3

The Goodbye

Instead of reading his newspaper over his breakfast, Em’s dad was thumbing through the instruction booklet for a new cordless phone. Em’s mum was making an instant coffee in the kitchen. Em planted her Doc Martens on the vinyl tiles where she could see both of them. “I’m leaving. Tomorrow.” She saw both of them look at her, a little surprised by her tone of voice. “I’m going to university.”

“Oh,” her dad said, raising his eyebrows. “I didn’t know…” but Em’s mum cut him off.

“University?”

“Yep,” Em said. “I’m leaving tomorrow. Early.”

“Oh,” her dad said again, a little curious. “Which university? What course?”

Em shrugged. “It’s not in Adelaide.”

Her mother’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. This gave Em a large measure of satisfaction.

“If you’re wondering how I’m getting there, I bought myself a car last week and I’m picking it up this afternoon. It’s an Audi.”

 Em’s dad closed the instruction booklet. “Is it good? I could have gone with you. I could have checked it.”

Em’s mum stalked around the kitchen counter toward the table. “Your Dad’s right, Manessa. You should have gotten him to check it. How do you know you didn’t buy a lemon? You should have bought mine.”

“I don’t want your car. I want my car,” Em snapped. It felt good.

“Did you get a REVS check? Is there money owing on it?”

“It’s fine,” Em said, and the steel in her tone silenced her mother. “So today is my last day in the shop. I’m finishing at three to pick up my car.”

When she left the kitchen and went downstairs, her hands were shaking.

A few times during work, Em’s mum came down to the shop, but Em made herself busy and was careful to not make eye contact until her mum went back upstairs.

At five minutes to three, Em paid herself what she was owed from the till and left a note. The twenty cent piece she had retrieved from the floor yesterday was in the till by itself. She considered taking it as a bonus, just to make a point, but decided not to. She wanted to leave fair and square.

At three o’clock, Em looked across at Jan. “Okay, I’m off,” she said. She washed her hands in the small sink, wiped them on a hand-towel, picked up her purse from the back room and walked out the front door, between the plastic streamers.

And that was it.

She walked through town, feeling free, feeling a little lost. The car was within walking distance from town, but to get to it she could take a shortcut footpath along the creek. The concrete path took her beneath tall trees, and it was nice to be out of the sun.

Her car was out the front, parked on the lawn, waiting for her. It was a red coupe, with a black interior, and the beads of water from its recent wash beaded on its smooth paint. Em couldn’t help but give a shiver of delight. That’s my car! she told herself.

She knocked on the screen door and caught a whiff of air-conditioned air and screaming toddlers from inside. A minute later the owner emerged, wiping food from his mouth. “Hi,” Em said, unable to hide her excitement. She held up her purse. “I’ve got the rest of the money here.”

The guy nodded and retrieved the paperwork from a stand in the hallway, then he helped her sign in the right places. Em couldn’t help but stare at his neck tattoo as he counted out her money. When he was done, he passed her the keys. “Good luck,” he said.

Em popped the central locking and got into the car. The black interior was pristine and the seat wrapped around her like a hug. It smelled new and clean and wonderful. When she started the engine, it purred. She turned the AC up full blast, set the radio to Triple J, checked her mirrors and pulled onto the road. It was nothing like Mum’s white Corolla.

The goodbye the next morning was forced and awkward. Em stood out in the alley next to her car. Em’s doona, pillow and hanging clothes were mashed up against the window and the car was running, blowing a stream of early morning condensation into the air.

“It’s a long drive to Melbourne,” Em’s mum said brightly, wiping tears from her face, then added, “I’ll miss you, my baby!” She drew Em into a hug, and Em couldn’t help but remember the twenty cent piece under the counter and her cheek pressed against the wet tile floor. She was glad when the hug was over and her mum drew back. Her dad hung back, nodding and smiling and nodding and shaking his white hands. He was never good at emotions, and Em could see that he would be just as relieved as her when she got into the car.

Em didn’t know why her mum assumed it was Melbourne she was going to. She had never given any hint as to which university it was, and her parents hadn’t pressed her. Melbourne was just a guess.

“Don’t forget to call!” Her mum said, and Em just smiled tightly and waved. Then she drove away and tooted her horn at the corner.

“I’m glad that’s over,” she said to herself and her voice sounded strangely loud. She turned the radio up and tried not to think of the final glimpse she had of her father in the rear vision mirror, his hands hanging limply at his belt, or of her mother, standing firm like a tense bar fridge.