Free The Sky So Heavy by Claire Zorn

laundry detergent. I started to take pride in keeping the kitchen orderly, didn’t let the dirty plates stack up. Mornings were for the maintenance of the living space, afternoons free time. Free. Ha.
    We waited for the army to show up again or the police with Dad. Neither did.
    Mick came round again. Not as rectangular any more. A full beard. He told me Zac had bad asthma and Ellen had been vomiting. He had put chains on the tyres of his car and was going to take her and Zac to find a doctor.
    ‘Can’t Doctor Ketterly help?’ I asked. ‘At number nine? He’s a surgeon or something.’
    Mick shook his head, he’d clearly been down that road and it had worn him out. ‘Zac needs medication, and Ellen . . . he says he can’t help her. I’m going to try the hospital.’
    He paused after he said that. He cleared his throat and looked away.
    ‘Look, mate, you seem like a good kid.’
    I didn’t know what to say.
    ‘I’ve got a box of canned stuff. I’ve been saving it, rationing it in case . . . You . . . you can have it if you look after Zadie for me.’
    I opened my mouth but he put up his hands.
    ‘I was going to ask Mrs White but she’s not well either. I’m worried that if I take Zadie and we get stuck in the snow, well, we’ll all be . . . cactus. Zadie likes you. She’s a good little kid. She’s out of nappies––’
    ‘I don’t know how to look after a kid.’
    ‘Please mate. Please. I’ll try not to be long. I don’t know what else to do. I can’t look after the three of them.’ He smiled sadly. ‘I’m up to my elbows in vomit.’
    Beneath the beard and the big shoulders, Mick wasn’t that much older than me, maybe ten years. He stood with his feet set apart and let out a ragged breath.
    ‘Okay,’ I said. I didn’t let myself consider it too long. Max would think I’d lost my mind. I clearly had. After I told Mick I would look after Zadie and he went back to his place to get her, I reassured myself that when he came back I would tell him that I was really sorry, but there was no way I could do it. Except when he brought her around I failed to communicate this with the words that came out of my mouth: ‘No worries, it’ll be fine.’ I found myself standing in the living room with a three-year-old and a giant My Little Pony that was neither mine nor little. Oh, and Max who was somewhere between angry and amused at my stupidity.
    ‘What are we supposed to do with her?’ Max asked.
    Zadie pointed to the fire and said in a very serious voice, ‘Das da fire. You don touch da fire tis vewy, vewy hot.’
    ‘Yeah, that’s right!’ I said to her in a happy voice.
    ‘Fin, we’ll have to share our food with her!’
    ‘We’ve got enough, Max. I couldn’t say no.’
    ‘No dah.’
    ‘Whosat?’ Zadie said and pointed to Max.
    ‘That’s Max.’
    ‘You Fim,’ Zadie said, pointing to me.
    ‘Yes, Fin.’
    ‘Iz snowing outside. Ba you don touch da snow. Mummy touch da snow too much and den she chucked up.’
    Zadie sat down on the floor and started to play with the buckle on her shoes.
    Max and I looked at each other.
    ‘Does that mean what I think it does, Fin?’
    ‘I don’t know.’
    ‘Fin?’
    ‘Max, I don’t know.’
    ‘Shit.’
    ‘Yeah.’

Thirteen
    I found our old Duplo in the garage and brought it in for Zadie to play with. That seemed to keep her occupied for a fair while and it was kind of nice having her there. It passed the time. In the afternoon she fell asleep sitting up surrounded by a sea of coloured plastic blocks, so I arranged the cushions from the sofa into a bed next to the fire and tucked her in with my old Transformers doona. She slept for over an hour and Max and I found ourselves just sitting there, waiting for her to wake up. When she did she saw us and started to cry. It wasn’t just a few sobs either, it was distraught screaming as if she was in pain. I checked her all over, looking for some kind of injury but then Max put her up on his shoulders