When I pulled Mr Barese’s car up front of the house, I considered telling my old man what I was signin’ up for. Maybe it was my excitement, or maybe it was wishful thinking, but I thought for one minute that he might be happy for me. Or even proud.

I should have known better.

I put the three grocery bags on the kitchen table and he snatched them away, rifling through them. “Fuckin’ took ya long enough.” He found his cigarettes and walked back into the living room, sat his worthless arse in the chair, and lit up a smoke.

No thank you, no nothing.

Pops came into the kitchen and put his hand on my arm. “You’re a good lad,” he said quietly. He seemed a little more breathless than usual.

“You okay?” I asked as I pulled out tins of beans and tomatoes.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He was wheezing more, so he weren’t fine at all.

I sighed and let my head fall heavy. “Dad,” I called out. “Can you not smoke in the house? I told ya, it makes Pops worse.”

His reply was a short and angry. “You tellin’ me what to do again, boy?”

Pops shook his head, silently telling me not to answer. I gritted my teeth and bit my tongue. “It’s okay,” Pops whispered.

“It’s not okay,” I replied just as quietly. There was no point in arguing, we both knew it wasn’t okay, but we both also knew what my old man was like. I’d have better luck trying to get a brick wall to listen. I put the few groceries away and filled the kettle with water. “I’ll make you some tea,” I said, assuming he hadn’t eaten lunch. “Want some beans on toast?”

Pops sat down at the table and gave me a smile. “Thanks, CJ.”

I fixed him his lunch, and when I sat it in front of him, he covered my hand with his. His skin felt papery and cool to the touch. “I appreciate everything you do for me,” he said.

His acknowledgement made me smile. “I know you do.” I shoved Mr Barese’s keys in my pocket. “I’ll stoke the fire up and take Mr Barese’s car back. I’ll be walkin’ home, so it might take a while.”

“Okay.”

He started eating his lunch, so I leaned in and whispered, “When he’s not here, I’ll tell you about what I’m signing up for.”

He never spoke, but his eyes asked all the questions.

“It’s all good, I promise. Gonna make a better life for you and me. Just you watch.”

His eyes brimmed with tears and pride, and he nodded. I clapped him gently on the shoulder, loaded some more wood into the fire, and without a word to my father, I walked out.

* * *

Mr Barese was in his office when I arrived. “Thanks again for the loan of your car.”

He gave me his usual warm smile. “No problem.”

“So,” I started as casually as I could. “I was speaking to Noah, uh, my parole officer, about getting qualified.”

Mr Barese’s eyes lit up. “What do you reckon? A good idea, yeah?”

I nodded and broke out in a grin. “Yeah.”

Mr Barese clapped his hands together. “Excellent!”

“He’s gonna see if I can pass earlier because I’ve been doing it for years, but he said he will help me.”

“He’s different than the last one, isn’t he? The last guy didn’t care, but this new one is a good guy, yeah?”

“Yeah, I think so.” I could feel my cheeks heat up, but Mr Barese didn’t seem to notice. Thank God. “He’s also gonna help me get my licence and with my reading.”

Mr Barese put his hand to his cheek, and for a second, I thought he was going to cry. “I am so proud of you,” he said, all emotional. Then he gave me one of his Italian hugs.

It made me feel so damn good to make him proud of me, and Pops too. Both of them were better fathers to me than my own old man ever could be, and it stung a little knowing, if I told my dad what I was doing, he would either laugh or make me quit.

“But my dad can’t know,” I said. “It ain’t worth the hassle.”

Mr Barese’s face fell and he nodded. He understood. “He won’t hear it from me. You just let me know if you need anything signed or help with any papers.” He pointed to his own chest. “I fix them for you.”

“Thank you.”

“See you bright and early tomorrow, yeah?

I nodded. “I can open up for you, if you like?”

“Yeah, okay, thanks.”

“Have we got anything booked in?”

“Nah.”

“Then take Mrs Barese out for morning tea. I’m sure she’ll like that. I can handle it here.”

He brightened. “Oh, she would like that.”

“And if it gets quiet in the afternoon, you can mind the shop and I can see if your lawn needs mowing. Any tree-trimming you need done before heavy frosts, just let me know.”

“You’re a good boy.”

I gave him a smile and a salute as I walked out and headed toward the railway tracks for the walk home. I stopped to light a cigarette and enjoyed the peace and quiet before I got back to face what other shit-fight my father could throw at me.

* * *

On Thursday, I was more excited than I probably should have been. And nervous. And I was sweating on my old man sleeping in. I got home pretty late from work the night before, cooked dinner while he sat his lazy arse in the chair, and waited for it to be put in front of him. He’d had a few beers, so I was hoping he wouldn’t be up too early. I needed to speak to Pops without dad being around.

I boiled the kettle for Pops’ tea and started making his porridge, and I could hear him before I saw him. His wheezing breaths gave him away. “Mornin’.”

“You’re up early,” he said. “Can I help you with something?”

Every morning he asked and every morning I told him no, but not today. “Actually, there is something.”

He leaned on the table and waited.

“I need my birth certificate.”

“What for?”

“I’m going into town today, and I need it so I can get some paperwork in order.” I could still hear my father was snoring so I didn’t need to speak too quietly. “I need the certificate so I can get a photo ID. I’m gonna sit for my bike licence, and I’m gonna see about getting qualified as a mechanic.”

His whole face lit up. “You are?”

“Yep.” I stirred the oats on the stove. “Noah reckons I can get qualified early because of some prior knowledge thing. He’s gonna help me. But I can’t do it without photo ID.”

It went without saying that my father wouldn’t be told. “I can grab it for you real quick.” Pops shuffled out the door.

If the last few weeks were anything to go by, my dad wouldn’t be out of bed for another hour or two yet, but I didn’t want to risk it. “Thanks.”

By the time I plated up two bowls of porridge, Pops came back in with an old, blue, faded piece of paper. It had been folded for what looked like years. Pops opened it, gave it a quick once-over, then handed it to me. Not that there was much point. There was an Australian government emblem, and I could read my name, but not much else. I quickly folded it again and shoved it in my jacket pocket. “Thanks.”

Once we’d had breakfast and Dad got up, I showered and made myself busy outside before telling him Mr Barese needed me to help out for a bit. I added that I might need to go into town if he needed me to, but without any more details than that, I left.

Noah had said ten o’clock and I got there a bit early, but he was already there. He and Mr Barese were chatting and smiling and they both grinned when they saw me. “Sorry, I thought you said ten o’clock.”

Noah checked his watch. “Yeah, I did. I’ve been here for like two minutes.” Then he looked me up and down in a way that made me warm all over. “Get everything?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, we’ll be off,” he said and shook Mr Barese’s hand.

Then I told him, “I uh, I told my dad I was helping you out today. Said I might need to go into town, so if he calls in, which I doubt he will, just tell him I’m picking something up for you.”

He waved me off. “No worries.”

I hated involving him but didn’t really have a choice.

As soon as we got into the car, Noah clicked up his seatbelt and started the engine. “You look really good today.”

I froze. “What?”

He smiled and drove us out of town. “I said you look really good today. Love the jacket.”

It was my usual black leather one that I’d scored from a charity shop in town. And I was wearing black jeans and my work boots. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t already seen me wear. And it was hardly as nice as his clothes. “I wear this all the time.”

He grinned. “I know. You look good every day.”

I ignored him and the way my face felt all hot. “You done takin’ the piss?”

“I’m being honest.” He shrugged but seemed genuine enough. “Did you bring the papers I asked you to bring?”

“Yeah.” I pulled out the two folded papers from my jacket pocket. “Phone bill and birth certificate.”

“Excellent.”

“Where are we going first?”

“RMS. Photo ID and rider licence application all in one.”

I let out a nervous breath. “Right then.”

He gave me a smile. “You’ll be fine. The photo ID will be easy. And we’re just grabbing the application forms and booking in for the rider licence. You don’t have to actually do anything today.”

“Oh.” The knot in my stomach let up a bit.

“Don’t stress about any of it. I’ll be with you the whole time.”

“Can you just take a day off to do this shit?”

“This shit, as you put it, is my job. It’s part of my job to help you.” Then he must have realised how that sounded. “I’m not just doing this because it’s my job. I want to help you. And like I said, even if we don’t . . . happen . . . then I’m still helping you.”

“I knew what you meant.” I didn’t want to smile around him so much, but I couldn’t seem to help myself. “Three more weeks, huh?”

“Technically, it’s now two and a half.”

I rolled my eyes, but yeah, that damn smile I fought against just wouldn’t quit.

When he arrived at the RMS, there were machine kiosks that spat out tickets for the right department. Noah pressed some buttons and took our ticket with a number on it. There were a lot of people sitting and waiting, but Noah went around and took some pamphlets and brochures and papers and stuff.

There was a counter with pens, and Noah nodded toward it. “Come over here.” He pulled out a form first. “Okay, this is the photo ID form. So, full name . . .” He went and filled in the whole form for me. I just answered what I had to and handed over the phone bill and my birth certificate.

Funnily enough, I was okay with numbers. I sucked at maths, but I could identify numbers easily enough like phone numbers and dates. I’d learned how to use the eftpos machine at the shop because Mr Barese taught me. I could punch in dollar amounts and press the green button for yes or the red for cancel. I wasn’t scared to try new things, but words were different. They had different shapes and the same word meant different things and sometimes the same word was spelt different. I could identify letters individually, like a, b, and c, but putting them all together on a page full of words and it was too much to process.

Like the form Noah filled out.

He never made me feel stupid. He just asked each question and wrote the answers down without any fuss. When he was done, he slid it in front of me. “Sign here,” he pointed to the box at the bottom.

I took the pen and signed my name. It wasn’t perfect, and Noah pretended not to notice how my hand shook a little. When I was done, he held up one of the booklets he’d collected. “Rider licence book.”

I could tell that from the picture of the guy on a motorbike on the front but didn’t say that. I took it and flipped through the pages. Lots of pages, lots of writing. “Great.”

Noah nudged my elbow with his. “I told you I’d help you,” he whispered.

“With the whole book?”

“Yep.”

“How?”

He grinned. “What are you doing this weekend?”

I snorted. “Learning road rules for motorbikes, apparently.”

Our number flashed up on the screen with which counter to go to, and Noah led the way. The lady behind the screen looked blankly at us. “We need a photo ID,” Noah said, sliding the form over.

She asked some questions, scribbled something on the form, and ticked a few things. She asked for my birth certificate, so I handed it over. Then for proof of address, so I gave her the phone bill. I had to sign my name again, then stand in front of a screen. She took my photo and two minutes later, I had legal photo identification.

And the woman had no clue I couldn’t read or write too well. Not that I needed to be literate to get ID, but it still felt pretty good. Like it was an accomplishment. And I hadn’t had many of those.

We needed to get a new ticket to make a booking for the riders’ licence, so we sat in the waiting chairs and, well, waited. I studied the small plastic card in my hand. The photo was crap, but it was me, with my name, address, and date of birth.

Clinton James Davis.

Davis Road.

Ten Mile Creek.”

There was writing across the top in blue writing and I tried spelling it out in my head.

NSW.

Well, that’s easy. It stood for New South Wales. I knew that much.

The next word started with a p, then r, oo, and an f. P-rrrr-oooo-ff. Proof! The rest came easier, not just because the words were smaller but I’d heard Noah say it before. Proof of Age. NSW Proof of Age card.

I looked at Noah to find him smiling at me. “Proof of Age card,” I said.

His smile became a grin. “Sure is.”

“This is gonna make me sound lame, but I’ve never had anything like this. It feels . . . I dunno . . .” I finished with a shrug.

“Validating?” he offered.

“Yes. I feel validated.” That was exactly how I felt.

His eyebrows furrowed. “Have you got a bank account?”

“Nope. Mr Barese gives me cash. I ain’t ever had a bank account. Never needed one.”

He sat back in his seat. “I’ll add it to the list.”

“I don’t want no bank chargin’ me fees and shit.”

“How do you get government allowances?”

“What?”

“Government allowances? Like welfare payments or carer’s payments?”

“I don’t get none of those.”

Noah blinked. “You’re Pops’ full-time carer. You should be getting allowances for that. For you and for his medications.”

I shook my head. “I don’t need the government’s help.”

He frowned at me and was just about to say something else when our number flashed on screen. It was a guy this time, and Noah gave him a cheery smile. “I’d like to book in for the rider course.”

“Your name?”

“Oh, it’s not for me,” Noah said, standing aside.

I stepped forward. “It’s for me.”

If the guy looked any more disinterested, he’d be dead. “Can’t speak for yourself?”

I glared at him. “Yeah, and ya wanna know what else I can⁠—⁠”

Noah bumped me with his knee and interrupted. “He just needs to book in for the next rider licence course. Please.” He smiled sweetly at the arsehole behind the counter, then shot me a look.

The guy glared at me while he tapped on his keyboard, then glared at me when he charged sixty-five bucks. He glared at me when I paid him cash, and he glared at me when he handed me the printout.

“No, thank you,” I said when he didn’t.

The arsehole looked at Noah. “Two weekend course, first session next Saturday at the high school car park. Nine a.m.”

“Thank you,” Noah said and pushed me toward the door.

As soon as we were outside, I took out my cigarettes. “What the fuck was his problem?” I didn’t wait for an answer. I lit a smoke and breathed in deep. “How does a jerk like that even get a job? Did you see how he looked at me?”

Noah apparently found something funny. “He’s in customer service. What do you expect?”

“Uh, customer service? Some manners. maybe.”

“Don’t let people like that bother you.”

I took a drag and pointed back to the door. “If I treated Mr Barese’s customers like that, I wouldn’t have a job.”

“Well, you probably would. Mr Barese loves you.”

That stopped me, like a brick fucking wall. I blinked a few times and shook it off.

“What?” he asked. “You act like it’s a first.”

I swallowed hard and stared at the lit end of my ciggie for a long second. “It is a first.”

I couldn’t look at him, but I could feel his eyes burning into the side of my head. I could hear him breathing and he seemed to be standing closer. “CJ,” he whispered.

I shoved the cigarette between my lips. “No big deal.”

“It’s a huge deal. I’m sorry.”

I looked at him then. “What’re you sorry for?”

“Someone should have said that to you before now. Everyone in your life should have told you that.”

I shrugged. “Yeah, well. We didn’t all grow up with the Brady Bunch.”

“No, we didn’t,” he mumbled. “Sorry.”

Wanting to drop the subject, I took a long drag of my cigarette and asked, “So, you drivin’ me back yet?”

He shot me a surprised look. “No, I wasn’t gonna. When did you need to be back by?”

“By three or four at the latest, I guess.”

He checked his watch. “Plenty of time.”

“For what?”

“Finish your cigarette and I’ll show you.”

Normally shit like that would piss me off, but with his half a smile and squinting one eye in the sunshine, I couldn’t help but smile. He headed for his car, and I followed, flicking my cigarette into the gutter.

He stopped to stare at me. “If you get done for littering, I can’t help you.” I snarled at him, and he laughed. “What? No, ‘fuck you’ today?”

“I was saving it up for when you told me to quit smoking.”

He snorted out a laugh. “Just get in the car.”

We drove for a bit and then I realised I had no clue where we were going. “Ah, you gonna tell me where you’re taking me?”

“I have to print a few things off at work, then we can grab some lunch. How does that sound?”

“While you’re on the clock?”

“I’m allowed to eat. And I’m helping you.”

“Oh, that’s right. I’m work to you.” I fought a grin. “For another two and a half weeks.”

He smiled at that. “Nice to know you’re counting down too.”

“I wasn’t. You told me what it was. And anyway,” I said, giving him a raised eyebrow, “what exactly do you plan on doing in two and a half weeks.”

He pulled the car into the driveway at his work. He scanned his card thing to make the boom-gate go up. “I’m going to kiss you first.”

“Are you?”

He looked me right in the eye. Didn’t even flinch. “Yep.”

My stomach tied itself up in knots. “Well, we’ll have to see about that. Who says I’m gonna let ya?”

He just stared right at me. “You’ll let me. In two and a half weeks, I’m pretty sure you’ll be begging me to.”

It was suddenly way too fucking hot in the car.

“You all right there?” He was all smug and sexy as he pulled into his parking spot. He gave me a once-over again. “Looking a bit flushed.”

“Fuck you.”

“There it is! And I didn’t even have to tell you to quit smoking.” I growled at him, and he just grinned. “And CJ?”

“Yeah.”

“You shouldn’t smoke. It’s bad for your health.”

“Fuck you.”

He laughed. “You coming in or you gonna wait in the car?”

I considered my options. Get eyeballed by every government employee in the building or stay in the car. “I’ll stay here.”

“Okay, won’t be long.”

He got out and left me alone. In a government car with the keys still in it. I wondered idly if he could lose his job for that. I was a parolee, after all.

I took out my new photo ID and looked at it again. I tucked it into my wallet, in the slots for cards, which I didn’t ever have any cards to put in before now. I double-checked how much cash I had left, taking the time alone to count it. I didn’t like counting money in front of people. I wasn’t particularly fast at it, but I liked to keep it in order and to make sure people didn’t rip me off. From the money Mr Barese paid me, I bought some smokes for me and Dad, beer for Dad, bought some groceries, and I took some money from my stash to pay for today. So this morning, I started with one hundred, I paid the RMS asshole sixty-five bucks. I pulled out the money I had left. One five, one tenner, and a twenty.

Twenty, thirty, thirty-five.

I folded the notes in half and put them back in my wallet. I was going to take out my birth certificate, but Noah’s door opened and he climbed in. He had a manila folder with him and reached back to slip it on the backseat. He kinda leaned closer to me as he did and I got a waft of his scent. His deodorant or aftershave or something that smelt really good.

“Get everything you need?” I asked, trying to distract myself.

“Yep. So, lunch? I was thinking drive-thru. What do you prefer? Maccas or KFC?”

“Neither. I don’t eat ’em.”

“Oh. Well, you pick something. It’s my shout.”

“I can pay for my own lunch.”

He backed the car out and drove up to the boom-gate. “I know you can. But it’s a work lunch, so I can charge it back.”

“The government pays you to take lunches? Jesus. No wonder the country’s economy is shit.”

He rolled his eyes, swiped his card, and drove out to the street.

“And anyway,” I continued, “the government’s payin’ and all you’re gonna offer is McDonalds or KFC? You cheap bastard.”

He laughed. “No, I was thinking drive-thru so we could go straight back to my place.”

I stared at him. “Jesus. You’re smooth.”

He chuckled again. “I don’t mean it like that. I just figured we could talk easier without worrying about who’s watching. There’s a nice café near the park. We can go there if you want. Your choice. Public park or my place.”

Now it was me who rolled my eyes. “Shut up.”

He decided on KFC but he paid, so I didn’t complain about spending fifteen bucks on a meal for one person. But we did go to his place, and after we’d eaten and cleaned up, he didn’t seem to be in any hurry to show me the papers or booklets he’d got for me and I certainly didn’t push it.

I wanted to know something, and it wasn’t something I was comfortable asking Pops, and I certainly would never ask my old man. I trusted Noah to tell me the truth, but I wasn’t sure how to ask. Asking someone for help wasn’t something I was used to.

I put my rubbish in the bin and stood at the sink for what must have been too long because Noah noticed. “Something wrong?”

“Um . . . no. Nothing’s wrong exactly. I just . . .”

He stood up and came closer. “You can talk to me. You know, as a friend. Because that’s what we are, right? Even before the next two and a half weeks?”

I tried to smile but couldn’t quite pull it off. “Could you, um, could you do me a favour?” I asked.

He was serious now, and closer. “Sure. Just ask me, CJ.”

I took my folded birth certificate out and handed it to him. “Can you read that to me.”