THE TROUBLE WITH PAPER PLANES(5)

Cutting lawns and maintaining gardens for the holiday homes in the area was a thriving industry, and it saved me from certain death sitting behind a desk somewhere, being slowly strangled by a pair of leather loafers. The freedom worked in my favour, especially if the surf was good. Thankfully, today was Thursday, the day I knocked off early and went to visit Henry.

I loaded the lawnmower onto the trailer, strapped it down and headed for the dump. The heat was sticky, and the high following this morning’s surf was fading fast. The cool morning air felt like a distant memory. It was the February from hell, hotter than usual and twice as humid.

I pulled into the dump, raked the grass clippings off the trailer and threw the tarp into the back of my truck. Finally heading for home, Vinnie’s voice was back in my head again. It’d been like that all morning.

I couldn’t fault his intentions, but I doubted he really understood. I doubted anyone did. How could they? People missed Em, yes. But family, friends – it was different for them. They didn’t have an empty bed as a reminder. Moving on wasn’t like choosing what shirt to wear in the morning or what radio station to listen to.

I kept the black cloud at bay, even though it was tempting to just hide out in my empty house with a few beers and my memories tonight. That would definitely not get the Vinnie seal of approval. In fact, it’d probably earn me the ‘moving on’ speech again.

I pulled up outside my house and drove down the incline to the bottom of the driveway. My energy was sapped, both mentally and physically. I made my way slowly up the back steps and unlocked the French doors. The heat from inside hit me like a wave, after being locked up all day. I peeled my boots and socks off and left them outside, opening both doors wide to help cool the place down. I wiggled my toes and headed for the fridge, grabbing the nearest beer. Downing it in three massive gulps, I tossed the empty bottle into the recycling bin under the sink.

The shower was just as quick, and I didn’t bother towelling off. The water soon evaporated, and I felt halfway human again. Throwing on a clean t-shirt and fresh pair of boardies, I locked up again, leaving a window open this time, then ran barefoot down the stairs to the truck and headed into town. Shoes were not a requirement at Henry’s, thank God.

I pulled into a spare park down the street and made my way along the hot footpath to the air-conditioned comfort of the café. It was closed, but Bridget was behind the counter, cleaning up. She looked pre-occupied, as if her heart wasn’t in the job. She always got like this around Em’s birthday.

This time of year seemed incredibly cruel. It wasn’t Vinnie’s fault he shared a birthday with Em, but celebrating without her always seemed insensitive, somehow. Trying to ignore the issue felt like masking the problem. It cut me to ribbons every single year, and I know I wasn’t the only one feeling it.

Most of the time, Bridget put up a good front, but at certain times of the year, the mask was thin. Em’s birthday. Christmas. The anniversary.

I can’t imagine how it would feel for a parent, losing a child the way she had lost Em. No funeral, no body to bury, no answers. As if it wasn’t enough to lose one child, she then had to watch the path of self-destruction her only other child seemed determined to follow. I think that was one of the reasons I allowed Alex some leeway. It wasn’t the only reason, though.

Bridget seemed to deal with it by using distraction and sleight of hand. She’d offered to host Vinnie’s birthday party here, in the café. She said it gave her something to do, and she liked to see everyone happy and enjoying themselves. She said that was the way it should be. She also said it was better than sitting around at home, feeling sorry for herself.

Christ almighty, I wish I had half her strength. His birthday shindig last year had been a disaster. The black cloud had hung over me for days beforehand, like a gathering storm. I felt it brewing deep down inside me, like I was drowning. I’d succumbed to the suffocating grief, taking myself down to the beach, drinking a bottle of vodka, throwing up and passing out. Selfish bastard. I hadn’t given a second thought to Vinnie, Jas, Bridget or anyone else. I’d just wanted to get away from the party. Celebrating seemed a thousand different kinds of wrong. I didn’t want to have a good time, I didn’t want to forget. I wanted Em back.

But that was last year. This year I was going to try harder. Vinnie deserved better, and God knows I owed him.

Bridget spotted me loitering outside the door and I smiled, trying to pretend I hadn’t been spying on her. She smiled back, walking over to unlock the door and let me in.