‘Fine,’ I say, slurping up the last of my milkshake. It’s the first time Clem and I have ever bickered like this and I can taste the strangeness of it, right down to the last milkshake bubble.
***
The River Pub has become a sanctuary, even if it does leave me smelling strongly of grease, meat and detergent.
The chef, Tamara, yells a lot, but it’s a broad sort of yelling. And anyway, I’ve grown up with Taylor – yelling is her usual way of communicating.
Matthew sometimes works the same shift as I do, clearing the tables and sweeping and mopping while I work my way through the dishes. Sometimes he helps with the dishes, too. A few times his father has come into the pub during a shift and he’s hurried into the kitchen while Tamara or Stu tell the man to get lost. We don’t talk much, particularly on the days when his father comes looking for him.
I like that everything comes into the kitchen covered with grease and wilted salad and smears of sauce. And I like that I can clean it. I like that everything can be scrubbed away and sanitised. I like that the dishes – the bowls and plates and cutlery – look just how they did to begin with.
The only thing about the River Pub I don’t like is the sound of the bells and the clang of coins when someone wins at the pokies. If the bistro’s really full – which isn’t that often – sometimes I can’t hear it. But mostly, I can. When it happens, it fills me with a sort of helpless rage that makes me scrub at the plates and pots so hard that Tamara chuckles at me. ‘Jeez, Stell. Easy.’
Stu often gives Matthew and me a meal at the end of our shifts. I feel particularly bad about Taylor coming in and yelling at him. It’s not his fault if people come in and use the pokies too much. I’m not allowed in there officially, but I can see a corner of the room from where I’m sitting at the bar. The bright colours and flashing lights. How maybe they’d feel like they were flashing just for you if you were lonely enough, bored enough.
‘I’ve tried, you know,’ Stu says.
‘Sorry?’
‘I’ve tried to get rid of them. The slots.’
‘Oh.’
‘I hate them.’ He stretches. ‘But I’ve pushed it as far as I can and, honestly, I really need this job.’
‘I get it,’ I say, as somewhere in the room someone wins and there is the sound of ringing bells and clattering coins and I know the lights will all be flashing. ‘I really do.’
***
Clem’s waiting for me outside the River Pub when I finish this afternoon’s shift.
‘Hey,’ he says. There’s a giant pot of umbrellas just inside the front doorway of his parents’ house, but he’s walked here in the rain. His t-shirt’s soaked through.
I cross my arms. ‘Hey.’
‘Can I see your place?’ he asks, his voice very small. He’s unusually still, too. Clem’s never still. It’s almost like he’s holding his breath. ‘I want to see it. Please.’
‘Alright.’
We pause at the gateway and Clem stares up at the archway with it’s broken words. airyla d.
‘Don’t say anything.’
‘I didn’t!’
We walk along the gravel road to my family’s home. Clem walks closer and closer to me until his arm’s bumping mine. He’s wearing the belt I made him. I keep an eye out for Richard, but I guess he’s helping his mum with her jewellery. Cassie waves from outside her place.
‘Arvo, love!’
‘Hey, Cassie.’
Everything seems strange, walking in with Clem. I even go the long way around so we don’t have to go near the tennis court or the green pool, but I take him past lots one to five. I want him to see them. I want to shock him a little. But, more than that, I want him to realise that our place is actually pretty good. We walk along the edge of the swollen river. Clem doesn’t say anything else until we reach the bench by the water. I sit down, but he stays standing up. He bounces on the balls of his feet and kicks at the dirt. He inspects the closest vegetable beds. ‘These are cool.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Who do they belong to?’
‘No one. Everyone. People all pitch in – means the families who are really struggling have access to fresh food.’
‘Right. That’s good. Right.’ He runs his hand along his jaw.
‘Clem?’
‘How could you not tell me about this?’ he murmurs. ‘I could’ve helped.’
‘How? How could you have helped?’
‘I don’t know.’ He paces in front of the bench. ‘However you needed me to. There’s so much I could’ve helped with.’
‘I said I was sorry. And I am.’
He sits down on the edge of the bench and stares out at the river. ‘I could have given you some money. You shouldn’t have been worrying about that and getting a job on top of everything else. It’s way too much to be juggling.’
‘I don’t need charity.’
‘It’s just money. It doesn’t mean anything.’
‘It can mean a helluva lot when you don’t have any, and you can’t pay bills, and you’re not sure where you’re going to live.’
‘That’s why I could’ve given you some, Price. I’m not saying it’s not stressful, but it doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t change who you are.’
I throw my hands up. ‘You have no idea what it’s like.’
‘I’m not saying that I do!’
‘Everything’s so simple for you, Clem. It’s so damn easy. You know exactly who you are and where you fit in and what you want.’
Clem gazes at me. ‘Yeah. Being a Chinese–Japanese teenager in Sutherbend with ADHD and parents whose only goal for me is to get a degree and a white-collar job is a walk in the park. You can be really dense sometimes, Price.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Everyone has stuff, you know?’
‘Just stop, Clem.’
We sit in silence for a while. Clem gets up and starts pacing in front of the bench. ‘Matthew Clarke lives here, doesn’t he?’
‘Yeah. His dad manages the place.’
Clem raises his eyebrows and I know he’s thinking of the weeds and the potholes in the roads and the windows of the cabins blocked in with plastic and cardboard.
‘Stop it,’ I snap.
‘I’m not doing anything!’
‘You’re judging!’
‘I’m not judging! I’m just wondering what a property manager actually does.’
I shake my head.
‘It makes sense, you know. How he does more extracurricular stuff than anyone, but doesn’t seem to actually like any of it. Like – I’ve never seen anyone look at a soccer ball with such pure hatred, but he never misses a practice. I guess it gets him out of this place.’
‘I guess so.’
‘Do you have much to do with him? Matthew?’
‘We work together at the pub. He’s nice.’
‘That’s why he walked you home from Lee’s.’ Clem rubs at his forehead. ‘Right? You were living here then?’
‘I’ve been here since before school finished.’