Sweet Damage Read Free Page A

can stay working at the restaurant. So you don’t have to go and get a proper job. It’s like you’re avoiding life. Real life.’
    Now I can’t hide my irritation. ‘She has panic attacks. It’s not that big a deal. And I’m not avoiding life, I just don’t know what I want to do yet. I’m just . . . bloody hell, Dad, I’m just—
    â€™ ‘Just what?’ he interrupts. ‘You’ve got brains. Why don’t you use them? Why don’t you take advantage of all the good things you’ve been given? Make some kind of effort to get ahead?’
    â€˜Get ahead?’ I stare at him. ‘I don’t even know what that means.’
    â€˜Okay, mate.’ Dad sighs, goes back to pushing beer bottles into the fridge. ‘Whatever you say.’
    I like working at the restaurant. I like working nights and having my days free. I don’t want a job that causes me stress, that follows me home like a needy dog and whines at me all night long. But not a day passes without Dad saying something about me making an effort to find a proper career, choosing some kind of definite direction in life.
    We work in silence for a while. When I’ve emptied two cases of VB I stand up, head for the kitchen.
    â€˜So when are you moving in?’ Dad calls out behind me.
    â€˜Tomorrow.’
    *
    The restaurant opens at five-thirty and by four I’ve done all the prep I can. I go out front, find Dad sitting at a table doing paperwork.
    â€˜You forgot to have that beer,’ he says. ‘Do you want to sit down, have one with me now?’
    When I was a kid I considered myself guardian of my father’s happiness. If he invited me to go fishing, I’d go with him, even though I hated the slimy worms, the stench of the fish, the torment of seeing them drown in air. If he was watching a movie, or a documentary on TV, or the news, I’d sit with him and pretend I was interested too. I thought he’d miss me if I wasn’t close to him – at least that’s what I told myself – but then I heard him talking to Mum one night, when he thought I was asleep.
    Can’t shake him off at the moment, poor little fella. Always stuck to me like a clam. He’s a bit of a needy little thing, isn’t he? Needs a lot of love. A lot of attention.
    His words made me cringe with embarrassment and since then, I’d felt a lot freer to go my own way, do my own thing.
    â€˜Nah,’ I say. ‘I might just go for a quick surf before service.’
    Dad lifts his hand in assent, doesn’t even look up from his papers.
    *
    When I get home the flat is quiet, but Lilla has left a lamp on for me in the lounge. I go straight to the kitchen and open the fridge as quietly as I can, reaching into the back, where I keep my beer.
    â€˜Can I have one of those?’ Lilla appears in the kitchen. Her hair is messy from bed and she’s wearing this black nightie thing, all lacy and revealing. When she stretches her arms up over her head, yawning, the bottom of the skirt lifts indecently high and I have to turn away.
    â€˜Only if you get dressed,’ I say.
    She rolls her eyes, but when she joins me in the lounge room a few minutes later she’s wearing an enormous old T-shirt that hangs to her knees. She still looks hot. It’s still hard to keep my eyes off her. She sits on the couch, legs crossed, beer in hand.
    â€˜So, did you get the room?’ she asks. ‘What’s it like? A total hole?’
    â€˜I got it and it’s not a hole,’ I say. I consider telling her about the house, how impressive it is, but decide not to. It’ll be much cooler to surprise her with the real thing. ‘Why? You didn’t think I would?’
    She shrugs. ‘I wasn’t sure you’d even try.’
    â€˜Well, you’ll be happy to know I did try. And even happier to know that I got lucky.’
    Lilla stares down at her beer bottle.