Wrath. Part 16

Finally, he turns to me. "Interesting day yesterday, Luca. Very satisfying day." I gulp. Yeah, great. Who for? He wipes his mouth and hands carefully, opening his top drawer and checking his face in a small mirror. He presses a buzzer, and a guard comes in and takes his tray.

"I had a visit from your young friend Aaron yesterday. He told me the whole story."

I feel myself go cold. "How do you mean everything', sir?"

Mr Khan leans forward on his desk and looks into my eyes, a thin little smile playing on his lips. "I mean everything: where he got the drugs in the first place and how you have helped him get out of that situation. He said that apart from Archie, you're the only true friend he's ever had and he couldn't stand by and see something bad happen to you when all you were trying to do was to help him." He pauses, leaning back and folding his arms, and then continues. "He said knowing you has made him want to be a better person and not just a selfish druggie. He didn't think he had much chance getting off drugs, but he said that knowing what happened in your life and your struggling with it but still caring about people and trying to do the best you could made him think he just might give it a shot. He knows you hated giving the drugs to him after what they did to your life. He wants to repay you for what you've done for him."

I sit there, dazed. Tim's words about not being a dog sound in my head. "But sir, his life will be h.e.l.l in here now. He'll be branded a dog."

Mr Khan's thick, dark eyebrows raise, and he tilts his head a little. "That's why I wanted to speak to you so early, Luca. Aaron isn't even here. I took a statement from him about the guard in question and organized immediate placement for him in a drug rehabilitation halfway house. His time in here was almost up, and he's in the custody of the people who run the house. He'll have to stay there beyond his original sentence, but he's more than happy to do that. He says it's his only hope."

"Where?" I ask stupidly. This is all going a bit fast for me.

"In the country. He's gone into a program that will wean him off drugs and get him back on track. The rest is up to him. By the way, he left this for you." Mr Khan opens the drawer, takes out an envelope and hands it to me across the desk. I raise my eyes questioningly, and he nods, so I take the folded bit of paper from inside and read Aaron's hurried scrawl.

Thanks, bro. There's so much more I want to say to you, but let's leave it till I've been clean for a year, and then we'll get together with Arch. Don't worry about me. I feel hopeful for the first time in ages. Maybe I can actually do this! At least I've seen what a self-centred k.n.o.b I've been, and I've figured out that I'll never be happy just thinking of myself and what I want all the time. I want to look out for other people too, Luca-just like you've done for me. I've started with you, and I feel great. Aaron.

I fold it back up slowly and carefully, my mind a blank. Mr Khan is sitting back in his chair, his fingertips together, smiling at me.

"What about...the guard, sir?" I ask.

"We've had our eye on him for a while, Luca. Too late now for Aaron, but he'll be taken care of." The smile's gone from his face now, and I see another Mr Khan. Those warm, brown eyes are cold and hard, but then he looks at me and smiles again.

"So, back to you. I have already called your father and brought him up to date. He's a very happy man today, Luca. As for you, I can't condone someone supplying drugs, but in light of all the circ.u.mstances, I think the panel will be understanding. If you are still unwilling to speak to a professional, however, that will, shall we say, throw a major spanner in the works." He fixes me with those eyes again, his face serious.

"I'll do anything I have to, sir."

Mr Khan nods. "Good decision. Now go and have a proper breakfast. The situation with Aaron-what's happened, where he is and so on-is strictly confidential. You know nothing."

"Yes, sir; of course."

"Good," Mr Khan says, dismissively. "An excellent outcome. I'll arrange your counselling sessions, and we'll take it from there."

Five minutes later, I'm enjoying every mouthful of my soggy Cornflakes. The boys say surprisingly little about Aaron. They just a.s.sume his sentence was done and he left. I guess it's because he's been a ghost at the table for such a long time that he's easy for them to forget. Not for me.

I hurry back to my cell after breakfast and rush straight over to my bin. Thank G.o.d it's still there. The little sc.r.a.p of paper I had tossed away so contemptuously was the same message that had been in Aaron's note. He'd never read it, but he'd learned it anyway. I knew he was smart-smarter than I was. I pull my pillow off my bed and sit, legs crossed and eyes closed, feeling that familiar peace settle on me. Life can be good.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO.

Things move much faster than I could have imagined after that. First, my results arrive. Mr P has forwarded them on, and he puts in a note congratulating me. I've done okay. In fact, I get an offer from three of the four places I applied to. I talk it over with Dad, and he thinks it might be a good idea to defer till second semester. I might be out by then! We both agree I need a bit of time to get used to things outside. The thought of going straight into a university with a whole lot of people disturbs me a bit. I hate to admit it, but this place has been like a coc.o.o.n for me.

There's plenty I can't wait to get out for-the beach, going for a run, just being able to do what I want when I want-but crowds, I think, will worry me for a while. I also don't think this whole process will move as fast as Dad thinks it will. I'll believe it's actually happening when I'm in the car, down the road and out of the gates.

I see the counsellor three times a week. She's very easy to talk to-doesn't appear to judge-and h.e.l.l, it's just so nice to spend time with a woman, even if she is about 50. She's gentle and plump and smells good, but apart from that, she helps me find ways to handle my black thoughts. To tell you the truth, we end up talking about meditation a fair bit of the time. A lot of the things she says are pretty obvious, but she also talks a lot about handling my grief, something I almost didn't think I had the right to do because I was the cause of it all.

Halfway through January, the Board will hear my case. Mr Bloom says he's quite confident. That quite' makes my belly churn a bit, but as I said, I'm trying really hard not to believe this is all going to actually happen. Mr P is going to be there, and Mr Robinson and even Owen have made statements about me, but then the police who came to the house and saw what I had done will probably do the same.

On the day of the hearing, they call me in, and it seems pretty casual compared to being in court. There are people there I don't know, and they ask me questions. I answer everything as simply as I can, but then one question comes at me that I have to think about for a minute before I answer. The person who asks it is tall and thin with sandy hair and thin lips. His freckles remind me of Reid, and I feel the old, familiar sadness.

"How do you know you won't lose your temper in the future, Luca?" he asks, his pale eyes glancing quickly up at me from his notes. "Two people died. Regardless of the circ.u.mstances that have been made available to us, that fact remains. How can we be sure that isn't the way you will always resolve situations you're not happy about?"

I feel this is make it or break it' time, but that's not the important thing. What's the truthful answer to that question? I take a deep breath.

"Well, sir, that's the thing you've got to be sure about before you let me leave here. I know that. All I can say is I'm not the same person I was over two years ago. I know the cost of what I've done. I've lost my mother forever-my fault-but my sister has also lost her mother, and Dad lost the mother of his children. Everyone who loved Mum lost her, and even though I had no love for Ray Reid, my sister and mother did, not to mention all his family and friends. All those people are paying for what I did. It won't end for them any more than it will ever really end for me. I'll carry what I did to my grave." I stop and rub my hand quickly over my eyes. s.h.i.+t, they'll think I'm some loser doing my best to put on a performance. Breathe. Breathe. I count five breaths slowly, and then I'm in control again. "I know I'll never hurt anyone again. I can't do it. I just know that, but having said it, I trust Mr Khan and my counsellor, Mrs Petersen. If either of them thinks there's a chance I could do something like that again, then don't let me out. Ever. That's all I can say."

There's not the slightest sound when I stop speaking. I can't look at anyone, and then Mr Khan clears his throat. "Thank you, Luca. You can go back to your duties now."

I look at Dad, but his head is bowed, so I just close the door behind me and head for the kitchen. Tim's on duty with me. "Feeling okay, man?" he says, looking at me anxiously.

"Just got to wait now, Tim."

He pats my shoulder and turns back to the dishes he is stacking back in the racks, and I start wiping down the benches.

Mr Bloom has told me that it may be a while before the Board makes a decision, but three days later, Owen comes to the gym and tells me Mr Khan wants to see me. My whole body seems to thud. I shower and dress quickly, and then I go down that corridor knowing my life is going to change one way or another in the next few minutes. I knock on Mr Khan's door, and he calls me in.

Mr Khan's on the phone, so he motions for me to sit down. This is torture, but I quiet myself down as much as I can and prepare for the worst. He hangs up at last and then looks up at me.

"Good news, Luca. The very best. The decision was unanimous, but there are a few strings, of course. You'll need to report to a case manager every week at first, and then, at his discretion and depending on your progress, you will report less often. You'll need to see Mrs Petersen for the first few months as well to help you readjust into normal life, but apart from that, you will be released into the custody of your father."

"When, sir?" I whisper.

"He'll be here straight after breakfast in the morning." Mr Khan stops. I sag onto the table as though all those imaginary cables I was keeping myself in tight with have snapped. I hear the sound of water being poured, and I sit up groggily. Mr Khan is holding out a gla.s.s of water, and I take it gratefully. My hand is shaking as I bring it up to my mouth, but I drain the gla.s.s. He takes it from me and smiles. "A good day, Luca."

"The best, sir."

I tell everyone at the table what's happened, and they jump up-though it's not strictly allowed while we're eating-and thump me on the back and shoulders. Man, I start coughing with it all, and they think that's hilarious. Even the guards come over and have a laugh. "I'll miss you all," I say when I get my breath back.

"Yeah, right," they all chime in, but they know I mean it.

"You'll all be out soon, anyway."

Tim looks around and nods. "Yep." He sits quietly, staring into s.p.a.ce, while the others sit down and get back into the food.

"What's wrong, Tim?"

He jerks and shakes his head, smiling a bit sadly. "Hope poor old Neil isn't doing it too hard in prison." It's not a good thought.

"Hopefully he won't be in there too long."

Tim shrugs. "Funny how he was such a sc.u.mbag before, and then he turned into an okay guy. But, hey, this night is yours. Well done, mate."

I look at him closely. Where's the skinny little rat-faced kid gone? He's filled out a bit, for sure, but it's more than that. He's changed. This place changes everyone-some for the better and some not-but he's a pretty good bloke now.

I pack up my stuff. There's not much of it apart from my books. I've fixed all the spines as best as I can. I wander down to the rec for the last time, but I don't stay. Behind all the happy words, I see the pain in too many eyes. They want to be going out tomorrow morning too.

I go back to my cell and write to Mr Robinson, Owen and Mr Khan, thanking them all. Then I sit for a while and listen to the noises I've grown so used to over the years here: doors banging, boys laughing, arguing and swearing at each other, the deeper voices of the guards sorting them out, music, televisions.

I feel suddenly tired, and I change and climb into my bunk. I intend to read, but I drift off, calm but a little worried about the future now that I seem to have one.

EPILOGUE.

I wake early, in the grey half-light. It's my last morning. I let myself drift, like a seagull on a wind current-half dreaming, half sleeping-till I wake up properly and get ready. I sit on the end of my bunk. I'm too twitchy to meditate, but then I laugh to myself. This is exactly the time I need it, so I spend my last morning in here sitting on my pillow on the floor. It takes me a while to settle, but then I reach that calm place, and though I can feel the excitement underneath it, I'm in control. The siren sounds, but I stay where I am for a minute or two more just to strengthen that control, and then I get up and put my stuff near the door.

The boys are laughing about a movie they saw last night, but they flick quick glances at me and smile. Tim takes my plate and sc.r.a.pes it clean with his, and then with a final wave, they're all gone. I go back and get my things. Owen comes to my door, and we walk together to the visitors' room. He shakes my hand and wishes me good luck as I push through and see Dad talking to Mr Khan.

"On your way at last, Luca," Mr Khan smiles.

We all stand there awkwardly, exchanging pleasantries, and then Mr Khan escorts us outside. Dad and I step out into the suns.h.i.+ne and cross the gravel car park to Dad's car. My heart is pounding, and I throw my bag in the back and climb in.

"Seat belt, Luca," Dad smiles. G.o.d, I feel like I'm six years old. Then we're off, and though Dad takes it fairly slow, there seems to be so much traffic whizzing close and so many people and shops that I feel overwhelmed by it all. Dad's chattering away, but hardly anything registers. My eyes and ears are working overtime, and then I notice he's stopped talking.

"You okay, Dad?"

"Couldn't be better, son. I was just thinking how strange this all must be for you. I thought there might be something you would like to do." We turn abruptly off the highway, the traffic thins and we pa.s.s some huge pine trees and go over a hill . There it is, stretching out as far as I can see: the sea. We pull in, and Dad reaches for a couple of plastic bags in the back seat. He throws one at me, and I catch it awkwardly.

"Hope they fit," Dad says. I tip the bag up, and out slides a pair of blue and yellow board shorts. "Feel like a swim?"

Suddenly, I don't care about all the people and cars or anything at all, and grinning at Dad, I open the door and head for the change rooms. Within five minutes, I'm on the beach, springing painfully across the hot sand, and then I'm in the water, under the waves, and I'm laughing and choking on salt water. Dad hurtles past me and hits the water with a roar. We dive under the waves, and I think back-so long ago!-to that day I spent body surfing with Karol. Another life. Another world. But the sea, the sea's always the same. I reckon when I get to be 90, if I can still dive into the sea, I'll feel just the same as when I was 10.

We swim for ages and then go up the street and buy a hamburger, and man, is that good! After we get dressed again, Dad drives around and points out where his parents live. "When you feel like it, the entire family wants to come over and see you. It's been a long time."

Then we just drive. We wind the windows all the way down, and I feel what dogs must be feeling when they hang their heads out of cars.

At last, Dad says, "Well, Uma will be wondering where we are. She's been planning this meal for your first night home for days." As we head for home, the sun is dipping below the horizon, and I drink in all those colours. G.o.d, I've missed the world.

We drive towards Fremantle, down the highway, onto the bridge near the old church and across the river. We drive by the harbour, clogged with s.h.i.+ps, and then wind through the streets past the little old houses, and finally we pull into a driveway. The house is quite small, with a veranda out the front where four cane chairs cl.u.s.ter near a round table and ferns and palms nestle in the s.p.a.ce between there and the little picket fence.

As we stop the car, a woman, carrying a little girl of about two or three, rises from one of the chairs. The woman is delicate-looking, Thai or Indonesian, and she is wrapped in a soft sarong, its colours like jewels against her skin. She smiles shyly as we walk towards her.

"Here he is at last, Uma," Dad says. "Meet my son, Luca. Luca, my wife."

Uma presses her hands together in front of her heart, the way Mr P used to do at the end of a meditation session, and bows slightly. "My son too, now. Welcome." She smiles at me-her smile is infectious-and then Dad laughs.

"We've forgotten the boss of the house. This is Pearl, your little sister." I smile at the little girl, but she buries her face in her mother's shoulder. "She's always shy for a while, but in a few days..." Dad opens the wire door, and exotic smells waft up the pa.s.sage.

"You must be hungry," Uma says in her soft voice, and I follow her, Dad behind me with my bag. The little girl raises her head over her mother's shoulder and her huge eyes, dark and fluid, lock onto mine. Her gaze is so intense and unwavering that I stop. Can she see straight through me? Does she see what I've done?

Then her arms reach to me, and her mother stops. Those little arms are around my neck, and I lift her into my arms and bury my head into her soft hair. She looks like she would smell of honey and cinnamon, but she smells just like Katy used to when she snuggled up to me.

I'm going to be all right.

end.