Blue Saturn (5 page)

“Maybe he’s been too drunk to remember our confrontations?” I laugh quietly.

“I don’t think so. He seemed genuinely happy with you.”

I look down to my feet and ask Meredith a question I can only ask her. “Is staying with Mike going to set me back?” I know she’ll know exactly what I mean. She saw me in the weeks after I arrived from New Zealand. And while I never told her exactly what it was I ran away from, she knows it was something that haunted me for months.

“No, I think if anything, spending time with Mike will be good for you.”

“How so?”

“You’re going to have to let people in. Especially Mikey.”

I nod my head. “Okay. Okay.”

As I crawl into bed after an emotionally exhausting day, I realise that the best way to get to Mike is to treat him the same way I’ve treated Mikey; with tolerance and consideration. I won’t do him the indignity of treating him like a child, although I think at times I won’t have a choice. But I will try. I will try to see things from Mike’s perspective. I will try to understand. I will try to be patient.

I will try.

*****

I’ve been summoned to Mike’s suite by Liane. I know it’s about yesterday’s events. And I know I’m going to have to apologise to Mike for everything I said.

Liane answers the suite door only a few seconds after I’ve knocked. “Come in,” she says, not holding the door open for me. “It would seem I was wrong about you, Lyndsay. It would appear that when a musician is stone drunk, he finds you very attractive.” She turns around and points at me. “Beer goggles, heard of them?”

I nod my head.

“Anyway, Paul is going to apologise to you, I am going to spend the next couple of days convincing people that there has been nothing more than a little accident involving a slippery bathroom floor and everything will continue on as usual.”

I stop in the middle of the living room when I see Paul. Not only is his eye bruised, it’s swollen shut.

Mike is standing behind the dining table, his hands clutching at the back of the chair. I notice his knuckles are cut and red. He hit Paul good and proper.

Paul steps toward me and then stops when he sees Mike move toward us. Paul holds up his hands in a sign of surrender, that he means no harm. “I’m really very sorry about what happened yesterday. It won’t happen again.”

That’s all he says. He doesn’t wait for me to accept his apology or to refuse it. He says his bit and walks away.

“Is he going to be able to play guitar with his eye like that?” I ask.

“He’ll be fine,” Liane answers. “Now with that done, I have some ground work to do.”

Liane leaves Mike and I standing alone in the room. I look down to his knuckles again.

“You didn’t have to hit him,” I say.

“Yes I did. I don’t stand for violence against women.”

“But you reacted with violence. How is that any different?”

“Because Paul is big enough to defend himself against me. You on the other hand...thankfully Gavin stepped in before things got out of control.”

And that’s when I see it. His regret. If he hadn’t been passed out on the floor or bed or couch or wherever he was, none of it would’ve happened at all.

I turn to walk away. “You should put ice on your hand,” I say by way of parting.

“I’m surprised you care,” he retorts.

I find myself agreeing with him.

7.

The weather in Sydney is noticeably warmer than it was in Melbourne. As I settle Mikey into another hotel bedroom, I open the windows to let some of the fresh sea air into our room.

We’re right in the heart of the city. Mike rented a three bedroom penthouse apartment for Mikey, me and him to stay in. I broke into a sweat when I was told that we’d be sharing a room, but Liane has promised me that Mike will be on his best behaviour. Our room is split level. There are three bedrooms and two bathrooms on the top floor and the lower floor has a huge living space complete with a kitchen and two terraces. I can’t wait to have a home cooked meal. Don’t get me wrong, room service is great, but I’ve missed some of those simple meals, like roast chicken and potatoes.

Paul and Steve are staying in the same hotel, but are sharing a smaller suite apartment and Gavin is, as usual, staying in his own room. He said he likes his own space. I remember what Wayne told me about Gavin being sober and wonder whether that’s why he won’t share a room with his band mates.

I take Mikey’s case of toys and books down to the living area. I set aside a little space in the back corner of the room for Mikey to play. I stack his books and toys neatly before heading back upstairs. I have a feeling we’re going to be spending a lot of time in this apartment. Mike still hasn’t given me permission to take Mikey out.

I’m struggling to cram the suitcase onto the top shelf of the cupboard when Mike suddenly comes up behind me and stretches over me, pushing the suitcase easily onto the shelf.

I lower my hands and turn around. “Short girl problems,” I say.

Mike smiles and looks down at me. “It was my first thought about you. When I saw you, I thought ‘damn, she’s short.’”

“Is that a problem?” I ask defensively.

Mike frowns and steps away from me. “No.”

“Because one of the first things I thought about you was that you’re tall.”

Mike’s frown turns into the smug smile. “What was the first thing you thought about me?”

I think back to that day. It seems so long ago but really it was less than two weeks. And my first thought was that he was good looking. And going by the look on his face, he knows that was my first thought.

“I thought you were too skinny,” I say.

“Skinny? I’m skinny?”

“Yes. You’re thin. I thought you might be a bit beefier. You look bigger on TV.”

His smile fades and he looks down at his body. “No one’s ever called me skinny before.”

“It’s just my opinion. It doesn’t mean anything.” I step toward him and without touching him, squeeze past him.

“Everyone’s opinion matters,” he says as I walk away.

Mr Michael Greene, rock star and man of every girl’s fantasy is just as insecure as the rest of us. That makes me smile.

Mikey has told me that Spaghetti Bolognese is his ‘best and favourite’ dinner. So tonight I’m going to cook for him.

He accompanies me on a trip to the supermarket, where I stock up on bread and milk and fresh fruit and vegetables. I’ve always been pretty conscious of what I eat and the room service food, along with a serious lack of exercise, is beginning to take its toll on my body.

I feel tired and lethargic and I’m not sleeping as well as I normally do. That may be because I shared a room with a five year old, but still, I normally don’t have any trouble sleeping and I’m putting it down to my bad lifestyle of late.

After I’ve unpacked the shopping into the kitchen, I seek out Mike. I know he’s around here somewhere, I heard him just minutes ago talking on the phone.

I find him out on the balcony, smoking a cigarette. At least he had the decency to smoke outside.

“Mike, I was going to make dinner tonight, I was wondering if you’d like to eat with Mikey and I?”

“I’ll pass.” He doesn’t turn around. He keeps his forearms firmly placed on the railing.

“Would you mind if I left Mike with you for an hour while I go for a run?”

He turns his head then and looks at me. “You run?”

“Yes I do. Every day normally, but I haven’t...” I shake my head. “If it’s too much trouble...”

“It’s no trouble. Don’t be longer than an hour though.” He takes a long drag of his cigarette before dropping it to the ground. He looks at me and pulls another cigarette from the packet in his pocket and lights it up. “I’d offer you one, but I get the feeling you don’t smoke.”

“You’re right, I don’t.”

I should tell him why I don’t smoke. But I don’t. It’ll lead to more questions, questions about my past that I don’t want to answer. Instead, I put a weeks’ worth of frustration and stress and anxiety into my run. I push myself to the absolute limit. And when I think I’m about to collapse through exhaustion, I dig deeper and go harder. I run eleven kilometres in total and feel thoroughly cleansed of all my bad negative energy by the time I return to our hotel suite.

As I open the door, I hear Mikey talking. “See, it’s a song about Indsy. She’s a Indsy Indsy spider.”

I stop at the entrance and listen.

“Her name is Lyndsay,” Mike corrects. “And she’s not a spider. She’s a babysitter. Although between you and me, I doubt she shaves her legs, so she may very well be as hairy as a spider.”

“She’s my Indsy Indsy spider.” And Mikey starts singing again.

I make my presence known in the living room. “It is so warm outside.”

“Hi Indsy. You came back.” Mikey smiles at me.

“Of course I came back.”

Mike stands up from the couch. “I gotta go.”

I don’t ask him where he’s going because I really don’t care. I look back to Mikey. “Do you want to help me with dinner?”

Gavin has accepted my invitation to eat dinner with Mikey and I. It feels all a bit strange, but strangely comfortable at the same time. It’s nice to have relaxed adult conversation with someone who I’m beginning to look to as a friend.

We finish off our dinner and while Mikey showers upstairs, Gavin helps to clear the table.

“You’re very well trained,” I say.

“I think my mum forgot I was a boy and she insisted I be trained in all manner of house duties when I was growing up.”

“Do you have many siblings?” I ask.

“Eleven sisters. Eleven older sisters.”

“Wow,” I say breathlessly. “That’s amazing. I’m an only child. Well, I had a step brother but...eleven sisters. That’s...”

“Torture,” Gavin says. “Pure torture.” Then he laughs and grabs the cloth from the sink to wipe down the table. “Dad wanted a son, so they kept going until they got me.”

I watch him as he cleans up where Mikey has spilt spaghetti sauce onto the table.

“I hope you don’t mind, but Wayne told me you’re sober,” I say.

“I’ve been sober for nine months. But if you want to drink, feel free. I don’t have a problem with it.”

I smile and shake my head. “I don’t drink anymore.”

“Anymore?”

I nod my head. “I had a rough few teen years.” I’m treading on dangerous ground here. He’s going to ask more questions. So before he can, I change the subject. “How long have you known Mike?”

“We were neighbours growing up. We met on the street one day before we even started going to school. So I’d have to say we’ve known each other for about twenty four years. Maybe twenty five.”

“That’s a rarity, a friendship that lasts that long.”

“We’ve definitely had our ups and downs. But he’s my best mate, forgive and forget, right?”

I smile and nod. Forgiving and forgetting is one thing I’ve never been very good at.

I’ve put Mikey into bed and Gavin and I are alone on the balcony. It’s a cool night, but not cool enough to be indoors.

“I was thinking,” I say as I look out at the night skyline. “Father’s day is coming up and I was wondering if I should...”

Gavin interrupts me. “You shouldn’t. Mike would hate it.”

I nod slowly in agreement. I thought that might be the answer but didn’t want to make any assumptions. “What are you going to send your father?”

Gavin shrugs. “Don’t know. Probably a bottle of whiskey, or something along those lines. What about you?”

I look across to Gavin. “I haven’t been in contact with my biological father since I was about ten, so he gets nothing. My stepfather, he...he won’t expect anything from me.”

“You’re not close?”

“No,” I say quietly. “We’re not close.” I put my hands between my knees. It’s become a habit whenever I speak about my stepfather. I squeeze my knees together, pressing against my fingers firmly. I feel a chill go through my body which makes me visibly shiver.

“Are you cold?” Gavin leans forward and begins to take off his jumper.

“No,” I say quickly. “No I’m fine.” But it’s too late. Gavin has removed his jumper and is holding it out to me. I smile and take it, slipping it on over my head. “Thanks.”

Gavin smiles and sits back in his chair. “You know, I’ll be receiving my first father’s day present this year.”

I wasn’t expecting that. “Really? You have a child?”

His smile widens. “I have a little girl.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“She is the most beautiful girl in the world.” Gavin pulls out his phone and unlocks it, before holding it out to me. His screen wallpaper is a photo of a baby girl smiling, soapy foam surrounding her body while she’s being given a bath.

“She’s cute,” I genuinely compliment.

“She is.” Gavin is smiling down at the picture.

“Are you and her mum...sorry, it’s none of my business.”

“We’re on a break at the moment. When Jasmine found out she was pregnant she left. I was using at the time, you know, drugs and alcohol. She didn’t want to raise a child in that environment.”

I nod my head because I completely agree.

“So she said she was leaving. She said if I could get sober and stay sober for one year, then we could start seeing each other again. We talk on the phone occasionally and she sends me a photo every week of my little girl. I wouldn’t have been able to do it, except...well I did it for my child.”

“I applaud you, Gavin. I couldn’t think of a better reason to get sober than for the love of a child. How old is she?”

“She’s seven weeks old.”

“And what’s her name?”

“Grace. She’s my saving Grace.” Gavin is still smiling as he puts his phone back in his pocket. “What made you not want to drink?”

Crap. I don’t want to talk about it. But Gavin has been so open and honest with me, it’d be cruel not to give him a little bit about my past. “I hated how I felt when I woke up the following morning,” I say. “I hated who I was when I was...” I feel a lump form in my throat. “I just didn’t like who I was.”

Gavin can obviously sense my discomfort and reaches out and takes my hand. He doesn’t ask me any more questions. We sit out on the balcony in silence and watch the city below us shimmer.

*****

Mikey is calling out to me. It takes me a few seconds to get my bearings. Sydney, Monday night. Remembering that I’m sharing a suite with Mike, I throw on a robe and head to Mikey’s room. He’s lying down, curled up in the foetal position. He’s crying.

“My tummy hurts,” he says.

I go to his side and press my hand to his forehead. “Damn.” He’s hot, very hot. I pull the blankets off him and run back to my room for my small first aid kit. It has a thermometer in it.

I grab the first aid kit and my phone, slip on a pair of track pants and a jumper. I have a feeling we’re going to be making a trip to the hospital.

Mikey’s temperature is 41.8 degrees Celsius.

That’s not good.

That’s really not good.

My heart starts to race as I pick up the phone next to his bed and dial reception. “This is Lyndsay from the penthouse apartment.”

“Yes Miss Griffin,” the receptionist says.

I wonder how she knows my surname but don’t dwell on it. “I need a taxi to go straight to the Alfred Hospital immediately.” I start to scroll through my list of contacts for Mike’s number.

“Miss Griffin, if it’s an emergency, I could call an ambulance for you?”

I look down at Mikey. He’s really not doing so well. “How long will I have to wait?”

“Not long, I can assure you of that.”

“Okay, yes please. I’ll be downstairs in a few minutes.”

I tap my screen to call Mike. It rings before going to message bank. “Mike, it’s Lyndsay. Mikey is sick and I’m taking him to the hospital. Please call me.”

I lift Mikey into my arms and without giving thought to anything else, I head toward reception.

I only wait a minute before an ambulance shows up. The male paramedic takes Mikey from my arms and puts him on the trolley bed. I scramble into the back of the ambulance and sit on a small stool next to Mikey. The paramedic is talking to me, asking me questions about symptoms. I answer them as best I can. Mikey is still crying.