A Reason to Exist

Chapter 49

School happened in between life. Time slowed down. Teachers taught. Yet the classroom existed outside of the school, in the skate park, in the way I navigated my mother, in the long cucumber she was growing, the new trick I was attempting, in the love I was nurturing for Tucker even though there was a catastrophic change in climate at home.

At dinner, my mother spoke pleasantly to Tate and whenever I spoke, she went silent and pursed her lips. I made small talk with Tate about school and his Mary Poppins performance and I ate my vegetable meatballs quickly so I could leave the table and retreat to my room.

I was almost finished when she said to Tate, 'There's rhubarb crumble.' Damn it. Now I'd have to wait for her to serve that up.

We took our plates over to the bench, like we'd been trained to do since we were young kids. She washed up slowly, rinsing the dishes to near perfection before stacking the dishwasher with the knives and forks all facing upwards.

I sat at the kitchen table and waited.

Mum had just taken the rhubarb out of the oven when we heard a crashing sound of the side fence. Diesel was at our back door barking at us through the glass doors. His body was big and muscly, his chest inflated with excitement.

'That bloody dog,' mum yelled. 'He's ferocious.' Her face was pale. She placed the rhubarb down on the bench. 'Those bitzers are killers,' she said. 'Who knows why anyone would have such a dog. I can't stand that woman. She never got back to me about the fence. They've never fixed it properly. Some neighbours they are.' She turned to me and glared. Diesel kept barking at us, ramping up his aggression, parading his chest like a military tank. 'I'll open the side gate,' she threatened. 'He'll get out and run onto Marine Parade and get hit by a car. Then they'll wish they fixed the fence.'

'Mum!' I said. 'You can't say such a thing.'

'Yes I can. That dog is not my responsibility. If they don't want proper fencing it's their problem.'

Diesel continued barking.

'But he could hurt someone,' Tate said calmly. 'How'd you feel if he bit some toddler in the street?'

'That's enough,' mum said. She turned to Diesel and yelled through the door, 'Stop barking you mutt.' Then she lowered her voice again, 'I could ring the Council. Then they'll have to pay a pound fee to get him back again. That would teach them.'

She turned to Tate and instructed, 'Go next door and tell them their bloody dog is in our backyard again and to come and get it now.'

Tate nodded meekly.

I almost couldn't bear to stand witness to this scene. I could already predict how my mother was about to behave towards our neighbours. I hoped Tucker wasn't home.

Tate went next door. I sat at the table and waited. Mum wiped the bench top down for the second time. She put the kettle on. Turned it off. Put it on again. She rearranged the salt and pepper and gluten free soy sauce in the pantry and wiped down the front of the cutlery drawer.

'You can take out the recycling.'

I got up and she handed me the recycling bin from under the sink. I was walking down our sideway, when I saw Tate and Tucker walking up the driveway.

'Hey there gorgeous,' Tucker said, happy as ever. 'Taking out the trash?'

He gave me a kiss on the cheek and whispered, 'You're the most gorgeous garbage collector.' He's the removal of a harsh stain. The excision of a stubborn splinter. The spark plug in a struggling car. He turns nasty into nice. He is the glamour in the unglamorous.

'I've missed you,' I whispered.

'Me too,' he said. 'Every hour is a day without seeing you.' Our grandstanding eyes held each other in the dusk of our day. I smiled. Diesel barked. I frowned.

'Mum's not happy,' I warned.

'I bet she's not,' Tucker said.

'She's threatening to call the pound,' Tate said. Tucker looked at me. I shrugged, and said 'Sorry.'

'I hope she doesn't,' Tate said. 'Mum's tight on cash. That's why we haven't been able to fix the fence. Should I talk to your mum about it?'

Tucker may have fans wherever he goes, but my mother was not one of them.

'Probably not,' I said. 'Just get Diesel and take him home. We'll explain why the fence hasn't been fixed. We can go through the side gate.'

Mum's conditioning to fear bitzers had worked. I was nervous of Diesel too. But I straightened my back and tried to fight against my fear. 'I'll take you around there,' I said.

'I'll go inside,' Tate said. 'See you Tucker.'

I took Tucker to the side gate and opened it, half expecting Diesel to come bounding towards us. But he didn't. He was still barking through our glass back doors. Tucker walked towards him and I followed. I could see my mother in the kitchen. She was wiping the bench top for the third time. She looked up at Tucker. Her expression was an open book of displeasure and vexation. Tucker waved goofily at her. 'It's all all right Mrs Granger,' he called out.

I didn't know if she could hear, but her lips drew thinner and her eyes disliked harder and in this moment I knew she would never accept this boy into my life. It would be her mission to monitor my intake of Tucker. He had become a forbidden food; a danger to my wellbeing. She'll consult specialists and put me on a Tucker-free diet. She will look for boy substitutes who are tasteless and bland. She will cook up theories on how each kiss with Tucker could damage my soul. She will use the full power of her manipulation to turn me off him.

Mum and Tucker peered at each other through the glass window. I knew I'd be made to choose. I looked at Tucker and, in my head, I thought, 'I choose you.'

Tucker grabbed Diesel by the collar. 'Hey boy,' he said, nicely. 'Come on. Leave that lady alone.' He dragged him to the side gate, repeating, 'Come on, boy, come on, boy.'

I locked the side gate behind us. Tucker turned to me, still holding Diesel by the collar, and said, 'She really hates me, doesn't she?'

'A bit.'

'People usually like me,' he said, as if he can't believe it.

'She's hard to impress. And easy to upset. It's the dog, she really has a fear of bitzers. She thinks they're all out to kill.'

'That's ridiculous.'

'So are half the things she worries about,' I said. 'But that's her. She won't change anytime soon.' I realised I was being made to defend her. She's the only mother I have. Perhaps it won't be so easy to choose after all.