A Reason to Exist

Chapter 39

Time was a sloth hanging upside down in a tropical rainforest. Dad and I ate breakfast languidly. He looked tired and distracted. He ordered in a straightforward manner, without his usual banter with a waiter. The Il Fornaio crowd was handpicked; young couples doting in the novelty of new parenthood, old friends jousting recent success, hashtag foodlovers marvelling at the beauty of an avocado smear with scattered micro herbs and edible petals. They ate pastries and presentation breakfasts and washed down mouthfuls with piccolos or green smoothies. Uninsulated conversations bounced off the hard flooring. A waitress dropped a knife. A toddler dropped a sippy cup. My heart dropped in anticipation of seeing Tucker.

Back at dad's, I was in my room waiting for Tucker to arrive. I didn't have much in my room compared to my room at mum's. I had some books, a couple of drawings I did in kindergarten that dad had professionally framed and a 90s CD stereo that I had no use for. I had a lava lamp I was too scared to use because mum once said they're an accident waiting to happen. I had a whiteboard with the words 'No smoking' that I wrote when I was about eight. And I had a small oil painting by Rex. It was only about 40cm by 40cm on an unframed canvas. I stood up on my bed and took it off its hook. It was a colourful painting of a kookaburra sitting on barbed wire. The kookaburra didn't look like it was laughing. It looked very serious. I wondered if this work belonged to me. It'd been in my room for years, first at my mum's house and now here. This was one of the few things dad took from the family home with him. I turned it over and looked at the date: 2002. One of Rex's early works. I wondered how much it was worth. It felt ugly to wonder such a thing when the guy is such an asshole to my father.

I hung the painting back on the hook and walked into the bathroom. My hair was still as dull and lifeless as ever. I tucked it back behind my ears, hated the look, and untucked it again. A boy once said I had a symmetrical face. That was his compliment. He kissed me near the teacher's car park at school. I didn't feel anything. And when he said I had a symmetrical face I felt even less.

Sandra had gone for a run. Dad was on his laptop at the kitchen bench. The apartment was quiet. My beating heart was noise. Anticipation my addiction. I fluttered my eyelids and tried alluring on for size, smiling in the mirror. I was dressed in skater casual, but inside I was wearing high heels and designer black, strutting down a promenade, holding a lace-rimmed parasol and blowing kisses with two fingers.

The doorbell rang. I could hear dad and Tucker talking in the kitchen. I strolled out and was greeted by Tucker's bewitching smile. I resisted the temptation to throw my arms around him. Instead I muttered 'hey there.'

'I've got a big day planned for you,' Tucker said.

'Yeah?'

'It's all top secret. You'll find out as we go along.'

I looked at dad for clues but he shrugged his shoulders. 'I don't know anything either. You'll have to tell me all about it later on.'

I folded my arms across my chest.

'I'll be at the gallery,' dad said. 'Come by afterwards and we can go out for dinner from there.'

'Sounds good,' I said.

Outside, Tucker put his arm around my shoulders. 'Miss Macy, I hope you're going to love today. Maybe you'll shit your pants. But in the end, I hope you like it.'

'Shit my pants?'

He laughed. 'You're so easy to wind up.' He pulled out his phone and dialled a number. He said into the receiver, 'Yeah, yeah. We're there now. Cool, cool. We'll wait right here. Yep, five minutes is fine.' He hung up.

'Who's that?'

'It's this guy. I once had him as an Uber driver, but then he gave me his direct number. That way he gets all the profits. He's like my driver now.'

'Is that legal?'

'Why not?'

We waited on the corner. Tucker had his hands in his pockets. Cars drove by, traffic lights changed colour, cars braked and accelerated. My lips were green for kiss me. I tilted my head and smiled alluringly, like I practiced in the mirror.

'What's up?'

'Nothing,' I grabbed his hand and drew his body to mine, our bellies touching. My attachment pivoted closer, insidious and invisible. We kissed. He is my roadside assistance. He recharges my flat battery, he unlocks me when my keys are lost.

A car horn beeped. We disentangled, rosy in the cheeks.

'That's him,' Tucker said. The guy was driving a silver Mercedes Benz. 'His name is Tony.'

Tucker opened the door and slid in. I followed. 'Hey mate,' Tucker said. 'This is Macy.'

'Hey Macy.' Tony was thin in the face and olive skinned. When he smiled, he had a large gap between his two front teeth.

'Hi.'

'I'm out of bottles of water,' Tony said with an accent.

'That's okay,' Tucker replied.

Tony was playing classical music. When he pulled out onto the road a driver beeped him from behind.

'The traffic's been terrible today,' Tony said. 'Some event on. Practically standstill.' I was watching the speedometer. He was doing 70 in a 60 zone. He changed lanes without indicating. He took a corner crossing between two lanes. I looked at Tucker to see if he'd noticed Tony's aggressive driving, but he was looking out the window, happily. My mother would have a fit about me getting into a car with a stranger. What am I doing going along with something like this? Who is this Tony guy? How dare Tucker put me in this dangerous situation.

'You still skating?' Tony asked.

'Yeah man,' Tucker said. He turned to me and winked an eye and reached over and grabbed my hand. 'You okay?' he mouthed.

I nodded. But I also noticed that Tony had just run an amber light.

'My dad always said that red lights are an offence,' Tony said. 'In Brazil, nobody stops at the lights. You get robbed.'

He changed lanes again without indicating. 'You hear that music?' he asked. 'A string quartet; two violinists, a viola player and a cellist. Nothing like it.' He caught my eyes in the rear-view mirror. 'You okay there, young lady?'

'Of course,' I murmured.

'You ever been to the symphony orchestra?'

I shook my head.

'You should see the cellist, holding such a big instrument between her legs. Beautiful.' He drew out every letter in beautiful, emphasising his thick accent. Yet 'beautiful' sounded ugly coming from his mouth. The string quartet sounded like funeral music playing my last hurrah. My chest was tight as a tourniquet. Tucker's hand was suffocation. The car was a coffin. This lane, the road to hell.

Tony pulled up. 'You've arrived,' he said. My panic soft-landed on a cushion. Tucker gave him a twenty-dollar bill.

'Thanks so much,' Tucker said. 'Always appreciate it.'

'One way only today,' Tony said. 'I'm driving people to a party in the Yarra Valley later on.'

'No worries,' Tucker replied. I breathed out. Thank God. I don't have to get back in his car again.

'Thanks so much,' I said, now cheerful.

We got out. Tucker closed the door behind me.

'Don't you just love him? Such a character.'

'Yeah.'

'It's always twenty bucks. No matter where we go. Even if it's all the way to the other side of town. It's a steal. He was such a good find.'

I made an agreeable sound, questioning myself. Did I over-react again? Was that a perfectly normal situation?

Tucker threw his arms around my waist. 'Are you ready for the next part of our adventure?'

'Sure,' I said, trying to look around and guess what it could be.

'Then come this way,' he said.