The Do-Gooder

by Jessie L. Star

  Chapter 22 – Done

  "Russ told me to come over."

  Saskia and I sat side by side on her rumpled bed, our backs to the wall, her knees drawn protectively up to her chest, mine crossed before me. I could see someone like Merry or my mum choosing to sit facing Fletch's sister as she talked through what had happened, perhaps even holding her hands, but that wasn't the way it worked for us. She'd barely lifted her gaze from the floor since she'd pulled away from me out on the front step, and I'd made sure to keep my distance as I suggested we went inside so I could hear the full story.

  Fletch hadn't come with us, hadn't even come into the house in fact, instead choosing to simply step aside to let us pass by him. His point had been clear; he was leaving this one to me. It was good to have his blessing, but unnecessary; my attention had switched firmly from him to his sister with one look at her marked face, and he was nothing but a background hum to me as Saskia began to speak.

  "He said it was because he wanted to see me," she said heavily, "but when I got there it was the same thing as always; he had a bunch of mates over and they were all sitting round getting trashed and talking themselves up." She reached up to fiddle with her earring as she added, "And I didn't used to mind, but yesterday it just seemed so boring. I mean, it's not like I was supposed to say anything or get involved, I was just supposed to sit on the arm of his chair and act like Russ was so freaking interesting, or whatever."

  I remembered suddenly that night at the club, the one and only time I'd laid eyes on the person in question. Him with the sulky mouth and insolent gaze, of course he was the type to want a pretty, young girl to sit wide-eyed and adoring by his side. Still, it was beyond obvious that Saskia wasn't the type to put up with this role indefinitely, something she confirmed as she continued, "I was over it after about 5 minutes. All I could think of was that Zannie had a shipment of stock coming in this weekend and that I could've been seeing all the new pieces rather than just sitting on my arse being ignored. So I went into Russ's room to grab my bag so I could leave, and he followed me in and started saying all this stuff about how I was being rude and acting like I thought I was better than him and his friends. He'd taken something and he was getting all crazy so I told him to back off, that I was just going to go into Za-Za’s for a bit."

  Her jaw tightened and it suddenly became apparent that she was avoiding my eyes as her gaze ahead became more fixed and deliberate. "That's when he started in on how Zannie and you don't really care about me and that I'm nothing special to you. I mean, what did he think I was going to do?" She asked with a constricted sort of laugh. "Start blubbering and saying that I was your precious little snowflake? It's like you said, who cares why you got me the job and why Zannie's kept me on? It works for me and I was getting sick of him having a go at me about it. So I told him straight out, I said he was an immature piece of shit, that he was going to be a drugged up no-hoper for the rest of his life, and that we were done. Then I reached for my bag and...and he punched me in the face."

  For a split second her expression looked as I imagined it had at the time, a contortion of pain and surprise.

  "Like, he just whacked me," she repeated in disbelief. "And my head was ringing so bad, but I thought he was going to go after me again so I locked myself in the bathroom and called the police." She hugged her knees to her a bit tighter and I hesitantly reached out to lay a hand on her back, feeling how she was almost vibrating with the effort of holding herself together.

  "It was...it sucked. He kicked at the door and he was screaming all this stuff..." Saskia's eyes clenched closed for a second and she shook her head, clearly unwilling to replay that part in any detail. "...but then the police were there and they arrested him."

  She set her mouth into a firm line as she added, with a certain degree of satisfaction, "they put a knee in his back and handcuffs on him and everything. But then they wouldn't let me give a statement without an adult so they took me to the station and I called Fletch and...yeah, that's it."

  There were a few moments of quiet after this as I tried to reign in the tumult of fury that was rolling over me in waves; the last thing Saskia needed was to have to deal with that on top of everything else. I took so long to pull myself together, however, that she was the one to break the silence, letting out another bitter laugh.

  "You should've seen how awkward it was when the police were being all 'you should call your mum'. I think I made 'em feel kind of bad when I told them that I don't even know what country she's in right now, let alone whether she'd give a damn even if I could find her."

  I knew Fletch's mum had never been able to cope with the domestic life she'd ended up with, that she presumably had her own set of issues going on that had sent her running scared, but my sympathy for her was at an all time low in that moment. Did she know the mess she'd left behind? Did she care?

  My arm was starting to shake from being held at an uncomfortable angle, but there was no way I was going to pull away the palm that provided that tangible, if tenuous, connection to the girl beside me. The girl who didn't have the option, as I had, to cry it out on her mum.

  "Neither Fletch or I are going to put our hands up to having pushed you out of a vagina," I said carefully in the end. "But if you're looking for people who give a damn, we're firmly in that category."

  Saskia shot me a quick, considering look out of the corner of her eye and then pressed her face down against her knees, mumbling, "Fletch hates me. He's hardly said anything to me since I called him."

  I only just caught myself from letting out an incredulous laugh at this assessment, thinking of the bare and uncontrolled emotion I'd seen on Fletch's face as Saskia had hugged me. I would've died before I let Saskia think I was laughing at her in that moment, however, so I tried to contradict her as gently as I could.

  "He just doesn't know what to say."

  "Yeah, well," I could hardly make out her words as they were muffled against her tights, but I heard the next ones loud and clear as she raised her head and said severely, "he should hate me. I've been so stupid. I mean, I got suspended for that dick a few weeks ago. Russ said that he hardly saw me after I started working at Za-Za’s so I got myself kicked out of school for a week and you know what? He ignored me the same as usual. But I'd given you heaps about how he loved me and everything so I stayed with him and now I've ruined everything. Zannie was going to take me on a scouting trip for material with her next week, but I can't go looking like this." She jabbed a finger at her face and I snatched at it and pulled it down.

  "Don't," I said, a lot more sharply than I'd really meant to. Still, it seemed to get her attention so I took the opportunity to add, "That piece of shit hit you, that's not your fault."

  "Yeah, but I baited him and it's not like I didn't know that he had a temper. I just…I never thought he'd…he hit me." She said the last three words as if they'd only just really occurred to her and her cheeks flushed a furious red that almost seemed to glow against her white blonde hair. I thought she was about to start crying and, in fact, she did quickly wipe at the undersides of her eyes as if heading off a couple of tears before they fell, but when she looked round at me it was clear breaking down was not on her agenda.

  "I mean, what the hell is that?" She demanded in the strongest voice I'd heard from her so far, staring at me almost accusingly. "You don't get to just hit people. I'm surrounded by morons at school, but you don't see me going around punching anyone!"

  Clearly done with cowering on her bed, she leapt to her feet and stalked over to the large mirror propped against her cupboard door. As I watched, she threw her shoulders back and eyed the geometrically patterned black and white tunic she was wearing through narrowed eyes.

  "And what am I wearing?" She exclaimed, peeling off the offending garment and throwing it to the floor. "Never mind my face, I look like a cow on acid in that top."

  Now clad only in her bra and tights there didn't seem to be anything else to grab her attention and she reluctantly l
eant in closer to her reflection to examine the damage that had been done to her cheek. Quickly sliding off the bed, I moved to stand beside her, not wanting her to have to perform this inspection alone.

  "It's not that bad, right?" She asked, gingerly lifting a finger to gently prod at the outer edges of the purple mottling.

  "Right," I agreed without hesitation, even as my stomach heaved unpleasantly upon closer scrutiny of her injury. Knowing that Lizard Boy's knuckles had split the skin over her cheekbone and blackened her face made me feel more nauseous than the pneumonia ever had.

  Saskia, however, was clearly concentrating less on the action than the reaction now as she said, "And if I brushed my hair forward and put some make-up on it, do you think Zannie would still take me on the scout?"

  Thinking of Zannie, with her obvious insight into the workings of her young employee's mind, and her distaste for what other people thought, I had no qualms shooting her a pointed look. "I think you could have every inch of your skin covered in the most disgusting boils the world's ever seen and Zannie wouldn't hesitate."

  "Yeah, well I'm not that gross." Saskia seemed reassured, but her voice dipped down again as she asked, "And how do you think I should, you know, tell…her? What do I say about what happened?"

  I heard the hesitation and knew she didn't just mean Zannie. I had a sudden, wild impulse then to snap the curtains closed, lock the door and keep Saskia hidden safely away from anyone who might demand an explanation from her. Being humiliated by Russ's fist the first time was bad enough, I knew having to relive it for the benefit of other people would crush what little of her self-esteem she'd managed to salvage.

  "That's up to you," I said fiercely, seeing from my reflection that I'd clenched my hands tight, as if already prepared to defend her against anyone who wanted to pry. "You tell Zannie, or whoever, as much or as little as you feel like, it's nobody else's business."

  There was a pause and then Saskia nodded slowly. "Yeah, screw 'em. It's not their business," she repeated, some of the haunted look in her eye starting to fade. This indication that she was regaining some of her usual attitude was reinforced as she announced, "OK, you can go now."

  And so saying, she pulled away from me to start searching through the tops littering her carpet, presumably on the hunt for one that didn't make her look like a tripping bovine. When I didn't immediately beat a hasty retreat she looked back at me with the 'what's your problem?' expression I knew so well.

  "What are you waiting for?" She asked. "Isn't there some sex you should be having with my brother?" She regarded me critically for a moment, a look that was vintage Saskia, and then added slowly, "Or are you two going through one of your 'I'm too intensely in love with you to cope' periods? Is that what today's 'pale and uninteresting' look is about?" She waved her hand to indicate my wan face and then, when I wasn't quick enough to reply, muttered, "God, this family really needs to work on the whole healthy relationships thing," before turning her back on me in clear dismissal.

  There was obviously still a whole lot of stuff for Saskia to work through, but for now, it looked like she wanted to work through it on her own. Not to mention, as she'd so correctly pointed out, I had my own stuff to sort out with her brother. Nevertheless, it was with some reluctance that I reached for the door handle, remembering all too well the way I'd been so desperate to be alone at her age, and then, when I was, had found myself indescribably lonely.

  In an attempt to let her know that while I was literally walking out on her, I wasn't figuratively doing so, I replaced a more traditional goodbye with, "You know where I am, Sass."

  She'd had enough, however, and sighed loudly. "Yes, you're still in my room," she said in exasperation. "Bugger off."

  And so I did, going in search of Fletch and finding him almost exactly where I'd left him, sitting on the front step, staring out onto the deserted street. Some of the sick feeling in my stomach withdrew at the sight of him, driven out by a thrill of cautious anticipation.

  This was it.

  He must have heard the door shut behind me, but he made no move to acknowledge my presence and, after a brief hesitation, I walked over and sat beside him. As with Saskia, I kept a careful distance between us, something about the set of his shoulders telling me it was the prudent thing to do at that point.

  "I'm going to kill him," I began, when the silence between us stretched out past the point of bearable. "I'm going to rip that stupid lizard right off his bloody neck."

  "Yeah, well," Fletch replied after a moment, with what seemed like great effort, "get in line."

  I glanced across at him out of the corner of my eye and then quickly looked away, not liking what I saw.

  Even in his worst moments Fletch had always been accessible to me, as readable as a large print book, but I barely recognised the guy who'd answered the door to me earlier, or who sat beside me now. I could feel the waves of, what - Aggression? Fury? - pulsating off him, but couldn't place whether they were directed at me or the situation at large. Fleetingly, I wondered whether this was what it'd been like for him being around me all these years.

  "Saskia's going to be alright," I sought to reassure him and he let out a soft noise that could've been a snort.

  "Yeah?" He asked dispassionately. "Well, you'd know better than me." When I recoiled slightly from the coolness of his tone, he finally turned his head to look at me, his expression stony. "I was the one who abandoned my sister; too busy surfing and having a good time to give a damn about what she was going through, right?"

  "What?" Even as I spoke in confusion I knew the words were familiar, like something I'd said a long time ago. Said, or...

  "Here." I looked down and saw that Fletch had pulled Big Blue up from where it'd been hidden from view on the step below us. "I guess you want this back."

  Oh shit. Oh shit, shit, shit.

  I didn't reach for the folder he proffered, frozen with horror as I suddenly remembered that night at O'Malleys; how Fletch had confronted me, and how I'd run to the bathroom and...

  "What you just said," I managed hoarsely, "I wrote that, didn't I?"

  He gave a half sort of shrug. "Amongst other things, yeah."

  When I turned more fully toward him, a rush of words amassing in my throat, he shook his head to forestall me. "It doesn't matter." He tried to pass my folder back to me again, but when I still didn't make any move to take it, he laid it down next to me on the concrete, saying, "Its fine, Lara, I'm done."

  He said the last two words so quietly I thought, hoped, for a moment I'd imagined them, but then I saw the determined look on his face and knew that I hadn't.

  "What do you mean?" I asked, a dawning feeling of panicked understanding prickling at the back of my neck. "Done with what?"

  "All of it; with hassling you over your deeds, with trying to keep us going as whatever we are, you're off the hook, I'm done." He shifted his legs as if about to stand and I clamped a hand down on his arm, keeping him beside me as I spoke so quickly it was almost a gabble.

  "That stuff I wrote, I was just angry. I didn't even remember writing it, if I had I would've ripped it out and got rid of it, but it genuinely meant so little that I forgot I'd even done it. I wrote it in a toilet for God's sake!"

  He pushed my arm off him, not roughly, but not entirely gently either. "It's not even about that," he started to say before something blazed in his eyes and he added, "although, you know what? Some of it is. You said I was just like my dad, Jesus, Lara!"

  I closed my eyes, pressing the lids together tightly as they started to sting.

  "It wasn't real, Fletch, it was-" I stopped as I couldn't find the words I needed. "You know me," I appealed to him. "You know I say and do stuff that doesn't mean-"

  "That." He was on his feet in an instant and I fell silent, watching him warily. "That's what I can't do anymore. I'm not your bloody translator, Lara. I can't hear what you're saying to me and make it into something else. That's just too messed up, even for us." He stalked down
the steps, as if he was going to leave, but then turned at the bottom and stared back up at me. "I can't do it." He repeated, bluntly, the Canadian edge to his accent stronger than I'd ever heard it before. "I can't keep excusing all the crap you pull and I can't...God, I can't get a text telling me you can't breathe. I can't get pulled in that late, as an afterthought or a last resort."

  "You're not-" I tried to interject, but he talked over me again.

  "I've been going over and over it, you know?" He said, gesturing towards Big Blue where it still lay, untouched by me. "How you knew something was up with Saskia's boyfriend, you knew and you didn't tell me. And I can't figure out whether having one over on me was worth that much or whether you honestly thought that I wouldn't care."

  This he seemed to actually want an answer to as he stopped talking, although he kept shifting restlessly on the balls of his feet, too worked up to remain still.

  In the past this would've been the point where I threw out a deflection, something snappy to distract him from his point, but I had no desire to do that this time. I wanted to explain, I wanted him to understand. To that end, I took a deep breath and tried to keep my voice steady as I spoke.

  "When I started working with Saskia it was because I wanted to stick it to you," I admitted. "You'd told me not to so I was going to, it was pretty much that simple. But then I drove her to Za-Za’s every day after school and..." I faltered, reliving how I'd thought of it as just another deed for so long. We'd argued, we'd talked about fashion, she'd needled me about Fletch and yet I'd never taken the opportunity to dig deeper into Saskia's boyfriend situation. It was only now that I was realising what a huge oversight that'd been, something I tried to explain to Fletch.

  "I thought that Lizard Boy's danger was in distracting her from the good stuff she could've been doing. I considered only for a second that she was actually in a properly bad situation and then I dismissed it. And I have to live with that," I added, thinking of Mum and how pragmatic she'd been about living with regret. "But I didn't," I continued, "I wouldn't, put Saskia in danger to make a point with you."