Jubilee Year

by Gerard O'Neill

  “Yeah, well, he would've drunk a schooner or two with his mates at the bar this afternoon,” he told her. “I've seen him worse when he wasn't expecting me.”

  “Isn’t he allowed to visit your house?”

  “If you are asking does Mom have a protection notice out against him, the answer is no,” he replied. “He doesn't tell us why he won't come over.”

  “Sorry, I didn't mean to upset you,” she said. She placed her hand on his thigh, and this time he didn’t brush her away.

  “He spends way too much time alone,” he said.

  He pulled the car back over to the curb before they reached the corner and killed the engine. “I've changed my mind, Pen. I’m going to stay over with Dad tonight.”

  He got out before she had time to answer and stood beside the driver's door, holding it open for her as she walked around the car. “What's bothering you?” She asked as she sat down behind the steering wheel.

  “I need to spend some time with him. I have a few things on my mind—that's all.”

  Penny could see he was closing her out. She wondered if Storm would ever allow her in, so she might have a chance to help him.

  “You can actually tell me stuff!” She said quietly. “You can trust me.”

  He gave a self-conscious shrug. “Yeah—look—don't worry about it. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  He turned when he heard the Rottweiler down the road let out a long howl and chuckled when Ashcroft yelled at the dog to shut up. Feeling a little more relaxed he gave her a kiss on the cheek.

  “Okay, I suppose,” she said. She reached for the ignition but froze when the car began rocking “Hey, Storm? Are you doing that? It's not funny, you know?”

  Standing at the car door he had no idea what she was talking about. Penny could turn out to be as neurotic as her mother. What an awful thought. As he began to consider the idea, he felt a shake. It was just like a giant wombat was digging a burrow beneath the street.

  The car was rocking and so was the stop sign at the corner. It didn’t last long. Not even a minute.

  They stared at each other. Neither knew what to say. It was the first earthquake they had experienced in their short lives, but it was not to be the last.

  3

  Orphan Kids

  “What do you expect me to do?” Pete asked Storm with a look of bewilderment.

  “Just come around!” Storm replied. “Say hello to Mom. You don't even have to come inside.”

  “I think it's going to take me a little longer, son. I'm not sure I want to pay her a visit right now.”

  “Don't you bloody care about how Summer feels?” Storm blurted out the words, his voice near breaking.

  Pete felt regret hit him like a closed fist to the heart. He dropped his head to avoid the accusing eyes of his son.

  “You kids have always came first,” he said quietly. “You know that.”

  “Always? How can you say that? Summer has spent—like two frigging years without her dad. I'm supposed to fill in for you, I guess.”

  Storm closed his mouth before anything worse came out.

  Pete coughed and thumped his chest with the edge of a fist as if to ease the irritation in his damaged lungs. Only, he had struck himself for causing Storm to say as much. Pete never wanted to hurt his family.

  “You do a good job, son. I've seen how she looks up to you. You make me proud.”

  “Why do you drink all the time?” Storm asked, and he gazed down at the stubby in his own hand and set it down on the porch boards.

  Maybe I'm going to end up like him one day, Storm thought.

  “What d'ya mean?” Pete asked pointlessly because the boy was right.

  He didn't have to go and say it straight out like he did, Pete thought.

  “You're an alcoholic, Dad. You know it.” He turned away so his old man would not see his eyes tear up.

  Storm didn't mean it to come out the way he said it. He thought about walking away before his dad lost his temper.

  Pete gave a deep, long and ragged sigh that came out more of a sob. So much so he startled himself and he cleared his throat.

  “You got guts, you know? When I was your age, I'd never dare talk to my old man like that.”

  “Maybe you didn't love him enough,” Storm replied.

  Pete blinked at the words then nodded in agreement.

  “Well, it's true he was a guarded man—I suppose. And we never saw much of each other. He was either at work or out with his mates having a drink at the pub. He was hardly ever at home. I guess we never got to know each other. He did teach me how to whistle real good though!”

  “Yeah, he did too,” Storm said, placing his hand on his father's chair. “It's all right, Dad. I shouldn't have said what I did.”

  “You and Summer mean everything to ya mom and me,” Pete told him. “We always wanted kids. It felt like a kick in the guts, the day they told us we were never going to have any. It was the loneliest damned feeling in the world. When we got home from the hospital, Stella didn't say a thing, and she wouldn't for days after.”

  “When did you both decide...”

  “It was Stella's idea. As soon as I saw the two of you, a one-year-old girl and a seven-year-old boy, I knew it was right. We wondered why anyone would want to call you Storm, but we soon found out. You blew up like a goddamned hurricane when you thought we were being mean to her. The orphanage told us about some bad things that happened—before you and your sister arrived there.”

  “I don't know about that,” Storm said glancing away. “I don't remember much about the time before the orphanage.”

  Pete knew his son never forgot anything. Most likely Storm pushed those memories deep down inside; somewhere he thought they'd never surface to bother him. He wanted to put his arm around his son, but he didn't.

  “Look, I don't want to ask—” Pete began.

  “You're my dad, and Stella's my mom. That's all that matters now.”

  The man and the boy fell quiet for a while until Storm could stand the weight of the silence no longer.

  “Why did you leave Mom when you were laid off at the mine?”

  “I wasn't doing much good for you three, was I? Just me and the god awful black dog depression that chewed at my gut.” Pete sighed. “I started to push Stella around and I've got no excuse for any of it. At the time, it seemed to me the best idea was to move out of the house and sort my life out. I thought you'd do better at being the man around the house.”

  Storm looked down at Champ. “I'm glad you got yourself a different kind of dog to keep you company.”

  “Isn't he great?” Pete asked with a smile.

  He fondled the soft ears of the pooch and began to feel the tightness in his gut ease.

  “Maybe it wouldn't hurt if I was to drop by over the weekend,” Pete said quietly, and he glanced at Storm. “What d'ya think?”

  “No—I mean yes!” Storm said. He was surprised and pleased at Pete's sudden change of heart. “That would be cool.”

  “You can tell Stella I'm coming over. I don't want to phone her. I'm better when I can talk face to face. Yeah, it's about time I saw how the old girl's doing.”

  “I'll tell her you're coming over, but make sure you turn up, Dad.”

  “I will,” Pete said with a resolute nod. He had made up his mind.

  “They'll both be rapt to see you.”

  Pete staggered back when Storm embraced him in a bear hug. The sudden show of intimacy from his son came as a surprise. It had not happened in years, but suddenly nothing seemed more natural or necessary.

  4

  Dropouts

  Stella sat in front of her laptop, rubbing her forehead as she read the text on the screen.

  “Hey!” She exclaimed with a frown. “Listen to this, Summer. This report is saying there's been no global economic recovery since the 2008 stock market crash.”

  “I can't concentrate on my homework if you keep talking to me,” Summer replied without lifting her head.<
br />
  They listened to the sound of Storm's motorbike crunching gravel as he pushed it down the drive. The squeak and rattle of the machine as it settled on its stand. The hollow thunk as he dropped his helmet on the kitchen floor.

  He stood in the door of the lounge with a look of slight disappointment on his dust-covered face. He had received no reaction from the two at the table.

  “It says here that this recession we are in is really a worldwide depression,” Stella said shaking her head. “You know, this means world war three!”

  “Mom!” Summer cried out in exasperation. “You're such a downer.”

  “Sometimes a war is what it takes to have peace,” Storm chimed in.

  “I don't believe that for a second and neither should you,” she said, turning to face her son with a scowl. “That's just utter bullshit if you excuse my French. Anyone with half a brain knows war only results in more war. And pick that helmet up off the floor! Jeez, what's wrong with you? You'd think I raised you two kids in a barn.”

  “What's wrong with the bike?” Summer asked him.

  “I ran out of gas a couple of blocks down the road and didn't have enough money on me to go to the gas station. So, I had to push my bike all the way home!”

  “Hard yakka, Storm?” Summer asked, mimicking the slang and lazy nasal sound of many of the locals.

  “Wait until you do a day's work in that heat!” He said, staring daggers at his sister.

  “She won't have to because she's going to study, pass all of her exams, and work inside a nice air-conditioned office. Isn't that right, Sum?” She put her arm around her daughter's shoulders and squeezed.

  “Hey, quit it! You're hugging me too tight.”

  “I love you,” Stella kissed Summer on the top of her head.

  “You too, sweetheart,” she said smiling at Storm. “You're still thinking of going to university, aren't you? Things are going to come right. You'll see.”

  “Sure, Mom. Hey, is your phone working?”

  “I think so,” she said in surprise. Sometimes her son could be a little too cryptic. “What makes you ask?”

  “Every time I use mine, the signal breaks up. I've made calls to old man Harris, Penny, and Ben, and there were dropouts all the time. I hardly got a complete sentence.”

  “That's strange,” Stella said, wrinkling her brow.

  “Ben said he's noticed his phone doing the same thing all afternoon,” Storm said. “Yeah, I thought I'd broken mine.”

  “One of our teachers told everyone in my classroom she needed a new smartphone,” summer said.

  “Well, I only bought mine a year ago,” Storm said.

  “Why not get yourself a new one? You can give that old one to me.”

  “Nice try, Sum,” he said, walking over to the television set and switching it on.

  “Wonder if the news says anything about phone tower problems. Might even mention the strange stuff Dad mentioned.”

  “What's he on about now?” Stella asked.

  “He thinks sunrise and sunset are happening at the wrong times,” Storm told her.

  “Was he drinking?”

  “No more than usual,” Storm said.

  “He's a great one for staring at the horizon and missing what's in front of him,” Stella said with a chuckle. They fell into silence as they watched the latest reports from Eastern Europe and the Middle East. Behind the anchorwoman rolled a continuous loop of images: Presidents and generals talking from podiums, naval ships sailing the high sea, squadrons of missiles leaving plumes of fiery exhaust vanishing into the sky, multi-story apartments erupting in flames, and dead children carried on bloodied stretchers.

  A reporter on the roof of a high-rise hotel spoke in urgent tones. His mic capturing all the background noise from around the hotel swimming pool: The splashes and merry hoots from the happy bathers, and the clink of glass from guests drinking at the poolside bar.

  Then, with a brilliant flash filled the screen with white, a fireball erupted into the sky, and the image broke into a scattering of white pixels. A black column rose over the buildings. Flames, dust and charred remains sucked up into the dark swirling funnel above the blast. The column continued to climb higher until it towered over the mountain range where it folded over on itself like the cap of a mushroom, and all the while came screams amid the unfolding chaos. The news station broke away from the live report and went back to the studio and the shaken anchorwoman who stared wide-eyed off-camera.

  Stella stood up, her hands placed on her hips, staring at the television screen.

  “This is madness! The whole world's gone crazy.”

  “Take it easy, Mom,” Storm said. “It's the same news we've been watching for years.”

  “All these wars and all the while at home there's unemployment, rioting, and police shooting up homeless camps and raiding homes to find terrorists under our beds. The government wants to close every second factory and mine. The price of rent, electricity, and food has gone through the roof. But most of the news on the telly is all about the latest divorce in Hollywood, or another sporting club scandal!”

  “Mom!”

  “And you know I like my sport!” Stella said, throwing up her arms. “This is ridiculous! The weather report ought to be worth watching, but they can't even get that right!”

  “Kind of what Dad's saying,” Storm said.

  “How am I supposed to do my homework?” Summer hollered, glaring at her mom.

  Storm massaged his mom's neck, watching Stella's shoulders slump and her head roll forward.

  “Oh, that's what I was wanting,” Stella told him softly. “Thanks, love.”

  5

  Early Morning Run

  The clock above the oven gave him a good two hours before sunup. It was time enough for ten minutes of leg stretches before he set off. A half hour of light jogging would take him through the town, and in another fifteen minutes, he would reach the signboard.

  The large sign greeted travelers before they crossed the bridge over the river that marked a town boundary line. There was a large grassy verge behind the signboard.

  It was an excellent observation point that allowed him to see the entire night sky free from the glare from street lights. He would do the rest of his stretch routine while he waited to see—well—whatever might show up before dawn.

  Under the glow of street lamps, on empty streets and surrounded by darkened houses and shop fronts he imagined he was the last human alive. He felt like he owned the place. His private universe where all the people had vanished along with the Sun and their property was now his to do with as he pleased. In this imaginary world, there would only be room for those he personally selected.

  He ran off the sidewalk and into the center of the road, weaving to and fro over the centerline. In the distance, he saw the lights of a car turning onto the road: a worker driving home after the end of a night shift. He saw the headlamps disappear as the car turned into a side road.

  For a few short blocks, a stray mongrel trotted beside him until it caught the scent of something more interesting and skittered off to investigate the source.

  He crossed the bridge and in a few minutes reached the large signboard with its garish yellow greeting lit up under a row of bright spotlights.

  'Welcome to Coonabarabran the Astronomy Capital of Australia'.

  To his side stood a cluster of tall trees that blocked his view of the horizon. But otherwise, he was able to scan virtually all the velvet black. His gaze settled on a cord of luminescent clouds. He leaned against the post of an old stock fence and begun to stretch out the tightness in his legs.

  A pale light shone through the gathering cloud mass. The Moon emerged, and like the headlamp of an approaching train, its brightness steadily increased.

  He was working through Penny's stretch program, but he was finding it harder than he thought yoga ought to be. He looked about him.

  It was as if a giant spotlight illuminated the landscape.

  Cum
ulus clouds moved overhead and all along the edge of the cloud stack there was a dull red glow.

  He touched his toes and began a slow circular movement, swinging his hands over his head, his fingers following the rim of an imaginary giant disk. Now darkness surrounded him once again. Had he imagined the strength of the moonlight?

  He completed a set of twists and when he straightened up the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

  6

  Waiting in the Rain

  He leaned against the side of the tiny aero clubhouse and watched her turn her mother's car into the parking lot. When he saw that she was glaring at him, he straightened up and swung the wet backpack over his shoulder. With a sigh, he realized yet again, there was no way he was ever going to measure up to Penny's idea of a boyfriend. He gave her a cheerful wave.

  “Oh, my God!” She exclaimed through her open window. “Just look at the state of you!”

  “If you were just ten minutes longer I'd be dry again,” he said with a grin.

  “I doubt it,” she replied, giving him a look of scorn, but meaning none of it. “Haven't you got a towel?”

  “Hey, stop that!” Penny shrieked. “You can be such an idiot. Why couldn't you just wait for me inside the shed?”

  “It was a freak shower,” he said, and he laughed at the look she gave him. “It's probably all the rain we are going to get this month.”

  “You want me to drive?” He asked her, opening the back door and throwing his backpack on the seat.

  “Yes, please,” she said, clambering into the passenger side. She reached across to comb a hand through his damp hair. “Jeez, but you're soaked.”