Always Jack

by Susanne Gervay

  Rob’s on the phone. ‘Sounds like the surf is great, Leo. Love to see you in the competition next week, but something’s happened … Breast cancer … I can’t come up for a while … The wedding’s postponed … Hope you understand —’

  Leo’s scared. He wants his dad.

  I’m on the phone. ‘Anna, you can tell your parents. Mum doesn’t want you to hide it any more. Surgery’s next week … She’s going to be all right … It’s caught early. See you at school tomorrow.’

  Anna’s scared. Parents can get very sick.

  I’m on the phone. ‘Mum’s coming to the prize giving, Christopher. Breast cancer. Mum asked if your parents could make the wedding cake for later. See you at school tomorrow.’

  Christopher’s scared. He knows about losing family.

  Nanna’s scared. She wants Grandad here because Mum’s sick.

  Rob’s scared. Nothing’s going to work if Mum isn’t here.

  Samantha and I are scared. Mum has to make it.

  Everything’s going so fast. Mum has a meeting with the principal. Mr Angelou tells me that I can talk to him any time I need to.

  Christopher and I have to complete our presentation on our Vietnam project for the prize giving. ‘It’ll make your mum proud, Jack,’ Mr Angelou says. I don’t feel like doing it, but I can’t let Christopher down, or Mr Angelou and especially not Mum.

  The Napolis send a gigantic basket filled with mangoes, green apples, melons and red grapes. Christopher’s parents send a gigantic basket of breads and pastries, with cookies, sweet buns and flaky cheese swirls.

  The wedding plans have been postponed for a date unknown. Rob says he is already my stepdad. ‘Nothing’s changed,’ he says. But it has. Leo sends a get-well card to Mum, a spotty place mat with a photo of a Dalmatian to Samantha and a joke to me:

  The police are looking for a cane toad with one eye called Wally.

  What’s his other eye called?

  I take Wally down from the top of the cupboard. He’s only got one eye. It’s not a very good joke, but Leo’s OK. I send him a photo of my ponto and a surfing poster.

  Anna and I haven’t had time to walk along the beach again. I wonder if she still likes me.

  Prize giving at school.

  Mr Napoli arrives in a navy blue suit, light blue shirt and multi-coloured tie. His hair is slicked back and his moustache trimmed and neat. Mrs Napoli is wearing an orange dress and black high heels. I’ve never seen them look so dressed-up. I click photos.

  Christopher’s mother is wearing a sapphire blue áo-dài — a tunic — over long flowing pants. There are glass diamonds sparkling from her sleeves. His father is wearing a grey Mandarin jacket over loose white pants. I click photos.

  Mum is like sunflowers at Sea Breeze with a yellow ribbon hairband holding back her blonde hair. Her spring dress is printed with daisy rings. Rob is wearing his green-checked shirt and blue jeans and I want to burst into a trucking song. I click photos.

  Mr Angelou welcomes parents, teachers, students and visitors, then launches into his speech about the project. ‘The students have produced a special exhibition of countries. Please take your time to enjoy the displays by the class after the awards. This is a celebration of the many cultures that make up this school community.’ His bald head beams in the hall light. ‘Six students have produced exceptional work. I am very proud to welcome the award-winners onto the stage.’ Everyone climbs up and sits in the seats behind the lectern.

  The presentations on Afghanistan, Sudan and Israel are really interesting. George Hamel is quick with a Powerpoint slide-show of illustrations and pictures of the castle. It’s Anna’s turn. She walks to the lectern with her notes, and I can only see her profile with her dark hair bouncing. Photos of vineyards and olive groves, the stone farmhouse with her grandparents looking really young, the cliffs plunging into the Mediterranean Sea, the family kitchen filled with glass bottles and tomatoes cooking, move across the screen. Anna ends with a photo of a ship leaving Italy.

  ‘It was a big move for my parents to leave Italy and their families and friends, but they found new families and friends here. They speak English today, as well as Italian. My parents have their own Fruitologist Market and this is the Napoli home now.’

  Everyone cheers for Anna, especially Mr and Mrs Napoli. Then it is Christopher and my turn. I am nervous even though we spent a lot of time preparing this. Most of it is the film clip and slide-show. Grandad’s medals, Christopher’s parents’ voices, scenes from the Vietnam War, fishing boats that faced pirates and the high seas, soldiers, homeless families, camps, bombed land and that photo of the girl Kim Phuc running from the napalm bombs as her village burned and she burned.

  Christopher and I look at each other for the final part of the presentation. This is the script we read out.

  Jack: ‘My grandad …’

  Christopher: ‘My grandfather …’

  Jack and Christopher together: ‘… were in the Vietnam War’

  Jack: ‘My family …’

  Christopher: ‘My family …’

  Jack and Christopher together: ‘… are friends today in a new country.’

  Jack and Christopher together: ‘Kim Phuc, the girl running from the bomb, said, “Don’t see a little girl crying out in fear and pain. See her as crying out for peace.”’

  Christopher’s mother has tears in her eyes. Mum does too.

  Mum is having surgery tomorrow.

  Chapter 11

  The Surgery

  ‘Aren’t you hungry?’ I ask Mum. She’s not allowed to eat or drink anything this morning.

  Her bag is at the front door. Mum’s packed the pyjamas we bought her from Susie’s Super Discount Store. Nanna’s favourite shop. They’re bright pink with white woolly sheep and stars all over them. Mum loves the pink flowers in the sheep’s hair. Nanna loves the pyjamas too. Samantha and I secretly bought a Nanna-size pair for her birthday. Rob’s got a day off work to take Mum to hospital. We’re staying home to be with Nanna.

  ‘I’m going to be fine, everyone,’ Mum says as she hugs us.

  Rob carries her bag to the car. ‘I’ll ring as soon as Mum’s out of surgery.’

  We wave as Mum and Rob drive away.

  Nanna wobbles into her armchair. Puss curls into her lap. Samantha sits next to Nanna, patting Puss. They look like misery-guts. I don’t feel really good either, but we can’t sit there all day. Mum wouldn’t want that.

  ‘Come on. We’ve got stuff to do.’ Nanna, Samantha and Puss look up. ‘Don’t you want to make Mum happy?’ Nanna rubs her eyes. Samantha nods. Puss purrs.

  The kitchen table is cleared. Glue, ribbons, cardboard, sparkles, coloured pencils, scissors. Samantha is in charge of the card-making with Nanna and Puss as helpers. I head for the workshop. I’ve got an idea.

  The workshop looks good. Everything’s in the right place. I use Leo’s bench to set up. He won’t mind. Not here anyway. Wood, glue, saw, paintbrush, paint, paper and pencil to draw the design. I start.

  ‘Lunch, Jack,’ Samantha calls from the back door. Can’t believe the time. It’s already after one o’clock. I race up the back stairs. I’m starving. Nanna’s made strawberry jam sandwiches and there’s a bowl of bananas. Her favourite. Samantha’s jumping around showing me their card. ‘It’s fantastic.’ There’s a dog on it of course. It’s a party card with so many sparkles, glitter, colours and ‘GET WELL QUICK’ written in gold.

  ‘What have you made, Jack?’ Nanna says, chewing her banana.

  ‘You’ll see when I’m finished.’ I bite into my strawberry jam sandwich. Suddenly, the phone rings. I grab it, spitting jam everywhere. ‘It’s Rob, Rob.’ Coughing, I splutter, ‘Mum’s out of surgery.’ I yell, ‘She’s all right. All right.’

  Samantha starts crying. Nanna smiles like the Cheshire Cat and Puss purrs and purrs and purrs.

  It’s been one day since the operation. Finally Rob is taking Samantha and me to visit Mum in hospital. Samantha is holding the special
Mum party card. I’m carrying the present I made.

  ‘Just take it easy when you see Mum.’ Rob puts his arm on my shoulder.

  Why is Rob saying that? Mum’s all right, isn’t she? We go into her ward. There’s Mum in the bed next to the window. I spot the bright pink pyjamas and the sheep. We race toward her. Mum smiles and my stomach sinks. She looks sick. There are bandages over her chest. She’s got a needle in her hand attached to a drip.

  ‘She’s been vomiting from the anaesthetic,’ Rob says.

  It hurts her to move. Mum hides a groan as she sits up to look at Samantha’s card. ‘It’s beautiful, darling.’ Samantha smiles because she likes to be called darling. I don’t. Mum reaches for my present. ‘You’re so clever, Jack, making this.’ It was not that hard to make. I did a tech drawing first, then sawed the wood into a heart shape. The middle part was the hardest, where I slotted in the photo of Samantha and me. There’s a stand that I glued to the back of the heart frame. ‘I love it, Jack.’ I put it on the cabinet next to her bed. Mum keeps looking at it.

  Mum’s been in hospital for two days. Nanna, Samantha and I have been cooking. I made eggs for dinner one night. It was a great success. Nanna cooked a roast lamb one night that was good too. Mrs Napoli sent us a huge bowl of pasta and Christopher’s parents sent over two loaves of fresh bread. I’m washing the dishes because Rob goes to the hospital every night to be with Mum. We’re trying to keep the house clean but it’s hard. Rob says that Mum’ll be home soon.

  After school, Anna and I walk along the beach. ‘So glad your mum is getting better.’

  Small ripples of relief spread over me. ‘She’s made it through the first part. She’s still sore, but the drip is out now. She’s got radiotherapy, and maybe chemotherapy, but Mum’ll be home soon. I just want Mum to get better and not have cancer.’ Anna hugs me for a second and it feels good. We walk between the rocks. The air smells like seaweed. The waves rush in, then get sucked out. I climb up a boulder and reach out for Anna’s hand to help her up. We sit looking out to sea holding hands.

  It’s Saturday morning and Mum’s coming home today. We’re all so excited. I clean the mouse-house. I hate doing that, but I didn’t want the hallway to smell of mouse poo. Mum likes Frank and Spot better than she used to, but she’s still not a mouse person.

  The house is like a garden. Flowers everywhere. The library, Rob’s work, Mr Angelou — lots of people have sent flowers. Samantha and Nanna are in charge of flower arrangements. ‘We need more vases.’ Nanna fiddles with the red and white roses. She’s bending to smell the scent when pop. I can’t believe it. Samantha yelps, ‘Yuk,’ but Nanna just laughs a toothless laugh.

  ‘Nanna, your teeth.’ She pops them back in and twinkles a toothy smile. I groan as I race to the kitchen cupboard. Found it. I produce Mum’s big glass jug. ‘A vase.’

  ‘You are clever, Jack.’ There are some plastic jugs as well. I find some garden pots from the workshop; we have plenty of vases and Samantha and Nanna are happy as pigs in mud. Hey, I feel funny again. Pig joke, pig joke.

  ‘Nanna, Nanna. Why is getting up at five in the morning like a pig’s tail?’

  ‘Why, Jack?’

  ‘Because it’s twirly. Get it? Too early?’

  Nanna laughs and laughs. Samantha complains. ‘Jack, that is a stupid joke.’

  ‘Oink, oink, oink.’ I pull Samantha’s pigtails.

  ‘Don’t, Jack!’ But she’s laughing. We’re all happy that Mum’s coming home.

  Anna arrives with a wheely bag filled with fruit and vegetables. She’s brought them all the way from Napolis’ Super Delicioso Fruitologist Market. Her face is flushed. I try not to look at her because I don’t want to get red too. Nanna hugs Anna for ages.

  The fridge is now full of the Napolis’ fruit and vegetables. Christopher dropped in some bread and six biscuits last night. I notice that there are only two cookies left and Samantha and I didn’t eat any. ‘Who ate them?’ I stare directly at Nanna. She gives a guilty giggle.

  Anna and Samantha start making a banana cake — Mum’s favourite. Mine too. I get my hammer and tacks from the workshop to hang the ‘Welcome Home’ banner in the lounge room. Samantha has drawn a dog on the banner, of course.

  Lunchtime. Everything is done. Anna stays. We’re hanging around waiting. Nanna brews a cup of tea. I squeeze oranges and make six glasses of juice. I check the thermometer. The weather’s just right. Puss is purring. Nanna brings out her cards. Samantha’s sticking her head out of the window. Suddenly Samantha squeals, ‘Car coming, car coming.’

  There’s a hand waving from the passenger-side window. It’s Mum’s, and we all pile out into the driveway, waving back. ‘Hold on,’ Rob yells. He stops the car, then gets out to open Mum’s door for her. She hobbles onto the path in her pink hibiscus dressing-gown. Matches her pyjamas.

  ‘Mum, are you going to do some star jumps?’

  ‘Very funny, Jack.’

  ‘We’ve baked you a banana cake.’ Samantha bounces around. ‘Anna brought the bananas.’ Anna gives a huge smile.

  ‘But Nanna ate the cookies.’

  ‘Cookies? Samantha, did you say cookies?’ Nanna’s hearing is bad today. ‘They were delicious.’ That makes us all laugh, which makes Nanna laugh.

  Slowly Mum walks up the steps into Sea Breeze. She notices straight away that the mouse-house is clean. She’s happy about that. She walks down the hallway toward the lounge and smiles at the sunflowers on the hall stand. But when she enters the lounge, she stops still. Roses and jasmine and daffodils and lilies and my banner fill the room. She starts crying and can’t stop. ‘Don’t cry, Mum. Don’t cry, Mum.’ Samantha tries to hug her, but Rob puts an arm around each of us kids. ‘Mum’s still a bit sore today.’

  ‘This is so beautiful.’ Mum swallows tears. ‘I’m so happy to see you and to be home. This is the best homecoming I could ever imagine.’

  No work for Mum for a while. She’s not allowed to lift anything heavy for ages. It’s our job to buy the week’s groceries, do the washing, gardening, cooking and everything. Mum says it’s like being on holidays. If you ask me, it’s not much of a holiday with a cut down your chest. Mum always sees the positive side of things.

  I head off to do late-night shopping with Rob and Samantha. Nanna’s coming too. She wants to buy more underpants. Hers have little fur-balls on them from too many washes. She’s decided to buy us some more too. How many underpants does a kid need? Please, please can all the purple ones be sold out?

  We head for the supermarket. Nanna says she wants to look around and will catch us at the doughnut café afterward. What a surprise. Doughnuts are a huge Nanna favourite. Samantha is super-annoying when she won’t move from the hair aisle. She needs shampoo and conditioner and sparkles and ribbons. She’s going to be a hairdresser for sure. Mum’s written us a list of what we really have to get — meat, vegetables, drinks, milk, eggs, the usual. Oh, I see some wood glue. There’s a hardware part in the cleaning aisle. ‘Rob, can I …?’

  Before I even finish he nods at me. ‘Throw it into the trolley.’

  Rob pays at the check-out and I push the trolley toward the doughnut café. I see Nanna at a table with parcels. She’s beaming as she waves her walking stick at us. I’m suspicious. ‘Sit down, sit down.’ We order doughnuts and strawberry smoothies, and then Nanna announces her success. ‘Look what I’ve got!’ She fossicks in a shopping bag, then flaunts them. You guessed it. They’re purple and big and the last ones in the shop. How lucky am I? NOT.

  I can’t believe it’s been two weeks already. Mr Angelou has been especially nice to me and I didn’t get into trouble for accidentally hitting the handball into the street. Christopher let me win at handball and I walked with Anna to the rocks again. I really like Anna and I think she likes me. The flowers are gone from the lounge room and I took down the banner. Mum’s back at the library part-time but her arm hurts her. I don’t know if she’ll ever be able to do star jumps again. I worry.

  I�
�m checking out my ponto when I hear Mum arrive home. I race out straight away with my ponto. ‘Look how enormous it is and —’ I stop. She has purple marks on her chest. ‘What’s that, Mum?’

  ‘It’s nothing.’ It is something.

  ‘What’s that, Mum?’ I ask again.

  Mum rubs her forehead, then quickly looks at me. ‘The radiotherapist marked my chest, that’s all. It’s planning for the radiotherapy. Can we talk about it later? I need to lie down, darling.’

  That’s all? It’s not all and I’m not her darling. I follow Mum down the hallway. Mum turns around, then kisses my cheek. ‘Just need a little rest, darling.’ She shuts the bedroom door.

  I stand there for a while, check Frank and Spot in the hallway, then flop onto my bed. I put my ponto onto my windowsill near Hector. I open his cage and pat him, trying to work out what the purple really means. I have an idea. I head for my computer. ‘Purple and radiotherapy.’ There’s lots of information. ‘The area to be treated will be marked with a pink/purple marker and/or permanent tattoos. The tattoos are small pinprick-size black/purple marks, tattooed onto the skin.’ Has Mum got tattoos? I can’t believe that. I keep reading. Radiotherapy is X-rays that blast cancer cells, but it doesn’t hurt. Except Mum’s going to be tired. Her skin’s going to be red and sore. She has to go every day for weeks and weeks. A scared feeling burbles inside me.

  Mum’s cooked sausages and steak for dinner. Nanna likes the sausages because they don’t stick in her teeth. Mum’s put Samantha’s card on the fridge and my heart photo frame on the shelf. ‘They’re beautiful,’ Mum says for the hundredth time. ‘Jack, do you have any jokes?’ I shake my head. I don’t feel like joking.

  Rob brings up the radiotherapy. ‘Mum’s starting in a few weeks’ time.’

  Suddenly Samantha spots it. ‘There’s purple on you, Mum.’

  ‘Ask Mum to show you her purple tattoos.’ I give Mum the look, that I know she’s hiding them.

  Samantha pipes up, ‘Don’t be dumb, Jack. Mum hasn’t got tattoos.’