While I live

C HAPTER 15

It was Lee’s last night, definitely his last night. As he said, ‘No matter what happens, I’m out of here tomorrow morning. Come floods, bushfires, locusts or Jehovah’s Witnesses, I’m going home.’

As I served up yet another stir-fry from my very limited repertoire I felt that there was a bit of tension in the air. We hadn’t discussed our relationship again since the day in the paddock. As far as I was concerned we didn’t have a relationship. Well, not counting friendship. But we’d never officially put it to rest and I suppose there was almost a feeling that it was dormant, not dead, that it could be revived given the right conditions. Like, for example, if we were the last two people left in the world.

Maybe Gavin felt it too. Or maybe he was upset that Lee was going home. Maybe he was just tired. Anyway, he was terrible that night. He actually picked up a handful of food and chucked it at me when I told him to hurry up and eat his meal. Both Lee and I stared at him in shock. But he just looked sulky and angry. I didn’t have the energy to deal with this. I sat down opposite him and said, ‘What did you do that for?’

He wouldn’t answer. He dropped his head, and of course it’s hard to talk to a deaf kid when he won’t look up. It must be one of the great things about being deaf. You can sulk so spectacularly.

‘Oh God,’ I said to Lee. ‘You do something. I’m not in the mood.’

‘What do you want me to do?’

‘Well, what do you do with your brothers and sisters when they carry on like this?’

He considered for a moment. ‘If it’s Pang, I’d ban her from the computer for a week. If it’s Phillip, I’d send him to his room. Paul, I’d yell at him and chase him around the house wishing I had an AK-47. If it’s Intira, she’s so good this would never happen.’

‘Great. And you’re the one who tells me I’m too boring and inflexible when it comes to Gavin.’

‘I didn’t say I was any different.’

I laughed. ‘But we shouldn’t have to be doing this. We’re too young. Our biggest worries should be homework and parties and dating.’ I blushed when that word slipped out, and hurried on. ‘A bit of babysitting, OK, fine, but not 24/7.’

‘I guess I’m getting used to it,’ he said. ‘I hated it so much at first. But you look at those photos from Africa and the one thing you always notice is kids looking after their sisters and brothers. I mean, four-year-olds carrying babies, five-year-olds with three smaller kids trailing after them. So in a sense we had it good for a long time.’

‘Oh yeah. I suppose. But it doesn’t actually help much when I have to turn down a cappuccino with friends from school because I’ve got to come home and look after Gavin. Or I have to quit a party early. I can’t leave him here on his own because I’m so scared that the soldiers might come back.’

‘I’ve got good neighbours. They help out. But I don’t like to keep asking them.’

‘Yeah, Homer and his mum and dad are good. And the Sandersons, but Gavin doesn’t like them much for some reason.’ I sighed. ‘I guess I shouldn’t whinge. I’ve only got Gavin to look after; you’ve got four.’

‘Yes and no. You really can’t compare, because everyone’s different and the circumstances are different.’ He paused. ‘I mean, what’s the real story with Gavin? Are there any good things about having him here?’

I opened my mouth to answer and as I did I glanced across the table. Gavin had lifted his head again and was watching me like a sheepdog with a mob in a corner of the paddock. You could never tell how much of a conversation Gavin was following — usually with long conversations he didn’t bother trying after a few minutes — and I didn’t know how long he’d been tuned in to this one, but he’d certainly understood Lee’s last question. I said, ‘Oh yeah.’ I grinned across at Gavin. ‘He’s only smashed up the motorbike three times.’

I knew it was wrong as soon as it was out of my mouth. Gavin pushed back his chair. It fell with a clatter onto the old stone floor. He yelled at me, ‘I hate you,’ and ran down the corridor. A moment later I heard his bedroom door slam so hard that dead moths fell off the light shade in the kitchen.

Lee looked at me and started to say something but when he saw my expression he changed his mind and cleared away the dishes instead.

I’d been psyching up for the last big talk of this visit from Lee. At first I didn’t want it and then I thought perhaps I did, but whatever, I’d been all tense and now that tension was draining away into nothing. It was like getting all passionate with a guy — and that guy could even have been Lee — and then having to stop just as this amazing feeling is spreading right through you. And part of you has been saying all along ‘Bad idea, shouldn’t be doing this,’ but another part is ready to throw everything to the four winds and go for it. As I realised that Gavin had sabotaged any chance of Lee and I talking things through I started to feel flat and depressed. The conversation with Lee got more and more lame. When we were down to a word a minute I chucked some scraps in a bowl for Marmie and went to bed.

Gavin’s door was still shut and I think his light was off. I didn’t bother reading for a while, like I normally do, just turned my light off and lay there feeling defeated by everything. The farm would go broke, I would fail school, Lee was going back to the city leaving me alone again. I couldn’t even do a good job of looking after Gavin.

My door suddenly creaked open and I looked up. My first thought was that it might be Lee. I think I wanted it to be Lee. But in the dim light that came down the corridor from the kitchen I saw a smaller figure. Amazing how someone who was deaf could move so quietly, but Gavin had always had that skill.

I moved over. He burrowed in beside me. After a minute he put out his hand into the cold air and turned on my bedside lamp. Seemed like I was going to have a conversation after all, even if it wasn’t with Lee. I looked at him and waited. His right eye had always drooped a little but now both eyes were half closed. I couldn’t tell if it was because he was sleepy or because he’d been crying. Gavin crying: that was an entry for the Guinness Book. But when I looked closely I thought it was more that his eyes were adjusting to the light of the lamp.

He didn’t say anything. But he’d turned on the lamp. Seemed like I was being given an opportunity to make up for my unfortunate comment in the kitchen. I didn’t know what to say though. It was always so difficult with Gavin. His life was built on no foundations. He stood on a flimsy structure of balsa wood and paper, trying to get as high off the ground as everyone else. Any time you wanted to knock him down you blew on the paper and he crashed all the way to the ground.

‘Why’d you chuck the food at me?’ I asked.

He shrugged. His face started to darken, to close over. He thought he was in for nothing but a nagging.

‘It was a pretty good throw,’ I said, teasing him.

He almost smiled.

‘You’re getting a bit of muscle.’

No reaction.

‘You are quite handy to have around.’

No reaction.

‘You’re good with the stock.’

He frowned. ‘What?’

‘The stock. The cattle.’

‘Oh.’

‘You’re a good fighter. Brave.’

No expression.

‘Not bad on a motorbike. Bit dangerous sometimes.’

‘You can’t talk.’

‘Oh! Excuse me!’

Period of silence. During it I heard something Gavin couldn’t hear. Lee’s footsteps coming softly along the corridor. My bedroom was at the end of the corridor. Already he had passed the other rooms.

I said to Gavin, ‘Are you sad about Lee going?’

He shrugged. Trust Gavin not to admit to anything like feelings or emotions.

‘I’m sorry I didn’t say the truth in the kitchen,’ I said.

Lee’s footsteps stopped outside my door.

‘What truth?’ Gavin asked.

There was a light knock on the door and the handle turned.

‘Well, there’s a bit more to it than smashing up the motorbike,’ I said.

The door opened a little.

‘Ellie?’ Lee asked.

‘Like what?’ Gavin said.

The door closed again and the footsteps went away. Gavin sensed that I’d been distracted. He stiffened a little, lifted himself up on his elbow and looked towards the door. Perhaps he had felt the draught of air. ‘What?’ he asked.

‘Nothing.’

I waited till he’d lain back down. I traced the worry lines on his forehead with the tip of my index finger. I remembered the words on a postcard my grandmother had sent me from Paris once. I think it was by a writer called Gide. ‘To be loved is nothing; it is to be preferred that I desire.’

‘You’re the most important person in my life,’ I said.

He didn’t say anything.

‘You’re my brother,’ I said.

He didn’t say anything.

‘I love you, you little ratbag,’ I said.

He smiled, snuggled down in the bed, and closed his eyes. I think he was asleep within fifteen seconds. I turned off the light.