‘Hecouldhave! It wasstupid, andreckless, oh my god…’ She puts her hands to her face, throws them out again. ‘You’re the most reckless person I know –’
‘I’mreckless? Is that the worst you can say?’
‘You don’tthink, you don’t think of anyone butyourself, you’re a selfish –’
‘Don’t call me selfish.’ My voice comes out stony.
‘It’s bloodytrue!’ She steps closer and shoves me – puts her hands on my bare chest and shoves hard.
I stumble back. My whole body is heating up, like Reggie’s did. ‘At least Iacted. Ididsomething. You know, you talk so big, but you don’t actuallydoanything.’
‘That’s alie!’
‘Is it? You sit at home, hiding behind your fucking photos, worrying yourself sick over everyone else, but you never –’
‘You take that back!’ Amie screams.
My breath comes in short and my throat is tight. ‘You’re so busy playing the fuckingmartyr, giving up your residency, giving up everything for your family. All the time you’re freaking out about how everyone will cope without you, and it’s just a fucking excuse to donothing. You never risk anything, you hold yourself back, you never engage –’
‘I engage!’ Amie shrieks, and she’s engaging now all right. She lurches forward and takes a swing at me.
I catch her fist and pull her in tight. ‘There, you did it! You feel that? That’semotion. That’s real fucking life in your veins –’
‘What do you know about it –’
‘I know it cos Ifeelit! What you’re feeling right now.’ When she whips her other arm back, I grab her wrist, drag her closer. ‘You wanna hit me to make your point? Join the fuckingqueue.’
She’s trembling with fury. ‘Don’t you touch me.’
‘You’re shaking.’
‘No, I’m not.’
‘You’re fluttering like a bird…’
We stand there, pressed together, both of us panting hard. My brain is white. The combination of all that stuff I said – that I’d never planned to say, not ever – and the feeling of Amie against me, it’s swirling inside me so much right now it’s like I went to sleep and woke up at the bottom of the river. Blood is rushing in my ears. Amie’s so angry she’s gasping, her lips pinched and pale. If I let her go I think she’d slap me into next week.
But I have to chance it when Steph sticks her head in the door of the bedroom. ‘Reggie’s awake. If you’ve finished your little shit-fight, d’you wanna come help?’
I nod, release Amie’s hands. She yanks herself away, rubs her wrists. I’m surprised she doesn’t try to flatten me. Instead she marches back to the living room, so I grab a T-shirt off the floor, pull it on and follow her out.
Reggie is awake, just like Steph said. He’s still on the floor, legs splayed out, but now he’s propped up against the cushions of the couch with a crocheted blanket wrapped around him. His eyes seem set inside black whirlpools. His skin is still grey. He doesn’t look that much better but it’s a hell of an improvement on convulsions and unconsciousness.
I go sit beside him. ‘Hey, mate, how’re you going? You had us all kinda worried there…’
‘Hey, Harris.’ He leans against my shoulder, like his head is too heavy on his stalk of a neck. His voice is like ash.
I put an arm around him. ‘Reggie, I’m gonna take you to the doc, okay? You had a turn.’ I remember Amie saying,She had a dizzy turn. She’s had all the stress about her nanna boiling inside, and now I’ve just spilled all that mean shit onto her. I swallow. ‘Reggie, I’m gonna carry you out to the car, okay?’
Amie sinks down quietly on the carpet on the other side of Reggie. ‘Let me check him out first.’ She takes his pulse, pulls back his eyelids. Doesn’t even look at me.
Reggie focuses on her with difficulty. ‘Who’re you?’
‘I’m Amie.’ She checks his fingernails, listens to him breathe. ‘I’m…a friend.’ Then she nods the all-clear, never meeting my eyes.
This is me – this is me, feeling like a hundred kinds of shit, lifting up a weightless boy in my arms. This is me, waiting for Steph to tuck the blankets around him, so I can walk out into the over-warm day, out to the car I own, to put the boy in the front passenger seat so I can drive him to the hospital. This is me, watching the way Amie doesn’t watch me, doesn’t look at me, doesn’t show any kind of emotion: blank-faced, blank-eyed, like a sign that’s been painted out. This is me, driving, the boy lolling beside me.
I’ve felt like a criminal the whole time I’ve worked here in Mildura. But remembering the look on Amie’s face, it’s the first time I’ve felt guilty about it.
