Whiskey & Charlie (29 page)

Every Saturday throughout Charlie's childhood, his father had gone to the betting shop to put some money on the horses. Now and again he had some luck and came home from the betting shop with more money than he went with. Occasionally he won a trifecta. Charlie did not know what a trifecta was, only that it usually meant a visit to the toy shop, where he and Whiskey were invited to choose anything they wanted.

The most memorable moment in Bill's gambling career took place the year after Charlie and Whiskey finished school when Bill bet on four different horses to win or be placed in four different races, and every one of his horses came in. According to their father, this kind of bet was called a Yankee, and the odds of winning it were smaller than minuscule. Charlie wasn't the slightest bit interested in horse racing, but he remembered the name of the bet; even the names of the horses stuck with him: You Little Dizzle, Prim and Proper, Cool in Springtime, and Maple Leaf Rag. He remembered because his father's Yankee bought him his first car.

Charlie hadn't thought about his father's win for years. It was Marco who reminded him when they finally caught up for a beer, and Charlie recounted the events that had taken place in the weeks after Whiskey woke from his coma.

“Sounds like all your horses have come in at once,” Marco said.

x x x

The offer came at the end of the first week of January. The following week, Charlie arranged a meeting with his old boss, the principal at St. Kilda Primary School.

“How lovely to see you, Charlie,” Deirdre said enthusiastically. “How's life treating you?”

“It turns out I wasn't cut out for climbing the corporate ladder,” Charlie admitted.

“Well, I can't say I'm surprised,” Deirdre said. “But you have to give these things a go. A bit of trial and error never hurt anybody. So what next?”

“No more mucking around,” Charlie said. “I'm going to do what I should have done a long time ago. I've been offered a place in the Diploma of Education at Monash University, and I'm going to take it. This time next year I'll be a real teacher. Finally.”

“That's wonderful news,” Deirdre said sincerely. “We need more young men like you in the profession. If we had a suitable opening, I'd have no hesitation in giving you a job.”

“Really?”

“Don't sound so surprised, Charlie. You're a natural. I've seen how much your students adore you, especially the bigger boys. It's great for them to have a positive role model.”

Charlie was touched. He had never thought of himself as a role model. “Thank you,” he said.

“My pleasure,” Deirdre said. “But tell me, did you just come to share the good news, or is there something else I can do for you?”

“Actually, there is something else.”

“Fire away then.”

“I know I can't have my old job back,” Charlie said. “I know Mary's doing that now. But I wondered if there was…anything else I might be able to do?”

Deirdre tapped her fingers on a stack of papers on top of her desk. “As a matter of fact,” she said, “I've had funding approved for two new students—one intellectually disabled boy in fifth grade, and a second-grade girl with learning difficulties. I'll need an integration aide to work with them. It's one-on-one work, mostly within the classroom—more challenging than what you were doing before, but certainly within your capabilities. Would that interest you?”

“Definitely,” Charlie said.

“The only thing is, it's not many hours—I'd have to check, but it's possibly only eight, twelve at the most.”

“That would be perfect for me with college,” Charlie said.

“Well, great! That's settled. It was lucky timing actually, because I was about to advertise.”

“That's it?” Charlie asked. “Don't I need an official interview or something?”

“Consider this your interview,” Deirdre said, smiling. “Come and see me the week before term starts, and we'll sort out the details.”

Charlie stood up. “Thank you so much,” he said. He felt a little stunned by how quickly things had happened.

“Thank
you
, Charlie,” Deirdre said. “It'll be great to have you back on board.”

Charlie's first horse had come in.

x x x

The second horse was Mike. He called while Charlie was in the car.

“What do you think about meeting me at the Royston?” Mike asked.

“I'm on my way to see Whiskey,” Charlie said.

“Me too. I thought maybe we could grab a beer first.”

“
Before
we see Whiskey?” Charlie asked. Sometimes, if Whiskey was tired, they left early and went for a beer at the pub around the corner. But they had never gone for a drink beforehand.

“If you don't mind. I've got some news. I don't want to tell you at Rosehill.”

“Okay,” Charlie said reluctantly. He was suspicious of the kind of news that needed a special one-on-one engagement to be told. He'd had enough of that to last a lifetime.

“So what's up?” he asked Mike before their beers had even been poured.

Mike laughed. “Let's at least sit down first. Not all news is bad news, Charlie.”

“I know.”

“Well, mine is good news anyway. At least I hope you'll think so. The girls and I got our permanent residency.”

Charlie was astonished. “Do you know for sure?”

“One hundred percent. I found out this morning.”

Charlie couldn't take it in. He had known about the application of course—Mike had asked every member of the family to write a letter testifying to the nature of their relationship with him and the girls. Charlie and Juliet had printed out photos and labeled them, awkwardly elucidating their complicated connections:
Holly
and
Chloe
with
Aunt
Juliet
(Michael's half brother's partner),
etc. Mike and the girls had been to interviews, had had physicals, filled out endless paperwork. And then for months nothing happened. Whenever Mike inquired, the Department of Immigration told him the application was
still
being
processed
. Charlie had stopped asking about it. He had thought they would be refused permanent residency, and he didn't want to think about what that meant for them, or for himself. The news that their application had been successful came as quite a surprise.

“What did Mum say?” Charlie asked, still trying to take it in.

“She doesn't know yet.”

“Rosa?”

“I wanted to tell you first.”

“You're really going to live here permanently?”

“We'd like to, if you guys will have us.”

Charlie was overcome. He took a long drink of his beer. “Of course we'll have you,” he said eventually. “We should celebrate,” he added.

Mike raised his glass to Charlie's. “We are.”

Charlie laughed. “This is such good news,” he said, finally recovering himself. “Juliet will be so happy. Can I call her? Or do you want to tell her yourself?”

“If it's okay, I'd like to tell Whiskey first.”

“Yes!” Charlie said. “Great idea.” It was absolutely right that he should be the next to know. After all, if it hadn't been for Whiskey, Mike would never have come.

x x x

The third horse was Juliet. Charlie was at Rosehill with Mike when Juliet phoned him.

“How long do you think you'll be?” she asked.

“I only just got here. Why?”

Juliet never checked up on him.

She paused. “There's something I want to talk to you about. But there's no rush. We'll talk when you get home.”

“Is everything okay?”

She laughed. “Absolutely.”

“What is it then?”

“I don't want to tell you on the phone.”

“Why not? Are you sure there's nothing wrong?”

“There's honestly nothing wrong. But I can't tell you now. You'll understand when you get here.”

“That was weird,” Charlie said to Mike after he hung up. And then, remembering himself, he said to Whiskey, “That was my girlfriend, Juliet.”

“Is everything okay?” Mike asked.

“I don't know,” Charlie said. “She didn't sound upset, but she said she needed to talk about something.”

“Did she give you a hint?”

“None at all.”

“Do you need to leave right away?”

“She said not to. But I'm worried now. I'll come again tomorrow afternoon,” he said to Whiskey apologetically.

Whiskey smiled. Charlie stopped for a moment to enjoy it. Whiskey had relearned so many things since he'd moved from the hospital to Rosehill. But after so many months of seeing Whiskey's face without expression, the novelty of seeing Whiskey smile still hadn't worn off for Charlie.

When he got home, Juliet opened the front door before he had time to get the key in the lock. She kissed Charlie, wrapped her arms around him, but Charlie pulled away. “What's the matter?” he asked.

“Nothing's the matter, I told you that.”

“Why did you call me then? I rushed back here.”

“I told you not to rush. Don't worry so much, Charlie.”

“I am worried. It must have been something important.”

“It is important. But it's nothing bad.”

“Come on, Jules. I don't like guessing games.”

“Don't be a stick in the mud, Charlie. Can't I have a little fun?”

“Not at my expense,” Charlie said irritably. “Why don't you just tell me?”

“I found something today,” she said, smiling mysteriously.

“What kind of something?”

“Something pretty.”

“What's happened to you?” Charlie asked. He'd never seen her act so stupidly. “Are you drunk?”

“I'm perfectly sober.”

“Are you going to tell me what you found?”

“Maybe you could tell me.”

“How can I tell you? I don't have any idea what you're talking about.”

“Well, I'll give you a clue. I found it in your wardrobe.”

“Found what?”

“In your sock drawer, to be precise.”

Charlie swallowed. “You found
that
?”

Juliet nodded, suddenly serious.

He looked at her carefully, trying to read her expression. Things had been so good between them since that day when they had come close to breaking up. But Charlie had botched the first proposal so badly he still hadn't worked up the confidence to have another shot at it.

“What do you think?” he asked. He felt shaky.

“It's beautiful.”

“Not the ring. I mean, what do you think about…us?”

“Is that your marriage proposal?” Juliet asked him.

“No,” Charlie said. “Yes. I don't know.” When he had rehearsed this moment in his head, he had planned to say something profound, something romantic. “Does it fit you?” he asked, confused.

“I don't know,” Juliet said seriously.

“Haven't you tried it on?”

Juliet shook her head.

“Why not?” he asked desperately.

“I was waiting for you to put it on my finger,” she said to him.

“Is that true?”

She nodded.

“You want to wear it?”

“Very much.”

“So you want to be my…wife?” Charlie had trouble getting the word out.

“Is
that
your marriage proposal?” Juliet teased.

Charlie laughed now, relieved. “I think that's as close as you're going to get.”

“Ask me again,” Juliet said.

“Would you like to be my wife?” Charlie asked her. He couldn't keep the smile from his face.

“Yes, please.”

“Is that your acceptance?”

“It's as close as you're going to get.”

“Say it again then.”

“I'd like to be your wife, Charlie,” Juliet said.

Charlie wasn't much for poetry, but he thought it was one of the loveliest sentences he had ever heard.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Of course I'm sure.”

Charlie held her beautiful face in his hands and kissed her.

“I suppose we should do the ring thing then,” he said. And then remembering, he asked sheepishly, “Where is it?”

“In my pocket.”

“Ideally, it would have been in
my
pocket,” he said, but it didn't matter.

“There you are then,” Juliet said. She pushed the box into the pocket of his jeans.

Charlie took the box out of his pocket and opened the lid. “Do you really think it's beautiful?” he asked her.

“I really do.”

He took her left hand and pushed the ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly. She held out her hand. “Do you think it suits me?”

“Do
you
think it suits you?” Charlie asked. He wanted so much for her to like it.

“I love it because you chose it,” Juliet said. “
And
I think it's beautiful.”

“Are you really going to be my wife?” Charlie asked, suddenly overwhelmed by what had unfolded.

“I really am,” Juliet said.

x x x

The last horse in Charlie's Yankee was Whiskey.

Since Charlie had gone back to college, he'd been dropping in to see Whiskey before class. One morning, Charlie and Juliet were at Rosehill particularly early, before Whiskey was even awake. They sat without talking until he began to stir. Charlie waited for Whiskey to look at him before he spoke.

“Hi, Whiskey, it's me, Charlie—your brother.”

They knew the damage to Whiskey's temporal lobe had affected his memory for words and names. Introducing themselves each time they saw Whiskey was a way of jogging his memory and was also supposed to alleviate any anxiety he might feel if he failed to recognize someone. Charlie had felt foolish at first, introducing himself to his own brother, but they all did it, even Rosa, and after six months, Charlie didn't even think about it anymore.