Sixty Seconds

by Jesse Blackadder

  Here, in Australia, according to online reports, sixteen children had drowned in the past year like Toby had, and eighteen the year before that. Sixteen sets of parents who’d looked away for a few wrong moments, who’d dragged the limp bodies of their offspring from the water, who’d pushed at their small chests and blown into their slack mouths, who’d begged whatever god they believed in to bring their child back. All those families out there somehow lived on with this unliveable grief and guilt. How did they do it?

  The world without Toby in it was a grey, grim, hard-edged place, its beauty bitter, its sorrows manifest.

  In a way it was a relief to be away even from Jarrah. The prospect of jail was starting to draw him. He’d have time to stay still and allow his memories to bubble to the surface. The short sweep of Toby’s life, his smell and heft, the dreams of his future, the wonder of who he was, and who he might have become. In there, he could be immersed in Toby, undisturbed. The prospect was terrifying. And also inviting.

  A gull shrieked so close to Finn’s head that he started and turned, and there she was, at the far end of the dock walking towards him, her fair hair whipping across her face and out behind, her cream trench coat buckled at the waist. She moved lightly, soft on her feet, not carrying the weight that burdened everyone in Finn’s world, compressing their spines, curving their shoulders, heavying their tread.

  She’d heard he was back, and she’d sent him a message and he’d sworn he wouldn’t do this, wouldn’t see her, wouldn’t ask for trouble, wouldn’t give Bridget one more reason to doubt him. But as Sandra walked towards him and the features of her face started to become clear, he didn’t need to see the expression there. He could feel it in the set of her body. She didn’t blame him. She didn’t hate him.

  Inside him, inside some terrible place where metal tangled and fizzed and melted and re-formed, something started to ease, and he felt a rush of desire in his groin. Before she even reached him, before she even put out her hand to take his, Finn started to cry for the first time since he’d stepped onto the island’s soil.

  JARRAH

  Watching TV was like eating lollies. At the start you thought you could go on forever, but after a while you felt sick.

  Mum set up the sofa bed for me in the lounge room when I came home from hospital so I didn’t have to get up the stairs. It was nearly a week later but I was still woozy and kind of wobbly on the crutches. Everything was weird. She was home all day. Dad was gone. Toby was gone. Everything about the family was upside down. It was too much to think about. So I slept a lot and watched TV. I didn’t even care about being on full display, spread out on the sofa bed in the lounge room.

  Mum was watching me. She tried not to be obvious about it, but she’d stay up in the kitchen reading after I turned the light off. Sometimes in the night I’d wake to see her sitting up, or resting her head on her arms, asleep at the table. A few times she crept in and slept on the other lounge. She was always up when I woke in the morning. I didn’t know how to tell her it was OK. I wasn’t going to try it again.

  It was nearly summer. The TV droned on and I kicked the sheet on and off, and turned the fan up and down, and flicked the channels and dozed. All my bones felt heavy. Crutching to the kitchen left me wiped out. My skin itched under the plaster. My leg didn’t hurt, but it gave weird little stabs and aches.

  When I stopped sleeping so much, Mum asked me about going back to school, but as soon as she did, I felt tired again. I didn’t want to go back. She said she’d talk to the teacher about sending over some work so I didn’t get too far behind, and I kind of agreed.

  The next afternoon when Mum was in the kitchen someone arrived. They talked at the door and from that distance the voice was familiar, though I couldn’t hear it. Next thing, Mum came into the room.

  ‘Jarrah, Laura’s brought over some schoolwork,’ she said. ‘I’ll make you guys some afternoon tea, hey?’

  Mum disappeared at the speed of light and there was Laura, red-eyed, looking everywhere except at me.

  ‘Hey, Laura.’

  ‘Hey.’

  ‘Wanna sit down?’

  She came closer and perched on the couch opposite and finally looked at me. ‘I only just heard today, Jazz. I can’t believe it. I feel so terrible.’

  I struggled to remember what Laura and I had said to each other. It felt so long ago. ‘It’s not your fault.’

  ‘But we had that fight. Then you just didn’t come to school. I didn’t know what happened.’

  I opened my mouth to say it wasn’t anything to do with her, and then closed it again. Took a breath. I was getting better at thinking before I spoke. Plus we’d agreed on the story, Mum and me.

  ‘It was a stupid accident. Just fooling around. Fell out of the tree and the branch fell on me.’

  She looked at me directly. ‘And the mark on your neck?’

  ‘A bruise,’ I said. ‘I hit it on the tree when I was falling.’

  Her look didn’t waver. ‘I said something like that once to Mum about a love bite. She even believed me.’

  Mum came bustling in with two milkshakes on a tray and a plate of biscuits, like we were five years old. She put them down on the table and scuttled out again as Laura was thanking her. It would have nearly been funny, if it wasn’t. Laura got up, grabbed one of the milkshakes and perched on the side of the sofa bed next to me. ‘I wish I’d never said that about your brother. I didn’t mean it.’

  She’d told me to take my dead brother and go to hell, I remembered.

  ‘I was a dickhead that day. It’s OK.’

  She was quiet for a moment, then scrabbled in her bag and pulled out a bunch of books and papers. ‘Addison gave me some maths for you. You coming back to school soon?’

  ‘I dunno. Guess so.’

  Maybe I could do it. Make up with her and try again. If I was staying, being Laura’s boyfriend was a good idea. And I did like her. I’d thought I loved her. Whatever that meant. Maybe I still could. Except it looked like we’d be leaving by Christmas.

  She put the maths stuff down on the floor and before I could gather my thoughts she leaned in close.

  Something made me press myself back against the pillow. ‘Laura …’

  She pulled back. ‘What?’

  ‘I’m sorry. It’s not you …’

  Her lip started trembling and she turned away. ‘Yeah, right. Thought you were different.’

  I knew I sounded like a bad movie, but I didn’t know any better way to say it. ‘I think I am different. That’s the point.’

  Her face shut down. I reached out and took her hand. ‘I never thought you’d even notice me.’

  ‘You think I just felt sorry for you?’

  ‘Um. Sort of, at the start.’

  She pulled her wrist free. ‘So if you’re different, Jarrah, why didn’t you just say so? I feel like an idiot.’

  ‘Shh.’ I made a face in the direction of the kitchen.

  ‘It’s not the end of the world, being gay. It’s no big deal.’

  ‘Shh! You don’t get it.’

  ‘So tell me.’

  ‘I would if I could. I don’t know what I am. I just – I can’t explain it.’

  ‘Is it about your brother?’

  I kept my gaze down and fiddled with the corner of the sheet. ‘I dunno. Maybe. It’s all sort of mixed up.’

  Laura stood and slung her schoolbag over her shoulder. ‘Glad I could help you work out you’re gay. I guess.’ Her voice was bitter.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ I reached out, trying to catch her hand, but she stayed out of my reach. ‘I like you. I really do.’

  She picked up the milkshake and finished it, wiped her mouth across her hand. ‘Missing your brother doesn’t have to mean you’re gay. It just means you loved him.’

  She reached out and touched the back of my hand, then headed for the door. I nearly called out for her to come back. I hoped like crazy she was right. I wanted to grab her hand again and pull her down for that kiss. M
aybe it would be different this time. But I didn’t say anything, and then she was gone and it was too late.

  A few minutes later Mum put her head around the door. ‘Did you make up?’

  I felt exhausted again. ‘We’re just friends, Mum.’

  ‘It’s a pity. She seems like a nice girl. Maybe you just need some time.’

  ‘Mm.’

  She went to say something, stopped herself. Started again. ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘Yeah.’ I picked up the remote and turned on the TV so she didn’t ask me anything else. She stood there for a while, then collected the tray and glasses and went back to the kitchen.

  I stared at the stupid screen, not watching. What kind of fucking idiot was I, telling Laura to go? The dream girl who, unbelievably, wanted to be my girlfriend and I was just letting her walk out. No, I was actually pushing her away and I didn’t even know why.

  Only that now when she wanted to kiss me I wanted to run. When did that even happen?

  For a second I remembered what happened with Tom. If I was gay, wouldn’t I be happy to remember that? But every time I thought of it, I just felt shame. I wriggled and changed the channel. There was one thing I knew for sure. It was better if we never saw each other again. I forced myself to think about something else. Something that wasn’t Laura or Tom.

  For the first time I wasn’t too sleepy to remember what Dad had told me about the day Toby drowned. I didn’t want to picture that day, but now it had found its way into my brain and started playing over and over.

  I looked out the sliding doors into the garden. I was thinking about Laura and Tom and Toby. And then I remembered something.

  BRIDGET

  You wait until Jarrah is deep in some space-war movie before you give in. You text Chen from the kitchen around the time he’d be finishing work.

 

  It’s been over a week since you said goodbye, but he responds like he’s been waiting for it, the text pinging back in moments. Within twenty minutes his car pulls up outside and he’s at the door.

  ‘What?’ he asks, as if you’ve never pushed him away.

  You shake your head and gesture towards the lounge room, where Jarrah’s sprawled under a sheet, a fan flapping cool air on his skin. The intergalactic battle is at full pitch on the TV but you know the way children’s hearing can pierce through a babble of noise and zero in on exactly what you don’t want them knowing. You doubt Jarrah has lost the ability.

  Chen is familiar and lovely and concerned, and you long for his arms around you so hard that you feel weak with it and you have to physically restrain yourself. You won’t even kiss him on the cheek or shake hands; any contact is too dangerous. Oh God, you are so alone.

  A week ago, without warning you, Finn pleaded guilty to the charge of manslaughter by negligence. He had no answer to your incredulity, claiming the choice was his to make. The next day he got on a plane to visit his father, leaving you alone to care for Jarrah, with twelve days to plan out how your lives would look if he went to jail. He hasn’t told you when he’ll be back. The two of you have barely spoken – though he calls Jarrah daily.

  You’ve spent seven of those days hovering over your son, refusing to allow yourself to call Chen, and creating a disaster out there in the garden. Today you’re desperate.

  ‘Is there somewhere we can talk?’ Chen asks.

  You nod. ‘I want to show you something.’ You raise your voice and call to Jarrah over the laser guns, tell him you’ll be outside. You hear a faint ‘Sure, Mum,’ in response.

  You open the pool gate, hold it for Chen, lead him through. It takes him a moment to notice, then he stops dead.

  The pool is opaque, a livid green. It happened fast in the subtropical heat, once you pulled the plug on the pump and chlorinator, let the machinery die away into blessed silence. ‘What the …’

  You try to explain. ‘I’m changing it into a pond. They say you put in plants and fish and the system balances up. I just didn’t think it would be this green. I can’t bear it …’ Your voice trembles and you trail off.

  You’re desperate for the water to be clear again. You knew it would be hard to forego your swims, but you didn’t know how you’d ache for them, how the nights would be unbearably empty. You can’t bring yourself to even dip your hands in the vivid green water, and so another part of Toby has been lost to you.

  Chen crouches by the pool and peers into it. When he stands again, he’s pale. It’s seeing at close quarters where Toby drowned, you realise.

  But he shakes it off. ‘I can see a few wrigglers. That’s a good sign. Start of an ecosystem. What now?’

  You pull the crumpled printout from your pocket. ‘They say once you’ve got wrigglers you can introduce plants and fish. Then the water should clear.’

  ‘Have you got plants?’

  ‘The nursery’s got water plants. I checked it out – but I don’t want to leave him to pick them up.’

  He looks at you with deep, sympathetic eyes. ‘What happened, Bridget?’

  You can’t stand the look of pity on his face. You shake your head. ‘Don’t.’ Then you sweep out an arm. ‘I’ve got a list. Could you collect them?’

  Being a plant courier probably isn’t what he expected. The nursery might well have delivered; you didn’t check. The truth is you wanted to see him. You wanted another adult. You are grateful for Jarrah’s presence beyond anything you’ve known before, but he is, still, your teenage son.

  ‘You could help me get them in there. If you’ve got time.’

  ‘Sure.’ He starts moving, still pale and seemingly keen to get away from the green water. You lead him from the pool area back to his car. As he turns the key you lean down to the window.

  ‘Why don’t you bring back a bottle of wine too?’

  He smiles a small relieved smile. ‘I’d like that.’

  He reverses the car around and drives off. You hurry back inside to check on Jarrah.

  JARRAH

  Time after Toby: thirty-two days. When I heard a man’s voice I shifted around on the sofa bed so I could see into the kitchen. Mum’s friend from work was there with her. For the first time I wondered about him. What was he doing at our place? He’d been around at the start, cooking meals and helping out, but I hadn’t seen him lately. There was something weird about him coming over while Dad was in Hobart.

  As they headed outside, I told myself it was probably fine. Maybe Mum hadn’t really settled into Murwillumbah, like me. Maybe she didn’t have any friends either. What happened to us meant people either came close or ran away. Maybe all their new friends had run away. Maybe she was as lonely as I was.

  She came back in after a while and sat on the couch watching telly with me. For some reason I suddenly noticed how thin she’d got. It was like I hadn’t seen anything lately. I hadn’t noticed she was thin and pale and lonely. I saw new lines around her eyes and what looked like streaks of grey in her hair. Dad was fat and old and a mess. I wondered how he was going in Hobart. He called every night, but he didn’t say much. Just asked how I was and about the TV programs I’d been watching. He said it was cold down there.

  After a while Chen appeared at the door holding a box of plants and Mum stood up.

  ‘There are more in the car,’ he said. ‘I’ll bring them in.’

  ‘What are they for?’ I asked after he’d gone out.

  Mum blinked. ‘A little project outside.’

  My brain was literally going to melt and run on the floor if I didn’t get up. ‘Can I have a look?’

  She hesitated.

  ‘Or do you want to be alone with your boyfriend?’ It was out of my mouth before I thought.

  She looked at me like she was shocked. ‘Don’t be stupid, Jarrah.’

  The pause before she said it made me think I might be right, but I’d shocked myself too, saying it out loud. ‘Sorry.’

  She gave me a weak smile. ‘It’s OK, Jarr. It’s a weird time. The plants are for the pool.
I’m turning it into a natural pond. It doesn’t look so great at the moment. But it’ll get better.’

  ‘I wouldn’t mind seeing,’ I said. It wasn’t really true. I hated anything to do with the pool. But I was so, so sick of lying down. I levered myself off the sofa, balanced on the crutches and followed her outside. Chen was carrying another box of plants into the pool area, holding the gate open with his shoulder. Mum took it and gestured for me to go through.

  I swung into the pool area and saw it: the whole pool a thick, gluggy green like a bowl of slime. I came to a dead stop, and had to swallow hard. It was the most disgusting thing I’d ever seen.

  ‘That’s gross.’

  ‘It won’t stay like this,’ she said. ‘In a week or two the water will clear up. It’ll be full of plants and fish. Like a real pond. It’ll be alive, won’t it, Chen?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ Chen said, putting down the box.

  ‘I’m going back in,’ I said.

  ‘I’ll come with you.’ Mum started towards me.

  I shook my head. ‘Just do your plant thing.’

  She hesitated. ‘Jarrah—’

  ‘I’m not going to kill myself, OK?’ I snapped. ‘You don’t have to watch me every second.’

  Mum stepped back and Chen looked shocked. Good. I manoeuvred my crutches and Mum opened the gate to let me through. Felt like she wanted to say something, but didn’t know what.

  ‘Does Dad know what you’re doing?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The pool. Does he know?’

  She let the latch drop so the gate was locked between us. ‘This will turn the pool into something useful, Jarrah. A living system.’

  ‘But we won’t even be here, will we?’

  I made my way inside, flopped back on the sofa bed and watched something so mind-numbing on TV that it put me to sleep. One of those weird hot-afternoon dozes when you don’t know if you’re dreaming or awake. I thought I heard my phone ping. I was sure for a moment Dad was in the room, and once I thought I heard an echo of Toby, as if he were up in his room asking someone to read to him. Then I knew I was dreaming, even in the dream, and tossed and turned until I woke up.