by Lisa Henry
“Why are you here?” she asked when she reached him, narrowing her eyes. “Where’s David?”
“His car won’t start,” John said. “So you’re either stuck with me or you’re walking.”
Jessie rolled her eyes and stalked toward the car park, and John followed her.
“Did you eat yet?” he asked as he pulled out onto the road.
“Yes,” she said, her tone as hostile as though he was asking her for her firstborn child.
“Okay,” he said, and didn’t take the bait by having a go at her about her attitude and giving her free ammunition to return fire with. “We can swing by KFC and get you something if you want anything.”
“I don’t.” She shot him a suspicious look, and then stared out of the windscreen again.
“Okay,” he said again.
He wanted to ask what was going on with her, what was trapping her in this pattern of angry, unhappy behaviour, but maybe it was time he realised he couldn’t be that person for Jessie. He couldn’t force her to open up to him if she didn’t want to. Maybe David and Tee were better suited to dealing with Jessie than John ever would be, but a part of him worried that he was just searching for an easy out, a way to make Jessie someone else’s problem so he could shove her to the back of his mind and concentrate on worrying about other things instead.
Other things.
As though his mind didn’t automatically go straight to Caleb.
Guilt bit him as he glanced at Jessie again.
“How’s school going?” he asked her.
“Fine.” She rolled her eyes again.
They drove the rest of the way home in silence.
Their mother was waiting on the front step when John pulled up. Jessie got out of the car, slammed the door, and pushed her way through the squeaking gate. She muttered something to Sepela as she passed, and then vanished inside the house while John was still making his way up the path.
“Thank you, baby.” Sepela pulled him into a hug. “David said his car wouldn’t start?”
“He needs a new car,” John said.
“Easy for you to say. You earn more money than David does.”
“I’d help him out,” John said, because that’s what family did.
“He’s too proud to ask,” Sepela said. “Just like his father.”
John felt a new tendril of worry uncoil in his gut. “Has he said something? Has Tee? Are they doing okay?”
“It’s fine,” Sepela said. “I’m sure it’s fine, but you could ask him.”
“I will.”
“The kettle’s on,” Sepela said, and let him through to the kitchen. “You look tired, baby.”
“Long day,” John said. He went straight for the pantry and rattled around in the biscuit tins, then found the homemade Anzac biscuits and took two. “I had court all day, then I met up with Caleb and Darren and we went for dinner.”
Sepela poured hot water into a mug. “How is he?”
“He’s good, I think, for now,” John said. “But he found out today that the people who hurt him are getting out of prison.”
Sepela pressed a hand to her heart. “No!”
John had never told her much, but the trial had been in the news. Caleb hadn’t been mentioned by name since he was a minor, but the abuses of the Children of Galilee had been front page news for weeks, and John’s family all knew he was one of the investigators. John could still remember his dad’s grave expression as they’d watched a segment on the news one night.
“Those poor children,” he’d said, and then looked over to where John was sitting. “That poor boy of yours.”
Sepela set a mug of tea in front of him, and then sat down across the small table from him. She wrapped her hands around her mug. “You should invite him here sometimes,” she said at last. “Caleb and his father.”
O le fogavaʻa e tasi, John thought; one family. But his gaze was drawn to the cross hanging up above the kitchen window, and he couldn’t help but think of what it signified to Caleb, and of how Caleb didn’t belong in this house where Jesus was welcome any more than he belonged in a laughing group of young people in Pastor Ian’s church hall. Belief and faith strengthened John’s family, because Jesus, in Sepela Faimu’s house, meant love. But to Caleb the name only meant horror.
“Maybe we could all go out somewhere,” he said. “Us, and Caleb and Darren. Maybe a barbecue at the beach or something.”
Sepela smiled. “I met him before, didn’t I? Oh, a long time ago now.”
She had, John remembered. He’d taken Caleb shopping for some new game at the Hyperdome, and they’d run into Ma and Mary.
“He was such a shy boy,” Sepela said. “So quiet and thin!”
“He still is,” John said. “But he’s not a boy anymore.”
“Well, how am I supposed to know that, if you never bring him here?”
John grinned at that, despite himself. “It’s complicated, Ma.”
Sepela smiled, her gaze as warm and shrewd as always. “It’s not as complicated as you pretend it is, baby.”
John bit into an Anzac biscuit and sent a shower of crumbs raining down onto the laminate tabletop. Tiny crumbs, as small as mustard seeds, too numerous to count.
Chapter Eight
“How are you feeling this morning?” John asked.
Caleb’s slate-grey gaze tracked him as he walked toward the hospital bed.
“It’s okay,” John said. “I’m not here to ask you any questions today. “I just wanted to see how you were doing.”
Caleb shrugged. “Okay.”
Darren Fletcher, sitting in a chair in the corner, watched them silently.
John upended his grocery bag on Caleb’s bed. “I got you some junk food, because hospital food is the worst, right?” He began to sort through the pile. “Okay, we’ve got a Mars Bar, some Maltesers, some Barbecue Shapes, and some Twisties. Cheese, because everyone knows Cheese Twisties are the best sort.”
Caleb’s mouth twitched slightly.
“And…” John picked up the packet and showed it to him. “Some red frogs. If you don’t eat these, I will.”
Caleb’s skinny fingers played a nervous tattoo across the top of his blankets.
John tore open the packet of red frogs and held it out to Caleb.
Caleb looked at him warily for a moment, and then extended a shaking hand, palm-up. “Thank you.”
John tipped a couple of frogs into his hand. “Plenty more where these came from too, mate. You only have to ask.”
Even back then, in those first few fraught weeks, there was nothing he wouldn’t have done for Caleb.
Ethan Gray. Leon Harrison. Ben Quartermain. Analise Fletcher.
John knew their addresses, knew the terms of their parole, and had emailed each one of their parole officers to let him know the moment any of them breached their conditions, or their parole officers suspected they might. Ethan Gray was living in Toowoomba. Leon Harrison and Ben Quartermain were both in the northern suburbs of Brisbane, and Analise Fletcher was in Archerfield. Four little pins on John’s mental map, and he wanted to be the first to know if any of them took a step out of place.
But as the days passed into weeks, John began to slowly accept that maybe the parole board had been right: maybe the four of them just wanted to go about the rest of their lives quietly and in peace. But fuck them. They hadn’t afforded Caleb the same luxury.
Or Simon.
John hated them and would never not hate them, but the rage was a simmering heat he’d learned to live with for the past eight years and he kept it locked down. He wasn’t some reckless hothead who’d risk his career to go and harass a parolee. But he sure as hell wouldn’t hesitate if one of them so much as breathed in Caleb’s direction.
Caleb seemed to be coping well. He was working three days a week with Darren’s architect friend. The office was in the CBD, and sometimes John was able to meet him for lunch. Caleb’s shy grin whenever he could swing it always made it worthwhile.
/> “Always sushi with you, isn’t it?” John asked him one Tuesday when they met at the place a block down from Caleb’s office.
Caleb stole one of his chips. “It’s better for you than a burger.”
John tried to smack his hand, but Caleb was too quick for him. “How’s the job going? What is it now? Third week?”
“Fourth.” Caleb stuck his finger in his soy sauce. “It’s okay. I mean, it’s good, but it’s…” He shrugged, and sucked his finger.
John tried very hard not to notice that. “It’s what?”
Caleb shrugged again. “Boring?” He looked a little guilty. “I answer calls and file stuff. Everyone’s nice. I think Dad and Mr. Gatis are conspiring to get me interested in being an architect or a draughtsman.” Another shrug.
“That’s not something you want to do?” John picked lettuce off his burger.
“I don’t know.” His lips quirked in something that was almost a smile. “I spend so much time thinking about what I don’t want to be, that I kind of forget to think about what I do want to be.”
“Well maybe you could think about that sometimes.”
“I’ll try.” This time Caleb’s smile was a little apologetic. “So, how’s work going?”
It was John’s turn to shrug. “Same old, same old.”
“Being a detective always seems exciting when you see it on TV.”
“Mmm.” John pretended not to notice him steal another chip. “Oh, it’s car chases and shootouts all day long for me.”
Caleb’s smile grew, his eyes brightening. “How’s the family?”
“Good,” John said. “Looking forward to the weekend.”
Ever since John had dropped his idea of a beach barbecue, Sepela had been pushing him to set a date. This Saturday was the first that everyone’s schedules had lined up.
“Dad’s bringing so much steak,” Caleb said. “Everyone eats steak, right?”
“Yeah,” John said. “It’s lucky this is just at the beach. If we were at Ma’s place we wouldn’t be having a barbecue, we’d be roasting an entire pig.”
“Wow. Really?”
“Oh, yeah,” John said. “It’s a whole production.”
Caleb popped a piece of sushi into his mouth. “Sounds like fun.”
And John immediately wondered if he’d been too protective of Caleb. So what if his mother had a couple of crosses in her house and sometimes name-dropped Jesus? But then this Caleb, today’s Caleb, was a very different Caleb to the one who’d had a breakdown at his birthday party, or cut his wrists because a drunken hook-up had gone wrong. It had been weeks since John had even caught a glimpse of that Caleb. What had Caleb said that day at his psychiatrist’s appointment? That he wasn’t a kid. Maybe it was time John and Darren learned to trust that a little more—to trust that Caleb knew where his limits were, at least most of the time. If he wanted to come to Ma’s next puaa umu, and if felt strong enough to attempt it, then who was John to second guess him?
“We don’t do it very often,” he said, “but maybe next time you and your dad can come over.”
Caleb’s face flushed with pleasure. “I’d like that.”
John nodded. “My mother has a bunch of crosses and stuff in her house. She’s pretty religious, just so you know.”
Caleb froze for a second, and then shrugged it off and reached for another one of John’s chips. “Okay.” He chewed the chip and swallowed. “But she doesn’t mind that you’re gay?”
“She doesn’t mind,” John said. “And neither does her church.”
A small crease appeared on Caleb’s forehead, and John wanted to reach out and smooth it away. Then Caleb nodded slowly.
“Okay,” he said, and even if the word sounded a little breathy, a little fearful, a little uncertain in its delivery, John didn’t doubt for a second the strength of will behind it.
Saturday dawned overcast, but John checked his weather app and it promised the clouds would clear on the Gold Coast by mid-morning, even if they were going to hang around Brisbane for the rest of the day. John was on his way to the Coast by nine, hoping to beat the weekend traffic heading for the theme parks, and at just past ten he was pulling into a parking space at the beachfront at Biggera Waters, right where Biggera Creek fed out into the ocean. There were few clouds here, and the sun sparkled brightly off the Broadwater. Boats dotted the water from the south end of Stradbroke all the way to the Spit. To the south, the curve of the coast bristled with the dazzling high-rises of Surfers Paradise.
A half-grown red dog raced along in the shallows, splashing joyfully and tugging on her long lead. Caleb splashed along with her, his boardshorts hanging off his slim hips, and his pale skin glowing in the sunlight. Jesus. He was a fucking vision. Long, lean lines, dark, tousled hair, and a smile as brilliant as the glittering ocean behind him. The boar’s tusk necklace gleamed against his skin.
“Caleb!” Darren yelled as John made his way over the grass toward the barbecue, dragging his esky with him. “Come and put a bloody shirt on!”
“Morning,” John said.
Darren’s face split with a smile. “Morning. He’s gonna be burnt to a crisp if he doesn’t cover up.” He was unpacking his own esky. “Hey, you don’t mind, do you, but I invited Emily and her kids.”
“The more the merrier,” John said. He cracked open a can of soft drink. “Is it serious with you guys?”
Darren paused for a moment, and then exhaled. “She would like it to be.” He grimaced. “Jesus. That makes it sound like she’s pushing, and she’s not. She’s more understanding than a lot of people would be. And I’d like us to be serious too, but a relationship can’t be my priority at the moment. Maybe not ever. It’s, ah…well, it is what it is, you know?”
John nodded.
Darren picked up Caleb’s shirt and waved it. “Caleb!”
Caleb finally glanced their way and headed up toward them. He greeted John with a hug, and then pulled his shirt back on.
David and Tee were the next to arrive, in Tee’s little pink hatchback. Tee, petite and blonde, was driving. David unwedged himself from the passenger seat awkwardly.
“That was like watching Shrek climb out of a clown car,” John called as they approached.
“Ah, piss off!” David said, all smiles.
“This is Caleb and Darren,” John said. “And this is my brother David, and his much, much better half, Tee.”
Smiles and handshakes all around.
Emily and her kids arrived next. Alex and Kate headed straight for the water, and Cricket strained at her leash wanting to follow them. She whined and wrapped herself around Caleb’s legs when he didn’t go with them.
Mary and Sepela and Jessie arrived last. Jessie was glued to her phone, but John let it slide because at least she was here.
“Malo!” Mary called as she approached.
“Malo lava!” John pulled her into a hug. It felt like too long since he’d seen his big sister.
They cooked the barbecue and ate, salads and sides spread over an entire picnic table, and drinks and ice in the eskies. Alex and Kate ran from the picnic area to the beach and back again, just stopping long enough to fuel up before disappearing once more. John watched Caleb watch them. His expression seemed half curious and half jealous, as though he didn’t understand exactly how a normal childhood worked—shouting, bickering, screaming with fun—but knew that his had been stolen from him. And he worried, John remembered from his birthday, that he was stealing something in turn from Alex and Kate, and from Darren and Emily too.
John also watched how his family approached Caleb, and how Caleb reacted to them. He was polite and wary, the way he usually was with strangers, but there was an undercurrent of something else there. Something that felt right. John thought it was eight years of hearing John talk about these people, and of a strange overlap where through familiarity alone they were almost Caleb’s family too even if this was the first time he’d met most of them. There should have been a word for that, John tho
ught, somewhere between strangers and family. Somewhere between we’ve-never-met-but-I-know-every-funny-story-about-you. Caleb grew warmer and brighter with each passing moment, and even let Sepela bully him into eating a second helping of Mary’s potato bake.
“I like your mum,” he whispered to John as they both went to grab a drink.
John knocked their shoulders together. “She likes you too.”
Caleb’s face pinked up when he smiled.
“He’s a sweet boy,” Sepela said later as John helped her carry stuff back to Mary’s car.
“I know, Ma.”
She didn’t push, and John was glad.
The day was growing hotter, the shade retreating as everyone packed up and headed back to their respective cars.
“I’ll just take Cricket for another paddle,” Caleb said, and jogged down toward the beach again.
In the car park, Emily was wrapping Alex and Kate in towels for the drive home, and Mary was chatting to her. They were laughing at something. Jessie was leaning against Mary’s car, trying hard to look as though she’d had an awful time.
John stood with Darren by the picnic table and they watched Caleb and Cricket splashing in the shallows.
It was a good day.
“We need to do this more often,” Darren said at last.
“We really do,” John agreed.
It was a good day, and they could all use more of those.
The buzzer at John’s apartment went off at about eight that night, and Caleb’s voice came over the speaker, tinny and distorted. “John, are you home?”
John hit the button. “I’ll buzz you up.”
Minutes later, he opened the door to Caleb. Caleb was wearing tight-fitting dark jeans and a button-down shirt.
“What’s going on?” he asked. “Does your dad know where you are?”
“He knows I’m in the city,” Caleb said. He trailed through into John’s living room. “It’s been good lately, you know? And there’s this guy from work, he invited me out. I didn’t tell you about him.”
