Free Steal My Sunshine by Emily Gale

wine had arms, a job and a car and two kids – but at some point Sam had stopped finding Dad funny and it was just me who’d laugh.
    â€˜I’m not being like anything and it’s not about you, anyway.’
    The bell rang again and I just managed to dodge Sam’s chair to reach the door first. It was the woman from next door, Nicky. She was quiet and nervy and had four scrawny cats that Scribble terrorised constantly. Mum had had to pay for an operation for one of them. We didn’t really talk to her if we could help it and she looked really uncomfortable to be standing on our doorstep. ‘The postie left this with me,’ she said, barely meeting my eye as she handed me a cardboard package. ‘He said there was no answer earlier.’
    â€˜Thanks.’ It was obviously a book, addressed to Mum. And there was a white envelope: Mr D Moon, 48 Mary Street, Melbourne . My dad, our house. The letter thought this was where he was supposed to be.
    From behind, Sam lifted both things out of my hands before I could stop him. ‘Thanks for that, Nicky,’ he said, so loud that she nearly jumped out of her skin. She skittered away, and as I watched her, I wondered how you got to be that way and whether it was where I was headed. A frightened little mouse in a world of confident cats.
    I shut the door. ‘What did you snatch them for? You’re such a dickhead.’
    â€˜I’m giving them to Mum, chill out.’
    â€˜ I was going to, they’re not yours.’ I knew I should just leave it alone but I couldn’t. The only thing that seemed to matter was getting the post off my brother. I was hot and shaky at the thought of it. ‘Give them back!’ I said, laying into him, slamming us both into the wall. He was laughing at how hard I was struggling against him, which only made me more angry. I pushed hard into him and grabbed his hand, trying to peel his fingers away from the package one by one.
    â€˜Hey, what’s all this?’ We froze as Mum stood in her bedroom doorway, and then let go of each other. Sam kept the package but left me holding the envelope, as if it were my job to hide any traces of Dad from Mum.
    â€˜How are you feeling?’ he said.
    â€˜Better,’ she smiled. ‘I needed that sleep.’
    Sam handed her the package. She seemed to know what it was but instead of opening it she clutched it to her chest. Her voice sounded softer; her hair was tied off her face and she’d put on some navy trackies and an old t-shirt. That was so unlike her. She always dressed smart in a way that made her look even older than the other mums around here who all wore jeans and had long, loose hair. In a way, Mum looked younger dressed like this, but maybe that was just because her eyes looked completely lost.
    â€˜I’ll make you a tea,’ I said.
    â€˜Or there’s wine,’ said Sam. ‘Angie brought it.’
    â€˜Mm, I think so.’ Mum went towards the kitchen as if she didn’t know the way, stepping slowly and cautiously.
    Things were calmer on the outside, but my head still felt whipped up and full of noise. I followed them down the hall off-balance, wound up about the way Sam had taken control of this new thing that was happening to us.
    We watched TV, Mum and Sam sharing the wine. The few words either of them said in my direction, I couldn’t do more than shrug back. The calm was a ruse. Dad’s letter was still in my back pocket. The news was on, all depressing as usual but none of it felt as real as the mood in the room, tight enough to explode at any moment. My head felt alert while my body felt like lead; I tried to think myself out of the room.
    One minute my mind was focused on the screen, the next I imagined Dad watching the same thing in a hotel room somewhere. He had a beer in his hand, and was sitting on the edge of a strange bed. The background changed and he was in a new house with a different wife. I