radio. Life will be noise with no sense. I canât. If I say that then Iâll cry. So I donât think about her standing at the door watching me close the gate. I paint out her face, the corners of her mouth pointing down, and her eyes, that look scared for the first time that I can remember.
Mum is sitting at the kitchen table when I get there. Worry has dug trenches into her face.
âMum, Iâll work for free at the nursery.â
âGracie, I need someone responsible.â
âI will be, Mum.â I hold out my hand to her and she takes it.
Most people wouldnât describe my mum as gentle. If you saw her in the supermarket, speeding down the aisle withthe shopping trolley, youâd definitely think, get out of that womanâs way, quick, like before she runs you over.
But if youâve ever seen her at the nursery, youâd say something else. There youâd see her touching the leaves of the agapanthus, looking for signs of disease. Youâd see her putting her finger into the soil around a potted plant, testing to see if itâs thirsty. She touches me when Iâm sick and I feel like one of her plants, her hands lightly checking my temperature. Sheâs slow and kind then, like now.
âWeâll see how it goes, Gracie,â she says. âIf the Championships mean that much to you, Iâll try to find a way.â
I hug her.
We rent a video tonight. I curl up on the couch with my head on Mumâs lap. I tell her about Jane and hear her reply echoing through her belly: âIt will be all right.â I move closer to her and squash the feeling that someone is nibbling slowly at the corners of my life.
I wish Dad was here, watching horror films with Mum and me, three voices shouting at the woman about to be attacked, âHeâs behind you!â I know Dad wants to be here. I know he misses us like crazy too.
Â
BILL FALTRAIN
Iâm lost. Not in the geographical sense, Iâve always been good with maps. Iâm in Bendigo, trying to convince a school librarian that she needs a set of Geological Explorer books to really make her resource centre the learning hub sheâd like it to be. Kids will spend their lunchtimes in this room if only she has these books on the shelves. I look at her and think, I havenât been home in months. I should walk out of here and drive. I should get on the freeway and go without stopping.
In my mind Gracie is hugging me, yelling at me about soccer and boys and books. I canât get on that road, though. Iâm lost in my heart and thatâs the worst kind of lost to be. I feel like a sailor at the turn of the century, moving across oceans and discovering new lands. Iâm looking desperately at the horizon, searching for a point to fix my sights on. The sea seems to stretch out forever. The sky is dark; I know thereâs going to be a wall of water, powered by winds, and itâs going to be unstoppable. I want to shelter Gracie. I want to protect her from the waves.
How can I protect Gracie when I canât even take care of myself? I look at her and I see the person I was, years ago. She has my smile; itâs a little crooked on one side. Her shoulders are the same shape as mine. But Gracie has a whole life ahead of her. Mineâs half over and I canât work out what I want as the ending.
I should go back to Gracie and Helen. There was a time when that was all I wanted. I kept leaving little pieces of myself whenever I went away, though, and less and less of me went back to them. I didnât laugh as much with Gracie. I didnât tell Helen what I was thinking anymore. Itâs not like Iâve left all those pieces in the one place, either. Theyâre scattered and Icanât remember where. Iâm always looking for what will make me whole. What will make me happy?
Somewhere along the way I started to think it wasnât Helen anymore. She hasnât changed. Her laugh