Crossfire

by James Moloney

  Trying to hide the fear that must surely be showing on his face, Luke stammered out: ‘Yeah, Grandma and Grandad let me go to the movies almost every day and they even took me down to that fun park where they have the artificial snow.’ Suddenly, he realised that he had never been skiing, never been inside the pavilion with the artificial snow. What if she asked him to tell her about his day at the fun park? Damn his father. He was good at this kind of lying. It seemed easy enough, but you had to think ahead so that you didn’t trap yourself, trip yourself up. Oh God, how I hate this, Luke thought.

  He was lucky Alison did not press him and showed no signs of suspicion. She asked him very little more about his time at his grandparents. Gradually Luke realised that his mother felt guilty about her days in hospital, unable to care for him, when he had been farmed out to his grandparents to be looked after. Why, she was almost apologising! He wanted to say, ‘Mum, don’t be ridiculous. You were very sick. You don’t have to worry about me every minute.’ But he didn’t say the words. Somehow he couldn’t.

  Alison went back to sleep all afternoon and didn’t wake up until Sally returned from work. The house came to life as Sally took over. Alison was placed in a seat at the kitchen table while Sally buzzed around the kitchen, talking non-stop as she always did. For the first time in his life Luke was glad of her incessant chatter. During the meal, he barely spoke to his mother, and soon she retreated to her bedroom, pleading exhaustion, and quickly fell asleep again.

  This was how the weekend developed as well. Sally had swapped shifts at the hospital and arranged to stay at home all Saturday and Sunday. Alison slept for hours at a stretch. While she was awake Sally prattled away, shutting Luke out of the conversation. And that was just the way he wanted it.

  On Sunday morning Luke’s football coach phoned to ask if he was available.

  ‘No, I’m not. I’m sorry. I have to stay here with my mother. She’s not well,’ Luke told him. But after he’d put down the phone, Luke realised that the main reason for his instant sharp refusal was because he didn’t want to have anything to do with football or his team mates just at the moment.

  When CT rang to see if he was back home, Luke put him off. He didn’t want to see CT either. He didn’t know why, and this uncertainty unnerved him, as though someone or something was following him, just out of sight, watching his every move.

  It was on Monday that the subtle game of avoiding a real conversation with his mother came to an end. The few jobs Sally had left undone, like the breakfast dishes and a single load of washing were quickly completed. Luke was sitting in the kitchen, feeling pleased that he’d so far stuck to his housework promises, but bored by the thought of another week of chores. His mother appeared in the doorway, in search of a cup of tea. This request expanded into two, then three slices of toast and jam. Alison was feeling better.

  ‘I’ve hardly seen you since I came home,’ she said when the last piece of toast had disappeared.

  ‘That’s Sally’s fault,’ smiled Luke. ‘She sort of dominates the world when she’s around.’

  ‘True,’ replied Alison; then she fell silent. Mother and son sat opposite each other at the kitchen table, she with no job to go to until her arm had healed, and banned from housework. Luke had no school to attend, no football to play and, for the moment, none of the duties so seriously outlined to him by his aunt. He and his mother had never simply sat like this before. There was always something to be done, somewhere to go, something to see on TV. It was awkward to find things in the room to look at, but it was even more uncomfortable to stare at each other without words.

  Luke was never sure, afterwards, whether it was this uneasiness in the room which he needed to brush away, or whether it was a need to know if the story was true that made him speak, but suddenly he heard himself ask: ‘Mum, did you ever get suspended from school?’

  ‘Now who have you been speaking to?’ responded Alison, looking serious.

  Luke was afraid he had offended her with the mere suggestion, but he was too curious, too in need of an answer to back away now. ‘I told Dad that I was suspended and he told Jacko and Doggy and everyone like it was a great joke. He was proud of it. And then Doggy said I was taking after you, but that I’d have to work hard to beat you. He said you used to get suspended all the time. And everyone laughed, Dad most of all. I didn’t believe them, of course’ — Luke bent the truth just a little — ‘and I didn’t think it was fair making fun of you that way, being sarcastic,’ he added, hoping to appease his mother.

  ‘They weren’t being sarcastic, I’m afraid, Luke. It’s true. I did get suspended from high school a few times. Your father always enjoyed exaggerating the stories and now all his mates believe every word, even those like Kieran Doggitt, who were there and should know better. Memories of schooldays are a great source of myths. Wayne used to tell everyone that I held the record for the number of suspensions.’

  ‘Yeah, he said that too. Did you really get thrown out of school like that?’

  ‘Well, that was just it, they didn’t throw me out altogether, like other kids who continually copped suspensions. My family would beg another chance and for some reason the Principal would relent. I think he understood just a little. And I think he quite liked me, though he never showed it.’

  ‘But what did you get suspended for?’

  ‘God, what does anyone get in trouble for at school. I was caught smoking, or I’d skip Phys Ed or I’d abuse a teacher in front of everyone. It was the time of the mini-skirt and all the girls were trying to hitch up their uniforms as far as possible. I made sure my skirt was the highest of the lot.’

  Luke pictured in his mind the girls two and three years ahead of him at school who seemed to be part of every racket going. There was always a defiant scowl on their faces, their every action was a provocation to a classmate or a teacher. He’d seen them smoking at the far end of the school yard, giggling together, craning their necks to see who was watching: there was no point to it all if no one was watching. And his mother was telling him that she was once of the same crowd.

  ‘I can’t believe it. You, my mother, suspended from school! It doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘Sometimes I feel the same, Luke, when I remember that part of my life. I cringe just thinking about it. You know, I think I was bored more than anything else. I was just desperate for something to happen, anything at all.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Luke blurted out, suddenly recognising himself in his mother’s words. ‘Bored, that’s it, exactly.’

  ‘But Luke, I shouldn’t have been bored. Now that I’m older and I look back at that time I realise I was conned. I’ve lain awake at night crying because I didn’t have a bit more sense back then. Why did I have to play the wild one? If I could have those years over again, I wouldn’t waste them a second time, I can tell you.’ She spoke with so much determination that Luke felt she was shuddering in her chair.

  ‘Oh, Mum,’ cried Luke, ‘you sound exactly like half the teachers at school. ‘If only we understood how important this was or that’. ‘If only we’d show a bit of maturity, some sense of responsibility’. But it’s the teachers who don’t understand what a waste of time so much of it is. You may have been a nuisance but you were right, you know. You didn’t let them beat you.’

  ‘But I did lose in the end. Oh, how can I explain it to you? Luke, don’t be like I was. It took me years to realise how I’ve paid. When I’m hard on you it’s because I’m determined that you will never have to fight your way through the way I’ve had to. Look at me, over thirty years old and studying to be a nurse. Most of the women I’m training with are eighteen or twenty. I’m going back now to do what I should have done in the first place. I lost ten years of my life because I didn’t want to grow up. Ten years that I can never get back.’ Alison reached across the table with her good arm and took her son’s hand, staring closely into his eyes. ‘I want you to start growing up now, Luke. Me, I didn’t really start to grow up until after you were born.’r />
  Luke tried to pull his hand away, but Alison was almost shouting now. She had begun to cry too, huge tears forming in her eyes until she had to wipe them away, letting go of Luke’s hand to do so. ‘Look at your father,’ she plunged on. ‘He hasn’t grown up even now. He’s still a boy playing with his toy guns and racing about with his mates. I don’t want you to be like that, Luke.’ She leaned forward across the table towards him, pleading. ‘I don’t want you to end up a thirty-year-old kid like your father. That’s the greatest fear I have.’

  Luke was angered by Alison’s savage contempt for his father, but there was fear with his anger, a dread that hid in the darkness. If only he could see it he would no longer be afraid. He heard himself saying, ‘You don’t want me to be like him, but you’re trying to make me into a copy of yourself instead.’ The thoughts tumbled into his head as he spoke them. He was discovering two parents he had never seen before and he recoiled from them both. ‘I’m your second chance,’ he shouted, ‘and you don’t want there to be any foul-ups this time. That’s not fair. I’m not Dad and I’m not you. I’ve got news for you both. I’m me, Luke Aldridge, and I’m not going to be a copy of anyone!’

  Suddenly, Luke couldn’t bare to stay in the house another minute. He stomped down the back stairs and swung round the post, almost falling over his bike. That was it. He hadn’t ventured away from these few square metres since his mother was discharged from hospital; now it was time to get away for a while. He needed to feel the hard seat beneath him, to lean over the handle bars and feel the wind snatching at his hair. He yanked the bike upright, mounted it and pedalled into the street. It was a few minutes before he realised that he was automatically making for CT’s place.

  twelve

  CT welcomed him enthusiastically. ‘How’d the trip go? What’d you kill?’

  ‘Got a couple of rabbits. That’s all,’ said Luke without interest.

  CT interpreted this as nonchalance. ‘Did you bag any pigs?’

  ‘Not me. Dad and the others, sure.’

  Normally, CT would have insisted on details, a prospect Luke dreaded, but now he knew, just from watching his friend’s face, that CT was up to something. Excitement was blowing up so big inside him he was sure to split open at any moment. There was no need to lower your voice in CT’s house when you didn’t want to be overheard. His parents never seemed to be about. But on this occasion CT couldn’t help himself. ‘I’ve got another gun,’ he whispered proudly.

  Luke winced before he could stop himself, but CT was so absorbed by his own good fortune that he didn’t notice.

  ‘What do you mean, you’ve got another gun?’

  ‘It’s a twenty-two, same as Dad’s. Come on, I’ll show you. It’s a bit old, but that doesn’t matter.’ CT hurried out through the back door, leaving Luke to follow whether he wanted to or not.

  ‘That’s ridiculous, CT,’ Luke called after him, but he had to rush through the doorway to be heard.

  CT’s house was much older than the Aldridge’s, designed before the average family owned a car. For this reason, a garage had been built years ago in a corner of the backyard and it was to this shabby wooden structure that CT now strode with purpose. He stopped halfway across the yard to look back. ‘Come on!’

  CT had disappeared into the darkness of the old garage by the time Luke arrived. It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust after the harsh sunlight of the backyard. He could hear CT rummaging about. The building was no longer used to house the car, which was generally parked in the street outside the house. Instead, the old garage was used to store all the items that the family no longer needed but couldn’t bare to throw away. A dozen worn tyres were piled on top of the ancient lounge suite that CT’s parents had discarded years ago. CT’s old high chair was there and the engineless frame of a motor-mower. The place was a dusty dump.

  ‘Look, after what happened, neither of us should be seen with a plastic pop gun,’ Luke called into the gloom. Deep amongst the junk, he could make out CT stretching full-length to reach behind a disused cupboard. He brought out a long thin parcel wrapped in a dirty cloth. Close to the wide doorway was a rickety table on which CT laid down his prize, which he handled as though it was a newborn baby. Lovingly he folded back the material.

  ‘Bloody hell!’ exclaimed Luke as he surveyed the outline of the twenty-two. ‘Where’d you get it?’

  A smile of satisfaction covered every inch of CT’s face. ‘You’ll never believe me,’ he said. ‘Garage sale.’

  ‘Garage sale? You mean to tell me you just walked in and bought this at a garage sale?’

  ‘Just luck, I ’spose. You know how I’m always going off to garage sales,’ CT began. He was settling in for a long story and he was going to enjoy telling every bit of it. It was certainly true that CT haunted garage sales. He was worse than his parents. At least their only problem was that they couldn’t bear to part with anything, but CT actually went out and found more rubbish to bring home. It usually ended up in this dark and dusty shed.

  CT told his story. ‘Me and Jimmy Pascoe took our bikes up to Garrett Road where all the hills are. We were going to get a good run down the slopes. Then I saw this handmade Garage Sale sign with the arrow on it. I made Jimmy come with me and we went in and had a look — and there it was. This twenty-two. It’s not in the best condition, I got to admit, but the owner knew it too. He had a tag on it for twenty-five dollars. Jimmy had a ten dollar note on him and I had five dollars sixty-three, so we tried to beat him down. We said fifteen dollars. He wouldn’t come down at first but eventually he said twenty dollars, but he wouldn’t come any further. We showed him every cent we had, the whole fifteen dollars sixty-three, but he still wouldn’t budge so we went back to our bikes. I was going to ride home and get the rest. Then what do you think happens? The bloke’s wife’s been watching the whole show and as we’re leaving, she gets stuck into him. ‘What do you care about a few bucks for that lump of rust,’ she says and next thing she brings the rifle out to us and takes the fifteen dollars sixty-three!’

  Luke inspected the gun. By now his eyes had adjusted to the darkness. ‘A lump of rust’ the owner’s wife had called it, and she was right. The exterior of the barrel was rough with a scaly rust which left the familiar reddish-brown stain when you ran your hand along it. God only knew what the inside was like.

  ‘CT, this gun is pretty dangerous, all dirty like this. It hasn’t been cared for at all. What are you going to do with it?’

  ‘Shoot, of course!’

  ‘But where?’ asked Luke. ‘You can’t go back to the bush beyond Whannell Road. Everyone knows about that now. They’d catch you the first day.’

  ‘Yeah, I know it’s too risky up there. Don’t worry. I’ve thought it all out. A few kilometres along the highway they’re starting to clear the bush for a new housing estate. Jimmy Pascoe’s dad works on the bulldozers down there and Jimmy says his father’s seen plenty of little wallabies. Forget shooting at cans. We’re going to hunt those wallabies!’

  This was the first time CT had mentioned Luke as part of his plans. He clearly intended Luke to join him in these excursions to the new housing estate and what’s more, CT, bored with their old games, was desperate to shoot at live targets. The hard knot in Luke’s stomach tightened. It was the same feeling that had gripped him as he sat by the campfire listening to Tom’s story.

  ‘Look, CT. I don’t want to use your gun and I don’t want to go shooting with you,’ said Luke bluntly

  ‘Why not? If you’re worried about the gun being safe, forget it. We can clean it till it’s like new before we try anything.’

  ‘No, it’s not that.’

  CT was becoming agitated. He’d expected his mate to share his enthusiasm, to congratulate him on his clever acquisition. With a touch of harshness in his voice he said: ‘This may not be as powerful or as shiny as your father’s gun, Luke, but it’s good enough for us.’

  ‘No, CT, I’m not going shooting with you. It’s not righ
t.’

  ‘Not right!’ shouted CT. ‘Not right! What are you talking about? Who’s just been out west knocking off wild pigs and rabbits and stuff? Besides, I need you Luke. I haven’t got any bullets for this yet and I can hardly go into a gun shop and ask for some, can I? Your Dad must have plenty of ammo for a gun like this. He used to have a twenty-two. You could take some — he wouldn’t even miss it.’

  Luke did not even hesitate this time. ‘No, I’m not going to pinch any ammo for you, CT.’ There was little chance CT would miss the contempt in his voice.

  ‘But Luke, this is the chance we’ve been waiting for. What’s the matter with you? You don’t seem to care a bit about this gun.’

  ‘I’m going home. See you,’ said Luke. He turned and headed straight out of the garage, then along the side of the house towards where his bike lay. But CT was angry that his plans were falling apart. He followed Luke, shouting: ‘I didn’t think you would turn into a wimp, Luke Aldridge, but that’s what’s happened. Whatever happened to ‘Armalite Aldridge’? What about that, eh? You know what’s the matter with you — you’ve gone gutless. I bet you didn’t shoot a thing out west! I bet you didn’t have the nerve.’

  Luke cycled hard until CT’s house was out of sight. Thank God, his mate — or was it former mate — had decided not to follow him. Once sure of this, he slowed down, pedalling more easily, then pulled into a small park built on an odd-shaped block of land that no one had wanted to live on. The local Apex Club had erected a swing and a see-saw, both of which had been vandalised, but the trees the Club had planted had survived. Luke brought his bike to a halt in the shade of the tallest and lay down to look at the sky.

  He’d stopped because he didn’t really know where to steer his bike. There was certainly no point in heading back to CT’s house. His father’s home held no attraction and would offer no welcome. He would have to go home, to his mother’s house, just to eat and sleep. She would still be angry, there would be a scene. If Belinda was there they would gang up on him as they always did, and he wouldn’t be able to fight back. He was defenceless because he was protecting something, hiding it, keeping a secret from his mother. He was like a boxer who must fend off blows to an injured part of his body, unable to hit back for fear of exposing his vulnerability. And it would go on like that for as long as he was afraid that his mother would find out about the hunting trip. He was being pulled and pushed from either side, buffeted about without direction. Not even his friends would understand. He had no one to talk to, no one to ask. He was completely alone.