Finding Abby

20

Ben's cheeks are rosy as he leans down, one arm halfway inside the oven fiddling with something. He's wearing our oven mitts and they look out of place on his long arms. All I can picture is the video of The Disappointed and his intense playing. And the song. The Silent Moth song.

I want to tell him everything; talk to him and let him tell me his stories about my dad. But, even though Mum's not there, I know she's lurking around somewhere and I can't relax. The radio is on and Ben is preparing what looks like a roast dinner – the chicken's already cooked and glossy in a pan on top of the oven. It smells divine – a healthy, rich, salty smell.

Under the noise of the radio the shower's running. That's where Mum is.

I keep hold of my pictures and the tape as Ben catches sigh of me in the doorway.

"Ah, you're home," he smiles over his shoulder at me like it's no big deal I stole his car and his credit card and disappeared for a few days. He puts the tray of chicken back inside the oven and shuts the door with his foot; tugs the mitts off, tossing them on the table. "Oven light doesn't work. Probably should've fixed it before I turned the oven on." He comes towards me and sees the pictures in my hands.

I pass them to him.

He casts his eyes over them then hands them back to me and reaches to touch my hand. "You okay?"

I shake my head.

He nods and I know he understands. "Van okay?"

I drag his car keys out of my pocket and hand them over. "I have your credit card too. And I owe you some money. I'll clean the van for you tomorrow."

"We can do it together." No anger; no telling me off. "And Claire?" he asks, dropping his keys on the table.

"Amazing."

Ben grins at me. "The best." He pushes a chopping board with some potatoes on it towards me. "You must be starving."

Putting the pictures and tape back in my pocket, I set in beside him with the potato peeler while he rinses broccoli at the sink.

"What have you been doing?" I ask, as I start into the spuds.

"Talking," he glances over at me. "A lot. We found a place in Warrnambool that helps with depression and P.T.S.D. – you know, grief and loss."

"Can we talk tonight?" I say, my eyes welling up. "With her? Before you leave?" I have to focus hard on the potatoes so I don't cut myself as my vision blurs. "Please?"

Ben turns off the tap; shakes the head of broccoli out. "Yes. I think so—"

He turns and I know Mum has come into the kitchen.

I don't turn.

"Hey Abs," Ben smiles, "feel better after a shower?"

She doesn't answer. I keep peeling the potatoes with my head down.

"Our traveller's back," he continues in his easy way. "I say we put the veggies on and retire to the lounge." He nudges my arm with his elbow; gives me a cheeky grin. "With an alcoholic beverage."

"I'm still only seventeen."

"Isn't your birthday coming up pretty fast?"

"Yeah."

"I'm a responsible adult, I'll look out for you."

"You're a bad influence," I say.

Ben chuckles and puts the broccoli next to my chopping board. He tells my mum to pour some wine and go sit in the lounge by the fire.

I stare at him with his laid-back bossiness and wish he could stay with us forever.

***

The room is filled with the snug glow of the fire, but the coldness between my mum and I can't be overcome by it or Ben's cheeriness. Mum sits on the lounge chair next to the fire with her legs tucked under her. She looks so young. Her cheeks are dots of pink and she's got the tartan blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She's had her eyes fixed on the fire ever since Ben and I came in. The words from her journal are running through my head. Her words. But they don't make me feel any different towards her. She may have loved my dad a lot but that doesn't excuse her from hiding him and his family away from me for seventeen years.

Ben spreads himself out on the couch next to me with his legs wide and his arm across the back of it; hand clutching a glass of red wine. He's so easy. So vast. His presence is as immense as a full moon between the storm clouds that are my Mum and I. I adore him. I wonder if my dad was as magnetic as he is. I reckon he was—even more so—one of those people who fills the space with their spark and, when they're gone, the room seems bare and drab like someone got the lighting all wrong. That seems overwhelming to me so I picture Finn and wonder if, in twenty years, this will be me and Finn, sitting together in a cosy lounge room, gazing at each other across the warm, flickering firelight. I wish I had my phone with me. I want to see if Finn has messaged me back. I wish he was here. Instead, I take a tentative sip of the red wine I've been handed by Ben. It's strong and weird tasting. It seeps down inside me but goes straight to my cheeks as well.

"So, Abby," Ben says to Mum, "Jenna met Claire."

Okay. He's straight out with it. No pussy-footing around. I like it. I lift my eyes to my mum. She doesn't look up at me; twists her wine glass in a circle on the arm of her chair.

I help Ben out.

"She told me everything," I say to him. "Everything she could, anyway. There's still lots I don't know."

"Did she tell you about the song?" Ben asks, his eyes glittering at me.

"About Silent Moth covering it? And how you helped my dad write it?" I shift my eyes to my mum. "And how it's about ... Mum?"

Mum sits there, twisting her wine glass around. Her mouth is set and the fire is dancing in her dark eyes. I know we've already pushed it too far. Surprisingly, Ben keeps going.

"So, Ollie Glass from Silent Moth," Ben says casually, tapping my shoulder with his finger, "I speak to him every year. When they asked me if they could record the song that Matty—your dad—and me wrote, Matty's family made sure we'd would get all the royalties – everything. All the performance and distribution rights. The lot. Every time Silent Moth plays that song or it's on the radio or someone downloads it. The band signed it all over to me and Matty's parents. And Matty's parents—your grandparents—decided to put his half into an account for you, Jenna."

I frown. This was news.

My mum lifts her glass and it trembles. She takes a slow sip. "It's for when you turn eighteen," she says, her voice wavering slightly. She still doesn't look at me. "I was going to give it to you on your birthday."

"And the money keeps rolling in," Ben nods at Mum. "It's not a million bucks or anything. But it's meant I can work on the reef and travel and still play music and not worry about money. And Abby wants you to do whatever you want with it, right Abs? Pay for college. Travel. Whatever."

My forehead aches from where I'm frowning too hard. "But ... Mum, why didn't you use the money? You didn't need to work so hard ... we could've—"

Ben puts his hand on my shoulder. "It was a choice Abby made."

I close my mouth.

Mum unfolds her legs and rearranges herself on the lounge chair. She seems solid. Stable. I'm astounded this is going so well. So far, so good.

"And," Ben says, glancing between me and Mum, "Abby has something else to tell you."

I put my glass on the coffee table and hug my knees to my chest so I don't feel the need to run off. If Finn were here, he'd ground me; reassure me I don't need to flee. I wonder what the hell Ben did to get Mum to this state where she's going to actually open up to me. Ben's hand is back on my shoulder. I twist my dad's friendship band around my wrist waiting for Mum to speak. She takes another sip of wine before she bends down and puts her glass on the slate tiles under the fireplace.

And I wait for her to speak.