‘It was her blood pressure medication,’ Hansa says, wiping her forehead with a handkerchief, ‘which is what I’ve said before, that her medication needed adjustment. At least the doctor is listening now.’
I keep my voice low, outside the door to Nani’s room. ‘But it’s not just the medication, is it?’
Hansa glances at the door, looks back at me. ‘Let’s talk in the kitchen.’
When we get to the kitchen I sit on one of the stools near the bench, like I’ve done a thousand times before. This doesn’t feel like those times though. I clasp my fingers together as Hansa makes tea.
‘You’ve been worried about Nani, haven’t you?’ She collects two mugs. ‘I’ve been wanting to discuss this with you. I’m sorry we haven’t had the chance to talk before.’
I had this all planned out, the words I would use, the right calm tone. All that fails me now. It’s like my intestines have climbed up my throat to strangle my windpipe.
‘Is it Alzheimer’s? Is it…is it an aneurysm?’ My eyes get teary before I can stop myself. ‘You don’t have to hide it from me, I know it’s genetically linked –’
Hansa settles the mugs on the benchtop and clasps my hands. ‘It’s not an aneurysm, Amita. It’s nothing like that.’ She sits on the stool nearest mine. ‘Nani has always been a little dreamy, yes? Now she is dreaming of the people and things she’s always loved. She dreams them so hard and so well, they are starting to return to her. And she to them.’
Hansa must see the confusion on my face.
‘We give it medical names,’ she goes on. ‘Senility, dementia, regression – because we’re afraid of it. But it’s not an illness. It’s just old age.’ She studies her mug. ‘I hope I dream of the people I love when I get old. I hope I can dream them back to life with such certainty.’
My voice is halting. ‘But Nani’s going to need more care now.’
‘Yes,’ Hansa agrees. ‘And that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I’ve wondered for some time what we would do when Nani needed support. In this country, old people go into nursing homes, but you know that is not our way.’
She shifts on her stool, steadies her mug, as if she’s squaring up to do something more significant than just talk.
Her eyes are very serious. ‘I’ve been trying to think of a solution. It’s difficult, because I am the sole provider, so I need to work. Beena is still studying. And now Jasminder is married, her place is with her husband.’ She finally looks at me. ‘But you… Amita, you have more freedom. So I thought…I was wondering if you would like to become Nani’s companion.’
My mouth goes slack for a second. ‘Like a respite carer?’
My aunt shakes her head. ‘No, Amita. I was hoping you’d agree to live here, with Beena and me, and look after Nani day-to-day.’
‘I…’ I have to sit very still for a moment. The dizzy confusion of a minute ago has retreated, but now I’m feeling something else. ‘That’s a big thing, Mami. I’d have to leave Dad to live with you, and he’s not well, either.’
‘Yes,’ Hansa admits. ‘But you’d be here, in Mildura, so you would still be close to him.’
‘What about my job?’
‘You would have to give up your job in Ouyen, it’s true. But I could offer you a small wage for Nani’s care, and if you pursue your nursing training, you could complete it here, at Mallee Health. Would you consider it?’
Would I consider it? In the hallway I’d have said and done almost anything to keep Nani safe. Now I’m vacillating without really knowing why. My head feels like it’s been spun in a blender. ‘I-I’ll have to think about it, Mami. And I’ll have to talk to Dad.’ I look at the benchtop. ‘There’s other things, personal things…’
‘Nani told me you’ve met someone.’ Hansa angles her head to meet my eyes. ‘Is that true?’
I manage to keep my expression from falling apart. ‘It’s not… Nani might have given you the idea it’s more serious than it really is.’
Hansa colours. ‘Oh, well, if you have an attachment, I’m sure you’ll tell us about it eventually.’
When I go back down the hallway, I’m not intending to disturb Nani at all. Just a little peek to check she’s still here, still breathing. But naturally she’s onto me like a shot.
‘Come in, child, don’t lurk in the doorway.’ Her silver hair is loose, fluffed around her face. How did she get so old all of a sudden? She waves away my apology with one bird-fine hand, makes me sit on the side of her bed, gets me to find her glasses. ‘You look worried, dearest. Are you all right?’
‘Am I all right?’ I laugh, but the laugh sounds a bit hysterical, so I swallow it back down. Am I all right? I don’t know. I’m still hurt. I can’t think about Harris at all, and my insides feel bruised.
‘I’ve been worried about you,’ I say, which is both the truth and the only thing I can say.
‘Well, that is a foolish thing to worry about,’ Nani says, fussing with the glasses chain.
‘I still do it.’
Now the chain is arranged to her satisfaction, she tilts her head. ‘I suppose that is fair. I worry about you, after all.’
I huff out another laugh, a less fraught-sounding one. ‘Why?’
She looks at my hand as she squeezes it. ‘Because you are young, Amita, and your mother is gone.’ Her voice is small but solemn, which is not like her usual tone at all. ‘I see you trying to hold onto the threads of her all around you.’
A gasping noise comes out of me, like a kettle letting off steam. The steam clouds my eyes, and I have to blink it away. The scene with Reggie this morning, the fight with Harris, it all threatens to overwhelm me. And now Nani is talking about Mum, and I can’t look at her for a moment. But I can feel her hand, holding mine.
‘You should not be clinging onto what is gone, bebe,’ she says softly. ‘It is not yet time for that. You should be looking outward to the world, and forward to the life ahead.’
I shake the tears away, clear my throat. ‘Life ahead…’ My grandmother has gone to the heart of the matter again, as usual. ‘I don’t know, Nani. It’s scary. I can’t see that far.’
‘Nobody can. That is the fact of it, Amita.’ She pats my hand, her expression fond yet firm. ‘But you cannot let yourself be afraid of it. You must only be energised by it. The potential of it. And it is yours – it is nobody else’s. Nobody will ever live this life like you will.’
It’s what Nick said, too. But the whole idea terrifies me. ‘How will I know if I’m doing it right?’
‘You will know here.’ She lifts her hand and smooshes her palm against my breastbone, over my heart. ‘And you will remember what we have said to you, your mother and father and I.’ Which sounds really sensible, and should settle me down. Except what she says next, as she tidies her blankets, freaks me out completely. ‘I have tried to live a good life. I have lived in different places and done many things. I have loved with all my heart. Those have been the important things.’
I feel like shoving my fist in my mouth, but I don’t. I settle for hyperventilating a little. ‘Nani, please don’t talk like this.’
She regards me primly. ‘I think I am old enough to have earned that right, Amita. Now you will stop your worrying, and let me rest. Surely you have something better to do than fuss over me.’
Reluctantly, I drag myself up and to the doorway. I’m almost outside in the hall when Nani quavers out again. ‘Amita? Where is your Ouyen boy?’
Turning around to meet her eyes is almost more than I can handle. ‘He’s… I don’t know. I don’t know what’s going on with him right now.’
‘What is it? Did you have a disagreement?’ She raises her eyebrows. ‘Did you speak the truth to one another? Speaking truth can be painful sometimes.’
‘Yes.’ My own voice quavers. ‘No. I don’t know.’
‘Well, when you have figured it out I’m sure things will be better.’
I go out. Everything seems faintly skewed – the hallway, the doors to each room – like a photo taken through a fish-eye lens. I wander back through the carport to the outhouse where all my gear still sits inside my suitcase. The purple folder with the residency paperwork lies on top. The Friday deadline for interviews is only a few days away.
The room is stuffy with the windows closed. I lie back on the bed. Trying not to cry is really exhausting, so I give in to the urge for a while. Then I wriggle up and blow my nose, force my brain to work.
I look at my hands: they resuscitated a boy at the house in Amblin Court just this morning. That seems to have happened a lifetime ago. The conversation with Nani is rolling around in my head, plus the talk with Hansa in the kitchen. I get up and push open a window, see if that makes me feel less stifled.
There’s Harris to think about as well. It would be easier if I didn’t have about a million voicemail messages from him. I check my phone but they’re all still there. In every one of them he sounds pleading. Amie, I’m sorry…Amie, I never meant to say all that stuff…Reggie’s okay, he’s gonna be okay…Please call me. They get more desperate as they go along. Amie, please…I know I screwed up…You don’t have to forgive me, just let me know you’re all right…Please, Amie…I can’t do this on my own.
There’s no getting around it, I have to get in touch with him again. I made a commitment to be his contact and I can’t just drop him in it; the outcome could be devastating. I don’t think about who it would be more devastating for when I tap out a text.
Hospital meeting @5pm for outpatient evaluation if available
I hit Send, lie back on my bed, consider the next problem. Imposing mental order is somehow important. Okay. My aunt wants me to become Nani’s full-time carer. I turn the idea over in my head. Oh my god, it’s suffocating in this room. I jump up again and stand by the open window, close my eyes to breathe deep.
I could do it. In fact, I should want to do it. Don’t I want to help look after Nani? Of course, of course I do. In lots of ways, I’ve been training for it for the last few years. And it would be kind of the perfect job for me. I’d be near enough to Dad, I could work towards completing my nursing training, I’d be right here to help Nani, support the family…
I look over and see the purple folder, the papers curling in the heat. The dizziness I felt outside my grandmother’s room rises up in me again. A sticky nausea comes along for the ride. I clutch the aluminium sash of the window, hold on tight, wait for the nausea to subside – but it doesn’t. Is this what I want? To live in Mildura, caring for Nani every day, never going anywhere else? Like Jas: growing up here, growing old here, dying here…
I’ve never questioned it before, and suddenly everything Harris said this morning comes crashing down on me.
You’re so busy playing the fucking martyr, giving up your residency, giving up everything for your family…freaking out about how everyone will cope without you, and it’s just a fucking excuse to do nothing.
Have I been hiding all these years? Even from myself?
I don’t know. And the worst thing is, if it’s true, I’ve cut off any means of escape. I’ve been so good, so responsible, for so long, I’ve backed myself into a corner: everyone expects me to do the right thing and stay with Nani. I feel guilty even considering another option. My aunt will be so disappointed with me if I choose differently, and Nani will still need care…
Has everything Harris said turned out to be right?
*
He’s arrived at the river before me.
I see him pacing near the old pipe factory. When he notices my car, he stops. For a second I just take him in: his tall broad-shouldered stance, hands stuffed in his jeans pockets, his new haircut and shave showing off the angles of his jaw. I remember how we yelled at each other. He obviously remembers it too because, when I stand up out of the car, things get awkward.
‘Thank you. For coming.’ His words are stilted and low. ‘I didn’t know if you’d want to see me again.’
I keep my expression neutral. ‘I didn’t know either.’
‘That’s fair.’ He flaps a hand at the Pitbull. ‘Jump in.’
It’s not comfortable at all, the silence in his car as we drive further in. The sun is nearly at the horizon, and all the trees are looming. I get sick of the tension and decide to be proactive. ‘Tell me about Reggie.’
Harris seems to appreciate the conversation starter. ‘He’s okay. Not good enough to come home – the doc wanted to keep him overnight. He was dehydrated, apart from everything else. And yeah, obviously sending him home was a risk.’
‘What about his parents?’
‘Don’t even know who they are. They’ve never been in the picture before and he didn’t seem excited about getting in touch with them.’ He cants the steering wheel gently, glances at me. ‘You know you saved his life, right?’
All I can do is shrug.
Harris side-eyes me. ‘You’ve got a bit of a habit of doing that, y’know.’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘You saved mine,’ he points out, which kind of kills the discussion until he asks the next question. ‘What’s going on with your nanna?’
I fiddle with the strap of my seatbelt. ‘She’s…okay. For now. Can we not talk about it?’
‘Sure. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.’
Harris finally noses the Pitbull into a spot near the water’s edge. With evening coming on I’d like to stay in the car’s warm interior. But the atmosphere is way too close in here so I get out. I hug my arms around myself as Harris emerges, his black hoodie stretched in front where he’s pushing the pockets down with his hands. The giant gums surrounding us cast darkening shadows as the river water licks the bank.
Harris starts slow, keeping his distance over the other side of the car’s hood. ‘I know it’s been a really full-on day. And I know you probably don’t wanna talk to me. But I wanted to say I was sorry for all the stuff I said, for what I did. And I wanted to explain stuff –’
‘You don’t need to explain.’
‘I think I do.’ His frown is a collection of solid lines, like a closed shutter. ‘I didn’t know what to do, okay? I called you cos I was desperate. Steph was telling me not to call the ambulance –’
‘Do you always do what Steph says?’ It comes out more waspish than I intended.
‘No,’ Harris says, giving me a look, ‘and don’t get your gander up about Steph. There’s nothing like that going on, and I get the impression guys aren’t really her scene anyway. So it’s not about Steph. It’s about me.’ He holds my gaze determinedly. ‘It’s just my history, okay? I’ve never been in a situation that was improved by calling the cops. That’s just…not how it’s ever worked with me.’
I throw my hands out. ‘But you’re working with the police right now –’
‘I know that. I know it. But all I’m saying is it’s never made things better before, to contact them. Those instincts just kicked in. And I’m not saying it was a good call – it wasn’t, it was a shitty call – but in that particular situation, contacting the authorities would probably not have been a great idea.’ He stretches his neck and exhales. ‘I know it was fucked up. I’m happy to admit that. But at least phoning you was better than doing what Steph wanted to do, which was to dump Reggie outside in the street.’
I’m shocked by that. It must show on my face because the next time Harris looks at me his eyebrows are raised.
‘That’s the world I live in, Amie. It’s what I’m part of, where I’ve come from. Did you think because I agreed to do this narc business that I was some kinda white hat?’ His expression is bleak, unguarded. ‘I’ve never been the good guy, Amie. Look at what I did. The way I acted with Reggie, all those crappy things I said to you –’
‘You said what you thought was right,’ I concede.
He shakes his head at the leaf litter on the ground around us. ‘I dunno if it was right. Only you know what’s right for you. I shouldna said it, that’s the thing.’
I sigh. ‘Well, don’t get too mortified. Maybe some of what you said was true.’ I don’t meet his eyes when I qualify. ‘I’m still working it all out.’
His lips press together until they go white. ‘I seem to spend a lot of time apologising for all the stupid stuff I say to you. You’ve always been good to me, and I’m being an arsehole to you –’
‘Harris, the fact you apologised means you’re not an arsehole. You’re not. And apart from a few hours ago when I was thinking a lot of horrible things about you…’ I shrug at the admission. ‘I’ve never thought of you like that.’
Harris’s hands jerk his hoodie tighter. ‘Then you should be more cautious. I’ve never been the knight in shining armour, Amie. If you think that you’ve got me all wrong.’
‘I don’t,’ I insist. ‘I don’t have it wrong. You’re a good person –’
‘I’m not.’
‘Excuse me, but I like to think I’m a reasonable judge of character.’ I throw it back at him because, for some stupid reason, being called a decent human being is the only thing that seems to make a chink in his façade. ‘And you’re a good person who hides behind an arsehole mask. If you weren’t a good person you would never have agreed to do this, you would never have stuck it out so long. You’d have taken the money and run –’
‘If you knew how close I’ve come –’
‘And you wouldn’t give a shit about kids doing drugs, or whether the police arrest Leon. If you weren’t a good person, you wouldn’t get so cut about your dad –’
‘Don’t…’ Harris frowns harder as his eyes drop to the ground. ‘This isn’t about my dad.’
‘Harris, it’s everything. Don’t you see?’ I keep my gaze fixed on him, willing him to listen. ‘Everything you do, every minute of the day, is about making yourself different from your dad. He’s the arsehole, not you. All I see when I look at you is this courageous, kind –’
‘You can’t say that shit about me,’ he says flatly.
‘ – generous person, who has no idea of his own worth.’
‘You can’t…’ Harris’s eyes are screwed up tight. ‘You can’t just say that stuff, it’s not –’
‘Harris, the thing that drives me crazy is the way you look at yourself means you think it’s okay to just dive into any situation, no matter how risky. I meant what I said, about you being reckless. You put yourself in danger all the time, it’s like you don’t care about your own life –’
‘Stop, okay? Just stop.’ His hand is out as if he’s begging. ‘It’s all bullshit, yeah? You got this idea in your mind that I’m some kinda hero, but I’m not. I’m fucking not.’
‘Tell that to Reggie.’
‘Jesus, would you stop?’
In the cool dusk stillness, my whisper carries. ‘Why is it so hard to for you to believe me –’
‘Because nobody’s ever said it before!’
Harris’s expression is savage. His voice echoes on the river water. I watch him clutch at his head and spin on the spot. He looks miserable. If I was aiming to hurt him, I’ve hit the mark. But that was never my intention, and the sight of him tugs at me.
‘Then to hell with them.’ I stand firm. ‘To hell with them. But you’d better start believing it.’
His next words are choked out. ‘Amie, sometimes, I swear, I don’t wanna be anywhere near you.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘It means…’ Harris slaps his hands across his forehead, like he’s keeping his mental state from exploding out. But then he flings his hands wide, and the words explode out of him anyway. ‘I don’t know what it is, but you have something inside of you, like a key, that unlocks something in here.’ He slams one hand against his chest. ‘It’s like…you unmake me. Every thought I ever had gets turned upside down. And I can’t do anything about it. And you don’t even know you’re doing it. And it fucking scares the shit out of me.’
He paces as he raves, hands moving, his voice rising and falling and his whole body juddering. His face is anguished.
‘You look at me and I just start talking, and all the stuff that comes outta my mouth… It’s stuff I’ve never shared with anyone, ever. Do you know what that does to me? Do you know what it means? It’s fucking terrifying. So there’s a part of me that wants to bolt when I’m around you, okay? But it’s like I can’t help myself, I keep coming back and coming back…’
His words finally tail off, his hands covering his face, but I don’t think the emotion is gone from him completely.
My voice comes out as shaky as I feel. ‘Would it be easier if I wasn’t your contact? Is that what you’re saying? Do you want someone who’ll tell you it’s okay to throw your life away, just –’
‘Why does it even matter if I’m reckless?’ His body sags. ‘What difference does it make?’
‘It makes a difference to me!’ I point my finger at the ground and let rip, as if raising the volume will make it stick. ‘You’ve got one person out here who cares about what happens to you, Harris! I didn’t mean to get caught up in all this, but I’m part of it now. And you can’t be reckless with your life anymore, okay?’ My face contorts. ‘Because it’s not all right with me. Because the last time I cared like this –’
I can’t keep going because I’ve started crying, which is stupid, but oh god, now it’s started it won’t stop. The ache of it hollows me out, bends me towards the hood of the Pitbull.
Then strong hands are on my arms, turning me. Harris holds me, absorbing my whole soggy face with his gaze, finishing my sentence with soft words. ‘Because the last time you cared, somebody you loved died.’
I let myself lean on him as he pulls me in. And then I’m bawling, in a way I haven’t done for ages. I don’t think I even cried this much at my mother’s funeral, although I don’t remember much about that time at all.
Harris hugs me through it, smoothing my hair with his hand. ‘Ah, babe…’ His words are muddy as the riverbank, ‘Ah, Amie…’
When I’m all sobbed out, he leads me down to the river so I can wash my face under a canopy of dark branches. He splashes some water on his face, too. Then he helps me back into the car and we drive back to the place we started, with the headlights on. Frogs leap ahead of the light on the dirt road, and I tell him about my aunt’s request and the disaster I’ve gotten myself into there.
‘What will you do?’ he asks in the dark car.
‘I don’t know. I honestly don’t.’
‘Amie, you keep telling me my life’s important. But what about your life? What about your photography? I know you’re worried about your family, but they’re burying you alive…’
I don’t have any answers. ‘God, we’re a mess, aren’t we?’
‘We are,’ he agrees. His teeth shine in the light of the dashboard display. ‘But at least we know it.’
‘Tell me you’ll be careful,’ I say fervently, clutching his hand.
‘I’ll be careful.’ His face is shadowed and solemn. ‘I’ll be careful as I can be, Amie.’
He brushes my forehead gently with his lips, like a parting gift, and when he’s sure I’m okay to drive, he lets me go.