‘You want some help?’
‘Well I’m thinking I could do a bunk—’
‘Like Australia?’ Deeks looked happily aghast at this idea. ‘Your family will be gutted.’
‘I know. I don’t have a passport. What’s the story with visas?’
‘On to it.’ Deeks kicked the ball into his back porch where it bounced off the walls. ‘We’ll set up a fact file and a list of things you need to do.’
Deeks had an organiser’s streak that didn’t show up in the classroom. They pulled up chairs in Deeks’ old man’s office and Deeks tucked their cat, Felix, onto his lap as he typed in the questions.
‘Look at this, dude,’ Deeks said, sidetracked immediately. ‘He’s already got twins, and now there’s two more girls claiming he’s the father of their babies!’
‘Can we just deal with me? I don’t need someone else’s problems.’
‘His name’s Eyesore,’ Deeks said, reluctant to leave the page. ‘How come he’s got so many girls if he’s ugly?’ Deeks bent down and whispered in Felix’s ear. ‘He’ll have something else.’
‘Deeks.’
‘Okay, okay. What are we looking for? Paternity tests.’
They searched all afternoon for information: flights and costs, passport applications, maintenance payments for babies and paternity tests.
Elliot walked home in the late afternoon with his head spinning and a stomach ache. He didn’t really want to do a runner. Arnie was right; it was time to face facts and get some help. He would tell his parents and bring it out in the open. Sure, there’d be tears, but they’d pass. By the time he reached his letterbox he’d decided to cough up that night.
‘What’s going on?’ Elliot expected a house in mourning but he could see that the dining table was set with best cutlery, for nine. A smell of curry wafted through the house and his mother was in the kitchen slicing up a big bunch of coriander. There would be no soul-cleansing chat this evening.
‘Oh, Elliot, I was just going to ring and get you home. I know you’re upset about Nana, but we wanted to celebrate your birthday,’ Mum said. ‘I hated missing the actual day, so we’ve decided to make it up to you tonight.’
‘Who’s coming?’ Elliot stared at the table and eliminated the obvious. Mum, Dad, Rick, Gran, himself, and that left four spaces.
‘Just family, Mackenzie and your mates: Deeks, Ratty and Mike,’ Mum said. ‘Go and get changed.’
Elliot turned away and felt a sharp stab of dread. Surely, he thought, it would’ve been better to ignore his birthday rather than dredge up this sorry gathering.
Mum pointed down the hallway to Elliot’s room. ‘Come on, get ready,’ and then she caught Rick, who was passing through the kitchen, dressed in his gym gear. ‘Elrick, dear, please go outside and bring Nana’s basket and blankets in. I’ve washed everything.’ Rick rolled his eyes and bent down to tie his shoes.
Elliot was pleased Mum was giving that job to Rick. ‘You won’t miss Nana’s drool, will you?’ he asked as he leaned on the bench beside his mother.
‘No,’ Mum agreed. ‘If I’d known about that aspect of St Bernards, I’d have thought twice about getting one.’
‘It’s a bit like saying you wouldn’t have had me, if you’d known about my troubles,’ Elliot said.
Rick gave a snort. He stood up and shook his head. ‘Drool is peculiar to St Bernard’s as a breed; they can’t help it. Most of your troubles are avoidable and stupid.’
‘Elrick, what’s gotten into you?’ Mum frowned at Rick. ‘Forget the blankets then; go and have your workout and come back in a better mood.’
‘Yeah, get some charm.’
‘Charm?’ Rick stepped up to Elliot. They faced each other down for a moment. Elliot was surprised how angry Rick was and how quickly the situation had flared up.
‘Off you go,’ Mum said pushing between them, but looking at Rick. ‘That was unkind of you, Elrick.’
Rick sent another withering look in Elliot’s direction before he left the kitchen.
Elliot shrugged and shook his head as if in despair of Rick’s weird behaviour. Mum said, more to herself, ‘He’s very angry these days.’
Elliot was unnerved. He slunk to his bedroom thinking: Tell her now you idiot. Just tell her.
Guests starting arriving at six-thirty and, predictably, Gran was the first to show up. She carried a huge parcel and Elliot opened it to find a new feather duvet.
‘Mint; this is perfect.’ Elliot unzipped the top of the plastic bag and squished the fabric. ‘Way cool, Gran. It can be freezing at Arnie’s.’
The next guests were Deeks, Ratty and Mike. Ratty used to go to art classes with Elliot in the days when it looked as if Elliot might have inherited a family gene for artistic talent. The teacher hadn’t been able to spot it but Elliot had carried on for quite a while, rubbing his hands in paint and spreading colour over various surfaces of the studio. Ratty had been clever, though, and he was still doing his ink-dot creations. He’d done one for Elliot’s birthday, a St Bernard dog drawn in profile. He’d brilliantly captured the face with its sad eyes and droopy folds.
‘I didn’t know about Nana until just before.’ He waved at the picture. ‘I’m sorry, mate.’
‘It’s okay. It makes this picture even more special.’ Everyone stared at the drawing in wonder. ‘That’s a shitload of dots,’ Deeks said.
‘My present is the tube to keep it in, so happy birthday, you fucker,’ Mike said. He punched Elliot’s arm. ‘Lucky I’m no good at art, ’cause you know what I’d have drawn.’ He gave a sly wink.
Mum took Gran over to the sideboard and Dad poured her a large gin.
Mackenzie came into the room with Rick and everyone paused mid-conversation. She had a lot of leg showing and Mike gave a low whistle.
‘Happy birthday, Elliot,’ she said, and her kiss gave him a charge.
So there it was, a birthday guest-list made up of family, a few mates, and one hot girl — who was hanging onto his brother. Great.
Elliot had a ghastly thought as they took their places for dinner that his father might say a few words. They weren’t a speech-making family, but Dad was very fidgety and Elliot suspected he had a bad case of nerves. His worst fears were realised when Dad stood up after the entrée and asked people for attention.
He cleared his throat, even though it was fine, and did something weird with his legs. He rolled up onto his toes, bounced and rolled down again, over and over, as if he was trying out new shoes. Elliot bit the side of his thumb, hard.
‘Could I have your attention, please?’ he said again. ‘I’d just like to say a few words.’
Everyone fell silent and Elliot saw Rick exchange a glance with Mackenzie before he put his head down.
‘We’re not a family who likes to make a fuss, or over-play our children, are we, dear?’ Dad gave Mum a gentle nudge on her shoulder and she agreed that they were not that sort of family. ‘However, I would like to say a few things about our boy Elliot, or Rooster as you guys call him.’
‘Rooting Rooster,’ Mike said, and Deeks and Ratty guffawed.
‘Elliot was a little fellow with a great imagination and a craze for dressing up,’ Dad said. ‘His Peter Pan stage was his most memorable and I know you’ll all remember him trying to fly. I suppose you could say that Elliot’s always had obsessions about things, and one particular craze was his special interest in volcanoes.’
The guys all burst out laughing and Dad looked at Mum in a bemused way. He didn’t think he was being funny but he liked the laughs he was getting. Elliot wished he would shut up.
‘He’s always been clever with electrical things, and he’s been a devil for taking appliances apart. He mostly gets them back together again.’
‘Remember when he reset our house alarm?’ Deeks called out. ‘Every time we went to the dunny and turned the fan on — it went ballistic.’
‘That was a nuclear alert, you moron,’ Mike said.
‘Yes, well.’ Dad turne
d back to Elliot. ‘I’ll keep this brief because dinner is ready, but I would like to say that your mother and I are very happy with the way,’ Dad paused and then said, ‘you’ve made a new start in Wellington. Last year was rough, we suffered as a family; and you, and your brother,’ Dad turned to look at Rick, who was still studying the floor, ‘made some disappointing choices.’
Dad got a bit emotional on ‘disappointing choices’ and Mum smiled encouragement at him. ‘I think every parent has some rough times and it’s made us stronger as a family. We’ve lost a good friend today, a very loyal dog, but in a way Nana’s death symbolises the end of your childhood.’ Dad bit his quivering lip and most of the guests looked down so that they didn’t have to watch him struggle for control. ‘Anyway, you’re a man at eighteen — old enough to vote and fight for your country, though, thank god, that’s not necessary, and I think you’re a good person and you’ve got your life on track.’
‘Thank you, Russell,’ Mum said, but Dad wasn’t finished.
‘Any man can make a mistake, but not just any man can make it right — and then make things better. So thanks, Elliot, for making things better.’
Mum and Gran applauded immediately but the others were slow to kick in. Elliot knew he’d shat on his family by allowing his father to make that speech. He didn’t dare glance at Rick.
‘Reply!’ Elliot could see Mike laughing and slapping his thigh. This story would circulate faster than Nana had been able to eat a bowl of dog food.
‘Thanks for the dinner and the trouble you’ve gone to,’ Elliot said as he got to his feet. ‘Thanks for everything.’ He sat down and only Mum clapped.
Gran pointed at Elliot. ‘You need to practise your public speaking, young man.’
‘He’s good at other things,’ Mike called out.
Deeks rang Elliot first thing the next morning. ‘Get dressed; I’m picking you up in ten.’
‘What? Where?’
‘Just be ready. You’ve got jobs to do.’
Deeks pulled into the Barnards’ drive exactly ten minutes later and Elliot hopped into his car. ‘What’s this about? I haven’t had breakfast.’
‘Get a burger in town; you need to tick a few things off.’
‘I’ve got a shitting headache.’
‘That was a disaster last night, your old man making that speech. You need to talk to Lena.’
‘I can’t. Not today.’
‘Bloody hell. Sort yourself out.’
‘I will. I will.’ Elliot put his head back. ‘What else do I have to do? I’m heading back this afternoon.’
‘Passport photo. Just in case. I’ll drop you in the mall and you text when it’s done. I have to return a pile of overdue games.’
There was only one place in town that had a decent photography section and Elliot booked in and paid at the counter. ‘It’ll be ten minutes,’ the woman said. ‘I’ll call you.’
He browsed amongst the cameras and equipment for a while, but mostly he aimlessly wandered around the shop.
Dad’s speech sat heavily on his mind; he wished he could be a son to be proud of. Elliot thought about going home and sitting his parents down and telling them the truth. But he also could picture the scene that would follow and knew he couldn’t bear it.
There was a large mirrored pillar in the middle of the shop, probably to catch shoplifters, and Elliot caught a glimpse of his reflection. It looked as if he’d slept rough last night but it also looked as if he was misplaced — a real ‘lost boy’. He smoothed his hair down and as he stood there a distinctive shape clad in black wandered up to the counter behind him.
Lena.
She was rummaging in her camera bag and Elliot recognised her explosion of hair spikes. He slunk behind the stand of camera attachments.
Shit, bugger, fuck, damn. Even though he was hiding, he also wanted to peek out and see what she looked like now, especially her stomach. But mostly he wanted her to leave.
‘Elliot Barnard?’ The assistant was ready to take his photo and she was hunting for him.
‘Yeah. Here.’ Elliot meandered over to the passport booth as if he didn’t have a care in the world. He felt, rather than saw, Lena spin around and stare at him.
‘That’s it,’ said the woman. ‘Stand up straight, look right at me and don’t smile.’ She clicked several shots and looked at the pictures as she went. ‘Are you going somewhere nice? Somewhere hot?’ The woman stepped forward to show Elliot an image.
‘That’s fine,’ he said, without even checking.
‘Give me a couple of moments and I’ll have that for you.’ She stepped away, leaving him to the mercy of Lena.
‘Passport photo? Skiving off are you? About what I’d expect of you.’ Her face looked strained and thin. He didn’t dare glance down to see if the baby was showing. ‘You know I’ve been trying to get hold of you — you’re such a coward.’
‘Why should I front up? You don’t even know whose baby it is.’
‘I do so. This baby was conceived on New Year’s.’
‘Still could be anyone’s.’
‘You’re a shit, Elliot Barnard.’
‘Yeah, and who made me like that?’
‘You act as if you were abducted and held against your will. You could’ve left anytime you wanted and you did.’
‘Excuse me, your photo?’ The assistant was back and she handed the envelope to Elliot. She appeared reluctant to leave and straightened a row of frames that were already straight.
‘Cheers.’ He began to walk away.
‘Elliot, please?’ Lena touched his arm. They both looked at the woman, who moved away a little. ‘I’m scared as hell and I don’t want to fight.’ Her eyes filled with tears and she shook her head as if to clear the blur. ‘Can you at least talk to me?’
‘I’ve checked up on the facts and you can’t know for sure that I’m the father until it’s born.’
‘Elliot, I know you think I’m a— well, I know you think I was sleeping around, but I wasn’t.’ Lena glared over her shoulder at the woman, who had moved closer, once again, but this time got the hint. ‘I’m telling you, this is your baby.’
‘Oh.’ He ran his hand through his hair. ‘Whatever. What do you want?’
‘I want you to contribute to the baby’s life. Financially, obviously, but I want your involvement. You have stuff to offer.’
‘Don’t sweet-talk me now.’
‘This isn’t about you and me fighting, Elliot. It’s about you and our child and you have great stuff to offer.’
‘Are you going to force me?’
‘Oh, do yourself a favour and grow up. I’m going to have this baby and give it every damn thing it needs. Your input will be a bonus, that’s all.’
‘Lena! What are you doing?’ bellowed a voice from the door.
Lena frowned over Elliot’s shoulder and he swung around to see who was calling. Sonny was outside, keeping the electric doors open. His hand was stuffed into a big tub of hot chips and his mouth bulged. They both saw him register Elliot.
‘So what’s the deal with Shitface?’ Elliot threw his head back in the direction of the doors. ‘Are you stringing him along as well or have you got him pegged as Uncle? Perhaps Auntie is more Sonny’s style.’
Through clenched teeth, Lena said, ‘Just wait,’ to Sonny. She stood in front of Elliot again and put one hand on her hip. He saw plainly, then, the bulge of her stomach. Fear curled his toes under, repulsion punched his own stomach, but something like intrigue sat in the corner of his mind. ‘Sonny is my friend,’ she said, ‘and as you know, I don’t have many. Okay?’
Elliot shrugged.
‘I was stupid with that photography project and I know I made you hate Sonny and me even more. But right now, I need him and I like him.’
‘Whatever.’
‘And for the record, Sonny is prepared to help me any way he can and he knows he’s not the father.’
‘Good old Sonny.’
‘Yes, I think so. And t
he sooner you tell your family—’
‘Nah. Leave them out; they don’t need to know.’
‘Of course they need to know! They’ll come round. Your parents always support you no matter what.’
‘No!’ Elliot leaned forward and he felt his neck stretch as he slammed his words into her. ‘Keep away from my house and my family. Shut your gob, okay?’
‘I’ve got it, thanks.’ Lena was breathing heavily through her mouth. She stepped around him and started walking towards Sonny. ‘I’m not done with you, Elliot Barnard. People have shat on me my whole life, but they aren’t going to do that to my baby.’
Elliot waited until Lena and Sonny had moved away from the door before he bolted in the other direction towards the car park. Deeks was in the driver’s seat carefully unwrapping his Subway. ‘I’m just working on my second chin,’ he said. ‘I got you meat and pickle.’
‘Thanks, mate. I’m not hungry.’
‘You were starving before,’ Deeks said. He looked at Elliot. ‘Now you look bloody awful.’
‘Something’s made me feel like chucking up — maybe the prawns we had last night. I need to go home.’
The swaying of the coach lulled Elliot to sleep, but each stop/start lurched him awake to relive the events of the weekend, like clips from a movie.
Running into Lena was a bad scene to replay and her face, angry and pleading, swam in front of his mind’s eye. In the solitude of the bus he let himself think about the baby to come, blissfully unaware of the upheaval it was causing. It didn’t feel like the baby was half his; the ratio seemed more like one-tenth or something equally minuscule.
Already, it was clear to Elliot that Lena was prepared to live or die for this baby and her approach seemed far more noble than his own. He wanted the baby to disappear. To die. He felt sweat break out as he recoiled from the thought, but it was there disturbing him with its truth. Didn’t women lose babies all the time? How did they lose them? It sounded so careless, yet so ideal.
Coming Home to Roost Page 8
