I leave the library an hour later and head off through the midday streets. It's a cool, crisp kind of day, but there's still some sun in the air. At the waterfront there are a few dozen sunbathers and some guys kite surfing out in the bay. I watch for a while, reluctant to head home, but feeling separate from it all, closed off. Eventually, feeling heavy, I turn and head up the steps towards my home.
The first thing I do when I get in is check in on Mum. She's asleep, still. There's a fair chance that she hasn't even gotten up this morning. I take a moment to tidy up her bedside table, bring her a fresh glass of water and slip the crumpled foil of sleeping tablets back in the box. I pull the blanket up to her chin and close a gap in the curtains before I leave.
Dad must still be out at work, and so I might as well be alone in the house. I make myself a meal from the freezer, eat in front of the TV and then, suddenly and inexplicably exhausted, head upstairs and collapse onto my bed. Ten minutes of staring at the ceiling thinking of Lynch, and then I'm asleep.
I don't wake up until later, when there's a noise from downstairs. It's evening, now, and so I get up and turn on the light, blinking in the sudden brightness. Downstairs, dad is leaning against the wall. He looks up at me as I approach, eyes unfocussed.
"Whu . . ." he starts to speak, then closes his mouth and swallows audibly. He's drunk, again. Third time this week he's come home after work barely sober enough to stand on his own. With Mum still asleep in bed it looks like I'm the only one who's really here. Again.
"Hey, dad," I say quietly. And all I can think of is Darren, and the girl, Lynch, and those empty spaces people leave when they go.
I have to do something.
I just have to.
