Only Daughter

by Anna Snoekstra

  Jack was lying on his bed fully dressed. She leaned in the doorway in what she hoped looked like a relaxed and unintentionally sexy position.

  “Hey,” she said. He looked up and went white, then quickly sat up.

  “Hey.” He pulled his fringe out of his eyes and looked at her intensely. She remembered the way Jack used to be: a rosy-cheeked older boy always happy to play with them. Now with his metal T-shirts and dirty jeans, he just looked a little bit greasy.

  “Why do you listen to this first thing in the morning?” she asked.

  “I dunno. I like it,” he said.

  Bec looked around his room. It was really messy. There were clothes strewn all over the floor and it smelt like a mix of sweat and spray deodorant. His walls were covered with metal posters; a huge silver-and-purple Black Sabbath one taking pride of place.

  “Better than Nelly,” he said. He’d heard her singing. That was so embarrassing. He grinned, and for a moment he looked the way he used to look. If you ignored the bad skin and terrible clothes, he was actually pretty cute.

  “Nothing’s better than Nelly,” she said, not being able to help but grin back.

  “Hey, um, sorry about the other day,” he said. She wasn’t sure what he meant for a second. Then she realized he meant running into her in her bikini.

  “Oh, no, you don’t have to apologize for that.” She wished he hadn’t said anything.

  “Nah. I know. It’s just… You know. I don’t want you to think I’m perving or whatever.”

  “I don’t think that,” she said. He was so different to Luke. Why was he making it weird? If this were Luke he’d make some joke about wank banks, they’d laugh and everything would be normal again. The sound of Lizzie’s shower stopped.

  “See ya, pervert!” she said, smiling again and going back to Lizzie’s room before he could react.

  Lizzie’s dad was making pancakes downstairs.

  “Hungry?” he asked them.

  “Okay, you officially have the best dad ever!” she said to Liz.

  “He only does this when you’re here,” grumbled Lizzie.

  “Actually, I was hoping to blackmail you both to my side in the little debate I’m having with your brother, Liz.”

  Bec took a seat next to Jack. His dyed-black hair flopped down in front of his face as he looked at his empty plate. He was doing his best to look moody but Bec was pretty sure he was just trying to hide his acne from her. Bec couldn’t believe she used to have a crush on him. Although, if she were completely honest with herself, she still did just a little bit. Hopefully he got that she was joking when she called him a pervert.

  “Is it about his music again?” asked Lizzie.

  “At least it’s not that teenybopper shit you listen to,” Jack retorted, not looking up.

  “Hello! I was just about to defend you, dickhead!” Liz said.

  “Language,” her father quickly interjected.

  “Oh, come on, Dad. Your language is the worst of all of us,” she replied.

  “She’s right,” Jack agreed.

  “Piss off, both of you,” Lizzie’s dad said and they all laughed.

  “What was the disagreement?” Bec asked, enjoying being an honorary member of their family. It all felt so comfortable and easy.

  “Liz was right. It’s the music.” He flipped a pancake over and then quickly added, “Not all of the music, though. Just that awful Ozzy Osbourne.”

  “It’s Black Sabbath, Dad. They’re a classic,” Jack said into his plate.

  “Yes, I remember. But really he’s just disgusting now. And that reality show about his family is putrid.”

  “I like that show. It’s funny!” said Lizzie.

  “Well, that worries me, too. I thought you were growing up to be smarter than that,” he said.

  Lizzie groaned but looked slightly hurt.

  “If you’re going to play his record on repeat, can you just do it when I’m at work?” Lizzie’s dad put the last pancake onto the stack and turned off the stove.

  “I know why you don’t like him,” said Jack.

  “Why?”

  “It’s cos he bites the heads off bats and doves on stage.”

  “That’s just a stunt!” Lizzie said.

  “No, it’s not!”

  “Eat your pancakes before they get cold,” said their dad.

  Bec watched as Jack sliced into his pancake. Her stomach twisted and she felt a little faint, cold sweat building up on her forehead. She kept imagining that old man she’d seen on the show biting a head off a little bat—the poor thing squirming to get away, the blood squirting from its lifeless body. How could they laugh about it like it was no big deal? She tried to push the image out of her head but it kept looping like a video.

  “Don’t tell me you’re worried about your figure?”

  “Leave her alone.”

  The shriek of their knives against the breakfast dishes mixed with the little bat’s squeal. She imagined Ozzy, black hair and eyes, spitting blood out of his mouth, smiling. There was blood everywhere. It came back into her nostrils clearly, like she was smelling it again for real. Metallic and sour, so strong she could almost taste it.

  There had been so much blood.

  “Is she all right?”

  The loop stopped and Bec realized they were all looking at her.

  “You guys just killed my appetite,” she said, but her words sounded strange.

  “You look pale. I thought you said you two guys just watched a movie last night?”

  “We did!”

  “I’m going to go,” Bec said, her voice sounding more normal. “I just remembered I was meant to have breakfast with Mom. She’s going to kill me!”

  As soon as she was out of Lizzie’s house she started feeling better. Breathe in through the nose, out through the mouth. That’s what her mom had taught her to do when she felt sick. It was working. The air was still thick with heat, which was strangely calming. It took away the cold shiver in her body. She knew she had embarrassed herself. Lizzie and her family were no doubt talking about her right now. But she didn’t care; something had just felt so wrong and she’d had to get out. A little voice in the back of her mind was telling her she was acting strangely. Just like a crazy person. Bec breathed deeply again and smiled before the images from last summer could flood back in.

  She wasn’t crazy. Anyone who saw her right now would think she was just a young woman going home. Which was exactly what she was. Nothing strange about that.

  The tar on the road had started to melt. A few little stones were stuck to the bottom of her sandals. She tried to push them off as she walked instead of stopping, keenly aware that she hadn’t put sunscreen on again. She didn’t mind her freckles, but she didn’t really want any more of them. There was a girl in her primary school who had so many little orange freckles that they joined together on her cheeks, making her look like she had some kind of weird rash. No, she definitely didn’t want that.

  Maybe she’d go past work before home. It was only another ten minutes’ walk away. She could tell Luke her parents were going grocery shopping nearby and she was waiting for them to finish. Or maybe even say she was the one going grocery shopping; that sounded much more adult. Then she got that feeling again. That feeling like someone was watching her.

  Bec bent her head down and kept walking past the bus stop and through the little park area toward Manuka. She liked this park; it was like a little pocket of respite from the cruel summer day. The shade of the trees cooled her and blocked the reflection from the road so she could stop squinting for a few moments. She wouldn’t look around. No. She was not going to let the stupid feeling get the best of her. She was not crazy. Then she heard footsteps. Real, solid footsteps. Running toward her. She was about to turn when the world turned white.

  It felt like she was floating. Her limbs were suddenly weightless. Her mind was flailing, trying to grip on to consciousness but nauseatingly unable to do so.

  She opened her
eyes. All she could see in front of her was blood cells. Her tiny blood cells swaying slightly in the wind.

  “Can you hear me?”

  She wanted to reply but couldn’t quite open her mouth.

  “Her eyes are open.”

  “I’m okay,” she managed to say and tried to sit up.

  Strong female hands forced her back down.

  She blinked again and swallowed. Her limbs felt heavy; the floating had stopped. Now they felt like dead hunks of meat that didn’t belong to her.

  She could feel the rasping dead leaves under her fingers, and looking up, she realized that it wasn’t blood cells she was seeing but the speckled light coming through the trees. Turning her head slightly, she saw a middle-aged man’s face hovering in front of her.

  “What happened?” she said.

  “I think you fainted from the heat. We heard the noise when you fell.”

  “Do you feel all right, honey?” A woman’s voice, from the other side.

  “Um…yep, I’m fine.” Bec tried to sit up again and this time the woman didn’t stop her. She felt pretty woozy, but refused to let herself lie down again. Tentatively, she pressed down on the back of her head, and a sharp pain blasted all the way down her spine. Her fingertips came back red with blood.

  “I think someone knocked me out,” she said.

  The woman and man exchanged glances.

  “I don’t think so,” the man said. “We came straightaway. There wasn’t anyone dodgy around.”

  “You must have hit your head when you fell, sweetheart. Do you want to use my phone to call your mom?”

  “I’ve got a phone,” Bec said.

  Bec tried to open her handbag, but her hands started shaking as she fumbled with the clasp. The woman bent over and unclipped it for her.

  “Thank you,” she said, and all of a sudden she wanted to cry.

  Swallowing, she brought up her dad’s number. It almost rang out before he answered.

  “Hi, Becky,” he said, his voice barely audible over the noise in the background.

  “Dad,” she said, trying to stop her voice from cracking, “I fainted.”

  “Oh, no, Becky, you poor thing. It must be the heat. Today’s a shocker.” He sounded weirdly overexcited and his words were running together slightly.

  “Um…can you come get me? I don’t feel very well.”

  A long silence. Bec could hear the clinking of glasses. He was in a bar.

  “Now’s not really a great time, sweetheart. Can you call Mom?”

  “Okay.”

  Her face was burning as she hung up.

  Bec rested her head against the car window as they drove home. Her mom was still talking, but she’d stopped listening. She had barely asked if Bec was okay before she began talking about the twins. Worrying about whether they were getting bored at home, if she should take some time off work so that she could take them out. The thing was, Bec wasn’t sure if she was okay. She felt strangely cold and her hands were still shaking. Part of her wanted to shout at her mother. Scream and yell that she needed her. Tell her that she was starting to feel scared. But it wouldn’t make any difference. Her parents were always more focused on the boys. That’s just the way it was.

  She’d had to wait half an hour for her mom to get there, and the couple, Tony and Fiona, refused to leave her. Tony got her a Coke, which made her feel way better, even though she usually hated the stuff. But after a while she’d wished they’d go. Bec couldn’t get her head around exactly what had happened. She was sure she remembered hearing footsteps before she’d fainted, but they’d said no one dodgy was around. Bec had felt pretty strange already that morning; it could have been heatstroke. She’d waited around in Manuka for Lizzie to finish work for two hours yesterday and it was crazy hot. Her phone beeped.

  Been thinking of you today. Hope everything is all right.

  It was like he knew. Like Luke could feel her hurting from all that distance away. She started feeling a little better.

  The car pulled into the driveway and Bec got out on wobbly legs, the front door seeming very far away. A solid arm came around her.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” her mom said, her attention finally focusing on Bec.

  “I think my head might be bleeding,” Bec replied.

  “Oh, Becky, you duffer! You’re a sensitive little petal sometimes, aren’t you?” She smiled down at Bec, who couldn’t help but smile back, all her annoyance disappearing.

  As they walked up to the front door, she was beginning to feel a lot more like herself, even though she almost tripped on her brothers’ bikes. Opening the front door, she laughed at Paul and Andrew, who were sitting on the steps in their swimmers.

  “Why are you wearing your swimmers at home, you losers?” she said.

  “Bec!” her mom warned.

  “Oh, they know I’m just joking, don’t you?”

  But the boys didn’t say anything; they just stared up at Bec.

  Their identical faces were blank. Then she remembered. She was meant to take them to the pool.

  “You said we were going to spend the whole day together but you didn’t even sleep here!” yelled Paul.

  They said nothing else, just looked at her with hate in their eyes. It made her want to cry. She couldn’t believe she’d forgotten. They would have been waiting all morning, all ready to go, slowly realizing it wasn’t going to happen.

  “Oh, no, I’m sorry.”

  “You’ll take them another day. Won’t you?” The warmth had gone out of her mom’s voice.

  “Yes. I promise.”

  “Good. Now let’s have a look at your head.”

  Bec allowed herself to be led up to the bathroom. Her mom turned the heat lights on and looked carefully through her hair. She wet a cotton wool ball and started dabbing, making Bec wince.

  “You’re right—it is bleeding. It’s not too bad, though, just a cut. You must have fallen on something.”

  “I don’t know if I did. What if someone knocked me out?”

  “Don’t be silly.”

  Bec wished her mom would turn the heat lights off; they were making her head throb. Her mother looked at her closely in the mirror.

  “You’re not feeling dizzy, are you?”

  “No,” Bec lied.

  “What about blurry vision?”

  “I’m fine,” Bec said, but in truth all she wanted was to lie down on the cold tiles. Her reflection was starting to sway in front of her.

  “Good,” said her mom. “You don’t look well. I thought you might have a concussion. Tell me if you start feeling nauseous or anything, okay? Concussions can be really serious.”

  “It’s just the heat.”

  “Maybe you should go and lie down for a while?”

  “Thanks, Mom.” Without making the conscious choice to do it, she was hugging her mother tight.

  Bec wished she could tell her mom everything, all the things she was worried about, but she knew she couldn’t. Her mom gave her a quick squeeze and left the room. She had never been much of a hugger. It always seemed to make her uncomfortable. Bec looked at her face closely in the mirror. Under the heat lamps her pupils looked like they were slightly different sizes. Weird.

  Bec was desperately tired and feeling more and more light-headed. She needed to get into bed, but first she knocked on the door next to hers.

  “Can I come in?”

  “Go away! No girls allowed.”

  “Especially not shithead girls like you!”

  Bec opened the door.

  “If Mom hears you using that word you’re going to be in big trouble.”

  “Well, you are a shithead,” said Paul. They were splayed out on the floor, looking so much like angsty teenagers that she had to stop herself from smiling.

  “I know I am. Biggest shithead in the world.”

  “Biggest shithead in the whole universe,” muttered Andrew, but the corners of his mouth were twitching.

  Bec sat down on the floor betw
een them.

  “I know you guys are really bored. It must suck.”

  They didn’t say anything.

  “If you forgive me, then I’ll tell you my idea of where I’m going to take you to make up for it.”

  They looked at each other, trying to decide whether it was worth it or not, and Bec remembered how left out she used to feel. They had this little world together that she’d only ever be on the sidelines of. Her mom told her that they took a year longer than most kids to talk. It was like they had a way of communicating just with each other and it was all that they needed.

  “Okay,” Paul said eventually.

  “How about… Big Splash!” she said.

  Big Splash was the huge water-slide park out in Macquarie. Even Bec loved it. The smell of chlorine and sunscreen, the constant sounds of kids screaming in equal measures of joy and terror, eating salty hot chips with tomato sauce all day. It was awesome.

  “Well, I’ll just let you decide whether you forgive me or not,” she said, walking toward the door.

  “We forgive you!” yelled Paul.

  “Thought you might. We’ll go on Tuesday. Don’t forget!” she said, closing the door quickly before they could throw anything.

  Bec got into bed, smiling. The sun was still out, but she didn’t care. She felt dizzy and crazy tired. Pulling her blinds down and slipping between the sheets, she realized she had one more person to talk to before she could go to sleep. She dialed Lizzie’s number, letting the phone rest between her cheek and the pillow. She closed her eyes, still feeling incredibly nauseated.

  “Hey, psycho,” said Lizzie.

  “Hi, bitch,” she replied. They both laughed.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, after a pause. “I don’t know why I was being so weird. I think I got heatstroke or something.”

  “Don’t say sorry—I’m just glad you’re okay,” Lizzie said. “I’ve been worried about you. We all were. My dad even went out to look for you after you left.”