All About Me Page 7

  “Don’t even go there, mother.”

  She places her hands on her hips, glaring at me. Yeah, India is her favourite girl, but I fucked up and she doesn’t need to know this yet.

  “Something happened, didn’t it?”

  “Not tonight, mother. We will talk tomorrow. I’m starving,” I say, ignoring her startled expression. Luckily for me, Jacob comes back downstairs quickly enough. My mother doesn’t like talking about private stuff in front of other people. Jacob is happily chatting to her and I keep watching her, wondering what pushed her to be in control again. The food is awesome and I make an effort, complementing it.

  It’s nearly twelve when we all bail to bed. Jacob takes Christian’s room and I settle back in mine. Tomorrow, I’m planning to go through my brother’s stuff from the garage. Mum has been cherishing his things for so long. It doesn’t matter that he was part of this house. He was a filthy motherfucker who has done everyone a favour by dying.

  Past

  India was out of town with her mum and sister. I knew that because Christian couldn’t wait to go out that night. Christian always hung out with his own brainless mates, but that night it was different. For the first time in ages he asked me to go with him to the party. It was only because Bryan and the rest of the group were out of town.

  In a few months, he was leaving Gargle to start an international rugby career in Uni. We never talked about his plans, but I was bloody damn sure that he wasn’t going to take India this time around.

  “Maybe you can finally tap some sexy arse, bro. I think it’s about time,” he said, laughing, as our mother dropped us in the north side of Gargle. We both knew that the only girl I ever wanted to get close with was India. He pretended that I had no idea that he knew how I felt about her.

  “We will see. Don’t worry about me,” I said, trying to brush the conversation off. He ran his hand through his dark hair, grinning with that dangerous spark in his eye.

  “There will be plenty of lovely arses to choose from. I’ll be tapping one.” He laughed as we walked towards the loud music. I pulled my dark, long hair into a ponytail and went off from the gothic look for tonight. Christian promised that the party was going to be full of seniors and I just had to blend in.

  It made me fucking furious that he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. He had been going out with India for ages, so the least he could have done was to be faithful to her.

  “India is going to be pissed,” I reminded him. He gave me this cool, smug look that told me to stop fucking telling him what to do. He never actually said it, but his jaw tightened, showing marks around his eyes.

  “India is a fucking saint and I’m horny. Besides, how will she know? Are you going to tell her, bro?” he asked in a challenging tone.

  “Chill, of course I won’t.”

  He relaxed then a little. My brother waited for some sort of confrontation, but I never gave him a chance. It was easy to trigger his game. I knew that sooner or later he would go down and I had to wait for the right moment. He had been cheating on India all along, like being in a relationship with her never meant anything to him.

  The party was in some old barn with a much older group. After some time Christian walked over to a tall blond girl, leaving me alone. I grabbed some drinks and kept watching him. Little did my brother know I had my own secret. India and I had shared the most mind- blowing kiss when he was asleep next to us. I was planning to tell her about all his romantic peccadillos when the time was right. It was all part of the plan.

  Later that night I had seen him pulling the same girl towards the door and vanishing behind the barn. I smiled to myself, knowing that in a matter of time India would no longer be his.

  Chapter Nine

  It’s not over yet?

  Present

  I get up early on Saturday morning, hearing Jacob’s snoring in the other room. My mother apparently got a job in some car dealership. She mentioned it last night. It’s just after seven when I walk into the kitchen.

  “You’re up early for a Saturday.”

  My mother’s voice startles me slightly. She is in the living room, drinking coffee and reading the paper. This is just one of those things that she does. A few years ago, when my brother was still alive, she’d go into a meltdown if she read any bad news. It was hard to calm her down and Christian, as usual, bailed out.

  “I couldn’t sleep,” I tell her, rubbing my eyes and stepping up to the espresso machine.

  “I’m waiting for you to tell me what is going on. Why are you here and why is India not with you?”

  Questions. So many fucking questions, so early in the morning.

  “It’s none of your business, mother. Things between us are complicated at present. I’m here for Christian’s car. That bastard never deserved it anyway.”

  “He is dead, Oliver. The least you can do is to respect him by not talking about him that way,” she says with that odd tone, like she regrets something.

  Pure rage boils inside my veins, and my heart starts to pump more blood to my body. If she only knew what kind of son she brought up. And she called herself a good mother?

  “Christian was like a leech. He hurt people, and you always treated him like a fucking prince,” I blurt out, losing it. I take the cup of coffee and my hands are already shaking.

  She brings her hands to her face, standing up. God, she is pathetic, pretending to be so shocked by my words. My father was the same, brushing all the problems away like they never existed. To hell with that perfect family.

  “Oh my God, Oliver, India told you,” she says, almost whispering. I look at her tired eyes and white face. Her voice echoes in my head… India told you, told you, told…

  Shock moves over my body and my mouth drops open as I stare at her in disbelief. She must be fucking kidding me.

  “Hold on, hold on a minute. You fucking knew?” I ask, shouting, not caring for the world that Jacob is upstairs.

  The tears in her eyes are only the confirmation of what I suspect has happened here. I clench my fists, straining my shoulders. Every muscle in my body turns into stone. This can’t be happening.

  “Oliver, I only just found out. A few months ago she came to me. We were always close. She helped me get back on my medication.”

  This is bullshit, all a lot of crap. How come India told my own mother and she never shared this with me? Maybe that was the only way she coped with the pain, but fuck, no! I would have been there for her.

  I run my hands over my face, trying to breathe, but there doesn’t seem to be much oxygen in this room.

  “So now you know what kind of monster you brought up. For fuck’s sake, mother! You should have told me the moment you knew.”

  “I promised her that I wouldn’t.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m your family and you should have tried to tell me many times. I was here with her for the funeral, and all that time you kept it quiet.”

  “I had to. I know it’s probably difficult for you to understand this, but she confided in me.”

  “I can’t believe this shit!” I shout.

  “You’re angry and you feel betrayed, but please put yourself in my position. What would you have done?” she continues to brag, approaching me. “India helped me a lot and I know that you two had your moments, but she loves you. What Christian did to her, oh God, it’s beyond imagination, but she managed to pull through. She matured and changed.”

  “If you expect me to forget about all your insults and drama, then you’re wrong. I’m taking that dead prick’s car and the rest of the stuff.”

  “Oliver, we should talk about this first. I’m not objecting to you taking his stuff, but so many things happened. Please let’s talk. People make mistakes.”

  I’m not listening to her anymore, but I have to agree with that statement. People do make mistakes. India won’t forgive me because of everything that happened between us, because of my inability to grow. I can’t even think straight when my mother stares at me lik
e that. She doesn’t go after me when I slam the door. Everyone wants some redemption at some point. My mother failed as a parent and, yeah, maybe that wasn’t her fault. Can I forget that she treated me like a worthless piece of shit? Can India forgive me the amount of pain that I put her through?

  I open the garage and swear under my breath. Christian’s old car should be in decent condition. My father always forbid me to touch it, stating that it never belonged to me and that it was the only memory he had left of him. Well, my father is also dead, rotting in the ground along with that bastard brother of mine.

  The keys are in the glove compartment inside the car. It’s an old Audi. He crushed my Dad’s BMW the night of his accident. The car doesn’t start, so I curse a few nasty words, slamming my fists on the dashboard. I’m furious with myself. India shared those terrible days with my mother. Everything is fucking broken. My stomach churns and I try hard to keep the food from last night in my stomach. Even thinking about that fated party brings all my raw emotions out.

  “Oh, man, this baby looks fucking incredible!”

  The voice from outside startles me. I take some oxygen into my lungs, feeling how my heart hammers between my ribs.

  I get out of the car and see Jacob, who runs his hand over the rooftop. If my brother were here, he would go mental. He was weird like that—no one could ever touch his stuff. I don’t move, watching as Jacob admires the car.

  “This is another reason why I’m here. This beauty used to belong to my dead brother. He can go fuck himself in hell. The car is mine now. I don’t care what my mother says about it.”

  Jacob looks at me with his calm and calculating stare twisting his lips.

  “Listen man, I accidentally overheard your conversation downstairs.”

  Probably even our nosy neighbours heard me. I was pretty loud.

  “It’s fine. I was out of line, but she always protected him. Christian didn’t deserve any of his stuff. There are some good things up there,” I say pointing at the boxes that both my parents gathered just after Christian died. No one asked me if I wanted to take anything. At one point I came back from school and they were arguing about his shit in the living room. Pathetic.

  Jacob is more interested in the car, but after a moment he helps me rip some boxes apart and put them outside the garage. My father wasn’t stupid. He made sure that all the stuff would be well preserved. From what I can see, there is a lot of good shit here. A few iPods and old-school mobile phones. A brand-new rugby kit that Christian was going to take to Uni. His surfboard and tools. A lot of good mechanic tools.

  “This stuff is worth a fortune. You sure your mother will be all right with this, what we are doing now?” he asks.

  “I told you, it’s nothing to do with her. All of this belongs to me,” I insist, looking back at the house. My mother is probably working today. Besides, I haven’t finished with her yet. She apologised, but fuck, we have a long way to go.

  Jacob looks impressed with everything that we find. Soon we segregate everything that we’re taking back to Braxton, and the rest of the rubbish. Staring at all his pictures from high school, I have an urge to burn them. Now I sort of get why my mother took all his pictures down when India and I came home for the funeral a few months back. Before I left to go to Gargle two years ago, she had his pictures everywhere. My mother must have gone through quite a shock when she heard that her perfect son was a rapist.

  Once everything is sorted, Jacob drives me to the local mechanic, who agrees to look at the car. I don’t mind spending some cash on it, but I want to use it or maybe sell it. By the end of the day, when we come back from town, the car runs like a well-oiled clock. My mechanic is an old mate that isn’t as far up his arse as everyone else in this shit hole. I give him some money and he is off. When we walk back to the house, it looks like my mother has vanished. That’s so typical of her! I challenge her and now she is running away.

  Jacob checks his phone once we go out in the evening. Apparently Dora called, but he doesn’t call her back, putting his phone in his pocket. We have a few beers in the local pub, which is full of people that I no longer associate with. It’s all right anyway. No one recognises me. Last time I was here with India, I lost it. Bryan, my brother’s old mate, recognised me. When I found out India had sex with him, I couldn’t fucking believe it. She’d turned her back on me and fucked another bloke. I shake my head, knowing that I can’t judge her. She was lost. That bastard brother of mine broke all the rules, only because I wanted her.

  The next day I’m standing in the entrance to Christian’s room. “I’m going out and then we’re out of here,” I say to Jacob. “My mother is downstairs. I’d try to avoid her if you can.” We both got a little wasted last night and my head is pounding. I feel like shit, but my decision to get India back is more important than anything at the moment.

  I smooth my hair, walking towards my car.

  “Hey, Olie, hey, I haven’t see you for ages,” shouts my neighbour Patrick, who used be close with my father. I’m not in the mood for a chitchat today, but for my mother’s sake, I need to be polite.

  “Yeah, I’ve been away studying in Braxton.”

  “My condolences about your father. He was quite a character.”

  “That he was,” I mutter, having had enough of this conversation already.

  “I saw you with that girl India at the funeral, the one that had been visiting your mother when you left.”

  His words rang in my head. Patrick is this nosy neighbour that knows what is going on around the neighbourhood. I remember a few times when he caught my brother when he sneaked out for a party in the middle of the night.

  “Yeah, they were close. I guess India visited her once in a while.”

  “Well, it was quite often. She looked after your mother whenever she had a spare minute until she graduated high school. I talked to her that one day when she was going to Scotland, but then your mother had this fit—”

  My stomach churns and blood starts pumping in my ears. I knew that India was close to my mother, but I didn’t know that she was there for her when I bailed. Scotland. She was going to Scotland? I run my hand through my hair, trying to breathe. It looks like I don’t know India at all.

  “Listen, Patrick, thanks. Sorry, but I’m in a rush,” I cut him off and stroll back to the car.

  “All right, good luck.”

  As soon as he is out of sight, I feel like I know how to breathe again. The ache in my heart only keeps growing. I’m a total jerk and I’m slowly beginning to realise that I don’t deserve India’s love. Maybe she was going to Scotland to talk to me, to find the strength to tell me the truth, and I just bailed, left town, not even thinking that there was something behind her bullying me.

  “FUCK!” I roar, slamming my hands into the dashboard over and over. There is a lump in my throat and I can’t swallow because right then her pain crawls all over me, increasing my pulse and creating a river filled with sorrowful emotions. She must have been trying to deal with the memories, but then my mother had one of her attacks, so her plan was ruined.

  I don’t want anyone to see me like this, so I pull myself together and drive towards a road I know very well. I have no choice but to pretend that I’m stable emotionally. It’s Sunday, so Mrs. Gretel should be at home, along with her daughter. I lock the car, shaking. After a few deep breaths, my heartbeat gets back to normal. I need to do this for her, just to show her that her friendship is all I’m after.

  The house is basic but looks homey, and all sorts of crucial memories start bouncing off my head. Something warm surges inside my chest when I think about all the times I spent in this house. Every time India invited me and Christian over, I was over the moon. Then, sometime after the funeral, I noticed changes in her behaviour, which now make sense to me.

  Mrs. Gretel looks baffled when she opens the door. It’s going to be difficult if India has told her what happened between us two. This whole visit will go nowhere if she is aware of what kind o
f scumbag I became.

  “Oliver, what a surprise. Come on… come on in,” she says with a smile.

  Okay, this a good sign. Maybe she hasn’t told her anything after all. Mrs. Gretel is a no-nonsense kind of woman, but she likes me. She always did, even when that dick used to go out with her daughter.

  “Hey, Mrs. Gretel, how are you?” I ask.

  “I’m a little surprised to see you here. Where is India? I thought you would come together?”

  “She isn’t here with me. She’s back in Braxton,” I mutter, entering through the living room. It’s a funny thing, this relationship. Her daughter now hates my guts, and I have a better relationship with her mother than with my own.

  Josephine is on her phone. She smiles when she sees me. Yeah, everyone is all right with me, so that means I’m fine here, for now. Their living room is modern; it looks like Mrs. Gretel just had some refurbishment done. The paint looks fresh.

  “So, Oliver, is everything all right? You’re worrying me slightly.”

  “India is all right, so no stress there, Mrs. Gretel. I’m visiting my mother, but I’m here because I want to surprise India and I want to ask you about something.”

  “I bet you’re going to ask for India’s hand, dude! That’s so lame.”

  “Josephine!” warns her mother, looking totally gob-smacked. It’s getting a little hotter here.

  I laugh nervously. Yeah, it would be great if I could marry India, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves here. She needs to start talking to me first before I can go to second base.

  “No, it’s just a surprise, so make sure you keep your pretty mouth shut,” I say, pretending that I didn’t hear what else Josephine said.

  Mrs. Gretel raises her left eyebrow, staring at me with a mixed expression on her face. She is an attractive woman and I’m sure plenty of men are interested. “Okay, we’re listening,” she says.

  Chapter Ten

  Toxic memories.