Observation

by Michele deBes

A phonecall with my accountant and the sun in my eyes reminds me of a childhood incident.

My sister was a problem child, you know the type: smoking, drinking and having sex at twelve. My mother was completely unable to cope and often employed the following technique.

item 1. My sister having stolen a neighbour’s milk money runs home to hide but is seen, which leads to ...

item 2. The angry neighbour appearing at the top of our long driveway, bent on vengeance, she must now negotiate the crazy paving to get to our front door.

item 3. Mum, having been alerted by my sister’s unusually polite behaviour and by the fact that she is home before dark has been scanning the horizon and spies the neighbour.

item 4. We are all called to quickly, and quietly, lock up the house (this includes my younger seven year old brother.)

item 5. While the neighbour pounds on the front door, yelling “I know you’re in there!” We huddle in the centre room, away from all the main windows, with my mum telling us all to shussh!

And while I was there, crouching and holding the shag pile in both hands, the late afternoon sun caught a piece of broken glass in the carpet from last night’s fight and reflected gold into my eyes. I rocked back and forth and the sun turned on and off, on and off as the neighbour screamed that this was the last time, that next time she’d call the police. On and off, and the white thick shag pile in my hands felt like hairy worms anchored to the ground. On and off, and finally the neighbour left after maybe fifteen minutes. On and then off and in the dark after the sun had set we all sat quietly in the centre room with the lights off, in case the neighbour saw and came running back at the first sign of our deception. The four of us would sit in the dark, talking normally, until my father came home at seven thirty. Hearing his car we’d turn the lights and the television on and mum would throw a few chops under the grill while telling my brother to get in the shower. By the time dad had locked the car in the garage we were a functioning family again.

Talking to my accountant with the sun in my eyes made me remember this. The sun and money I guess. I realised as I remembered all this that my father was never part of this elaborate scheme — that he probably never knew. He’s still alive today and I’m sure he still doesn’t know.