‘Well, it’s not like I have another three hundred grand to give her, but thank you for looking out for me.’ He hugged Gabe close, smelling that intoxicating scent that doused the fires of his rage, making it easier for him to breathe again. ‘How about I let you know when she’s gone? If it’s not too late, you could still come over.’
‘That sounds good. If nothing else, we got to spend some time together on the swing. It doesn’t squeak like it used to.’
‘I oiled it. I wanted everything to be perfect. I even cooked.’
‘You? I didn’t know you knew how.’
He laughed. ‘Probably best you’re not staying then as I’d hate to prove you right.’
Gabe kissed him and the last shreds of his tattered anger dissipated. It was just the two of them, alone out there. Gabe could stay a while. Rachel would probably pass out on the couch and then she’d be easier to move. He could drive her to Nowra.
But a glass shattered the peace. He sighed and leaned back.
‘I’d better go.’ Gabe climbed off him, his hand holding on to Bruce’s and helping him up. He led Bruce towards his car, kissed him again, before getting into his beat-up hatchback. He wound down the window. ‘You call me if you need me. Understand?’
He nodded, knowing he wouldn’t call until he’d sorted Rachel out himself. This wasn’t like fixing his finances, this was family. Ten times worse. He waved as Gabriel drove away and took a deep breath of air before re-entering the war zone.
Rachel sat at the table, glass full of amber in front of her. Where was the broken glass? It didn’t matter. There were more important things to worry about. He marched over, plucked the bottle of bourbon off the table, took it into the kitchen, and poured the contents down the sink.
‘Hey!’ She leaped up and fought to reclaim the bottle, but he held her back with one hand. She beat and scratched at him, but he withstood her attack until the bottle emptied.
‘You’re in my house, Rachel. My rules which means this poison isn’t allowed.’
‘You owe me a goddamn bottle.’
‘And you owe me months of worrying where you were. Now cut the crap. Either you behave or I’m kicking you out right now.’
She sulked but stepped back and he was able to bring his arm in. He rinsed the bottle and threw it in the bin for recycling, then grabbed a tissue and blotted the blood she’d drawn on his arm. She returned to the table and guarded the one glass of alcohol she had left like a lioness protecting her cub before sculling the lot and handing him the empty glass. He snatched it out of her hand and rinsed it, then swept up the broken pieces of glass from the counter where she’d left them. The pieces tinkled as they fell into the bin.
‘Have you eaten?’ he asked. She’d need something to soak up the alcohol. Once fed, he could send her on her way.
She shook her head, the defiance having melted away. She wasn’t always very good at maintaining the petulance. If he braved it long enough, she bored of fighting. Her anger remained, simmering in the background, but the shame kept her from boiling over.
‘Sit down.’
He dished up two plates and put one in front of her. They sat at the family table. Surprisingly, the pie tasted good. He ate in a silence that was heavy enough to suppress even her urge to talk. He kept his eyes down, shovelled the food in and barely chewed. She picked. They were stuck in their old ways, him trying to eat as quickly as possible so he could get away, Rachel fearful of her mother’s reactions. He hated this table and should have chopped it up for firewood a long time ago.
He got himself a second helping while she was still on her first. They finished more or less at the same time. He wiped his mouth with a piece of paper towel and took their plates over to the sink. He’d do the washing when he got back from dropping her somewhere. He picked his keys off the counter. The food had fortified his resolve. He didn’t have to get angry, he didn’t have to shout, he didn’t have to care.
‘Where can I drive you?’
‘What?’ she asked.
‘Where can I drive you? Where are you staying?’
‘Bruce, I haven’t got any money. I haven’t got anywhere to live.’
‘What about that apartment of yours in Sydney?’ It was a dump but at least it was a home.
‘I lost it. I couldn’t pay the rent.’
She’d spent all the money? He’d thought she was being dramatic.
‘That’s why I’m here. I need money to get myself set up again.’
‘You’re joking.’ His hand closed over his keys, their sharp metal teeth gouging into his palm. ‘You are unbelievable.’
‘Don’t shout at me, Bruce. Look, can’t I just stay here?’
‘Absolutely not.’
‘Please.’ She was going for coy, for pleading. ‘Just for a few days.’
It was a bad idea. And she’d had her chances. She’d destroyed any that she had remaining when she plunged him into debt.
‘I’ve got nowhere else to go and no-one to turn to.’
‘You should have thought about that before you decided to sue me.’
‘I’m sorry. If I could change it, I would.’ Damn she was crafty. ‘I’m here now and I’m asking you, as my big brother, for help. Please.’
He was going to regret it. He knew it. He wasn’t meant to care anymore. At what point did family stop hurting you because at thirty-six years old he should have been immune.
Or numb.
His hands were callused but why was his heart so vulnerable? He could do it. He could force her out of the house, but he couldn’t do it without feeling something. If she walked out tonight and ended up dead in a ditch, he’d hate himself. Yes, she’d
