Free All I Ever Wanted by Vikki Wakefield

making me blink.
    The bucket and the blanket are empty. The beast is gone.

TEN
    There’s not much that can wake me before ten during the holidays, but I hear Mum up and around and that’s strange enough to make me curious. What’s even stranger is she’s got the vacuum going. My head thumps and I have that reckless feeling again. The one I get when things are out of control.
    I send Tahnee a text. I’m sorry I left you there last night. Hope you got home ok. I need to talk to you. Ring me.
    I know she wouldn’t have snapped if she hadn’t been off her face. I know she would be on my side if I had told her the whole story. If I tell her about Jordan and what he did, we’ll get back to the way we used to be. No more secrets.
    My finger still aches, but it could just be in my head. I don’t get it. Why does he hate me so much? Why did he give Kate my address if he didn’t want us to hang out? Somewhere deep, I can feel the slow burn of anger begin to snuff out the rest—my anxiety about my brothers, my shame about the package, the desolation I feel when I think about him. Mum’s indifference. Gargoyle’s desertion. I should feel relief about that, but I don’t.
    The smell of real coffee seeps under my door. Now I’m really suspicious. That means Mum’s actually opened something she’s bought and she’s using it.
    From the look of the kitchen, I can see she’s been at it for hours. The bench is uncluttered, the dishes are clean and the rubbish has been taken out. It smells of Windex and bleach. A stainless-steel coffee machine is hissing and spitting like a rabid camel and Mum’s swearing at it, trying to jam a glass pot where it obviously doesn’t fit.
    â€˜What’s going on?’
    â€˜I’m making coffee. What’s it look like?’
    â€˜Since when do we drink real coffee?’
    I check the lounge room: there are places to stand and sit, matching coasters on the table, tracks on the carpet. And she’s flipped the couch cushions, I can tell, because they’re cleaner than the back and the arms.
    â€˜No, I mean what’s going on?’
    â€˜Stop asking stupid questions, Mim, and help me with this bloody thing.’ She slams the pot on the sink. ‘Nothing goes back the same way.’ Her hands are shaking.
    â€˜Is it the boys?’
    â€˜No, they’re fine. I’m going in tomorrow, if you want to come.’
    â€˜Are you going to explain to me why our house is clean?’
    â€˜No. And I need you to be out today. All day. And make sure your room’s tidy.’
    This doesn’t happen very often. When it does, it means that there’s a ‘meeting’. Stuff that I shouldn’t overhear. Hushed conversation with hard-looking men who don’t take their boots off at the door for anybody, not even Mother Dodd. Feeney never comes to our house although he’s been a constant in our life since I was a pre-schooler. Like a Godfather. But Mum never deals without the protection of the boys and they aren’t here. Suspicion cranks in my gut like a rabbit trap. Something funny is going on. Nobody who attends the meetings gets real coffee or matching coasters.
    â€˜Are we okay, Mum?’
    I think, for a moment, she actually sees me.
    â€˜We’ll be okay, Mim. There’s just going to be a few changes around here.’ She gets the pot in the right place and gives it a nod.
    â€˜Coffee?’
    I laugh because she’s got as much chance of getting coffee out of that machine as she would have getting milk out of a bull. I pour myself an instant and she’s not offended.
    â€˜Oh, Benny brought your bike over last night.’
    â€˜Did he?’ I say casually, but my tongue feels like I could choke on it. I don’t want the goddamn bike. Surely someone would have taken it by now? ‘What did he say?’
    â€˜You know Benny. He parked it around the side,