The Windy Season (33 page)

Big Shit

WELL, I DO NOT KNOW IF I WOULD BE
doing that again. I mean, if I were you. It cannot be good for your health.

Paul squinted at the doorway.

Lucky, Michael laughed. So lucky. I thought you were gone. Straight to the bottom, man. Just like that. All over.

There was a drip in the crook of Paul's left arm and patches on his chest. He felt the medicated lightness of his body and the sheets tight over his waist, heavy on his legs. The air was clean and cold.

Michael, Paul tried to say, the word tangling on his lips.

The German smiled at him. We are in Geraldton, he said.

How long have I been out? Paul managed to ask.

You were awake on the boat, Michael said. Do you remember that? You were in and out.

Outside his window he saw only blue sky, pale. The morning sun shone red against the frame.

You were down there for so long, Michael said. I have never heard of anyone surviving that kind of thing.

A girl swept into the room, stepping past the deckhand and stopping alongside the bed. Michael moved to the corner of the room and watched her in silence. Paul took in the nurse's perfume as she wrapped the cuff around his bicep. He felt the constriction and then the cold of the stethoscope on the inside of his arm.

Okay, she said and unpeeled the velcro of the cuff. Paul, how are you feeling?

He shrugged.

She looked at him seriously and then gave the same look to the pad resting on her forearm, recording notes, the silver pen gripped in her small hand. She was pretty, her dark hair drawn back in a tight bun. Her young face held a careful expression that seemed to belong to someone much older.

You are in Geraldton Regional Hospital. You were brought in last night.

Yeah.

I've spoken to your mother, she said. She's on her way. We'll need to keep you in here for a few days at least. You took in a lot of water. You likely aspirated a fair bit of it. We need to keep an eye on your lungs.

Paul nodded.

We'll bring you some breakfast in half an hour or so. Alright?

Yes, he said.

Do you need to go to the toilet?

Paul shook his head.

Okay, she said. I'll be back to check on you.

The nurse strode out and Michael raised his eyebrows at Paul. You lucky arsehole! he whispered, indignant.

The German stood and approached the side of the bed where the nurse had just been, eyeing the monitors, rubbing his chin like he understood what they meant, frowning as though it was bad news. He looked at Paul and winked. Paul wheezed a laugh.

All of the boys are calling you Big Shit, Michael said. Jungle's idea. He says that you refused to be flushed down the toilet, just like a big shit. The German laughed.

Paul smiled.

Do you know how far down you went? Michael asked. Do you remember it?

No, Paul said. Not really. I knew it was happening. I thought I was dead.

They wanted to put you in decompression. It was a long way down. I don't know how your brain still works.

Is Jake pissed? Paul asked.

No. I do not think so. Shaken a bit, I think.

Really?

You nearly died, Paul. The man is not very humorous but he does have a heart. Ruth too. She was here most of the night.

Aunty Ruth?

Michael tapped a hand on the foot of the bed. It was very scary, he said. We thought you were lost.

The German looked away to the window and exhaled, like he was trying to blow something through the glass and into the sky. Paul didn't know what to say.

I should be driving back, Michael said. Shivani wants me home. Your disappearing act has made her crazy. She thinks I am going to end up at the bottom of the sea. He pulled his car keys from his pocket. I'll call you later, Big Shit.

Michael, Paul said. Thanks.

The deckhand shrugged. Don't thank me. It was the skipper who saved you. He just jumped right off the bow. Craziest thing I have seen. Flying through the air like that with his sunglasses on his head. Michael ran both hands through his hair and shook his head. Craziest thing, he repeated.

Just as Paul put the lid back on his tray of food Fred walked in.

Big Shit, Fred said.

At your service, Paul replied, tiredly.

You doing okay?

He nodded.

Be a good idea to eat some of that.

Reckon they'd do chips?

Not if that nurse out there has anything to say about it.

Fred took a seat next to his bed.

I can't stay long, she said. I thought you should know that the divers found a bullet. On the wreck.

Paul sat up.

She nodded. Positive match with casings found on
Deadman
's deck. Ballistics also have a good match to Roo Dog's gun. So I guess we know who killed Troy Little.

And Roo Dog?

He's alive. He'll be in hospital for some time.

Then jail?

I can't see him seeing the outside of one for a while.

Do you think it was
Cetus
that got them?

We might never know. I doubt Arthur knew what he was getting himself into. I'm sure he thought he was making friends.

Paul lay back in the bed. Always something you cannot see, he said.

Fred nodded. That is true. Y'know I never could have pictured you doing what you did out there, saving Reece Hopkins.

Told you I could swim.

Fred laughed. She stood, pushing herself up on her knees.

You going to leave Stark? he asked. Head back to the city?

I don't know, Fred shrugged. Maybe I do need the tonic of wildness.

On the way to the door she turned back. I didn't tell you. Yesterday some Stark farmer was doing his fences, found one of the most wanted blokes in the country. Bikie chief, lying cactus next to the highway, not thirty kays south of town. Would you believe it?

Paul laughed, coughed. Well, it is the centre of the universe.

Apparently.

Barcelona

WHEN HE WOKE AGAIN IT WAS DARK
.

He saw the shadow in the chair beside the bed. A suit jacket folded over the arm.

Dad?

Paul. His father stood.

You're here.

Of course. Shit, Paul. The Professor kissed his forehead. Catherine, he said loudly.

Against the wall on the other side of the room Paul's mother stirred in her chair.

Cath, his father repeated. Wake up.

Mum.

He's awake, his mother said. She came to the bed. Hugged him.

You've been out to it since we got here this morning, his father explained.

When we got that fucking call, his mother said, I honestly could have drowned you myself.

His father laughed, wearily. Lucky for you it takes five hours to get here. She'd cooled off.

His parents stood on either side of his bed. They both looked ragged, like they'd been spin-dried. He could see how they'd aged in just six months, and felt guilt.

You are coming home, Paul, his mother said. With us. As soon as the doctor will let you go.

He nodded. Okay.

Good, she said.

But I'm going to Europe.

Europe?

Travelling. I was thinking about Barcelona.

Barcelona?

It's in Spain.

I know that, his mother said. Sounds expensive.

I made some money. I want to see some things.

You sound like your brother, she said.

I want to look east for a change.

His mother looked to his father concerned.

You and Dad should come too, Paul said. Go take yourselves away from here for a bit.

Barcelona? his father replied.

Why not? Paul said. We can't just look backwards, Paul said. Rear-vision syndrome.

I know, his father said.

Through the heart of everything

TWO DAYS LATER PAUL WAS DISCHARGED
from the hospital. Paul and his parents drove north to Stark.

Ruth hugged him hard when she saw him at her door. Jake walked out into the sunlight to see him go. Nodded stiffly when Paul thanked him. Offered something like a smile.

They drove to Michael and Shivani's place and packed Paul's things into the boot. Paul suggested they meet in Spain in June, when Jake had docked the boat for maintenance. Michael and Shivani stood out on the sandy lawn to watch them go. Michael's hands in his pockets, grinning, Shivani's arms around his middle.

His mother agreed to one more stop.

An hour south of Stark, in Notting, she pulled them into the quiet street.

From the porch Paul could see his parents watching the
cottage, like they both could sense Elliot there. He knocked on the door. Heard the creak of boards, footsteps up the hallway.

You always harass people like this? Tess said through the flyscreen. I'm heading back to the city, he said.

She scanned the street. Well, don't stand out there like you're trying to sell me shit.

She opened the door. Gestured towards the couch with a thin arm.

You want tea?

I'm alright, thanks. Mum and Dad are waiting out front.

Well, I'm having a tea, she said, already in the small kitchen, partially hidden by red brick. You might as well have one too.

Okay, Paul said.

You've been busy being a hero. You and that German.

Paul attempted a laugh.

They say Arthur's boat was a goner, Tess continued. She poked her head around the wall. Roo Dog would have drowned, she said, or bled out. Captain Jake and
Arcadia
to the rescue. Who would have thought? Tess shook her head. She disappeared back behind the kitchen wall.

Paul heard the purring of the kettle.

It's good, she said, I suppose. That you rescued him and everything. I mean, I would have left him to rot. And I'm his sister. I don't know why you bothered.

Paul looked out the window at the peppermint trees and eucalypts across the road. Thought it was strange to see them so still.

You always lived out here? he asked.

Grew up in Stark. Lived there my whole life. You want to know why he was out here? With a junkie.

No. Just . . .

This house was your brother's idea. He thought getting out of town would be good for me.

Tess walked into the living area with a tea tray.

Elliot spent all his time worrying about me. All the glass I was using, Tess said. I was fine. She paused, looked down at her body. Well, not fine, maybe. Tess gave Paul a half-smile.

She put the tray on the coffee table, sat down opposite him.

So, she said. Your brother wasn't a criminal if that's what you were thinking. But it was him who was the worry. How dark he got on everything. Spent all his time on his own, on some beach or camping up near the cliffs, alone.

Tess looked towards the window.

I always thought that was funny about him, she said. He came to Stark to get away, then he was trying to get away from Stark all the time. There was always somewhere else.

Paul nodded.

It was almost like he wasn't made for this place, like he was from another time. Prozac didn't really help it.

Prozac, Paul repeated.

Didn't think any of you knew. Don't take it personally. He wasn't the sharing type. Neither are you, I bet. Tess gave him a hard look, unflinching, like someone with the experience of giving bad news, or receiving it.

The cliffs, Paul said.

Didn't top himself.

How do you know?

I just do.

So where is he then?

I'm sorry, Paul. I wish I could tell you. I miss him.

Yeah, he said. Paul closed his eyes, tried to order his thoughts. Heard the floorboards creak under the carpet, felt Tess standing
there in front of him as if she was unsure whether or not to comfort him.

You jumped into the water? she said.

Paul looked up at her, the girl's eyes flickering like they were struggling for focus.

Arthur's boat, she said. That's what I heard. Before you got taken down by the pot. I heard it was like hell's own swimming pool and you went and jumped in.

Paul nodded. Not just me, he said. Michael, too.

Elliot told me you were like that, she said.

Paul watched her still face, her eyes gazing on him with meaning. But she didn't say anything more. He looked out the window to the car.

Mum and Dad, Paul said. I better go.

She breathed in hard through her nose. Yep, she said.

Tess didn't walk to the door with him. She stood in the corridor, looked into her kitchen.

On the winding highway from Stark to Geraldton Paul looked east and inland. Felt the land flex under the sunlight. Saw Elliot's Pajero on every farm road. Imagined him standing inside the doorway of every homestead he could see across the paddocks, or walking at the base of every scrubby ridge. He knew the risk of thinking that way, the hope that whatever forces had sent his brother away might have abated. That danger had passed, and Elliot might return.

While his mother drove, Paul's father probed for stories about the season and Paul obliged him. Told him about Circus; the missing eye that was a portal to hell. Told him about the kangaroo they had found floating eighteen miles out at sea. Explained Jungle's genius behind Big Shit.

And all of it his father seemed to savour, as if any part of the conversation had some profound element to it. Paul saw the urgency in him, the sightseer's energy to his father in the front seat. Glassy-eyed and alert, like a man returned to earth, returned to life.

But it was hard to not feel enraged by his father's sorrow, his enlightenment. After so long, after all the wasted time. It was impossible not to think of the cost of the man's distance when all Paul and his mother had left now was to look at the endless land and hope, hope that some vision of Elliot would materialise from the imagined into something real.

But Paul could see that at least, now, his father saw the world in that way, too. Understood the distance between people, the distance that had cultivated between them all, and wanted to close it.

After Dongara, when the highway hooked south-west towards the sea, Paul rested his head against the seatbelt. His parents spoke to each other in quiet voices, thinking he was asleep. He kept his eyes on the shimmering distance for much of the rest of the journey home.