Girl Next Door - Alyssa Brugman [61]
In a vast alcove, poker machines trill and burble like Fisher-Price toys on steroids. There's a TV screen showing the keno numbers. Bryce Cole is eyeing off another corner where there's a TAB counter.
Will, Mum and I navigate through the tables into the bistro. There's a special on – roast beef for six dollars. Mum stands in line. When we get to the end the woman in the white smock and comically oversized chef's hat says, 'Kitchen's closed.'
'What about those potatoes?' Mum asks, pointing to the warming trays.
The humungous-chef-hat woman has this look on her face as if Mum has just asked for a rat salad.
'We haven't eaten for a while. My kids are hungry. I know it's a bother . . .'
The humungous-chef-hat woman glowers at us as she shoves the potatoes in a bowl.
'Is it possible to have some gravy? Perhaps some sauce?' Mum asks. 'I'd really appreciate it.'
The chef lady turns the lights off. 'Kitchen's closed.'
We take the dried-out, lukewarm potatoes to a table. The cutlery has been packed away so we eat them with our fingers.
Bryce Cole has been standing in front of the tellies with his arms crossed. Now he slouches over to the chair opposite Mum. 'Listen,' he begins.
No conversation that starts with that word is ever going to finish well, unless you're birdwatching. If someone had told me a year ago that I would wish I was birdwatching, I would never have believed them. Back then I thought we were happy.
I was pretty happy. I had everything I wanted, and if I wanted something more I could just throw a bit of a tantrum, or say I was thinking about being anorexic or something like that. I had no idea that my happiness was actually dependent on my parents being happy too. I'm thinking now about the small changes I could have made, say for example if every now and then I could have agreed to do the stuff that Willem is so passionate about, we could have done that as a family – like I did when we were at that Wombat Crossing place. I should have encouraged my parents to go away for Valentine's Day.
I'm not saying it's my fault that Mum had an affair and Dad left, but Will and I did make it harder for them. We always expected to be entertained. Sometimes when you get caught up in the entertainment part you don't think about what happens behind the scenes.
It's like when I went to the races. I watched those horses race for weeks and weeks, and I didn't think about them as living, breathing, alive things until I saw them tied up in tiny boxes. I let Bryce Cole tell me all about how they wanted to run. Of course he's going to say that. What would it make him if they didn't?
'I'm out of ideas here,' Bryce Cole says, drumming his fingers on the table. 'I can always sleep in the car, but . . .'
'You're dumping us?' I ask.
Mum starts crying again. Not proper crying. Her eyes are just leaking from the sides. She's not even wiping her face. The tears are dropping down and making dark splotches on her shirt.
Bryce Cole ignores me. 'I don't have kids. I've thought about it, but with my lifestyle, it's just never really been an option. Far be it from me . . .' He takes a deep breath. 'This is no way to raise kids, Sue. You really are going to have to find a way of getting it together.'
'You're dumping us because you're worried about us? We have to get it together? What about you?'
'I didn't sign up for this, JB,' he protests. 'I was just looking for a place to stay. I didn't even want to know you, really. It was just supposed to be for a couple of months.' He stares at me. 'I know I'm a mess, all right? But you guys are just making it worse for me.'
'How can things get worse for you?' I ask.
He huffs. 'I don't want to have to think about how what I'm doing might affect someone else.'
We sit in silence.
Mum wipes her eyes with the back of her hand and gives Bryce Cole a watery smile. 'Thanks for all your help. It's been a real pleasure knowing you. All the best for the future.'
Bryce Cole pushes his chair back. He stands up, pats his pocket and then he walks out of the club.
Will's