Chapter 20
Nate
Pulling my bike over onto the shoulder of the road, I sent a cloud of dust up into the sky. After dropping the kickstand, I climbed off and unbuckled my helmet. I’d been riding for hours. Stretching my arms up above my head, my joints creaked in protest. I was still about an hour from home, and as much as I was ready to be out of these clothes and standing under the scalding water, another part of me knew I was avoiding it. It was why I’d taken the long way. Even if I kept telling myself it was the winding roads that was the appeal.
It had been twelve months. Twelve short months since my world fell apart. Twelve months since my perfect world, my perfect family shattered. Now I was standing on the side of the road, completely alone, pretending I was okay, when the truth was I was falling apart.
For ten minutes I paced back and forth, trying to work the kinks out of my aching muscles. Looking out over the open fields, the cattle and sheep dotting the green paddocks, completely carefree and unaware of the scary, big wide world out there. The sun was setting, turning the sky into a picture. One I wished I could capture. The burnt oranges and soft pinks were making my head spin. It was a stunning sight.
Forcing myself to look away, I returned to my bike, yanked on my helmet, and fired it up. The growl of the engine silenced my loud thoughts, and the moment I threw my leg over the beast, everything faded away. It was for that reason alone I’d brought it. The escapism it provided. Directing the bike back out onto the asphalt, I gunned the engine and let the bike carry me away. Carry me home.
But it wasn’t my home, not really. It was a huge empty house that from the moment I stepped foot in it, fought me every step of the way. I don’t really know why I’d bought it. Looking back, I saw the purchase for what it was. A reflex. A rebound. It was me clinging to something I no longer had. Something that had been taken from me. Home. Now I was trying to build one. Trying to create something special. Somewhere I felt at peace again.
Turning over the rickety old bridge, I slowed up and passed through the town limits. A few more turns and I pulled into the driveway of my crumbling, frustrating construction zone previously known as my house. I couldn’t contain the heavy sigh. All I could see ahead of me was more backbreaking hard work. Suddenly I was just tired. Bone-weary exhausted. With too many thoughts bouncing around in my brain, I parked the bike, unstrapped my bag, and headed inside. After swiping a beer from my empty fridge, I headed straight for the bathroom.
The incessant beeping of my alarm woke me early the next morning. School holidays were awesome. Forced to take a couple of weeks off to refresh and rejuvenate every couple of months was one of my favourite perks. This time though, this time it was different. Bashing the alarm aggressively, it bounced to the floor but thankfully shut up. Today though, I just didn’t wanna. Teaching was my passion, what I was good at, what I loved, but for some reason my heart wasn’t in it this term.
Feeling like I was nursing the hangover from hell, I dragged my tired ass out of bed and into the bathroom. After a shower, shave, and brushing my teeth, I felt slightly better, but every step felt forced. Needing time, I ignored my bike, slipped my dark sunglasses over my eyes, and walked towards the school. The brisk walk in the cool morning air would hopefully drag me out of my funk before I stepped in front of a classroom full of kids. Kids who’d see through my bullshit. Kids who deserved only the very best that I could give them.
By the time I found my way into my classroom I’d made the decision that never again would I walk to work. I’d done it in hopes of clearing my head, if anything it had done the exact opposite. A bunch of kids riding their bikes spotted me and pedalled along beside me, desperately trying to engage me in their mundane conversation. Two mothers, including Elizabeth’s, had seen me and fallen in step as I neared the gate. It was like trying to pick cat hair from the suede lounge.
As the kids filed into the room, their crazy, uncensored laughter echoed off the brightly coloured walls, and my mood shifted instantly. I need to give them the very best of me. They deserved nothing less. I just didn’t know if that person still existed within me.
“Morning,” I forced out as we settled into our routine.
A routine that continued every day that week. The only thing that changed day to day was every step I took felt heavier. The white plastic bottle of medication sitting on my kitchen bench taunted me every time I passed it. I didn’t want to take them. I’d do anything to avoid it. And I was.
Each day, I’d force myself to go through the motions. I’d settle the mask over my exhausted eyes and pretend to be exactly what everyone thought I should be. I was trying to hide who I really was and what I was going through from everyone, and the weight of the deceit was almost crushing me. But I couldn’t share it. I didn’t have anyone who’d understand. No one I trusted enough to confess to. Fuck me, it was hard. After faking my way through the day, and waving a happy goodbye to the class full of eager kids, I’d come home, crack a beer, and throw myself into the renovations. It’s amazing how much hard work you can get done when you’re trying to avoid something. The manual labour stole every ounce of energy I possessed, and by the time I fell into my huge, empty bed, I was half drunk and every muscle in my body ached. The only thing I could be thankful for was how the house was coming along. In four days I’d ripped up carpet in two of the spare bedrooms, patched up the dings in the walls, repainted the ceilings, and here I was after Friday night getting ready to paint the walls when a loud banging made me wipe the sweat from my forehead.
“Coming!” I called out, grabbing the discarded dirty grey shirt from the floor and tugging it over my sweaty, smelly chest.
Collecting my beer, I stomped through the house to answer the door with a scowl. I didn’t want to see anyone. I’d done my best to make that perfectly clear. I’d ignored my phone for the last week, eventually letting the battery die just to shut it up. But at nine o’clock on a Friday night, it seemed I was about to be dragged back into the land of the living.
Yanking the door open forcefully, it shook on its hinges. There was Derek, a pizza balanced in one hand and a six pack in his other. If it wasn’t for the smell of barbeque sauce and melted cheese wafting from the box, I’d have told him to piss off. Instead, my stomach rumbled and I found myself inviting him in.
“Where have you been?” Derek asked as he settled into the chair and propped his feet up on the coffee table.
“Around.”
“Hmph.”
For a few tense moments we sat in silence as I inhaled three slices of pizza without taking a breath. It wasn’t until it settled in my stomach, I realised I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a proper meal. It felt like weeks. It may well have been.
After taking a long pull from my beer, I settled back and belched loudly.
“Right! You’ve been fed now, so start talking,” Derek declared, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms over his chest. No wonder criminals caved under his scrutiny. Even knowing I’d done nothing wrong wasn’t enough to calm the butterflies taking flight in my chest.
“What?”
“Don’t even try it, Nate! Where the hell have you been?”
Gulping, I knew there was no point lying. Maybe it would do me good to talk. Maybe not. But I got the distinct feeling I didn’t really have a choice. “I had to go out of town for a couple of days. That’s all.”
“Yeah, over a week ago.”
“Then I had some stuff to catch up on.”
“Like?”
