Whiskey & Charlie (30 page)

“This is my girlfriend, Juliet,” he said after a moment. He still couldn't get used to the word
fiancée
.

“Hi, Whiskey,” Juliet said, squeezing his hand. “You've had a nice long sleep. It's overcast and humid—a typical summer day!” she said cheerfully, opening the blinds.

Whiskey blinked. His eyes followed her as she went over to the calendar they had hung on the wall. “It's March fourteenth today,” she said. “It's a Wednesday. Meredith will be here to do your physiotherapy this morning, and later on your wife, Rosa, will be back, and your mother.”

She sat back down, smiled at Whiskey. Charlie reached over and took her hand.

The door opened.

“Here's your breakfast,” Juliet said, taking the tray and bringing it over to Whiskey's bed.

Charlie adjusted the bed, raising it slowly so as not to startle Whiskey.

“All right, what have we got here?” Juliet said, looking at the tray. “Would you like some yogurt and fruit?”

Whiskey tapped his finger twice for
yes
.

After Whiskey had been fed, Juliet went to get herself a coffee. “Do you want to listen to some music?” Charlie asked when she was gone.

Whiskey tapped twice.

Charlie took a CD out of his bag. It was a compilation he had made for Whiskey, of music they had liked as boys. He hadn't been able to find any of their original seven-inch singles, not in Whiskey's collection, nor his own. They had long been lost or broken, he supposed, or thrown out in one of their mother's famous purges. But with a lot of help from Marco, Charlie had managed to download most of the songs he was looking for from the Internet. Charlie had been carrying the CD around with him for several days, taking it to Rosehill and home again, waiting for the right opportunity, wanting to be alone with Whiskey when he played it for the first time.

The opening track was the
Peter
Gunn
theme. Charlie thought about the first time they had heard it, when they were seven or eight years old, and their dad brought it home from the pub. Bill had done this once or twice before—coughed up fifty pence for records that had lost their currency on the jukebox. The last one had been Art Garfunkel's “Bright Eyes,” which Charlie and Whiskey didn't like and never played
.
The record they'd been waiting for was Joe Dolce's “Shaddap You Face.” So they were disappointed when their father brought home “Peter Gunn,” a song they had never heard of. But their disappointment didn't last long. With its sinister bass line and sudden crescendos, listening to the record made them feel like spies, like villains. Hearing the horn solo again, Charlie still felt the thrill of it. But when he looked at Whiskey, his eyes were closed. Twenty-five years on, the pull of memory was so strong for Charlie; it cut him to think his brother didn't feel it at all.

Heavy-hearted, he turned the CD off without even waiting for the song to end. But as soon as the music stopped, Whiskey opened his eyes, tapped his finger several times on the bed. Charlie had never seen him make this gesture before.

“Do you want it back on?” he asked. Whiskey tapped twice.

Charlie got up and started the CD again. A minute or so into “Peter Gunn,” Whiskey looked straight at Charlie and repeated the gesture he had made before, tapping his finger several times in quick succession. For months they had been using the same code, in which one tap meant
no
, two meant
yes
. Charlie did not know what these repeated taps meant.

“Would you rather I turned it off?” he asked, wondering if he had misinterpreted Whiskey before.

But Whiskey tapped once decisively. Charlie tried hard to think about what Whiskey might want. He felt panicked that he did not understand. He wished now that he had played the CD when Juliet was there. He tried to calm himself, to think it through from Whiskey's point of view.

“Do you want some different music?” he asked. Another single tap.

“Do you want me to turn it up?” he asked desperately. He was sure it couldn't be that, but he had run out of ideas.

Whiskey tapped twice.

“You want it louder?” Charlie asked. He couldn't believe it.

Two more taps. Charlie jumped out of his chair and turned up the stereo. “How's that?” he asked.

Whiskey tapped several times. “More?” Charlie asked, incredulous. Whiskey kept tapping.

Charlie laughed. He turned the stereo as loud as it would go. Then he stood by Whiskey's bed, held his brother's hand, and danced a strange, awkward dance of elation as the tears ran down his face.

“I can't believe the girls are turning eight,” Juliet said on their way to the twins' party at Whiskey and Rosa's. “I keep thinking about the day they arrived, when I went to pick them up from the airport, and they were sitting there sucking their thumbs, like two little lost lambs.”

“How old were Holly and Chloe in those days?” Oscar demanded from the backseat.
In
those
days
was his latest expression.

“They must have only just turned six.”

“And how old was I?”

“You were three.”

“Now I'm four,” Oscar said. “Turning five,” he added, in case his first point had not been understood.

“Thank goodness you're early,” Rosa said, coming out to meet them. “We haven't done the balloons.”

“I'm very good at blowing up balloons,” Oscar announced.

“Well, that's wonderful. But we also need someone to tie them. Whiskey always used to do it, but it's too…” She gestured rapidly with her fingers. “What's that word?”

“Fiddly?” Charlie offered.

“Yes. Too fiddly for him now.”

“I can tie them,” Charlie said. “Oscar, you can be the chief blower.”

“Let me carry something,” Rosa said, taking the cake from Juliet. She peeked into the box. “Oh, that's beautiful.”

“It's a butterfly,” Oscar pointed out.

“Oscar helped me choose it,” Juliet said.

“Yes, and we got those candles that when you blow them out, they come back again, as a surprise for Holly and Chloe!”

“That sounds like fun,” Rosa said.

Charlie's mother and Aunt Audrey were in the living room with Whiskey, putting up streamers.

“Here's Charlie and Juliet,” Elaine said.

“Hello,” Whiskey said slowly.

Charlie bent down to hug him.

“Hi, Whiskey. This is my nephew, Oscar,” Juliet said.

Oscar came closer to Whiskey's wheelchair. “I saw you in the hospital,” he said. “But you didn't see me. You were asleep.”

Charlie looked at Juliet. It was almost two years since Whiskey's accident, but they still tried to avoid talking about it, as it sometimes upset Whiskey.

Whiskey looked at Oscar for a moment. “I
did
see you,” he said eventually, in his slow way. “I was only pretending to be asleep.”

Charlie smiled. It seemed like a miracle to him that despite everything that had been lost from inside Whiskey's head, his sense of humor was still intact.

“Can I go for a ride in your wheelchair?” Oscar asked Whiskey.

“No, Oscar,” Juliet said quickly. “Whiskey needs his wheelchair. It's not a toy.”

“I could take you for a ride on my lap,” Whiskey volunteered.

Oscar beamed.

Then they heard a horn toot from outside.

“They're here!” Rosa said, rushing to turn off the light. Charlie's mother lit the candles. They started singing “Happy Birthday” as Holly and Chloe burst through the door.

“I remember that song,” Whiskey said afterward, thoughtfully.

“That's the song we always sing for someone's birthday,” Elaine said.

Whiskey frowned as he always did when he was trying to place something in his memory.

“All right now, time for the presents!” Rosa announced, clapping her hands.

“Daddy bought us a Barbie town house,” Holly said.

“We didn't bring it,” Chloe added.

“Because it was too big to even carry!” Holly finished.

Oscar wanted to give his present first. Charlie had taken him to choose a gift, and he had browsed without shame in the Barbie section of the toy shop before selecting a hot-pink sports car. Charlie's mother gave the twins a miniature beauty parlor, where they could style each other's hair and paint their nails. From Rosa and Whiskey, they had new backpacks, and from Juliet and Charlie, secret diaries with little keys on golden strings. When all the presents had been unwrapped, the paper discarded on the floor, Charlie put another present on the table.

“This one's from me and Whiskey,” he said.

Whiskey looked at him, confused.

“I chose it on behalf of both of us,” Charlie added for Whiskey's benefit.

The twins tore open the paper.

“What is it?” Holly asked, opening the box.

“They're walkie-talkies,” Charlie said.

Whiskey looked up. Charlie could see him mouthing the word, trying to fit the sound of it with his memory of the object.

“But what are they for?” Chloe asked.

“So you can talk to each other when you're not together. Whiskey and I used to have them when we were your age. Do you remember, Whiskey?” Charlie asked casually.

Whiskey picked up one of the boxes to have a look. “I remember,” he said slowly.

“But what would we say?” Holly asked.

“There's a whole alphabet you can use,” Charlie said. “I'll teach it to you later if you like.”

“How does it go, Uncle Charlie?” Chloe asked.

“Alpha, Bravo,” Charlie began. He could see Whiskey's eyes on him. “Charlie, Delta, Echo.”

“That doesn't even make sense!” Holly said.

“Foxtrot,” Whiskey said suddenly.

Everybody looked at Whiskey, but only Charlie knew it was the correct word.

“Golf,” Charlie said, looking at him.

“Hotel,” Whiskey replied, frowning deeply.

The girls giggled.

“What are you talking about?” Rosa asked.

“India, Juliet,” Charlie went on, smiling at Whiskey.

“Kilo,” Whiskey said after a moment. He seemed about to say something else, and then he stopped. Charlie kept looking at him.

“Lima,” he prompted. Three words were enough—more than enough, but why not try for more?

“Mouse?” Whiskey tried.

“Mike,” Charlie corrected him, grinning at Mike.

“November,” Whiskey said very quietly, nodding his head.

“Why are you crying, Uncle Whiskey?” Chloe asked.

“What is it, my darling? Are you in pain?”

“I'm fine,” Whiskey said. “There's no pain. It's a strange feeling”—he looked at Charlie—“as if everything had started all over again.”

Whiskey was still crying when he said this, still looking at Charlie, the tears rolling down his face, which despite everything, was still the same as Charlie's face.

“I'm going to call the hospital,” Rosa said.

Whiskey took her hand. “There's no need, Rosa,” he said gently. Hers was the first name he had learned.

“Are you sure, William?” their mother asked.

“Honestly, Mum. I feel as strong as a…what is the word?” He looked at Charlie. “A Zulu.” He laughed.

Charlie laughed with him.

“What's a Zulu?” Oscar asked.

“The Zulu were an African tribe,” Charlie's mother said, looking at her sons, their partners, her grandchildren.

“They were brave and fearless,” Juliet said.

“They were warriors,” said Mike. “Warriors who fought for their tribe.”

“They would have died for their tribe,” Charlie said, looking at Whiskey.

And looking back at him, Whiskey said, “It's the last letter. The last letter of the two-way alphabet.”

1.
Whiskey & Charlie
is structured around the two-way alphabet. How does the author use the two-way alphabet as a narrative device within the story?

2. What are Charlie's perceptions of his brother, and how do they change over the course of the novel?

3. Do you relate to Charlie's feelings about Whiskey? Have you had a time where you felt resentful or jealous of a sibling? How did you resolve those feelings?

4. In what ways does Whiskey's accident force Charlie to grow up? Is there a defining moment in Charlie's maturation?

5. How has Whiskey's accident affected the other members of their family?

6. Suppose that Charlie had been the one in a coma rather than Whiskey. How do you think Whiskey would have handled that situation? What are some regrets he may have had about their relationship?

7. Charlie loves Juliet yet is afraid to marry her. What stops Charlie from proposing to Juliet or from accepting her proposal? And what finally makes him change his mind?

8. How does the counseling Charlie receives in the hospital help him to resolve the issues in his life? How might things have worked out differently if he had received that kind of help earlier?

9. How does Charlie's relationship with Whiskey affect his relationships with others around him, including his mother, his father, and Juliet?

10. What role does Rosa play in the novel, as a relative newcomer to the family and in the dynamic between Whiskey and Charlie?

11. What role do you think Mike plays in the story? How does his arrival further complicate Charlie's feelings about Whiskey?

12. For most of the novel, it is unknown whether Whiskey will recover from his accident. What are some issues related to quality of life and euthanasia that arise in this story?

13. Does
Whiskey & Charlie
have a happy ending?

Whiskey & Charlie
deals with the complexities of sibling relationships. What was your inspiration for writing it?

In an interview for
The Paris Review
, Jonathan Franzen describes the discovery that his best writing was about “something as trivial as an ordinary family dinner.” I think the term “dysfunctional family” is something of a tautology—all families are dysfunctional in some way, which makes family life very rich with dramatic possibilities. What led me toward exploring this particular aspect of family life was my father having a falling out with his only brother, which resulted in them not speaking for a decade. I wanted to understand how two people who had grown up together could reach a point where they didn't speak for ten years, so, at some level, I think I wrote the book to answer that question.

Whiskey & Charlie
is structured around the phonetic alphabet, with one chapter for each letter. Why did you choose that structure, and did it pose any problems?

I'd seen other writers experiment with structural motifs and had been attracted to trying it, but I had never come across anything I'd thought I could use in that way. Then a friend taught me the radio alphabet, and I went around reciting it to myself for a couple of weeks while I committed it to memory, and this was at the exact time when I was beginning to write the first scenes of the novel that became
Whiskey & Charlie
, and I thought, why not build a book around this?

It was a great springboard for giving me ideas about episodes in the twins' lives. But it also posed some challenges. Any of the chapters with names (Charlie, Juliet, Oscar) were simple—they became character names. But Yankee kept me awake at night. For a long time, I had no idea how I was going to work that in. Others posed problems in terms of chronology. X-ray, for instance, was an easy idea to work in, given that Whiskey was hospitalized, but I really wanted that information to appear earlier in the novel. I had to do some tricky maneuvering, like using flashbacks, to make some of the chapters work.

Retrospectively, there seemed to have been a logic to it all along because it became, at its heart, a book about communication, specifically a two-way communication, and the structure seemed to make perfect sense.

What research did you have to do for
Whiskey & Charlie
, and how did you go about it?

I had to understand comas, both in a medical sense and in terms of its impact on family and friends. For a long time, I wasn't sure whether Whiskey would recover from the coma. So I needed to know for how long someone could plausibly remain in a coma, what kind of therapy they would receive, and other health threats they might face while in a comatose state. In case Whiskey woke up, I researched recovery, rehabilitation, and the physical and mental implications of long-term comas. In the event he would not recover, I explored right-to-life issues and the euthanasia process. The last thing I wanted was for readers to pick holes in the science. So I gathered statistics, diagrams of the brain, explanations of testing procedures and diagnostic tools, etc. I don't really have a science brain, so it was pretty heavy-duty reading for me!

I used medical and anecdotal sources and came across some amazing recovery stories—and many heartbreaking accounts without happy endings. There are lots of forums on the Internet for the loved ones of comatose patients, and they were an excellent source of material. People contribute advice about things they've learned along the way, tips on what helps them get through; some just need an outlet to share their stories with others who understand what they're going through.

In addition to information that had dramatic possibilities, I gathered details that would help to make the story feel real, especially to readers who might have some knowledge of coma, all of which were collated into a giant tome I printed out and carried around with me for months on end. I was very happy to retire it when the book was complete.

Like the title characters of your novel, you were born in England and moved to Australia as a teenager. How autobiographical is
Whiskey & Charlie?

There are elements that are loosely autobiographical: my family did emigrate from the UK to Australia in the 1980s, though we came by plane, and ended up in Perth rather than Melbourne. The feelings of alienation that Charlie experiences at his new school were very much my own. The anecdotes of the voyage to Australia are based on my husband's family's emigration by boat in the 1970s. There are a few specific scenes that are based on my own experiences—our dog being hit by a car, the costume competition in the village fete, and the character of Oscar is a sort of amalgam of my two oldest nephews. But the main characters and their experiences are entirely fictional.

Which character do you feel most closely connected to?

I think there are tiny fragments of me in almost every character—I am forthright like Rosa, romantic like Juliet, impulsive like Whiskey. But the character I most identify with in this novel is Charlie. I think everyone has times in their life where they're not moving in the direction they want to, where they're not doing the things they need to do, where they're lost and floundering—and I have a lot of compassion for Charlie as he goes through this process. I feel proud of him when his self-awareness grows and he begins to make changes. I feel for him as a parent feels for his or her own child!

Did you always want to be a writer, or did you start off in a different career?

I always enjoyed writing stories at school and certainly always loved reading, but when I was a child, my burning ambition was to be an actress. My mum told me it was very difficult to be successful and that I would probably have to do some other work to make ends meet. So I gave that up…and eventually ended up in a profession with exactly the same prospects! I have worked as a corporate trainer and as a teacher of English as a Second Language to support myself financially while I write.

What's your writing process like?

My writing process is completely organic. I just show up at the page and see what comes out. This has been the way I've written all my novels so far. I love the surprise of discovering what my unconscious has cooked up while I wasn't looking. I write in my home office while my son is at school. The writing “zone” is an elusive space! Some days I sit down and it surrounds me, sealing me inside. Most days it's not that easy. I have to creep up on it from behind or chase it around until it gives up in exhaustion and finally lets me in. Occasionally it eludes me entirely.

What do you love most about writing?

One of my favorite things about being a writer is hearing from readers: when I receive an email from someone telling me how much my book has resonated with them, it really makes my day and reminds me what it's really all about—connecting with book lovers.

At what point do you show your work to others? Is it something you'd encourage all writers to do?

I was part of a writing trio while writing
Whiskey & Charlie
, so I started showing drafts to them almost from the start. I found it really helpful to have feedback at an early stage, when I was still uncertain about the voice, the style, and whether the story was appealing or compelling to readers. Once I got on a roll with it, I had more confidence and felt less in need of ongoing feedback. After finishing the first draft, I sought more feedback, from a wider circle. I think it's critical to have perceptive readers, whose feedback you trust, to look at your work. If you can find the right people, they can support you when you lose faith in yourself, brainstorm a way through issues in the text, and notice things you can no longer see because you're too immersed in the work. I have no doubt that the feedback I received made my book stronger and more satisfying to read.

Who are your favorite writers? Why?

I love Jennifer Egan for her wry humor and psychological perceptiveness, Louise Erdrich for the vividness of her prose and her incredible insight into human nature, and Ann Patchett for creating relationships so intimate I feel like I'm part of them. I love Margaret Atwood's world-building and sense of playfulness, Haruki Murakami's wild imagination, Justin Cronin's ability to make my heart almost stop with suspense, and Maria Semple's gift for creating the most hilarious and improbable scenarios.

What would be your advice to new writers?

• Read widely and deeply. Talk about books, and take them apart to see how they work.

• Write as much and as often as you can, and be patient. Allow yourself time to develop and find your own voice.

• Join or form a writing group. The process of critiquing and being critiqued will improve your writing like nothing else I can think of.

• Subscribe to writing journals. One day you'll be ready to submit your stories to them. They rely on subscriptions to survive, and without the
m, you'll have no markets for your work.

• Support local independent bookshops. Online stores won't give you the time of day until your books start to sell in the tens of thousands, whereas local bookshops will hand sell your novels when you're a complete unknown. Don't let them go out of business!