Nocturnal Activities - Page 5

Nick wondered how long before he could get a drink.

Jeremy hadn’t shifted from the couch. He hadn’t removed his eyes from Nick either.

‘I don’t see why you’re annoyed. I came down, didn’t I?’ Nick said. When didn’t he come down?

Nick had noticed and acknowledged the immaculate state of the house. It must have been what he said about their mother and father coming back that irritated his younger brother.

Jeremy had scowled when Nick mentioned them. ‘Of course not. They’re still up in Lismore.’

Nick thought his brother might tell the story again about when their mother and father first abandoned him. Jeremy had been seventeen and their parents had been at some protest down in Melbourne or somewhere like that. They never got over being hippies, even as they tried to live in the burbs.

When they arrived home, they were exhausted. As if he’d straighten them out, Jeremy had cooked for his parents, did all their washing, picked up after them, and even started to scrub down their campervan.

If Jeremy told this story, he never mentioned the housework. For him, it was about how their father came out to announce why they had to leave again—their mother needed more warmth and sunshine, which could only be gotten up north, even though December had arrived and the Summer heat had come early that year.

Still up at Lismore, at the commune. Nick should have known and been more empathetic. But he could only shudder as an image of Bill and Doreen—half dressed, semi washed, and quasi stoned—flitted through his mind.

Nick scoffed.

‘What?’ Jeremy said.

Nick couldn’t say, thinking about what their father had said about this neighbourhood and the reason he’d given Nick as to why their parents couldn’t stay.

This was where people had proper jobs, woke up at an appropriate hour, mowed their lawns weekly, watched the news daily, and yelled at sports on Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays, all the while worrying about house prices and who in their community had more than them.

‘So, you going to tell me why you needed me to come down so bad?’ Nick said, changing the subject. He wandered over to their parent’s liquor cabinet and poured himself a whiskey.

The question made Jeremy wince. He buried his face in the couch. Nick gulped down the alcohol and poured another.

‘Come on, what happened?’ Nick said, with kindness.

Like he was shaking something off, Jeremy stood, unfurling his large figure. Jeremy’s size reminded Nick that his younger brother had always been a target. People seemed to know that, in spite of how big he was, they could do shit to him with impunity.

Nick waited, hoping his younger brother standing was a signal he would say something.

‘That girl,’ Jeremy suddenly blurted out. ‘She, and, and… well, they weren’t very nice.’

‘What girl? And who wasn’t nice?’

Like there were others listening Jeremy looked about him, terrified—even though only Nick and Jeremy were there. The colour drained from his face, and he raced out of the room.

‘Don’t do that, Jeremy. Come on, man!’

No response.

Nick took another slug of whiskey, before refilling it. Feeling warm from the alcohol, he meandered into the dining room. Not finding Jeremy there, he checked for him in the two bedrooms down this end of the house, one of which used to be his room, the other, still Jeremy’s.

But Nick wasn’t looking, not really. He knew where his brother had hidden. But just this once, Nick thought, if he called his name enough, maybe he’d come out. 

Five minutes passed as Nick continued his sweep of the house. After ten minutes, Nick had called to Jeremy twenty, maybe thirty times.  

Nick again tried to make sense of what Jeremy had said. Some girl, or girls, being cruel. Was it the same one he’d mentioned a little while ago?

‘I know where you are.’

Nick walked toward their parent’s end of the house. It used to scare him having to pull apart all the hung-up garments in Doreen’s cupboard seeking out his younger brother. It wasn’t just the smell of their mother’s clothes, and the feel of the unfamiliar fabrics. It freaked him out having to reach in, discovering warm skin and hair, and the shape of arms and legs.