That's Why I Wrote This Song

by Susanne Gervay

  Eddie was totally unprepared for the attacks. He’d arrived at school happy after our pizza night, a weekend camping, hearing Mum and me tell him he was smart and funny. Then Dad stormed into the school, dragging Eddie into the interviews. When they were over Dad stormed out and went back to work, leaving Eddie to be destroyed in class after class. Humiliated. ‘You’re not doing enough work.’ ‘You’ll rewrite your science homework until it’s done properly.’ ‘Perform or you’re off the football team.’ He’s on detention for the rest of the term. Only his Maths teacher said, ‘What’s wrong with your father?’

  Eddie clenches the blanket. ‘I won’t go back.’

  ‘It’ll be all right, Eddie.’ Mum hesitates. ‘I’ll talk to your father when he gets home.’

  Mum told us he’s changing, but Dad is Dad. He’s always angry. Doesn’t care what we want. What Mum wants. It’s only what he wants that matters. I can hardly breathe as I watch Eddie lying on the bed with his face buried in his pillow.

  ‘Eddie, I promise, it’ll be all right.’ Mum kisses the top of Eddie’s head, sweeps her hand over his back. Tears make her face blotchy and red. She nods at me, closes his door quietly and motions to me to follow her to the kitchen. She leans over the bench, staring at her hands. I get the teapot, boil water, drop two teabags into the pot, fuss around, extend the tea-making ceremony for as long as I can. Mum needs time to think. I do too. Why did Dad have to do that to Eddie? Why doesn’t he stay away? I hate him. Hate him.

  Mum looks up at me. ‘Things were getting better, Pip. He’s been trying.’ She pauses. ‘I’ve been trying to be stronger too.’

  I don’t care about any of that. Eddie’s in trouble and it’s because of Dad. ‘Things aren’t better.’ I slide a teacup in front of Mum.

  ‘He wasn’t always like this. He wasn’t, Pip.’ She doesn’t say anything for ages, just looks into her teacup.

  Dad’s car rockets into the driveway. The front door opens. Mum gasps. His face is explosive. I take quick breaths. ‘Eddie’s hopeless. He lied. You lied,’ he rants. Mum stays silent. ‘Hiding his marks like a coward. Have you got anything to say?’ he shouts. He doesn’t wait for an answer. ‘He’s had all the opportunities I never had.’ Suddenly he slams his hands on the bench. ‘Say something.’ I jump.

  Mum presses my hand. ‘Go, Pip,’ she whispers.

  I’m not going. I’m standing beside my mother. I look towards Eddie’s room. And my brother.

  Dad notices me, for what seems like the first time. ‘Leave the room, Pip.’ He waves me away, but he’s not looking at me. He stares at Mum. ‘You lied to me. It was you.’

  I stand still. My heart is thumping but I’m not going. He can’t make me go.

  Mum looks directly into his eyes. She speaks slowly, but her voice is hard. She’s no doormat tonight. I breathe deeply. I’m no doormat tonight. ‘Eddie is your son. Your son. He’s not you. He can’t be you.’

  ‘No, he’s not like me. He’s like you. Weak. No goals. Pathetic.’ His words urge him on, making him angrier and angrier. Mum doesn’t cower. I don’t either. ‘You’ve cut me out of his life and look what’s he’s turned into. A coward. Weak. Weak.’

  ‘You’re the one who’s cut him out of your life. Not me.’

  ‘More lies. Look at yourself.’

  ‘You look at yourself. You’re his father. Don’t force him to become like you.’ Mum’s voice does not waiver. ‘Just love him. Accept him for who he is. Then he’ll be in your life. Your son is so special. Know him. Love him.’

  My nails are digging into the palms of my hands. I don’t want him in Eddie’s life. Or mine.

  ‘Love him?’ His face is distorted with rage. ‘Eddie’s a liar and a failure.’

  Mum stands up to him. ‘This is not about Eddie. It’s about you. Your father thought you were a failure. You’re not, and neither is Eddie.’

  Suddenly he lunges towards Mum, like he’s going for her. ‘Don’t,’ she gasps, jumping backwards, crashing into me.

  He stops, looking confused. ‘I’ve had enough.’ Abruptly he turns away. The bathroom door slams.

  Mum bends forward like she’s been winded. ‘You shouldn’t have seen that,’ Mum whispers to me. I put my arms around her and we hold on to each other silently.

  Mum drags out blankets and a pillow from the hallway cupboard. She’s sleeping on the couch tonight. I go to my bedroom, hide under my blanket, listen to Insomniac Road:

  It can’t be like this

  It won’t be like this

  I wake up. It’s the middle of the night. There’s shouting. Carefully I open my bedroom door, look down the corridor. It’s all clear as I pad into Eddie’s room. His side lamp is on. ‘Eddie,’ I whisper.

  He sits up. ‘I can hear them too.’

  ‘What’ll we do?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  We sit together in the dim light, listening. The arguing goes on and on. Eddie, Pip, family, love are thrown into a cauldron of attacks and memories. There’s crashing of furniture, then quiet, then talking, then crying, as our lives are chopped into pieces.

  Mum: ‘You’re not there for the children. Eddie waited for you to see him play football so many times. Occasionally you’d drop by for a token look. He gave up in the end.’ ‘You don’t approve of Pip’s music. She knows that.’ ‘You don’t know your kids—or me.’ ‘I try to make you part of the family, but nothing I do is right.’ ‘We don’t know what will set you off. Is it the wrong type of milk I’ve bought? Is it Pip’s trumpet practice? We’re afraid of you.’ ‘What’s wrong?’

  Dad: ‘Angry? Right. You say you try to make me part of the family. You’re not here for me. I go to work dinners alone. You don’t want to come. You’re tired, or it’s the kids.’ ‘Why don’t you ever come on trips away with me? It’s always the kids, the kids. And look at them. Pip locks herself into her room with a guitar. Eddie doesn’t know what the word study means.’ ‘I come home and you’re asleep. Too tired. Sex? When?’ ‘There’s nothing at home for me and that’s what’s wrong.’

  ‘This can’t go on.’ Mum speaks quietly.

  Mum and Dad say nothing. The silence is painful. It’s as though they’ve shouted so much they can’t shout any more.

  I press closer to Eddie. He puts his arm around me. ‘It’s all right, Pip.’

  Mum stammers, ‘You have to give us space. Give yourself space too.’ Her voice is quiet and I strain to hear. Dad says nothing. ‘I want us to be a family, but not like this. We need to work out what’s wrong. I try, but…Maybe we need to live separately for a while.’ Mum pauses. ‘Because we can’t love you like this.’

  Love? I don’t love him. I don’t want him here. I want the shouting to stop.

  I rest my head against Eddie’s shoulder. We hear Dad move into their bedroom and Mum shuffle into the lounge. The house becomes quiet again. I crawl into my room, doze, listen to music. I don’t remember falling asleep.

  Breakfast is torture. Eddie and I don’t speak as we enter the kitchen. Mum is moving robotically around the kitchen, toasting bread, pouring juice. Dad is sitting rigidly in his chair at the head of the table with a coffee cup in his hand. His hair isn’t combed and he hasn’t shaved. He nods at us, acknowledging our presence. ‘You must have heard us last night.’ Eddie looks at the table top. ‘Your mother and I need some time apart.’ Dad’s voice cracks. ‘I’ll be back home soon.’ His face lines with confusion. Suddenly I want to cry. I want him to stay but I want him to go. ‘So, Pip, can I collect you tomorrow after school? Take you out for a milkshake?’

  ‘I have netball practice.’

  ‘Then after netball?’ He waits expectantly.

  I feel sorry for him. I don’t want to feel that way and I don’t want to go. Not by myself. I couldn’t cope. Why doesn’t he just leave? ‘With Eddie.’ I give Eddie a pleading look.

  ‘Yes, with Eddie.’ Dad’s voice stumbles. Eddie’s still fixated on the table. The school interviews, Dad’s attacks on him, Eddie lying on his
bed, the scenes, hang over us all.

  His luggage is packed at the front door—not the usual bag he takes on trips away, but two large suitcases. The house is silent as Dad picks them up, turns to give us a last look, then walks out of the house. The door closes behind him and we stare at it unsure what to do next. Mum puts her arms around both Eddie and me. It’s sad.

  I feel dislocated all day at school. The concert. Netball practice. Birthdays. Bandannas. I focus on the Breakers Festival, on Karen. But my father has left.

  ‘Lie to your parents if you have to. Do what you have to. We have to go.’ Karen has her energy back. It’s as if our walk never happened. Or it only happened for a moment. When her father, mother, guys, life made a wall she couldn’t climb, but she’s scaled it now and is balancing on the summit. ‘Breakers is the biggest music festival. Not Perfect has to be there.’

  ‘Has to be there,’ I repeat to myself. Dad has left. Is he coming back? Did I do that? I’ve been mean to him. He’s been trying—but how could he destroy Eddie like that? Over a report card? I shut my eyes tightly.

  ‘Insomniac Road is playing at Breakers.’ Karen calls out like a mountain-climber.

  I rub my thumb. The skin is callused from playing my guitar. I have to tell my friends about Dad. I can’t keep it inside me any longer. ‘Dad’s left—sort of,’ I blurt out. ‘It’s not one of his business trips. I don’t know for how long.’

  Suddenly I can’t speak. Karen stops talking. She and Irina and Angie look at me.

  Then they’re beside me. ‘It’ll be all right, Pip,’ Angie says. Will it? He’s my father. I want him back. I don’t. Fathers. What are they? Who is my dad? He used to make me feel safe. I remember being in his arms as a little girl. I remember being lost and he found me. And there are his postcards. I love him when I read them. But then there are those other times. When my head is exploding and I’m sick with the fear of having him home.

  It’s a long day at school. There’s excitement about the birthday party. Worry about Eddie. Karen’s not crazy today. We’re going to Breakers. Our Not Perfect lunchtime session sounds good. Everything is pushing thoughts of fathers away.

  This afternoon Mum’s waiting for me in the car. ‘Thought you’d like to be driven home today.’

  ‘Thanks, Mum.’ I’m feeling exhausted. We give Angie and Irina a lift home. Karen doesn’t want a lift. She’s going over to Josh’s, to play the trumpet. ‘Are we ever going to meet Josh?’ I ask.

  ‘Who knows?’ I hope he’s not another one of Karen’s disasters. She couldn’t cope. Neither could I.

  As Irina gets out, her mother hurries to the car. ‘It is good of you, for Irina’s birthday to have her. If I can do something more, please you tell me.’

  Instinctively I look for Dad’s car as we drive into the garage. Not there. I throw my bag into my room. Mum retreats into the kitchen to prepare dinner. ‘Vietnamese Spring rolls, Pip.’ She’s grating carrots and chopping up lemongrass. ‘You’ll like these.’ She rubs her hands on her apron. ‘Dad doesn’t like them, but he’s not—’ There’s a small gasp.

  ‘Are you all right, Mum?’

  ‘No.’ Tears edge into the corners of her eyes. ‘Are you all right, Pip?’

  I say nothing. I don’t know.

  Mum stammers, ‘We’ll work things out.’ She puts her hands under the tap and runs water over them.

  ‘How’s Eddie?’

  ‘Eddie didn’t go to school. I took the day off work and went to see Eddie’s teachers.’ She waits to catch her breath, as if she’s been running. ‘I couldn’t convince his Science teacher that Eddie was working to the best of his ability. So Eddie has extra work to do there, but the other teachers are understanding. He’ll be all right.’ Mum reaches out to me. We hold outstretched hands. ‘They all like him, Pip.’

  ‘Everyone likes him, Mum.’ I look around the kitchen, and feel momentary relief at the certainty of Mum cooking and everything in its place.

  ‘The Deputy Principal is going to send a monthly written report directly to your father. He will discuss it with Eddie first. He thinks Dad overreacted.’

  ‘That’s for sure.’

  ‘I know you’ll be supportive, Pip.’ Mum rubs her hands dry. ‘Eddie and I talked for a long time today. He’s at his mate’s house now, doing whatever boys do. Probably eating hamburgers and talking about cars. I hope he is, anyway.’ She plays with her thumbnail. ‘I had to work hard to convince him, but he’s agreed to go back to school tomorrow. He doesn’t want to.’

  ‘I wouldn’t want to go back either.’ I think about that big idiot. Pushed around by his girlfriend, coping with Dad’s attacks. Flashes of us as kids zip through my mind. Eddie has been there for me through all Dad’s rampages. Through last night’s shouting. I couldn’t get by without him.

  ‘He’s stronger than he thinks. He’ll be okay, Pip.’

  We don’t discuss Dad any more for now. It’s too soon. Too hard. I’ve got to get to work anyway.

  I field enquiries about new releases. Make sales. Hand over a complaint to the manager. Ignore Angie’s phone calls. She still doesn’t get it.

  I’m surprised when it’s already closing time. I’m more surprised to find Eddie waiting for me. ‘Hi, Pip Squeak.’

  ‘Hi, Eddie. Thanks for picking me up.’ I try to talk casually. ‘Angie keeps ringing me at work. She’s going to get me fired one of these days.’ I talk about music, but don’t mention Dad. ‘Mum said you’re going back to school tomorrow.’

  Eddie ignores my comment as he parks his classic Falcon. I get out and pat the bonnet. ‘Love your Falcon. Do you want to listen to a bit of Passages of Living and Dying?’

  Eddie’s eyes light up for a second. That’s Eddie. Mr Positive. He gets his guitar and heads into my room. I play a chord and Eddie copies, until we’re playing together. I leave my bedroom door open so that the sounds of our guitars hums through the house. Mum brings us tea and biscuits. Our guitars strum late into the evening.

  It’s my time

  Time to be me

  Where I won’t be judged

  And I can be free

  Chapter Fifteen

  Dad collects me after netball practice. Tension is maximum. Angie’s father collects her too. There’s an awkward greeting between the two fathers. Angie’s told her parents about the separation. Her father tries to be friendly. ‘You should come and see the girls play a game one Saturday.’

  ‘That’d be great.’ As if Dad is really interested in my netball.

  ‘See you tomorrow.’ I wave good-bye to Angie and jump into the back seat behind Eddie. ‘Let’s go, Dad.’ Now, now, now.

  The promised milkshake is stress city. And what’s the milkshake about? Has Dad ever heard of juice or a strawberry smoothie? Eddie shifts in his chair as Dad asks questions. No one speaks about the parent—teacher interviews. If Dad just said sorry, it would make things a little bit better. But he doesn’t. Dad gets agitated when Eddie keep giving the ‘wrong’ answers. ‘Maths is okay.’ ‘I’m not that good at Chemistry.’ ‘I like Woodwork.’ Even after that terrible scene at home, Dad doesn’t get it. He has to accept Eddie the way he is. I try to save Eddie by talking about my subjects.

  Finally the schoolwork interrogation ends. Silence. Eddie gives me a stare.

  I stare back. ‘Eddie’s in the firsts for football, Dad.’ That’s all Eddie needs to start up again. Dad likes football. That kills another fifteen minutes. I read through every item in the menu before ordering. That kills another ten minutes. More silence. I talk about the school concert. Another five minutes. I try to drag it out to ten, but Dad’s eyes are glazing over with boredom. He says he’s looking forward to coming to the concert. Why does he have to lie? I don’t care that he doesn’t like my music, but I do care that he’s lying about it.

  I look at my watch. Thirty-five minutes have gone by. The strawberry milkshakes and carrot and banana cake arrive. Another five minutes of silence. ‘How is your mother?’ He pretends to be casual.
Key question. Stress level rises.

  ‘Good, Dad.’ Very uncomfortable silence. I refuse to talk about Mum. ‘So, Dad, anything exciting happening at work?’ I am so not interested.

  Dad talks about some finance projects. Ten minutes. ‘Since I’m not travelling so much now, I’ve got more time to see you kids.’ Eddie and I say nothing. ‘How’s your girlfriend, Eddie?’

  Dad knows nothing about us. Eddie’s girlfriend has been his ex-girlfriend for a month now. Dad liked her because she’s ambitious and wants to study Law. Eddie doesn’t care about that. She dropped him. Eddie’s all right about it, because inside he knew she wasn’t for him. She was just a trophy in her bikini to show off to his mates. Guys. How deep are they? I shake my head. I don’t trust them. It could have been worse with Oliver. I could have gone to third base, or…Guys. They’re scary.

  ‘We’ve broken up, Dad.’ Eddie gives the help-me stare.

  All right, Eddie. New topic. New topic. What? ‘My birthday’s next week, Dad.’

  ‘I wouldn’t forget, Pip. I’d like to see you on your birthday.’

  He’s kidding, isn’t he? This was only meant as a save-my-brother diversion.

  ‘Sixteen. That’s an important birthday. What can I get you?’

  A US road trip for Not Perfect with Eddie at the wheel. A happy family. Not Perfect on stage. World peace. As if any of those things will ever happen. ‘Clothes would be great.’ There’s no way he’d know what clothes to buy. He’ll give me a voucher for sure. I’d like that. I can go shopping with Angie.

  ‘Has your mum got anything special planned for your birthday?’ If Dad knew me, he’d know my birthday party has been a major issue. He’s interested now, because he’s not coming.