Kookaburra (formerly untitled) Ch.SIXTEEN

“Why didn’t you fucking call?” Great. Dad’s been in the room for five fucking minutes and he’s already swearing at me.

“Because you wanted me gone. I’m gay, remember? A fag.”

“Scott, I didn’t mean for you to go.”

“Then why’d you say it?”

“Because… I don’t know Scott, I’m sorry.”

“Are you really sorry, or is that just the alcohol talking?”

“Scott…”

“Whatever. I don’t need excuses. The only reason you’re even here is because I needed an adult to sign me out.”

“Okay, then I’ll do that. But I’m not leaving you here. You’re coming home with me, Scott.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Come on Scott, be realistic. They’re not going to let you stay here for the rest of your life.”

“I know.”

“Then where are you going to go?”

“Callum’s.”

“Callum?”

“Yeah, Callum. Your other son. Got a problem with that?”

“Scott, your brother Callum has been to jail hundreds of times and juvie thousands more. He’s an irresponsible, alcoholic druggie. So yes, I do have a problem with that.” I sigh and turn to stare out of the window. There’s nothing outside, only grey sky and greyer clouds. But it’s more interesting than Dad. “Scott, are you even listening to me?”

“Say something worth listening to.” Okay, so it’s immature, but to be honest, it fits the situation.

“Scott, I swear, if you don’t cut the fucking attitude, I’ll-“

“Do what, Dad? Same as you did to me?”

I pull my eyes from the window. It’s Callum, standing in the doorway. His black hair is longer, just touching his shoulders, and there’s dark stubble on his chin. He looks five years older. He is five fucking years older. But he’s still Callum.

“Callum, why are you here?” says Dad, danger flashing in his eyes.

“My little brother’s in trouble.”

“You never cared about him before.”

“You never let me.”

“Callum, if you’re going to-“

“Cal, I’m coming home with you,” I say, cutting Dad off mid-threat.”

“You are?”

I beg him with my eyes. Please Cal, I plead without words, I need this.

“You are.” Thank God for telepathy. “Where’s your stuff?”

“Matt’s house.”

“Okay. We’ll pick it up once they let you go.”

“You can’t be serious, Callum. Why take the kid?”

“Because he’s my brother, and I love him. I want him home with me, where’s he safe, and there’s nothing you can do about that.”

“I can call the police.”

“And I’ll tell them what you did to Mum. You seriously want that, Dad? You want that blood on your hands?”

“Cal…” I murmur, “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Never mind, Scott. Get your stuff together, and let’s go.” He’s so obviously trying to hide the anger from his voice.

“Cal-“

“I said, let’s go,” says Callum, each word pushed through his teeth like venom through a syringe.

“Okay, Callum…” I swing my legs off the bed, trying to avoid both of their eyes digging into my body.

“Fine,” says Dad, almost yelling. “You can take him. He’s a worthless shit anyway.”

He storms out of the room. I slip on my shoes, and walk towards Callum, still avoiding his eyes.

“Right,” he says as we’re walking through the door, “I think it’s about time you told me what the fuck’s going on.”

***

“So why’d he throw you out?” says Callum, keeping his eyes off me and on the road.

“Does it matter?”

“Kind of. I mean, if you murdered someone or something and now you’re coming to live in my house, I’d be a little worried.”

“I didn’t murder anyone Cal.” A faint trace of a smile crosses my face.

“Then… did you help someone murder someone?”

“No, I didn’t.” The smile’s breaking loose now. I can’t hold it back.

“He caught you shooting up on heroin?”

“I’m not a druggie, Callum.” I try unsuccessfully to swallow down the giggles.

“Then why?”

Because I’m a fag, I think to myself. “Just… because.”

“Because you’re gay?”

“Kinda,” I mumble. Why’d he have to go and spoil the fucking mood.

“I’m a bastard for bringing it up, right?”

“Kinda,” I say again.

We’re quiet again.

“You know, you being… you know. That. It’s kind of-“

“Immoral? Sick? Perverted? I know.”

“Well, I was going for ‘cool’, but I guess we can use yours.”

“How kind of you.”

“Are you going to spit out those sour grapes, or should I just pull over and let you out at the side of the road now to save time?”

Silence. It’s deafening.

“Okay then,” says Callum, sarcasm and exasperation mixing in his words. He turns on the radio. ‘Chocolate’ by Snow Patrol plays out through the car. “Oh god,” he says, “I can’t fucking stand this song.” I like it, but I don’t say anything as he changes it. Some kind of shitty thrash metal blasts out. I resist the urge to scream and instead concentrate my energy on what’s outside my window. Anonymous scenery flashes past, tress, bushes, fields, another countryside landscape lining another tarmac-clad motorway.

“Who’s this guy then?” says Callum, turning through a roundabout.

“What would you fucking care?” I mumble, not taking my eyes off what’s outside. There are clouds in the distance, and tiny droplets of rain decorating the windshields of cars driving towards us.

“Come on dude, I’m trying here. Hard. What’s his name?”

“Kaden.”

“Cool name.”

“If you say so.”

“So… why’s he in the hospital?”

“He got beaten up. Hard.”

“Cause he’s gay,” says Callum in what he probably thinks is an understanding tone.

“God, is everything shitty that ever happens because the guy is gay?”

“Oh. Then… why?” he’s confused, as if he’s sure that what I just said is truth.

“Because I was a fucking dickhead.”

“So it was your fault then?”

“Callum, just shut the fuck up, okay?”

“Jesus, sorry.”

“You’re a fucking bastard Cal, you know that?”

“I do indeed. Where’s Matt’s again?”

Damn him for being so charming. “Winstanley Close.”

“That’s near the park, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay then.”

We’re quiet a few more minutes.

“Don’t you want to know where I live now?”

“Not particularly.”

“You surprise me, Scott. God, I remember you when you were eleven; you were a noisy little bastard back then. What changed?”

“I learnt to stop asking questions I didn’t need – want – the answers to.”

“Oh.”

“That’s why I’m not asking what you meant when you told Dad you’d call the police on him. That’s why I’m not asking why you don’t mind taking me in after five years of not knowing me. And that’s why I’m not asking why you left me alone with Dad.”

Another uncomfortable silence. I wonder if this is how it’s going to be when I move in. After at least fifteen minutes of unbearable stillness, we pull up Matt’s road. I direct Callum to his house, using as few words as possible, and jump out of the car as quickly as I can.

I knock on the door, shivering in the cold. It’s past dusk, but not quite nighttime. Ryan opens it, his eyes looking bleary with lack of sleep.

“Hey Ryan. Matt in?” he nods, and shuffles back into the house, pointing up the stairs. “Thanks,” I call after him. He waves a hand in response.

I climb the stairs slowly, trying to plan out what I’ll say. Hey Matt! Kaden’s in hospital, we don’t know how he’ll do. Oh, my hand? I got pissed off and hit a wall. Yeah, it’s broken. By the way, I’m going to move in with my druggie brother who I haven’t spoken to in five years. Where? No clue. Oh well, see you!

I push his door open slowly. “Matt?”

A grunt from inside tells me to come in. Matt’s sitting on the floor, scribbling on a sheet of paper. He looks up when he see me.

“Scott! Fuck, how are you? What the hell happened to your hand? Where’s Kaden?” he says, voice raised in a strange mixture of excitement and anxiety as he stands up, resting a hand on my arm and pushing the paper onto a shelf. I catch a glimpse of pencil sketching.

So many questions. I rub a hand over my forehead, squeezing my eyes shut. “I’m pretty damn shit, actually. Don’t ask about my hand, it’s too long a story. Kaden’s in the hospital still.”

“How is he?”

“Fuck me if I know.”

“And… Seth? What happened to him?”

“Police got him. He tried to apologise, but…” I trail off, hoping he’ll understand.

“I’m sorry, dude.”

“Why?”

“Well… if it wasn’t for me, all this wouldn’t have happened. And I’m sorry for Seth. He’s a slut, anyway. He’ll fuck anything.”

“Great, now I feel real special,” I mumble.

“Hey, I didn’t mean it like that… Don’t tear up on me dude, you know first hand how crap I am at comforting.”

I take a deep breath in, then another, calming down my body’s bloodstream. “I’m going, Matt.”

“Going where?”

“To live with Callum. I know he’s been a shitty brother, but I love him, and I’m pretty sure he loves me too. It’s unfair for me to push myself on you, you can’t look after me. It’s not fair.”

“Well… where?”

“I have no idea.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah.”

“Well, good luck, Scott,” Matt says, spreading his arms open.

“Thanks,” I say, wrapping myself into them, hugging him back. “You too.”

We stay in silence for a minute. He’s slightly taller, and my head rests against his cheek. I can feel his breath ruffling through my hair. It’s an amicable kind of romance that we share.

“You’ll be fine, Scott. Kaden will be fine. Things have a way of working out.”

“I know,” I murmur into his chest. “I know.”