I recoil. He’s too close to the nerve. So close it burns.
‘And that,’ David points the cigarette at my chest, ‘is why she left.’
My chin springs up. ‘Leave her out of this.’
David laughs. ‘Sore point, is it? Means I’m right. Why haven’t you gone after her? Why sit here and wallow in a mess of your own making?’
‘Because she told me not to.’ I drag the words up a throat that feels like it’s filled with wet cement. ‘She basically said I treat people like tasks to be finished. If I keep trying to patch this… I’m only proving her right.’
There’s a decent ring to it, as if I’ve taken the high ground.
David shakes his head, exhaling a cloud of smoke. ‘You’re staying away because you’re a big feartie.’
I claw the edge of the metal bench. The rust bites into my palms.
‘If you’re the one holding everyone else up, you never have to risk falling yourself,’ he continues. ‘You never have to ask anyone to catch you and take the chance on not being caught.’
The truth of it rings in the air.
Fucking smartarse.
‘You lost her because you wouldn’t let her in. You handled her like a dependent,’ he says. ‘I know because that’s how you treat me. And Erin. Even Mum sometimes.’
I open my mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. I replay the last months. The constant, low-humming surveillance of her needs. Are you okay? Do you need this? Let me handle that.
‘I thought I was looking after her.’
‘I know,’ David says. He stubs the cigarette out on the side of the bench. ‘You tried to be the hero again, ya rocket. When will you learn?’
The sun has dipped below the horizon, leaving a smear of red across the clouds. Everyone’s saving me. Ava left to save me. The team stuck together to save me.
I’m the project.
I blew the whole thing by holding the frame so tight there was no room for her. I played the part of the man with all the answers so she couldn’t find the person underneath. She was the only real win I ever put on the board, and I’ve put the boot through it.
‘And don’t look at me like I’ve handed you the meaning of life.’ David says. ‘I’m just telling you to sort yourself out. What you do with it is your business. Then again… As I’ve said many times, I’m the smart one.’
‘Mum!’ Erin’s voice bellows from the window, shattering the moment. ‘The tap in the utility room is leaking again! It’s soaked the floor.’
‘For Chrissake,’ Mum’s voice flutters back.
My muscles coil. Drip. Repair. Usefulness. Validation.
All I need is a wrench and some tape to plug the leak. To walk back into that warmth. To be thanked and patted on the back.
My fingers curl into claws on the rusted metal of the bench. It actually hurts to remain static, a phantom ache in my forearms screaming at me to seize a tool, to do something, to justify the space I’m taking up.
No.
I look at my brother. He’s watching me, waiting to see if I’ll run the same play I’ve run for years. To sit here – letting the water leak, letting someone else deal with the mess – feels like a violation of my core operating system.
I force my legs to extend and fold my arms behind my head. ‘Erin!’
She pops her head out of the window. ‘Get in here, Scottie. It’s a puddle.’
‘Stop moaning.’ I push the words out through a tight jaw. ‘Call a plumber.’
‘What?’ Her voice pitches up.
