Tim Winton - The Turning

Dad, watch this! Frank Leaper snaps on goal!

Ricky hooked the ball across his shoulder. The kick fell short but Dyson ushered it across the line.

A car horn blared.

Through! cried Ricky.

Six points, Dyson said.

The horn went again: shave-and-a-haircut-ten-cents. Dyson looked over. Don Keenan waved from the wheel of his ancient Holden.

Out in the centre the umpire blew his whistle for the resumption of play and the teams straggled back out onto the park. Ricky whined and baulked at having to vacate the goal-square but Dyson herded him back to the sidelines. They drew up beside the old man’s car.

Got a bit of a kick on him, said Don Keenan.

How are you, Don?

The old man shrugged. What doesn’t kill you makes you older. Know anythin about addiction?

A few things, I spose, said Dyson leaning against the old HT as two boys flew for the bouncedown. The ball shied out to a solitary kid who was so stunned to have possession of it that he stood motionless until run down by the pack.

Thanks for takin an interest in Fay. It means a lot to us.

Dyson said nothing.

We’re just about at our wits’ end, said Don. No parent should have to see the things I’ve seen.

She’s trying, said Dyson.

You got that right.

The ball soared, spiralling into the sun.

But we love her, said Don. You understand that, don’t you?

Dyson said he did.

Late Sunday night, when Ricky was long abed and the fire all but out, there was a gentle knock at the door.

I’m sorry, Fay murmured. I just had to.

He let her in and with her came the night chill. They sat by the hearth but he didn’t stoke the fire for fear of encouraging Fay to linger. She sat down in a quilted jacket, jeans and hiking boots and fingered the book he’d been reading. As she leant in toward the remains of the fire her hair crowded her face.

Everything alright?

She shook her head.

He sighed. Want a cuppa?

Yeah, she said. Coffee.

He went into the kitchen to fill the kettle. When he returned Fay was putting wood on the fire.

I should have been at a meeting tonight, she said. I’ve skipped two in a row.

So don’t miss the next one.

There’s no one I can turn to, Pete. You’re it.

Your parents know you’re here?

Yeah. They’re freaking. When. . when I get agitated and restless like this they think I’m gonna go out and score.

And are you?

I’m here aren’t I? Shit, they’re still searching my room and I’m thirty years old, for Chrissake. Least if I’m here they’ll relax. God, they’re ecstatic. You’re the Golden Boy. Dad even drove me, she said with a girlish laugh.

He drove you here?

So fucking sad.

Dyson lowered himself into a chair and felt a new weight of fatigue on him.

Tell me about your wife, she said.

What kind of state are you in, Fay?

Frazzled, she said. Teetering. So tell me about her.

Dyson shook his head. Fay whistled through her teeth.

What do you want from me? he asked.

Respect, she said. No. Adoration. Shit, Pete, I just want a safe place to be. Someone trustworthy. I can trust you, can’t I?

Fay pulled her knees up to her chin and in that single movement, with her hair down her arms and her eyes tilted up at him, she became an eerie ghost of her teenage self. Dyson got up and went back to the kitchen to make her coffee. He stood, shaken, at the stove. He turned a teaspoon over and over in his hand so that the light caught it.

You didn’t answer me, Fay said in the doorway.

I don’t know the answer.

Can’t trust yourself, you mean.

Jesus, Fay, what is it that you really want?

I dunno, she said arching against the doorframe. Just now? Comfort, I spose. A few of the edges taken off. This fucking town — I shouldn’t have come back.

So why did you?

I want my kid.

Dyson felt hemmed in now. He was revolted by her. He couldn’t help it. All that restless will, the cruelty of it made him sick.

What are you thinking? she asked. Your face went black. What’re you thinking about me?

Nothing, Fay.

I used to be a prize once. I was a trophy and you had me.

Let’s go and sit by the fire, he said. Here’s your coffee.

You’re uncomfortable.

Yes.

I came here for comfort and you’re uncomfortable, she said, her face flushed.

I don’t think there’s any comfort I can give you.

The simple pleasures, she said, lifting the mug to her mouth.

Maybe you should go.

You don’t understand what I’ve been through!

And I’m rapidly losing interest in finding out.

You don’t know what’s been taken from me, what I’ve given up. It’s inhuman. No one should have to go through what I’ve been through.

The blood was in her face now. Her eyes glittered. She was beautiful again.

Fay—

Jesus, I’m aching. I need love.

Your family—

I need more!

You’ll meet good people, he said. It’s a slow road.

I can’t wait. Can’t you see, I can’t wait.

Think of Sky.

Don’t do that to me, she said. Look down your nose, turn me away, lecture me. I really thought you were a friend.

I am, he murmured, and as he did so he knew it was a lie.

She dragged her hair back off her face and wiped her eyes. You can’t even spare me a hug?

Dyson felt such a shit. He sighed and looked at her, relenting. Sensing it, she smiled.

Let’s go to bed, Pete.

He froze even as he reached for her. Fay, you really should go.

What harm can it do?

Fay—

I can’t drink, can’t drive, can’t live in my own place, can’t do Mr Speed. Jesus, I can’t upset Mum and Dad. A mercy fuck isn’t against the law, Pete, it’s not a blow against the Higher Power. Hello, my name’s Fay Keenan and I’m desperate—

Stop it.

You used to beg me.

Please keep your voice down.

I can’t believe you!

Well you’d better believe it.

It’s so humiliating, she said beginning to weep. I’m coming apart here and you’re just. . just watching?

Fay, you’ll wake Ricky.

I don’t give a shit.

Just calm down.

She wiped her face with the sleeve of her baggy jumper. A glistening trail of snot and tears lay on the wool and Dyson stared at it while his mind raced.

You won’t even hold me, will you?

No, he murmured. I’m sorry, but I can’t.

I don’t think we were ever friends.

You’re probably right, he said. We were obsessed, caught up in something. Too young. We were children. We did damage.

Fay gulped at her coffee. She looked at him carefully as though taking his measure. She was beautiful. Any man would want her. She’d taste of coffee and cigarettes and tears and her hair would fall around you like a curtain.

You have no idea how my parents adore you, said Fay. I could have hated you for being in town when I came home. My big moment. Nothing I’ve done in the past six months to put my life right could impress them the way you did by simply arriving unchanged of old. And you know what? Stolen thunder and all, I was glad. Happy for them, happy for me. We really thought you’d be there for us.

I appreciate that, he said. But I don’t think they expect me to sleep with you.

They don’t know how cold and dead inside you really are.

That’s probably true, he admitted, exhausted now.

You know they never did find out about our little secret. God knows, every other shitty thing I ever did somehow got back to them, but they never even suspected that. Two days shy of seventeen. And your fuckin mother paid for it.

Oh, Fay.

You know how my parents are. You know what it’d do to them. It’d crush them. Break their hearts.

Don’t.