“Sorry for bullying you.” He puts his hand on my back. “I wonder how Scott copes with your situation. I’m worried sick that something might happen to you.”
How can I stay angry with him? He only means well.
“Yeah, yeah… and the road to hell is paved with good intentions.” I wish Amadeus would stay out of my head. It’s hard enough to keep an outside conversation going with my emotions all over the place without him chiming in. I lift my head and smile at Tom.
“Trust. It is trust. Just because I cry sometimes or lose hope, or want to give up, or have little kids taking over the body doesn’t mean I’m weak. I might feel weak at times, but it would be a mistake to assume I am. I am strong. We are strong. We survived a lot of hard times and we did so at a very young age. If I can’t manage without people’s constant help, the abusers will have won.”
I start the engine and give Tom time to think about our conversation. He has to accept my independence, or he’ll be a nervous wreck when he leaves the day after tomorrow.
“Sorry.” He looks at me with his sheepish, boyish grin.
“One more ‘sorry’ and you walk home.”
He makes a zip-gesture with his fingers across his lips but his eyes harbor a friendly smile. It’s a good start. In my mind, I cross my fingers and hope it’ll last.
The familiar pressure of Sky’s hand on my shoulder lets me exhale. “You’ve done well. I don’t think anybody could have said that better.” A load slips off my shoulders. Sky agrees with my decision. For normal people, thoughts of self-encouragement might be nothing special. Not for me. I had years of being enraged or frightened by the voices in my head. Nowadays I’m lost and bereft when my mind is quiet. The voices tell me I am not alone. I take great comfort in that.
“Did I do the right thing? We are strong enough to look out for ourselves, aren’t we?” I’m asking the Tribe more out of habit than necessity. In the early days, we thought integration meant parts of us would die. That’s not how it panned out. It’s more the differences between us are less pronounced. We sound more alike. More than anything, we think more alike. There is a certain amount of loss about that … and yes, it does make life easier.
“Don’t worry, you are right on track. The little ones would be uncomfortable with a stranger living in the house. Tom staying with us is already a challenge.”
I appreciate Sky’s reassurance and am relieved she’s still with me. It must be difficult to be a singleton and have to do all the thinking and decision-making on your own. How do they know they are making the right decision?
“I can ring a taxi tomorrow afternoon to pick me up. You don’t have to drive me into town.”
I slow down and turn into Flatbush Creek Road. Tom is chewing on his lower lip and I’m not sure what to make of his statement.
“I love taking you to the bus. I’m going to the hospital anyhow. Why did you say that?”
“I just thought … it must a relief to have the house to yourself again.” He rolls down his window and lets the breeze blow his hair out of his face. He looks so young. I often forget how young he is. Scottie must have been a father figure for him. In among all the drama, Tom ended up caring for me and his needs fell through the cracks.
“It was good to have you staying with me. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you. Thank you for that. I’m afraid I took advantage of you.”
“Oh no, you haven’t. Never say that.”
I stop the car in front of my house and turn toward him. I want him to know that I’m serious about what I’m going to say. “Our friendship is important to me. You’re always welcome in my home.”
“Still friends?”
“Of course! Let’s see whether Prince missed us.”
I open the car door and step out. Half an hour later I watch Tom and Prince taking off into the bush. With a glass of water in my hand, I slump onto Auntie Mandy’s sofa. I’ll miss him when he leaves tomorrow. But I also look forward to having time by myself. I haven’t been alone since the arson attack.
I need to fall apart, to howl at the world, the moon, and the monsters that don’t think twice at snuffing out someone’s life.
“Thinking of howling at the moon, are you?” Sky’s voice chimes as clear to me as if she’s sitting on the sofa with me. I’m glad she’s back to her usual strength. We can’t do without her. I don’t like to have to do without her.
Yep, howling at the moon sounds like a brilliant idea to tackle the backlog of held-in emotions.
Chapter Ten
Mikey: 6 March 2017, Evening, Wright’s Homestead
I’m not sure if we are still writing in the black book. There haven’t been entries for a long time. Sky told us to write everything down, but the last entry is from ages ago. The Tribe is so slack.
At the moment there is hardly anybody around. I don’t even remember the last time Ama told us a bedtime story. I wish there were a few of the others, but no, they are all scaredy cats hiding somewhere. That’s so boring. Lilly and Luke are cool, but they are like know-it-all adults. You know, like don’t touch this, and be careful with that.
I know I’m not an adult yet, but hello, you don’t have to treat me like a stupid kid. After all, it was me who told them where the treasure was. It was me
