Will

by Maria Boyd

  I tried to get things back to normal.

  So I suppose I’ll see you at the pizza place once you’ve said hello to everyone?

  No, I don’t think I’ll be going tonight.

  He continued to stare at me, his face unreadable.

  Right.

  We both looked at one another, neither one of us saying anything. Quiet. He wasn’t going to speak first, it had to come from me. I took a deep breath.

  Mark, I’m sorry.

  His eyes flashed, the first sign of a reaction.

  Sorry for what I didn’t do the other day. At the tuckshop, you know when those—

  He cut me off. Yeah, yeah, I know what you’re talking about, Will. What have you got to be sorry about? You didn’t have to do anything, you weren’t involved.

  That’s the point, Mark, I wasn’t involved and I made bloody sure I wasn’t. Then when you tried to talk to me afterwards I dogged you completely.

  He fired up now.

  Look, Will, as far as the tuckshop incident was concerned, I dealt with it. Those wankers won’t say anything to me again because they’re cowards.

  He turned to walk away, then thought better of it.

  But you know what I thought you might have apologized for? For treating me like I was some sort of freak in the quad. You said it, Will, you did completely dog me. It was pretty obvious you didn’t want anyone to know we had anything to do with each other. So why is it so different now? Because no one can see us? That’s not being a mate, Will! I don’t even treat people I can’t stand like that.

  Silenced. Burning.

  Mark, I …

  Yeah, you’re sorry. But you know that’s a bullshit easy word to say, especially when you’ve already said it once. It doesn’t mean anything unless you back it up with what you do.

  With that he turned away and walked toward the crowds of people who wanted to congratulate him. I stood there not knowing what to do or say.

  Round two

  I felt myself engulfed in a bear hug of the kind I’d had all my life.

  I told you I had every reason to be proud of your accomplishments.

  Round two and I was still reeling from the KO Mark had just served. I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to stay upright.

  Thanks. I tried to deflect Mum’s praise. I couldn’t stand any more. But it’s those guys who should get the biggest rap.

  Just as I said this Elizabeth looked in my direction and waved. All week I had waited for the next time I saw her but not now! Please not now! She made her way over.

  I began to feel the familiar reddening of my cheeks.

  Goodness, dear, you look a little flushed all of a sudden, maybe you haven’t fully recovered.

  Hey, Will.

  She hadn’t changed out of her costume. She was shining, like she had one of those spotlights on her as she walked through the crowd. She looked at Mum and introduced herself.

  Hi. Mrs. Armstrong? I’m Elizabeth.

  Mum looked at me inquiringly and smiled. I willed her to say nothing.

  Elizabeth, I thought you were wonderful. Such a beautiful voice.

  I needed out. Mum and Elizabeth were so bloody happy and laughing and proud and I continued to head farther and farther into a deep, dark space. I looked over at Brother Pat and found my escape.

  Sorry, you guys. Got to go and pack up.

  Mum beamed but Elizabeth looked confused and a little angry. Someone else to add to the list.

  Round three

  For the second time that week I felt like I was going to throw up, really throw up: dry mouth, foul taste in the back of my throat. I changed direction. I figured one hour of Mum drilling me on why I had left and a telephone apology to Elizabeth were better than a full-on public meltdown.

  I made my way round the hall, trying to stick to the walls, as far away from the backslapping and congratulations as possible. I had just about made it to the doors when I heard my name.

  Will? William Armstrong?

  I turned around very slowly. This was all I needed.

  Yes, sir?

  I came face to face with the man the Freak would become in twenty years’ time, except he didn’t have that dorkiness about him. He looked pretty much like any guy his age who was dressed in jeans and a jumper.

  Pleased to meet you. I’m Frank Cohen, Zach’s father.

  No!!!!!

  Nice to meet you.

  Bad. Bad. Very, very bad!

  I really wanted to introduce myself.

  OK, so all I could do was apologize for traumatizing his son for life. I might be told where I could shove my apology for the second time tonight, but what else could I do?

  Look, Mr. Cohen, I can—

  He interrupted. I braced myself to be ripped apart.

  No, Will, let me speak.

  I shut up and he stared at me with those familiar ancient eyes.

  I wanted to thank you.

  Right. So this guy was clearly mad, which would explain a lot about the Freak really.

  Thank me? No, Mr. Cohen, you really don’t need to …

  I started to feel sick in the stomach again and that filthy taste right at the back of my throat made me want to gag.

  I needed you to know just how much you have done for Zach over the past couple of months. He hero-worships you. He doesn’t stop talking about you at home.

  This was one trillion times worse than the bloke giving me a proper serve. I tried to interrupt him again, to tell him he’d got it all wrong, but he wouldn’t let me.

  No, Will, let me finish. I think what I am about to tell you is important for you to know. You know Zach’s had a really difficult time fitting into high school. It looks like he’s one of those kids that the boys target. But he’s such a nice kid and he’s had far too much to deal with already.

  There were no words for how bad I was feeling.

  He never talks about it, but his mum left when he was nine.

  This time I gagged.

  Are you all right, Will?

  Idiot! Idiot! I was such a huge idiot! He always went on about his dad, never his mum. I should have known something had gone down there.

  That was when he started to withdraw. He just didn’t want to get involved in stuff that the other boys did.

  That explains the library at lunchtime.

  I suppose I didn’t help much because I’d tell him he should stand up and be an individual, but that’s hard for any twelve-year-old.

  I thought about Zach at the pizza place telling Mark he had nothing to worry about, he wouldn’t tell, and me in the quad walking away from Mark. There was only one coward in that scenario.

  That’s why I wanted to thank you.

  Thank me! The guy should be shooting me!

  You obviously have the right connections, because as soon as the word got around that you and he were mates everyone backed off. He’s a different kid.

  I was so, so sorry. And so screwed up I couldn’t do anything about it.

  I’m very thankful, Will, really.

  It was just like the Freak to keep his mouth shut. I knew that he would never have said anything about Mark. Mr. Cohen was still looking at me. I could barely raise my head.

  Your parents are very lucky to have a son like you. Are they here?

  I tried to find my voice but only managed to gag again. I collected the spit in my mouth.

  Mum is. I paused and Mr. Cohen stared.

  Ahhh … say it! Say it! Just say it! Dad … couldn’t make it.

  Well, that’s such a shame—he missed a wonderful performance. I’m sure he’s very proud of you anyway.

  He extended his hand again and I shook it. We were the last two left in the hall.

  Are you coming over?

  No, I’ve still got stuff to do here. I pointed to the safety of the empty orchestra pit.

  Well, make sure you see Zach, I’m sure he’ll be waiting for you.

  Meltdown

  I watched speechless as Mr. Cohen left to join
everybody else in the library for Brother Patrick’s after-performance drinks.

  I leaned over the pit, wanting to throw up, needing to throw up. I felt a heaviness in my legs, a sensation I remembered from once before. I’d run out of places to hide. There was no bubble, there was no doona, there was no blank nothingness.

  I threw my guitar case across the hall and heard it thud against the wall. What the hell was going on with me?

  The hall began to rotate. I attempted to sit down but landed on the music cases, scattering them all over the floor. I tried to get a grip and took hard, deep breaths, trying to stop the concrete that was slowly filling my lungs. Somewhere in my head I knew I had to get rid of all of the crap that had lodged inside me but I continued to fight.

  Eventually the spinning stopped. My sweat made a dripping tap noise as it pinged onto the cases. I couldn’t go anywhere without making a scene. I had to stay here and do something normal. I focused on the music stands and arranged them one by one. My head went blank as I fell into a rhythm.

  Will, what are you doing in here? Everyone’s waiting for you in the library. Including Elizabeth.

  I didn’t answer Chris, I just nodded and kept stacking.

  Will! Hey, Will, didn’t you hear me?

  At that point Chris stopped and said what I knew he’d say.

  Will, you look like shit.

  I shrugged.

  Just stop for a minute. Leave the bloody music stands and sit down.

  He grabbed me by the arm and tried to pull me away. Instinctively I turned on him, ready to fight.

  He caught me by both shoulders and wrestled me into a chair.

  Mate! What’s wrong with you?

  My heart was thumping. I felt like I was being beaten with a piece of metal rod. I tried to take in a breath. To slow everything down. Once again I sat with my head in my hands.

  Will, you’re freaking me out. Do you want me to get someone? Your mum?

  No! Three music stands flew across the pit.

  Then just tell me what’s going on!

  I knew I was arriving at breaking point, but I didn’t have the strength to fight it anymore. I was exhausted. I could barely find the words.

  I screwed up, Chris. I really screwed up.

  What do you mean? Everyone’s raving about how impressed they are with you.

  But they’ve got no idea. They’ve got no idea just how much I’ve stuffed up.

  I lifted my head out of my hands and looked up at Chris, speaking very, very quietly.

  Did Zach tell you what I said to him? Did he tell you I deliberately stood in front of him and told him he was a piece of nothing? How I completely ignored Mark, blanked the guy because I was worried about how the boys would treat me?

  Will—

  And then—I spat out the words—Brother Patrick sends me a note to say how grateful he is for my help, Mum’s going on about how proud she is and Zach’s dad comes up and tells me how grateful he is to me for helping his son.

  The silence in the hall engulfed both Chris and me. I knew what was coming next, but I wasn’t stopping, I couldn’t stop.

  And all the time, all the time I know he’s watching all of this and not saying anything, not doing anything …

  Will, you should have heard your mum going on about how—

  I’m not talking about Mum, Chris!

  Silence.

  I stood up from the chair and walked across the hall.

  And you know what else? When I see him all I want to do is scream and yell at him and tell him it’s all his fucking fault. That none of this would have happened if he hadn’t died. None of this shit would be happening right here and now if he hadn’t gone to that stupid fucking work site and he’d taken us to the beach instead.

  Every part me of became wet. Sweat dripped off my body, collecting in dirty pools on the floorboards.

  But that doesn’t make sense. I know that none of this is his fault. I did it. I did it all by myself. And I don’t know how to undo it. That’s what I wish most of all, in the whole world—that I could undo all of it. Undo every single part and he was back and Mum and me and him and everything was back to the way it should be.

  I couldn’t sit. I had to move, to get away from what I was saying. I walked to every corner of the pit. I kicked cases, stands, scripts, anything that was in my way. And still I couldn’t find a way out. There was no way out. What I’d been afraid of most was dredging its way from the pit of my gut.

  No one gets it. One day everything’s normal and then in one second everything’s blown apart. And people expect you to talk about it. But how do you talk about something that has just blown your head away? How can you talk about something that you can’t even think about?

  The snot and sweat came flying off my face as I wiped my eyes to try to focus, to have some clarity.

  I thought about it once. About one month after he died. I thought about him and the accident. Him lying there dead. Alone. Completely alone.

  And then I swear to God, Chris—I swung around and glared at him—I felt like I was falling down this long dark tunnel. Its … its guts were covered in bits of glass … jagged bits of glass … to stop you from ever getting out…. But you still grab on like some crazy man because you know that if you fall to the bottom you’ll be destroyed … exploded into minuscule fragments that will never fit back together again. So … so you jam yourself onto the glass and rip your flesh and guts trying to get out, clawing your way to the top.

  I balled up the snot and tears that leaked like toxins down the back of my throat and spat.

  And it doesn’t matter how cut up, how much blood there is or how much skin hangs off your bones, because you made it out. And that’s when you take whatever you can find and wrap it around you like bandages. They never come off. Because if they do, you won’t ever be able to put yourself back together again.

  And then you spend the rest of the time walking around hiding the bandages, looking and acting like everything is normal, but you know that nothing will ever be normal again.

  Every part of me was shaking. I was saturated. My face was caked with layers of salt, snot, dirt, pain. The enormity of it nearly threw me to the floor.

  I moved slowly, cautiously onto one of the music cases and for the first time since Dad died I cried.

  I cried and Chris sat.

  Holden bear hug

  Slowly, I became aware of where I was. It was the most exhausted I had ever felt, even on the day of the funeral. I could feel my breathing come back to normal. It was only then I felt Chris’s presence on my right. I didn’t remember him walking over or sitting on the case next to me. My eyes felt like sandpaper and I could tell my face needed a wash.

  I looked over at Chris and made a halfhearted attempt to appear normal.

  Looks like I’m cracking up, huh?

  His eyes were far more serious than his voice.

  Yeah, pretty freaky.

  We didn’t say anything else again for a while.

  So do you reckon everyone knows I’m a basket case?

  Yeah, pretty much, but they thought that before your dad died.

  The word died hung in the air.

  Will, I can’t believe I just said that….

  My gut shrank like a chip packet in front of a heater, but I actually managed a little bit of a laugh, mainly at how tragic Chris looked.

  It’s all right, Chris. Really. Dad would want to see the Holden versus Armstrong piss-taking tradition continued. He always gave you heaps.

  I looked over at him. He was smiling and nodding and wiping his face.

  You know what, Will … I miss him too.

  That blew me away! And I didn’t think that there was any part of me that had been left intact.

  He was always so ready to be up for something. He’d always have time and I didn’t have to line up behind four others. He was like a cross between a mate and an uncle.

  I’d never figured Chris might miss him too.

  But you ne
ver talked about it.

  Well, I wasn’t going to, was I? It was pretty clear that you were never going to and I had to go with that. I might miss him, Will, but he was your dad.

  Yeah. I could feel the tears start again but it didn’t matter. It felt better just to let them fall.

  We sat in silence for a while longer. I wiped my face with my sleeve and tried to move the conversation away from Dad.

  So what do you think I should do about Mark and Zach?

  Talk to them.

  I tried to do that with Mark and he basically told me to get stuffed.

  Well, let’s face it, the guy’s got good reason.

  I nodded in agreement.

  So let him calm down. As for the little fella, God, you’re his hero, Will.

  Yeah, and that’s what makes all of this so bad.

  So tell him that. Tell him you were a complete dickhead and you’re sorry. And give Mark another twenty-four hours and try again.

  Something came into my head that I’d wanted to ask Chris for ages.

  How come you never told me he was gay?

  He shrugged. ’Cause he asked me not to.

  You see, that’s why you are going to be school captain and I’m king of the geeks. I tried to stand up and rocked on my feet. I feel like I’ve just done twenty laps of the oval and headbutted Jock fifty times.

  You’ve looked better.

  Cheers, mate.

  I looked over at him and grinned. I was exhausted but lighter. And there was Chris doing the same thing he’d been doing for the past seventeen years—just being Chris. You’ve got to love the bloke for that. I walked over and offered my hand.

  No really, Chris, thanks. I couldn’t have done that with anyone else. You’re family.

  I extended my hand. He pushed it aside.

  Well, in that case, he said, grinning, Dad would expect us to give each other a Holden bear hug.

  I bolted as soon as he got close.

  Yeah, I know what one of your bloody bear hugs are like! I could barely feel my nipples for a week after the last time.