‘It’s the butterfly effect,’ I mumble instead. ‘Eternalism?’
They look at me blankly.
‘You know, all time exists now? Fraser’ll explain it—’
My sentence backfires, the explosion firing straight in the heart. Fraser won’t be explaining anything. How is it possible I have forgotten that he is gone, right in the middle of a conversation about his death?
‘I think I’m having a nervous breakdown,’ I admit. Rach comes and sits beside me, arm around my shoulders, and takes the glass from my hand.
‘It’s not that,’ she assures me. ‘It’s shock. And wine. And cream liqueur, unfortunately. You’re going to be so unwell tomorrow, I’m afraid.’
By the time Joshua arrives, I am barely able to stagger to the door. I fling it open and there he is, in jeans and a leather jacket, an older, edgier version of his brother, looking the opposite of impotent, and now I’m in tears at the resemblance.
‘What did Fraser do?’ he asks, his temper frayed. ‘Where is he?’
‘He didn’t do anything.’ I didn’t expect him to be so angry.
‘Why is the wedding off? You having second thoughts, Sully?’ He looks at me more closely. ‘Are you …hammered?’
It might be the alcohol, but as he shifts his weight and crosses his arms, I imagine a glimmer of hope flashing in his dark eyes.
‘I have to tell you something, Josh. It’s not good.’Understatement of the year.
His fixed stare penetrates my skin the way it always did. I’m hot and flustered and exceedingly nauseous all of a sudden because this is a million times harder than the last time I sat him down for a confessional.
Clair’s argument spins around my head like I’m on the Gravitron.If Josh hadn’t done what he did … It’s all his fault …
‘It’s all your fault!’ I accuse him, and he flinches. ‘I missed a phone call that meant Fraser had to leave work to pick up Parker instead, and some distracted parent in a four-wheel drive swung across the pedestrian crossing without looking and—’
I can’t say it. I don’t have to, judging by the expression on his face and the way he’s unfurling his crossed arms, drawing me across the threshold outside, and holding my hair back while I hurl into the front garden. A minute passes while I pull myself together, rage bubbling up.
‘You helped Ridges steal my music! There were others, Josh, and while I was meeting with them earlier today, I missed the call.’
Somehow, despite my shock and grief and drunkenness and the compound anger of many years, I realise I’ve just told Josh his brother died and his career might crash, all at once. I throw up again and, when I’m done and he’s passed me his handkerchief, he pulls me gently to his chest—a place I do not want to be. His firm hand supports the back of my dizzy head while I focus on his heartbeat as it thuds through his shirt. It stirs vague memories of wild university parties, and how he was there for me like this before.
I hate this. And need it. And desperately wish Fraser were holding me.
‘Sully,’ Josh whispers after an eternity. ‘I’m so incredibly sorry. About everything.’
26
FRASER
Parker’s at Mum’s. I’m outside your place with food. Where are you?
It’s been hours since we formulated our strategy after I messaged Maggie with:She’s gone. Don’t tell Parker yet. I’ll call you later.
Since that text, this death has swallowed me whole. Rachael too. We have been sitting on opposite ends of her living room couch now for over an hour, in silence.
‘Can I get you a whiskey or something?’ she says at last, making no move.
I stare ahead. ‘I don’t think so, Rach.’
I don’t know where the warning bells are coming from, but the way I feel, as though I could die from this anguish, tells me the first whiskey would turn into two and then four … and then years.
I pass Rach my phone with Maggie’s message on the screen. ‘I don’t know how to reply,’ I confess.
She reads the text, glances at me, gives me the phone back, and says, ‘I wouldn’t mention me.’
