‘What the hell happened?’ I plonk down beside him, dump my camera and reach over to examine the cut. It’s not bad, but it’s fresh.
Harris shies away. ‘S’nothing.’ He sighs. ‘Dad got pissy when I showed up. He was in the middle of having a shit-fit, then he got all gaspy and bent over and stuff. I had to take him in to the hospital. They’ve admitted him for observation, but I think he’s gonna be there for a few days.’
‘The cancer?’
‘Yeah. It’s in his liver. He looked really yellow. At least someone else is looking after him now.’
‘And the cut?’
Harris colours, looks at the water of the reservoir. ‘He threw a bottle at me.’
‘Bloody hell –’
‘It’s my own fault. Shoulda ducked faster.’ He picks at the flat stones on the ground between us, setting them on top of each other in a little cairn. ‘Told the docs to call me if there’s a problem. But I’m kinda glad he’s in the hospital. Now I don’t need to worry about what he’s getting up to without me.’
‘I still don’t understand why you bother,’ I blurt.
Harris meets my eyes. ‘He’s my father. And believe me, I’ve been uncivil in the past. But if I treat him like he’s always treated me, then I’m as bad as he is.’ His sober expression changes into a sad smile. ‘I’m not tryin’ to be holy. I just want him to know that real people, normal people, they don’t act the way he does. I want him to know I’m different.’
‘Youaredifferent.’ I squint at him. ‘In fact, today you’re really different. Did something happen up in Mildura?’
He shrugs. ‘Ah, shit… Yeah. I got some bad news, I guess you’d say. This kid in the house, he’s one of the street dealers, I got to know him a bit. Then I found out he’s on the gear. Kinda spun my head around.’
Now the expression of anger I saw on his face earlier makes sense. ‘Fired you up about this narc work, did it?’
‘Yeah.’ He straightens, tucks his right foot under his bad leg, leans back on his hands. ‘Anyway, I’m hoping that once this batch delivery comes up, I’ll be able to pull out. The whole crew’ll get done, Leon will get busted, and my job will be over.’
I pick at the stones he’s abandoned. ‘I can’t say I’ll be sad to see the finale.’
The idea that this ordeal might be finished soon gives me a warm feeling inside. But then I remember: once the job is done, Harris will be gone. That puts a dampener on my fuzzy glow. I remind myself this isn’t about me and Harris, and the final outcome is still far from decided.
Harris seems to be considering an end to his involvement though. ‘Apart from the general awfulness of it all, I’m bloody sick of sitting in Flamingos, listening to the boys piss and moan. I mean, it’s not as if they really like each other or get on. They’re just hanging out together because of the job. I guess they’d say they were mates. But they chip at each other all the time, and dish shit… Sometimes I feel like they just put up with each other, and with me, because they have to. Because they’re stuck with it.’
‘Yeah, that sounds kind of weird.’ I lean back on my own hands. The afternoon is sultry. ‘Most of the guys around here seem to get on with each other okay. They’re blokey, but in a nice way. They’re not aggro – they help each other out. They’ve got manners too, some of them.’
‘Well, they’ve got manners when your dad’s around, that’s for sure.’ He raises an eyebrow at me. ‘I’m kinda amazed he let you hang out with any of the local guys, considering he knows the dirt on all of them.’
You included, I think, but I’m not gonna say that. I push my shoulder against his. ‘Hey, if I wanna go out with someone, I’ll go out with them. I don’t need Dad vetting applicants. That would just be creepy, and unfair.’
He eases back onto his elbows. The sun from across the rez tints his face and chest gold. ‘So he didn’t vet Nick Partridge, when you went out with him?’
‘No!’ My shock-horror face has a blush to it, though, I’m sure. ‘Well, not much.’
‘I’ll bet.’ He grins. ‘How long were you and Nick together?’
I arch one eyebrow. ‘That’s not really any of your business, is it?’
‘I know.’ He waves a persistent fly away. ‘Sorry, I know it’s not my business.’
But I don’t want to close off this conversation. I take a breath, gather my courage. ‘Well, in the spirit of sharing…’
‘What, about six months?’
‘Eight months,’ I say quietly.
‘Wow.’
I nudge him again. ‘What are you “wow”-ing about? You got it on with almost every eligible girl between here and the border.’
