Of Things Gone Astray. Janina Matthewson
let me shower, woman.’
He could hear Mara chuckling into her pillow as he closed the bedroom door on her, trying to make sure she didn’t see him wince.
BIRDS. DIDN’T FEEL LIKE TIME yet. Didn’t feel late enough for birds. But there they were, so that was that. Birds could sense time better than him, so they must be right.
He opened his eyes. Ah. There was the problem. The blinds were down. He usually slept with them open, he usually woke with the light.
Strange. That they were closed.
He sat up and slid on his glasses. He crossed to the window and opened the blinds. It was later than he’d thought. It was later than he usually woke up. It was much later.
He had a routine for the mornings. Always the same. A light breakfast of fruit. A full breakfast later, after some time in the music room. Now it wouldn’t work. Now it had gone wrong. It was already too late.
He went downstairs and stood in the kitchen. He was hungrier than usual. He opened the fridge and took out the eggs.
It wasn’t until almost eight o’clock that he made it to the music room. Much later than normal.
The music room was the nicest room in the house. It was the most important place in the house. Floor to ceiling windows along two walls. Lots of light. He liked lots of light to practise, although when he performed he always requested that the stage be kept as dim as possible. People should be listening, he said, not looking.
When he had performed. When he used to perform. It had always seemed important.
There were few decorations, nothing to distract him. The rest of the house was covered in pictures, in paintings and photos and sketches. Not here. Just one small photo of Albert propped on top of the shelf by the door.
The piano stood in the middle of the room.
He walked around it a couple of times, as he always did. He closed his eyes and threw his head back. He breathed deeply, and sat down.
He rested his hands for a moment on the cover before lifting it.
He stared. His hands, always so reliable, began to shake.
The world had ended. His life had ended.
Jake stands on the footpath facing his house. His schoolbag is heavy because of all the library books his mother has finally remembered he has to take back.
No, that wasn’t right. He hadn’t been going to school that day. If he’d been going to school he would have been there already, for hours.
Jake stands on the footpath facing his house. The street is quiet for a Saturday. Because it isn’t Saturday. It’s Tuesday. It feels like Saturday to Jake because he’s not wearing his school uniform. He’s not going to school.
Why was he not going to school? It wasn’t the holidays.
He’s not going to school because he has a doctor’s appointment about his foot and then his mum is going to take him to McDonald’s for a sundae. He wonders if she’ll let him have one with a flake.
He is sweating. He is sweating because it is very hot. The sun is big and bright above him and seems to be soaking him right through to his bones. Deeper than his bones. He wishes he was wearing jandals instead of lace-up shoes. His mum doesn’t like him to wear jandals anymore because she likes him to always wear his orthotics. Jake looks down at his feet and frowns. He hadn’t thought his feet would betray him like this. He’d thought they were allies.
He wishes his mum would hurry up. She’s gone back in to the house because she forgot to bring –
What? What had she forgotten?
She forgot to bring something for the smiling lady that had visited last week. She promised to drop something off to her and she’s annoyed about it.
Jake’s mum is also annoyed that they have to go to the doctor’s at midday. When they’ve gone before it’s always been after school but she couldn’t get an appointment with the doctor because the doctor’s about to get married and go away, Jake thinks perhaps forever. He thinks that maybe if the doctor gets married and goes away forever he’ll be able to stop wearing his orthotics and his mum won’t be able to tell him off.
Jake has been waiting for a long time. He thinks perhaps seven hours. He wonders if his mum would notice if he snuck past her upstairs and put on his jandals.
When the ground moves, he isn’t scared. It does that a lot and all that happens is his cat will run all over the house really fast. Jake thinks that is pretty funny.
He doesn’t expect the house to fall down like it does.
Jake lay still on his bed for a while. He didn’t think he was right about it being that hot. He thought he was right about most things, but he didn’t think it had been hot that day.
He didn’t feel much like going downstairs. On this day two years ago his mum had made waffles with bacon and banana and syrup for breakfast, with a candle sticking out of one of the waffles.
Jake didn’t think there would be waffles this morning.
He didn’t think there would be waffles any morning.
AFTER A WHILE DELIA GLANCED at her watch and swore. She’d been gone longer than she should have, naturally. Until a few years ago Delia had never been late, not once in her life, now it happened all the time. Not that there ever was anything in particular to be on time for now, but she didn’t like to be so long away.
As she walked down the street, however, her pace slackened. She couldn’t help it. She knew that once she got home, it was unlikely she’d get another chance to go out. There was always so much to do, incidental, unimportant things to do: cups of tea to make, lunch to prepare, washing to fold, all the things your average housewife usually had to do.
She could never go off for too long without worrying that something would go wrong, that her mother would need help and be alone, but being in the house sometimes became intolerable. Resolving that ten extra minutes now would help maintain her equilibrium for the rest of the day, she allowed her pace to slow to a light meander. As she walked, she convinced herself that her mother would probably not get out of bed until she was home in any case.
It was still early enough for the streets to be quiet; there were just a few joggers, the keys in their bum pockets jingling slightly as they ran, and some tired-looking besuited men who probably didn’t need to spend as much time at work as they thought.
Delia breathed deeply as she went, savouring the bright morning air. Again, she paid little attention to her specific route, veering down streets at random, looking at houses she didn’t know. She stopped to look at unusual trees and flowers in people’s gardens, and spent a while trying to get a reluctant cat to approach her.
The sky grew ever brighter, the day was warming, the clouds were moving on.
Delia reached a church she didn’t know and she suddenly felt disconcerted. She should be nearly home by now, there shouldn’t be any churches she didn’t know.
She looked around her. She’d been walking in the right direction, she was sure of it, but she suddenly realised that it wasn’t just the church – she hadn’t recognised anything in ages. She shook her head and pressed on. She must only be a couple of streets away;