Laene Dabek

Seventeen Years Earlier
 
   She drove as quickly as she could, squeezing into gaps and weaving between lanes. Red lights, roadworks and Sydney peak hour all conspired against her. Outside, cars slowed to a crawl. Inside the radio pumped out mindless music, until the newsreader interrupted the incessant drone.

   “The NSW regional town of Burton is in shock today after a tragic accident resulted in 2 deaths and at least 15 injuries, many critical.  Residents of the small town were returning from a day excursion, when the coach they were travelling in collided with a train at a level crossing.  Police attending the scene have described the accident as catastrophic, saying the aftermath is reminiscent of a warzone.’

   Carol jabbed at the radio button to silence the woman.

   Her head buzzed. Her vision blurred.

   Behind her a hairy man in a silver Ute leant on his horn and flipped her the finger, startling her to action. She gunned the accelerator and burst through a traffic light as it flicked to red.

   “Catastrophic” she said aloud, feeling the word sour on her tongue.
   Funny, she thought, that’s what they said when they called me.
   Her cheeks felt wet, and she tasted salt.
   Crying? 
Angrily, she wiped her eyes with her shirtsleeve and grabbed the steering wheel, her knuckles turning white with the force of her grip.

The sedan in front stopped abruptly at a give-way. Slamming on her brakes, her car skidded to a halt.
   Breathe, she told herself, just breathe.
    In.
Out.
    In.
Out.
   Carol forced herself to focus, and as the car in front pulled into the stream of traffic she quickly followed. road. She indicated and made a sharp right.  At the next roundabout she took the left exit.
   Just ahead a sign pointed to the hospital they had taken her mother to.

 
 
 
Beautiful Day
 
Nancy loved Thursdays.
It was her day with Sally.  Of all her regular roster of carers, Sally was definitely her favourite.
Every Thursday, like clockwork, Sally would arrive at exactly 9.10 right after she had dropped her little girl at the local primary school. She would let herself into the house, calling,
“Morning Nancy, beautiful day, isn’t it?”

It was kind of their special thing.  It could be pouring rain or 36 degrees outside, but it was always a beautiful day, Sally said, because they would spend it together.  Sally would take her to the hairdresser or the nail salon, and after lunch to her knitting group.

Just the sound of her key in the door made Nancy happy, she would hear the lock twist, and she knew that soon Sally would burst into the bedroom with her bright cheery grin and their beautiful day would begin.
She was a big, strong, capable girl and she could transfer Nancy from bed to shower to wheelchair as if she weighed no more than a feather, she never mentioned the stumps where the old lady’s legs had been or the scars on her body from a sad day so long ago, and she never treated Nancy with anything but respect and kindness. She had other carers who came, grumbling and moaning about their bad backs and sore knees, they really didn’t care about her, just the paycheque they would get at the end of the shift. Nancy knew deep in her stomach that pitied her, poor, sad, deformed old biddy, it showed in their eyes – the way they looked at her, they didn’t even try to hide it: but not Sally.

Nancy flushed with embarrassment when she remembered the very first day that Sally had visited.  Carol had walked in the door, home from work to see her mother, sitting in the family room crying.
“Mum what happened? Did that new girl hurt you?” Carol was furious, her poor mum was distraught, “Tell me what she did, I’m going to report her.”
When she finally managed to stop calm herself, Nancy blew her nose and dabbed at her eyes,
“Oh Darling, she was so lovely. I just had the most beautiful day.”
She’ll never forget the puzzled look on Carol’s face “Then why are you crying Mum?”
“What will I do if she doesn’t come back?” Nancy had asked her eyes glittering with unshed tears.
But she had, and she had been coming every Thursday for 3 years now.
 
Gotta love a Thursday, thought Carol as she bounded down the front ramp.
At 6am, the sun was barely awake and the brisk air bit at her face as she stepped onto the street, pulling the old dog behind her. At the end of path, he plopped down, belligerently and raised his nose to the sky, smelling the morning. Buttoning up her coat against the chill, she urged in that high pitched voice saved for babies and animals, “Come on Deano, Walkies!” tugging gently on his leash.
He tilted his head, yawned and rose slowly to his feet, giving off ‘too early for me’ vibes and a definite stink eye. Deano plodded along slowly, head down examining the footpath as if looking for gold. Four houses up he stopped, staring at the front door with its peeling blue paint, and tilted his head – “I know mate, but he’s not there, is he?” Carol told him, bending to scratch that special spot behind his ear.
Sid’s house.
Every morning was the same. Deano was her dog now, had been since Sid died in his sleep 5 years ago, at the grand old age of 92. She had no idea how old Deano was, but she was sure he was no pup. The old bloke had been sailor, settling into a landlocked house when he retired, he spent his golden years sitting on the porch with his faithful dog at his side. Sid was happy to have a chat with anyone who passed by his fence and would tell anyone that would listen,
“This dog, here, is a pedigree Blue Cattle Dog, best papers - just not much of a worker”.
Just like Sid really.  She had a soft spot for the pair of them, and when age caught up with the sailor, bowing his old man legs and stooping his back, Carol took over dog walking duties. Using it as an excuse for exercise as well as a reason to leave the house sometimes, Carol had been more than happy to take the stubborn beast out for a daily walk. He was more grey than blue now, but he still enjoyed a walk and sniff and a rub on chest by whoever passed by.  He was the man of the house at home, managing to rouse his aching bones to bark at odd noises and curling into a tight ball at the bottom Nancy’s chair when he fell asleep. 
When the dog was absolutely, positively, certain that no magic trick had brought back his beloved Sid, he strolled away from the house at his old dog pace, struggling to stay beside her, stopping to investigate every other tree and lift his leg to let out an invisible stream of pee.  As they turned the last corner to head back home, even old Deano looked like he was smiling.
 
“Morning Mum,” she called as she pushed open the bedroom door. “Brought you your breakfast.”
Nancy was already awake, sitting up in bed reading a trashy romance novel. Deano followed her from the kitchen, pushing past Carol he plodded up to place his head on the bed for Nancy to pat him, giving her the big puppy dog eyes that she loved.
“Hello Darling Boy” she said stoking his head “and Darling Daughter, did you have a good walk?” the old dog practically purred with contentment, his tail thumping against the bed.
“It was lovely, still cold though.”
Carol placed the breakfast tray on the table beside the bed, and helped her mum to get comfortable, piling extra pillows behind her so she was sitting upright.
Nancy shifted her weight, pulling herself up by the bar that hung from a chain above her bed.
“Thank you honey,” she smiled as her daughter placed the tray loaded with tea and toast on her lap and placed a kiss on her forehead. Deano looked lovingly at the buttered toast, knowing that Nancy was soft touch and would give him the crusts the minute Carol left the room.
“All right I’m off to the shower. And Deano” she cautioned the dog “that is not your breakfast!”
Thursday kept Carol sane, it was the one day she went to the office and did “normal” people things like drinking coffee with Angela the Officer Manager while they gossiped about reality tv stars and going to lunch with Karen the receptionist and stopping to look in the store windows as they strolled slowly back to the office. Every other day she worked from the small desk in her bedroom, keeping an eye on the carers that came to shower and dress her mother and an ear out for when Nancy called for her.  But Sally was coming today, Carol didn’t have to worry about her mum at all, she knew she was safe and happy having a lovely time until she returned home from work at 5.30.  Dinner would be on the stove and Nancy would be in her favourite chair watching the early news, ready to tell her what a wonderful day she had.
Every other week Sally and Sienna would stay for dinner and the four of them would sit and share their meal, just like a little family. 
 
“Hello, my sweetie, did you have a good day?” Sally kissed the top daughter’s head, whisps of hair had escaped from their pigtails and tickled her nose as she helped Sienna wiggle out of her backpack. I swear this thing gets heavier every day, she thought, what is she carrying? Bricks?  She tossed it in the back of the SUV and lifted the child into her car safety seat.
“Oh Yes, it was very nice, thank you” she smiled back.  They had been working on her manners, and Sally could tell that the little one was very proud of her grown up response.
“OK, buckle up, Buttercup. Time to get Nancy.”
She watched Sienna carefully place her seatbelt straps over her shoulders and push them into the clip. Sally tugged on them to make sure they were locked in and secure.
“Off we go.” She called jumping in the driver’s side.
Outside the Scout Hall, Nancy was sitting with her friend Helen waiting to be collected, their weekly knitting group had just finished, and several other ladies gathered in the shade until husbands and daughters came to drive them home.  Scott, Helen’s son pulled into the parking spot behind her and gave a friendly wave when he caught her eye.  Nancy liked to sit in the back seat of the big car, it made her feel more normal than sitting in the back of the large, modified van that Carol drove, so Sally wheeled Nancy over and lifted her out and into the rear seat in one swift movement, before expertly folding the wheelchair and stowing it in the cargo bay.  The old lady settled herself and smiled over at her fellow passenger.
“Well Miss Sienna, how lovely to see you” she beamed.
“Miss Nancy, lovely to see you too” she giggled back as she stretched out her skinny little arm. Nancy reached out across the empty middle seat and took the young one’s hand in hers, ready for the trip home.
Back at the house, settled in the family room, Sienna buzzed around excitedly, Nancy’s dog Deano watched silently from a safe distance, following her with his eyes.
“Nancy Look, Nancy Guess what?”  taking Nancy’s wrinkled hands in her own tiny ones she sat closely and told her stories about her day.  From her little, purple, unicorn backpack, she pulled her treasures.
‘This is a painting I did” she explained flashing the artwork before Nancy’s eyes, then delving back for the next item.
“And I did a whole word puzzle,” waving it like a flag and finally she reached deep into her bag and discovered the squashed banana that was hiding right at the bottom.
“Ooh!” she exclaimed as the soft fruit oozed through her fingers; her eyes grew large with the horror of it.
“Sienna, really!” Her mother marched her down to the bathroom to wash it off, as Nancy chuckled loudly.
“Time for homework” Sally said when they returned, and she settled the little girl down at the table to do her spelling words and numbers. When she was finished, she read aloud from her school reader, a bright child, she was already reading way above her class level, sounding out the words she didn’t know and gliding easily over the one’s she did. In the kitchen her mother chopped vegetables and prepared dinner for Nancy and Carol.
The sound of the little voice pulled at her heartstrings. Nancy loved that little girl like the granddaughter she never had. At 6 years old Sienna was smart, and kind and delightfully funny. Nancy loved slotting into the grandma sized gap in her life and was secretly thrilled when she was invited to grandparents’ day at Kindy last year. Sometimes, the little one even called her “Nan” for short, and she thought her heart would just burst.
She knew there was no family, no–one but Sally. One day she told her that she ran away to Burton.
“I was with a bloke for a very long time, and he was a good guy, until the drugs got hold of him and one day, he was off his face, and he beat me.  Once was enough, I wasn’t stupid enough to let him have a second go. I left and here I am”
It broke Nancy’s heart to think of that horrid man hurting such a beautiful soul.
At 5pm, when dinner was cooking on the stove and the homework was done, Sally made sure that Nancy was comfortable in her favourite lounge chair with a cup of tea and nice biscuit, before she left for the day. Before leaving, she leant down and kissed her softly on the cheek.
“Thank you for a beautiful day, Nancy, I will see you next week.”
“Bye Nanc, see you next week” Sienna called, blowing her kisses as she walked backwards down the hallway “love you!”
Even the dog loved Sally, she always put aside the fat she cut off the meat just for him.
 
It was getting dark by the time Carol was turning her keys in the front door lock.  The sun had gently lowered, and a slight late winter chill had taken hold. The promise of Spring still just a whisper.
“I’m home” she called as she pushed the door open. She tossed her keys in the bowl on the hall table and slipped out of her high heels, into the Ugg boots that waited by the door where she had left them.  In the back room she could hear the evening news on the TV.  “Home Mum”, she called again.
It wasn’t unusual to find her mum had nodded off while waiting for her. But then the sound of an almighty howl pierced the house. Low and deep, the bellow resonated to her very soul.
“Deano” she cried as she rushed through the house, “Pup what’s wrong?”
But the minute she reached the threshold of the family room she knew.
Nancy sat, slumped in her chair, a thin line of dribble down the front of her shirt.  Her tea sat luke-warm in its china teacup – a half-eaten biscuit on the saucer –and beside her Deano continued his mournful song.  In the kitchen, dinner simmered on the cooktop, and the rich aroma of beef and tomatoes filled the air. Beyond the kitchen window the darkness was now complete, and the night enveloped them like a cold shroud.
   “Oh Mummy” she uttered under her breath.
Carol knelt beside her mother, a sad smile on her face, and took Nancy’s hands in hers and kissed each one, before placing them back in her lap.  With the back of her hand, she wiped away the silent tears that slid down her cheeks. 
Stunned and shaking, she folded herself to the ground at her mother’s chair. Gently curling herself around Deano, feeling the pitiful cries resonating from deep within his belly, she whispered softly in his ear.
  “It’s OK Deano, it was her time,” all the while, cooing to him like a mother to a child, chasing away a nightmare.
It was an hour or more before Carol rose stiffly from the floor.  Deano had finally quietened, snuffling and snoring in an uneasy slumber. Moving like a sleepwalker, she went to her mother’s bedroom and picked up Nancy’s favourite crochet rug, and scooped up the blanket from Deano’s bed, shutting the door behind her.   Careful not to wake him, she wrapped the old dog in his blanket, then lovingly placed the rug over her mother’s lap. Carol padded solemnly down the corridor to the bathroom and gathered her mother’s hairbrush and hand cream.  For one last time, she gently brushed her mother’s silver hair, then she caressed Nancy’s hands – her nails freshly painted a pale pink. As she rubbed the lotion into her mother’s hands, she said a silent goodbye- praying that Nancy knew how much she loved her, what a lovely mother she had been. The daughter closed her eyes and imprinted on her memory the feel of her mother’s skin, the touch she would not have again.
When her farewell was complete, she walked numbly to the kitchen and turned off the cooktop, the beef stew almost boiled dry. Trance-like, Carol headed back up the hall to find her handbag, digging inside she pulled out her phone and called the ambulance, then she slid down the wall, her legs no longer able to hold her upright, sat by the front door, wept and waited.