Free The Story of Tom Brennan by J.C. Burke Page A

grow a decent tomato.
    'The boys are back,' she announced as we walked in.
    'How's Fin doing?'
    'Not too bad,' answered Brendan, heading to the fridge.
    'Yeah?'
    And it was back to tiptoeing and pretending. Brendan didn't want to say how bad Fin really was because it'd upset Dad and it wasn't his fault. But then Dad couldn't tell Brendan, or probably anyone for that matter, what state Daniel was in because the general consensus was that Daniel deserved what he got.
    I left them to their game and wandered down the hall. The door to the oldies' room was just open, and through the hinges I could see Mum sitting on the bed probably planning her twenty-fifth attempt at coming back to life.
    After she'd seen Daniel, you'd always notice a spring in her step. Well, it was really a plod, but at least she was vertical. Sometimes it lasted a day. Once it lasted two, until she decided it was all too hard, surrendered, and headed back under the covers to the preferred horizontal position.
    I stood there waiting for the invitation. I couldn't just barge in yelling, 'Hey, remember me? Tom, the middle one.' Besides, I wasn't even sure she wanted to see me.
    She was so different these days, so fragile. She'd been a good mum and it was torture seeing her like this. But I missed her.
    She looked over and saw me standing there.
    'Tom?'
    'Yeah?'
    'How – how was your day?'
    I stood there, watching her rub her eyes and rake her fingers through hair that looked like it hadn't been brushed in weeks.
    'Why are you standing there?' Her voice was husky.
    'Dunno.'
    'Come in and talk to me.'
    I stepped into the doorway. Mum shuffled up the bed.
    'Come over here,' she said, patting the mattress. 'I've hardly seen you.'
    Yeah, well, it's a bit hard to see anything when you're down the bottom of the bed, I wanted to say, but more than that I wanted to be close to her, to hear her voice, smell her skin, and feel her hand smoothing my hair like when I was a kid.
    I climbed onto the bed. She didn't smell like Mum. It was more like an old person smell – stale and still. I breathed through my mouth. She reached out her hand and touched my cheek. Her fingertips were cold on my skin.
    'Let me look at you,' she said. 'I miss you.'
    'Well . . . I've been here.'
    'I know.' Mum closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip. 'I'm, I'm just not doing so well.'
    'How's Daniel?'
    She sighed, long and heavy. I wished I hadn't mentioned him.
    'He's very down,' she swallowed. 'They're thinking of moving him.'
    'Where to?'
    'Somewhere.' She pressed her cracked lips together. 'Somewhere we can visit him more.'
    'They're moving him from Westleigh?'
    'Just to a different wing.'
    I could smell the tiptoe game a mile off.
    'You're saying they want to keep a better eye on him, aren't you?'
    She nodded. 'You've always been one step ahead. You and Kylie both have. So what did I do wrong with my firstborn?'
    'Mum, don't. It was an accident.'
    'Well, so they say. But I just can't help wondering sometimes.'
    'Mum.' I reached over and held her hand. She closed her eyes and the tiniest of tears slipped down her face. 'Don't, Mum.'
    'Daniel was behind the wheel,' she whispered. 'And he had no right to be.'
    She was right. The knowledge made me want to tear my insides out. 'Why?' I choked. 'Why did he have to go and ruin – everything?'
    'Please, Tom.' She gripped my wrist firmly and I knew I shouldn't have said those words. 'Don't.' Mum squeezed tighter. 'Don't say that about him.'
    Things weren't much better in Kylie's room. The music was bouncing off the walls and Saint Rose of Lima looked like she was about to end up a shattered heap on the floor.
    I picked up the CD cover on her desk.
    'Audioslave,' Kylie shouted.
    She was sitting on the floor staring in the mirror. She leant over and turned the music off.
    'I hate my hair,' she said.
    'I hate my life.'
    'I hate my life too.'
    'I said it first.'
    'So.'
    Kylie moved over to the window and lit a ciggie.
    'When did you start smoking?'
    'I've