Maybe not for Fin, but for the rest of us, it was better that way.

  'I got this picture in my head of Dan swaying and yelling. You know that look he gets?' I could tell by his lips curling down at the edges that this was hard for him. How could it not be, Fin lost e
verything that night. 'That look he gets when he's angry. Really angry. There's something in his eyes that says, "Fuck all of you."' Fin licked his cracked lips and swallowed. 'I can remember walking out of the hall too. I think I was looking for Claire.' His eyes rolled up to the ceiling. They stayed there a while before he looked down and at me. 'Dan had you up against a telegraph pole, didn't he?'

  I nodded.

  'Yeah,' Fin whispered.

  '"You grovelling little prick."'

  'Huh?'

  'That's what Dan said to me.' My heart felt like it was being squeezed up my throat. '"You grovelling little prick."'

  'I don't remember that, Tom.'

  'I do.'

  Brendan and Aunty Kath walked into the ward, their arms around each other. Even the Cancer Council sunnies that sat huge on Aunty Kath's face couldn't hide her red nose. Brendan went over to Fin while Aunty Kath wrapped her arms around me and squeezed me tight.

  'Tom! It's so good to see you.' You'd describe Aunty Kath as solid; she had the wide frame of Gran, whereas Mum had finer bones.

  As Aunty Kath took a step back to inspect me, I noticed the muscles in her arms were big, like a bloke's. Her biceps had to be twice the size of mine. It hit me that it was from all the lifting and rolling of Fin.

  'You look too skinny,' she scolded me. 'Aren't they feeding you at Coghill?'

  I felt my face go red.

  'Mum keeps cooking lamb's fry for them,' piped up Brendan.

  'Lamb's fry! Hasn't she got over that phase yet?'

  'I offered to cook the other night and she looked at me like I was some sort of moron.'

  Brendan and Aunty Kath launched into a dissection of Gran's cooking disasters and the lamb's fry farts Pa used to do. I sat down watching them, wondering how they managed to look so relaxed in a place like this. I felt so tense. All I wanted to do was go back to my room, back to the darkness of the cave.

  One of the patients was wheeled back in. You could smell the shit. They drew the curtains around his bed and I heard him groan.

  'Let's get you sorted, mate,' one of the orderlies said.

  'Fuck off,' he started to scream. 'You arseholes. Get the fuck away from me.'

  I didn't want to think what they were doing behind there. I looked over at Fin. He was watching me.

  'That's my new neighbour,' he said, his face staring into mine. Then he sighed and looked away. 'Come on, Brendan, I think Tom's had enough.'

  'No. No.' I found myself frantically shaking my head. 'I'm okay. I might, um, just go to the dunny.'

  The toilets were empty. I turned on the tap and put my head under, drenching my face and hair, tasting the water mixed with my sweat and fear.

  I banged my head on the mirror, the dull thud bouncing off the walls. It should've been a happy night. It should've been a great party. There was so much to celebrate. Thanks to Fin we thought we'd escaped sudden death. But we were wrong; instead we'd walked into it.

  As Snorter steered the Statesman around that last bend, I was still me, Tom Brennan – Year Eleven, middle child, happy, free, no fuss type of bloke. Didn't think about much except my mates and footy.

  But as we turned the corner and the headlights shone on Daniel's blue Falcon up on its side against a tree, the front tyre still spinning, everything I thought I knew about who I was and who the Brennans were changed forever.

  I jumped out of the car and started running. The driver's door was open and I could see the silhouette of Daniel stumbling towards the bush, his arms wrapped around his head. The sound of leaves and twigs snapping under his feet echoed through the night sky.

  'Daniel,' I screamed. 'Daniel!'

  SIX

  By the time we left Fin and Kath at the hospital, Brendan and I couldn't be bothered going for a surf. It was hot enough, but seeing Fin took up every ounce of energy. Even a swim seemed like too much effort. I wanted to go home or to Gran's, wherever home was now, and stare into space. Brendan must've felt the same 'cause the way he looked at me and sighed, 'Do you really want to go for a swim, Tom?' said it all.

  So we were back in the car driving. Another great weekend. The gaol run or the hospital run – take your pick.

  'How do you reckon he was?' asked Brendan.

  'Dunno.'

  'Come on, Tom, you must've noticed something. You haven't seen him in a while.'

  I wrapped my hand around my jaw. 'He's starting to remember stuff.'

  'You mean about the accident?'

  'Mostly before, I think.'

  'Be weird, loosing a huge chunk out of your memory.'

  Be good, I thought.

  'He was conscious the whole time, wasn't he?' Brendan asked.

  'Pretty much,' I swallowed hard. My hand ran down to my throat and held it tightly.

  'He was lucky to have you there, Tom. Even if he doesn't remember.'

  I gazed out the window. 'I'm glad he doesn't remember,' I mumbled.

  The lady who counselled Matt, Snorter and me said when the memories come back, let them in, look at them, then move on. But I didn't want to let them in. Why would I want to hear or see that stuff again? The fear in Fin's eyes, the empty stare of Luke, the way Nicole looked like she was sleeping. Or what about the sound of Fin whispering, 'I can't feel nothing,' over and over again. The police siren coming down the track, the metal cutters as they hacked away at the car, Daniel sobbing and chucking in the bushes. No thanks, I could do without those memories. Running towards the car. Running into the headlights. Running into the silence of death . . .

  'Daniel,' I screamed, throwing myself out of the Statesman before it'd even stopped. 'Daniel!'

  I could see the silhouette of Daniel's body running into the bushes like a silver light streaking through the trees.

  'Daniel! Stop!'

  'Leave him,' Matt yelled, his footsteps fast behind me. 'We've got to get to the others.'

  The Statesman burned off.

  'Snorter?' I cried.

  'He can't get a fucking phone signal.' I heard Matt's voice crack through heavy breath. 'He's trying to ring an ambulance.'

  'Shit!'

  Running to the car seemed to take forever but when we got there I stopped. What were we going to do?

  Matt seemed to know. I followed him as he frantically moved around the mangled wreck, trying to get a look in the cracked and shattered windows.

  'Stay there,' he shouted, running around to the side of the car that'd smashed into the ground, the blue metal folded around the tree.

  A muffled noise like a cry was coming from inside. I don't know how, I still didn't know if Fin was even in the car, but instantly I knew that sound was him.

  'Fin? Fin! Finny, is that you?'

  But while my voice called to Fin, my head shrieked for Daniel.

  Daniel? Where's Daniel? Why is he running away? Come back. We need you. I need you. You can't leave me here on my own. Come back!

  'Fuck!' Matt started to scream. 'Fuck! Fuck! No! No! No!'

  The shriek of Matt's discovery rang through the black night's sky.

  We held onto each other, our sobs and choking breath not the only sounds to be heard. For louder than us, much louder, was the piercing silence of the dead.

  I had never seen a dead person but Luke and Nicole were so still. There was no mistaking it.

  'Tom?' The muffled cry again.

  'Fin?' Matt and I searched the wreck. 'Fin? Fin?'

  It seemed so crazy, but we couldn't see him in the car. The seats, the steering wheel, the windscreen, the bonnet, the doors, the roof – the whole car was crushed into itself, yet the headlights still shined on the ghost gums up ahead. We only had his voice to guide us.

  'Here,' he tried to call. 'I'm under here.'

  'Fin!'

  I could just see the top of Fin's head poking out of what was probably one of the back doors. It was like he was lying on the floor, the seats and metal crushed on top of him. At least down there he couldn't see the others: Nicole, her head resting gently on her shoulde
r, and Luke sitting quietly, staring into nothingness.

  I crouched on the ground so I didn't have to look at them. Gently I touched the top of Fin's head.

  'I'm here, Fin,' I choked, frantically trying to swallow my sobs. 'I'm here.'

  I ran my hand across his hair, touching the sticky wet blood like jelly on my fingers. 'Oh shit! Shit,' I cried, wiping my hands on my jeans.

  'I, I can't feel nothing,' Fin moaned. 'Nothing.'

  'Can you feel that?' I placed my palm firmly over the top of his head. 'Can you feel that, Fin?'

  'Kind of,' he whispered.

  'It's okay, mate.' I didn't believe those words but I kept saying them 'cause I didn't know what else to say. 'It's okay, Finny. It's okay. Help'll be here soon.'

  'Daniel?' His voice was shaking. 'What about the, the . . .?'

  'It's okay, Fin,' I wept. I couldn't answer that question. 'It's okay. Everything's okay.'

  Somewhere in the bush, hard to say how far away, I could hear the painful sound of groaning, retching sobs. It was Daniel but I couldn't go to him. Part of me wanted to, the other part didn't. I knew I had to stay with Fin, stay with the mess Daniel had made. Yet a voice inside of me was screaming, 'He's alive, he's alive. Daniel's alive.'

  Other sounds came in the distance. Sirens. Police, police rescue and ambulances following the Statesman down the track.

  'They're coming!' Matt shouted, running towards the noise. 'I can hear them, Tom. They're coming! They're coming!'

  It was almost morning by the time they cut Fin out of the car, the metal cutters breaking the laugh of the kooka-burras as dawn shed its light on the damage that had been done.

  I sat with Fin nearly the entire time, talking, trying to comfort him, even though the terror I felt inside threatened to choke and steal my words. Every now and then Fin didn't answer, and as panic overtook me the paramedic explained calmly that Fin was drifting in and out of consciousness.

  The rescue blokes had cut away enough metal for the paramedics to put in drips and tubes and enough for me to see the fear in Fin's eyes. Nicole and Luke had been taken away but Fin wasn't aware of that, thank God.

  Dad had arrived, and in the distance I'd been conscious of him and the police trying to coax Daniel out of the bush. I saw them leave in a police car. I think they said they were going to the hospital.