A Reason to Exist

Chapter 38

After we dropped Tucker home, we went back to dad and Sandra's apartment. There were boxes everywhere.

'I'm in Sydney quite a lot over the next couple of weeks,' Sandra said. 'So we needed to get organised early. Maybe you can help pack up your room in a fortnight? That way, you'll know what goes where.'

'Of course,' I said. 'That's fine. I'd like to do that.'

Sandra went to her room and dad said. 'How about a cup of tea? There's a box of Guylian chocolates somewhere.'

'Sure.'

'Make yourself comfortable on the couch.'

I settled onto the couch, pulling a throw rug over me. I heard the kettle boil and dad pouring hot water into the mugs. He came over and placed the mugs on the coffee table and sat down beside me, taking a corner of the rug on his lap.

'I don't want to go on about it,' dad said, 'but I do want to say I'm sorry about before. At dinner. I shouldn't have spoken like that. Or put you in a compromised position to say anything. That was bad of me.'

'Don't feel bad,' I said.

'I do. It feels like I stooped low. I was rattled, that's all.'

'You've had a full on day.'

'I like Tucker,' dad said.

'He's an awesome skater. You should see the tricks he does.'

Dad opened up the box of chocolates and I took a long pointy one that had more white chocolate than brown, just the way I like them.

I took a breath, feeling as though I was about to launch into the flow. 'Something happened the other day,' I said.

'What?'

'I had a panic attack.'

'Oh darling. Where?'

'At the skate park.'

'What happened?'

'Tucker was in the big bowl. I don't know. I freaked out. I imagined his brains smashed all over the concrete. All of a sudden I was on my knees, hardly able to breathe. I was lucky, though, a doctor stopped to see if I was all right. But thirty seconds earlier, I seriously thought I was about to die. The doctor said I should tell someone and if it happens again I should probably see a psychologist.'

'Have you felt like that again?'

'Not really. Only a bit lightheaded a couple of times. Now, though, it's almost the fear of it happening again that can make me feel panicky.'

'Have you told your mum about it?'

'No way. She'll haul me off to all sorts of natural therapists and take six food groups away from me.'

Dad smiled in understanding.

'I'm glad you told me,' he said. 'We'll keep an eye on it. Hopefully it was just a one-time thing, yeah? I'll speak to a client of mine who's a psychologist, just to see if they have any advice. If it happens again, we'll know what to do. I'm pleased you felt as though you could talk to me about this.'

I rotated my body and rested my head against dad's shoulder, closing my eyes, feeling the warmth of his body. I was teleported back to a time in my personal history, when dad was home every evening and read my bedtime story. We snuggled together in my single bed, dad's long legs falling over the edge. We read choose your own adventure stories. After we did one ending, we'd go back and see what would've happened if we'd chosen another option. I wondered if he'd still marry my mother in his choose your own adventure life or whether he'd choose another path entirely.

Dad's phone rang. He flipped open the cover. 'It's Rex,' he said. 'I better take this.' He cleared his throat. I could feel his shoulder tightening.

'Hi Rex.' Dad listened to Rex's voice ranting through the receiver. 'That's all fine mate,' dad said eventually. 'Look, I don't have any money to pay you as an advance. It's all tied up in the move. You've only delivered half the works, so we can only have half the exhibition. It'll be half the money for you. It's a shame as I've had RSVPs from a couple of key institutional curators who would've liked to see the lot for their collections.' Rex's voice started up again. 'Sure, I understand you don't care if your work ends up at BP or the NGV, but every time the NGV buys a work, collectors are paying attention. That's the way it works.' Dad drew a breath in. 'There's nothing to talk about. I can't pay an advance. No, I'm not giving the works back. We've scheduled an exhibition, I've paid for all the advertising, I've sent out the invitations to the opening. You committed to this show.' Dad pulled the phone away from his ear. 'He hung up.'

'Was he angry?'

'Yes. He's really angry. He must have debt collectors after him or something. He sounds desperate. If he could just be patient and wait until the opening and after all the sales come in, I bet he'd be able to pay it all back ten times over. It's a terrible addiction, gambling.'

'What does he gamble on?'

'Anything, as far as I know. Horses, hold'em poker, those stupid pokie machines. Who wants to sit in front of a dingy machine with flashy lights and tinny music all night? The guy can paint. And yet he chooses to spend his time like that. It's madness. I don't get it.'

I rested my head on dad's shoulder again. I could hear him breathing shallowly. I wondered if Rex was affecting dad's health. It didn't feel right to witness my dad get a beating from someone he represents.

'Tucker asked if he could take you out tomorrow afternoon. He wanted to check with me first, because he knows it's my weekend with you,' dad said.

'What did you say?'

'Of course, that's fine.'

'That's nice of you,' I said.

'If you're happy, I'm happy,' dad said. 'He'll pick you up around midday and drop you back at the gallery afterwards. We'll go out for breakfast beforehand.' He bent his head down and kissed me on the forehead. 'You're so precious. I'm glad you're hanging out with someone who makes you happy.'

I smiled into the shadow of his head, wondering what Tucker had planned for tomorrow.