Free Another Night in Mullet Town by Steven Herrick Page B

the cat still asleep on the chair.
    As I run down the back stairs
    I hear Ella’s dad calling her name.
    I sprint the length
    of the backyard
    and take the rear fence in a single bound,
    landing in the garden.
    I laugh nervously
    before strolling down the concrete path
    and walking home
    along Lake Road
    wondering why everything looks the same,
    when I know that
    it’s all changed
    forever
    and for the better.

Scrambled eggs
    When I get home
    Dad’s asleep on the lounge
    still in his work clothes,
    a blanket kicked off on the floor.
    His right hand covers his mouth
    as if in shock from hearing bad news.
    Perhaps he’s dreaming
    of driving a truck
    instead of riding a surfboard.
    I sit in the chair opposite
    trying hard to remember every moment
    of last night with Ella.
    I stare at Dad
    alone on the lounge
    and wonder why he didn’t sleep in the bed.
    I imagine how he must have felt
    that first night
    moving into this house with Mum
    when they were young.
    How they would have spent more time
    in the bedroom than in the kitchen.
    It’s not gross
    or stupid
    or unbelievable.
    It’s worth saving,
    worth remembering.
    Dad opens his eyes
    and attempts a smile,
    scratching his three-day growth.
    He struggles up from the lounge
    and searches for his boots,
    finding one under the lounge,
    the other near the television.
    He stretches,
    before walking into the kitchen
    and calling out behind him,
    â€˜Scrambled eggs make everything better.’

Grateful
    Dad has already set the table
    with plates and cutlery for both of us
    when I walk in.
    He stands at the stove
    keeping a close eye on the eggs.
    The toast pops
    and I place two slices on each plate.
    Dad heaps eggs beside the toast
    and pours us both tall glasses of juice.
    â€˜I didn’t hear you come in last night,’ he says.
    I scoop the runny mixture onto a fork
    and take a huge bite, chewing slowly.
    â€˜I stayed out,’ I answer.
    Dad raises an eyebrow.
    â€˜You and Manx causing trouble again?’
    I think of Manx, taking a swig of beer
    and offering the bottle to Rachel.
    I don’t want to lie to Dad,
    but what can I say?
    He adds extra salt and pepper to his eggs.
    â€˜I stayed at a friend’s place,’ I say.
    Please don’t ask me.
    Please don’t ask me.
    Dad looks at me for a long time.
    I pretend to be very interested in the eggs,
    and my hand reaches for the pepper grinder
    before I remember that I don’t like pepper.
    â€˜Well, I’ll be buggered,’ he says.
    He leans across and refills my glass
    before taking another mouthful of eggs.
    We eat slowly
    occasionally looking at each other and smiling.
    I’m grateful for the silence.

Too many of them
    In the early afternoon,
    I walk down to the lake
    to find Manx
    casting a line in our usual place.
    â€˜Hey, lover boy!’ says Manx.
    I blush.
    â€˜Have you caught any?’ I ask,
    to change the subject.
    â€˜Only weed –
    the type you can’t smoke,’ Manx answers.
    We sit together watching the line
    go slack in the breeze.
    â€˜Rachel told me
    you talked her out of leaving school,’ Manx says.
    â€˜It didn’t seem fair,’ I reply.
    â€˜There’s too many of them
    and not enough of us.’
    â€˜Did you hear the news?’ Manx asks.
    He points across the water
    to Patrick’s house at Tipping Point.
    Two men stand on a scaffold
    and blast a window
    smeared in graffiti
    with high-pressure hoses.
    I look sideways at Manx.
    â€˜Someone really doesn’t like Mr Lloyd-Davis.’
    I try not to laugh.
    â€˜How much do you reckon they charge?’ Manx asks,
    looking at me before adding,
    â€˜Double time on the weekend?’
    â€˜You thinking of asking for a cut?’ I ask.
    Manx whistles and slowly winds in the line
    before standing and casting once again
    far into the lake.

The one that got away
    An hour later,
    we watch a police car pull up
    outside Manx’s house.
    Two cops