‘It’s not an excuse!’
‘Isn’t it?’ His words lose their sharp edge. ‘Amie, I have a heart condition. It’s not terminal and I’m not an invalid. I take my pills, I look after myself –’
I make a noise, which he hears.
‘All right,’ he admits. ‘Maybe I don’t look after myself as well as I should. But maybe if you weren’t around to coddle me, I’d get better at it. I don’t need a nursemaid. And I sure as hell don’t want you refusing an opportunity so you can stay in the Mallee and look after me. Jesus, Amita. Your mother would tan my hide if I let you do that.’
My brain spins slowly on some invisible axis. ‘Y-You don’t want me to stay?’
‘I only want you to behappy. That’s all any parent ever wants for their kid. And I’m sure Nani would say the same thing. But you have to think about whatyoureally want.’ He sighs heavily. ‘I know you’re living up there, in the middle of it, and Hansa’s probably putting the screws on you to make a decision –’
‘Nothing’s been decided,’ I say weakly.
His voice stiffens. ‘Just make sure you don’t let anybody else do the deciding for you. It’s your life, Amita. I’ve been trying to tell you that for years.’
The conversation ends with stilted goodbyes and by the time I click off I’m wishing I hadn’t called. It’s done nothing to make me feel better about Harris, and it’s just added to my misery about the residency deadline and Hansa’s request. Apparently, no matter which way I jump someone’s going to get their feelings hurt.
The evening seems to drag endlessly. Where on earth is Harris? My brain is full of anxiety and starts to cannibalise itself. I’m used to dealing with images, and now images are what I get: mental pictures of Harris shot through the head, his face beaten, legs broken. Sitting in front of the TV with Hansa and Beena and Nani becomes unbearable, so I make an excuse and go hole up in my room. Close to ten o’clock at night I finally tap out another text.
Pls contact hospital asap.
I check my phone at half-hourly intervals – well, okay, more often than that – until one in the morning, when I finally fall asleep. At five a.m. I snap awake, and there’s still no news.
As soon as the hour gets respectable, I call Dad again.
‘I know you’re worried, love,’ he says. ‘But there’s not a lot you can do. I can call Ronnie Murphy, get him to send a car around to Harris’s sharehouse if you think there’s a genuine issue –’
‘No. That wouldn’t be a good idea.’
‘Then I’m not sure what else to say. I think you just have to wait for Harris to get in touch. He knew he was putting himself out on a limb after the Tulane Road homicides. Maybe he’s being extra cautious.’
At nine, Hansa tells me she and Nani have another set of appointments up at the hospital after lunch. Beena is off to classes and then to a study group. So I’ll have a whole three hours to myself, which is just what I need: three vacant hours spent waiting to find out if Harris is alive or dead. Then I realise something else: if I take the job here I’ll be with Nani all day and surrounded by my family at night. Maybe vacant hours are something I should start to appreciate. I may not have many more of them.
At half past ten my phone rings. I excuse myself and take it into the bathroom.
‘Amie, it’s me,’ Harris says. ‘It’s okay, I’m sorry I couldn’t call, you won’t believe the stuff that’s been… Amie? Amie, are you crying?’
‘No, I’m…I’m fine.’ I straighten up from curling over the bathroom sink, grab a piece of toilet paper to wipe my eyes.
‘Ah, babe…’ His voice is soft. ‘Amie, it’s okay. Jesus, I’m sorry. I couldn’t call earlier because there was a big meeting with Mazerati’s crew and we all surrendered our phones.’
‘It’s fine. It’s… I’m just glad you called.’
‘I didn’t mean to stress you out. I need to tell you what’s been happening –’
‘Can you meet me?’ I’ve suddenly hit on an excellent idea. ‘I mean, today? Around twelve-thirty? You can tell me about it then.’
‘Sure, I can be at the river –’
‘Not at the river. Here.’
‘You wanna meet atyourplace?’
‘Yes.’ It’s like I’ve been seized by a fever. ‘Because everyone’s going out after lunch and I’ve got the house to myself until half-past three.’
‘Really?’ I hear him swallow. ‘Then…yeah. Okay.’
‘Okay,’ I echo, and I smile. ‘Great. All right, I’ll see you here in two hours. Do you remember the way?’
