TODAY BEFORE TOMORROW - SHORT STORY
By Adam Stone
‘Hand me the right-handed hammer, will ya Josh?’ Josh hesitates over the toolbox for just a moment, barely long enough to say for sure that he actually considered right versus left-handed hammers. But still, long enough that his boss, Glenn and his chippy guffaw like they'd each swallowed a live chicken. Then the other apprentice chirps up, suddenly with more front than Myer, probably due to relief that it’s not him on the end of the heckling this time. The fact is though, Josh is more often the butt of their gags. He has an awkwardness and susceptibility that is like a red rag to a bull on a building site. A building site with this boss anyway.
Josh's seemingly permanent, dreamy state and penchant for sauntering along through the day combine to ensure that barely a workday goes by where he doesn't have an incident of one kind or another. Fall off the bottom step of a ladder, a misdirected nail gun, back the ute into a fence post. A list of misdemeanors as long as your carpenter’s pencil.
Being bullied wasn’t completely foreign to Josh. As is the way of adolescent boys moving in packs at high school, find a weakness and attack. Josh was average at sports and was inflicted with the unfortunate nickname of ‘Dudley’. He was quite a good swimmer, though, but rather than admire this, the same boys attached the not-particularly-inventive name ‘Fishy’ to him. He was even given a hard time for being good at something!
His involvement in the Sunday School program at the local Uniting church was another cause for bullying. Josh had progressed through the program and was volunteering his Sunday mornings to setting up, cleaning up, and various odd-jobs in between.
If we're being honest, young Josh was not cut out for a carpentry apprenticeship; it just wasn’t his bag. He was only vaguely interested, and it was at the (strong) suggestion of his parents that he go down this path when the opportunity arose through a friend of a friend of a cousin of his mum. He was somewhat lost in the woods of not finishing Year 11 at school, without a course or a job to go to. Sitting at home without the semblance of a plan for his future was not going to cut it. He had the idea of helping his dad at work, but in his understated way, his dad suggested to Josh that he should try to forge his own path.
The idea of a garden maintenance business came and went, off the back of the mowing he did for his grandma. Since the age of fourteen, Josh had ridden his bike to his grandma’s every few weekends and mowed the lawns for her. There was always some pocket money for him, along with freshly baked pikelets served with whipped cream and strawberry jam. Proper whipped cream, not the stuff masquerading in a can, and homemade jam from a local market with chunks of actual strawberries. His grandma (his dad’s mum), could see a lot of her son in Josh, and he was always a favourite amongst the grandchildren.
Josh had inherited a gentle vulnerability from his dad, and also like his dad, he always meant well. When someone went out of their way to bully him, or even if they had a questionable agenda, he became confused. Not that he could articulate it, but he couldn’t understand how or why people would be wired this way. Rather than become directly upset, he would form a veritable shell as protection from such invaders of his good and true heart.
Josh’s dad, Ray, is a quiet, reserved man. Never one to seek attention or to make a fuss. He just puts his head down and gets on with it. His footstep isn't quiet though, on account of a mangled foot received as a child, courtesy of a car that slammed into the back of the milk delivery truck his dad drove. Young Ray had gone out with his dad on his deliveries as he occasionally did on school holidays, or the odd Friday when his dad allowed him to skip school and help out on his busiest day of the week. On this fateful occasion, as his dad was chewing the fat with a store owner (he always spent more time at Mrs. Colbert’s store than the others), Ray was sitting on the back of the truck with legs dangled over the rear tailgate.
There were a few bouts of surgery on Ray's right foot. His ankle was reconstructed, and his fibula was mashed and smashed, never to be the same. These days, the range of motion in his right ankle and foot is akin to a block of timber. The cold weather is worst, when pain can spring on him and shoot up his leg. With a hitch in his gait over the years, his knee and hip have become increasingly clunky, and more recently, his lower back has begun grumbling. He daydreams about a smash repair place for humans. They would just wheel him in, take a mallet to him, and knock out all the kinks. Spray and buff, good as new. Or, if they determined he was a write-off, just leave him up on blocks where he could find some peace, and his wife, Julie couldn't get on his back about taking the odd day off work or mowing the lawns or just about anything and everything else. Julie lost patience with Ray years ago; he knows it, feels it. She used to be his ‘Jules’ but that was a different time.
Ray has worked at the same mower repair business for 34 years. It was his first full-time job. He has seen off two previous owners, both of whom retired, and the current owner, Pete, is a bit more gung-ho. He has some fantastical ideas about marketing and ‘getting the name out there.’ Pete is keen for Ray to take on management of the ‘socials’ for the business, but it really is not in Ray's wheelhouse. Way outside his comfort zone. He's just happy fixing mowers and sharpening blades.
On two separate occasions, Ray had the chance to take over the business. Julie would have liked that. A business owner. The man in charge. Ray just felt he wasn't wired for being the boss though, much to Julie's disappointment. Especially the second time the opportunity arose. The then owner, Dave, offered some pretty favorable terms to take it over, and Julie thought it was a chance for Ray to show their kids, Josh and his younger sister Maddy how to ‘get on in life’ and ‘make a real fist of it.’ He knows the business inside out, and the customers seem to like him. He already deals with the suppliers. But no, ‘Too risky’ he told Julie, ‘Better to stay the course and work to my strengths.’ In the end, Ray really is content with being an employee. He's happy to work in the business but not on the business. A bridge too far.
Julie works part-time as a bookkeeper from home. She does the bookwork for various tradies in the area and in an average week, fills around three and a half days. In her spare time, she visits her dad, Ron, in the Marigold Wing of the Silver Birches Home For The Gracefully Aging. Their catch cry of ‘We help your loved ones age gracefully’ makes her want to puke every time she signs in at reception. There's nothing particularly graceful about Ron. He was and still is a hard man, particularly hard on Julie and her older sister, Christine growing up, but strangely to Julie, not so much on their younger brother, Toby. Ron had a temper that could flare at any given moment, often sparked by the most innocuous thing. Julie and her sister spent many such moments cowering behind the sofa, or under the kitchen table sheltering from the verbal bombs that rained on them. A bottle of beer after work (a ‘king brown’ as he referred to them) was standard fare and served to fuel the fire.
Julie was close to her mum, Barb. Once Julie had married Ray and had kids herself, she couldn't understand how her mum had stayed with her dad and put up with his combustible temper all those years. Not that she asked her mum this, not directly, but Barb could read her daughter's mind and in later years would say ‘he's a good man, you know Julie.’
Poor Barb. As Ron had crassly put it, ‘Jack the dancer got a hold of your mother and wouldn't let her go.’ She fought the good fight for three years, but in the end, she refused further treatment (despite Julie's protestations) and seemed at peace with her fate. Was dad even sad about losing his wife of 48 years? Julie suspects deep down he misses her greatly. Not that he'd ever show it. Or say it.
In truth, Julie mostly visits her dad out of an obligation she feels to her mum. In palliative care, more than once, her mum wanted to ensure Ron was okay. ‘You will look after him, won't you?’ More a statement than a question. Julie had promised she would. After only twelve months though, she had had enough of going to the house twice per week and being at her dad’s beck and call with not a single word of thanks. It didn't help that Christine was living in Queensland and Toby, the hotshot corporate banker, was living the expat life in Singapore. So it was all on her.
It was when she was collecting mail from the house that a pamphlet for Silver Birches had fortuitously been delivered, and Julie saw it as a sign. Within days, she took a tour and wouldn't you know it, a room had just become available. Julie didn't want to think about who had made way, but did say a silent thank you to them nevertheless.
Whilst Ron put on a song and dance about not wanting to leave his home, Julie was surprised he didn't fight harder. With a feline briskness, she had her dad touring Silver Birches and in the available room in no time. She had dropped her visits to once per week and always made it a weekday so she'd have an excuse for a short visit, on account of being busy with work or having to ferry the kids around.
Soon enough, Ron happily succumbed to the orderly ways of the aged care home. Probably a vestige from his days in the Army. He was conscripted to the Vietnam War in the late sixties. Back then, outside of his family, he was known as Ronnie to his mates. No one ever called him Ron or Ronald for that matter, it was always Ronnie. A more playful and easygoing name that matched his wicked sense of humor, before the psychology of war damaged him for good.
A serious back issue, along with blood poisoning from exposure to Agent Orange, led to all manner of health concerns over the years. Not that he ever really complained. He just accepted that as his lot in life. Ron has now got what he thinks are serious gut issues, likely from all the painkillers he has popped over a long time burning his insides out; and the reflux is a bitch.
Ron knew he should really be thankful. He is well aware of other guys, some of whom were friends, who didn't make it back from the war. He knows of others who could never hold down a job. Several whose marriages crumbled after their return. Those who let the drink get the better of them. Whilst Ron has had his moments with the booze, which was the most effective painkiller for a time, he's smart enough to know that it's not the answer. It's a rare occasion he touches alcohol these days.
Barb was well aware of the physical ailments, but Ron never talked of his mental demons. Barb knew though, he was sure of it. God, she was observant, he thought. Sometimes he didn't have to speak and she knew what he was thinking. The kids, though, have never really known the extent of his issues. They have never asked much about his experience at war, nor has he shared any stories. He has a couple of remnants from his tour in Vietnam; an Army-issued duffel bag with his name printed on it – PRIVATE RONALD TOOVEY and inside the bag is his dog collar. The bag sits at the bottom of his wardrobe under a pile of seldom-worn shoes.
Ron has had moments of counterfeit clarity over the years where he thought of ending it. Exactly how he wasn't sure, and the finer detail didn't concern him. He just felt he could put an end to his physical and mental anguish. If he's honest, he's not sure how much he would have been missed by Barb and the kids. Funnily enough, when Barb was diagnosed, it suddenly gave Ron some purpose, and he realised in his own way how much she meant to him. Perhaps Barb saved Ron’s life. The irony wasn't lost on him. The loss of Barb also gave Ron more of an appreciation for his family. Perhaps I'll take the lad fishing, he mused. Give his dad a chop out. Tough for him with his gammy foot and all. And I must get around to mentioning to Julie my idea of shouting her a trip to Queensland to see Christine. Perhaps she can take the lass as well.
Ron appreciates that Julie has been good to him. He knows Barb would have asked her to look after him, but still, he values the fact she's always doing things for him. He knows he can be a crotchety old bugger at times.
Julie feels she's in a rut, a long and winding rut. She loves her kids of course, and she’s pleased she has been able to help Josh find some work. Maddy seems to be confused lately about whether she wants to be a female or not. Is that really a choice? she ponders. Julie is completely bewildered by it, but knows she needs to help guide Maddy through this ‘phase’ as she sees it. And Ray? He just flatly refuses to acknowledge it as a topic at all. He makes more of a point of calling Maddy ‘sweetheart’ now, and Julie can feel Maddy cringe.
In recent years, Julie has begun to despise their home and her office space confined to a corner of their bedroom. It is a three-bedroom, orange brick veneer house built in the seventies. She and Ray were so excited when they signed the sales contract in the real estate agent’s office; she remembers celebrating with takeaway Chinese food and a not-too-cheap bottle of chardonnay. They've created some great memories in the house, no doubt, but Julie never saw it as their ‘forever home’. She always thought they would outgrow the house and buy something bigger, with a study for her and a second living zone. Whenever she broaches the subject with Ray, though, it always ends with them revisiting it next year, or after Christmas, or some other time that never comes. Julie even suggested that they could extend their existing house, go out and up, but Ray always has his reasons why this wouldn't work; rear setback, overlooking issues, shadowing, blah, blah, blah. She wished Ray would find a way to say, ‘Yes, let's find a way to make that work’ rather than his default of ‘No.’ As a start, Julie would love to have a dishwasher installed in the kitchen, not so common in 1970s suburbia. Despite the fact that their original kitchen with gaudy orange Laminex benchtop and two-tone brown tiles seems to be considered retro now, a complete makeover would please her no end. Julie’s want for a dishwasher is exceeded only by Josh’s desire, as the washing of dishes after breakfast and dinner is his assigned chore. He’s not asked to do a great deal else around the house, but the dishwashing has been his (unwanted) domain since he was ten years old. And he has come to detest it.
Julie still loves Ray. She thinks she does. Don’t I? This perplexes her too. What is love anyway? She makes a mental note to suggest to Ray that they rekindle their Friday night fish and chips as a family. She’s not sure why they stopped doing that, but realises she misses it. Everyone is at their most relaxed on a Friday night and she knows Ray will be contented with a hamburger with the lot (sans pineapple), a pickled onion, and a mid-strength beer.
Josh thinks his mum can be harsh on his dad at times, but doesn't say anything. He sees his dad front up for work day after day, despite the physical limitations and what seems a perennially resigned look on his face along with a tiredness in his hunched shoulders. He does feel for his mum too and knows she has been really sad and often teary since his nana died. His grandpa tests his mum, he sees that. He’s not even sure if his grandpa actually knows his name, as he can only remember him ever calling him ‘lad’! Josh could see that his parents were quite pleased with him when he started a carpentry apprenticeship.
On a building site, Josh had been charged with installing a box gutter. It's not that he didn't want to ask questions for fear of being chastised, he simply didn't think to ask questions – like, why is an apprentice Carpenter doing the job of a Plumber? So, he began to install the box gutter - upside down. Well, you can imagine…’Rain falls from the ground up ‘round here does it Josh?’ Hooting and squawking and trilling from the peanut gallery. Josh knew he'd made a blew but was largely unperturbed. Deep down, in some distant way, he realised that there was something else for him. Something better.
Josh’s heart really wasn’t in it, and within eighteen months of starting, he dropped out of trade school and his apprenticeship with the not-so-subtle encouragement of his boss. Whilst his parents were frustrated and not a little disappointed, they could see that Josh wasn’t enjoying it. Perhaps his compassionate nature would be more suited to a different work environment, considered Julie. The local community centre was advertising certificate courses for the upcoming term, and Julie suggested some options for Josh. He had some interest and after contemplating between working in aged care and education support, he chose a certificate course in Education Support. Though he was never a particularly willing student, Josh enjoyed the work involved in the course and was noticeably brighter around the house.
Soon after attaining his certificate, Josh secured a job at a local primary school, working in a support role in a classroom. He was the best thing that ever happened to a six-year-old named Charlie who had been diagnosed with ADHD and autism.
With his caring nature and even temperament, Josh took to his newfound vocation like a duck to water. He quickly earned the respect of his colleagues and the parents whose children he assisted thought he was a godsend. None more so than Charlie’s mum, Sheree. Charlie was the eldest of three children, and Sheree was doing it tough. Her husband was in jail, and she was managing the kids on her own, with occasional support from her mother-in-law. Josh had been told some of the details by the school principal – Charlie’s dad had been caught stealing materials and equipment from building sites. He had initially avoided a jail sentence and was placed on a community corrections order, but it seems with a thirst for theft and stupidity in his bones, he was caught again and sentenced.
During the last term of the school year, Charlie’s dad had been released from prison and was back home. Apparently, he was going to attend the upcoming meeting at school to discuss Charlie’s progress. For reasons he couldn’t quite pinpoint, Josh felt a little nervous about meeting him. Don’t be silly, he told himself, but he couldn’t get past the fact that the man was a convicted criminal.
The meeting was attended by Charlie’s parents, Josh, the school principal and the school counsellor. As the parents entered the room, there was a flicker of recognition from Josh and then a feeling of dread. For a moment, it felt like everything that had been good in his world during the year had been unraveled. He had done a great job of trying to forget his days working for his bully boss, Glenn, and the ridicule he was subjected to on a daily basis. He looked different, but there was no mistaking it. He had lost weight and now with shortly-cropped hair, not the greasy hair poking out from under a filthy truckers cap of before.
Glenn was gobsmacked, that much was obvious. There were introductions, but no shaking of hands. A tectonic tension pervaded the start of the meeting, but once they got down to discussing Charlie and his progress and his needs going forward, Josh felt the pressure valve ease. Glenn contributed little to the discussion about his son and was nothing if not sheepish.
In the car on their way home, Sheree said to Glenn, ‘You were quiet.’ Glenn took a moment to respond.
‘You realise that’s Josh who used to work for me. Couldn’t hack it as an apprentice and left halfway through.’ Sheree was confused, and then she registered. She had only heard about the ‘klutz’ who worked for Glenn and how unsuited to the job he was. ‘I don’t want him looking after our son,’ insisted Glenn.
Sheree was instantly fuming and retorted, ‘Are you serious? What gives you the right to come home and start making complaints against people? You’re so full of shit. You’ve got no idea how good Josh has been for Charlie and what progress he’s made. He’s been more a father than you’ve been this year!’ Sheree immediately regretted this last part. She didn’t see Josh as a father figure to Charlie at all, but he had been a constant male in Charlie’s life and a positive influence.
‘Father! Father!! You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,’ shouted Glenn. He’s only a kid (actually, Josh was almost twenty-one). What, have you got something going on with him? Don’t tell me…’ Glenn knew he’d gone too far.
‘You’re an asshole Glenn,’ and with that they pulled into their driveway.
Glenn determined to be a good dad and wondered where it had gone wrong. It all happens so quickly, he reflected. His own father was a hard bastard. From around the age of twelve, it wasn’t unusual for him to walk past Glenn and give him a clout across the back of his head, often collecting an ear which would redden and sting for a long while after. ‘What was that for?’ young Glenn would ask.
‘That’s for what you’re probably gonna do later,’ came the sadistic reply. After a while, Glenn stopped asking. His mum kept largely silent. He had a growth spurt from the age of fifteen to sixteen and was suddenly taller and more solidly built than his dad. It all came to a head the day Glenn retaliated, which ended with his dad, bloody-mouthed, on the kitchen floor, snarling at his only child to get out and not come back. Glenn’s mum was hysterical. Soon after, Glenn went to live with his mum’s sister and family in Brisbane. He never saw his dad again; he died of lung cancer the following year.
Year 10 schooling was as far as Glenn got. His uncle in Brisbane helped him into a carpentry apprenticeship, and his first boss made his dad look like his fairy godmother. His boss was unyielding, with a vicious tongue that could tear strips off anyone in his sights. When Glenn started his own business, he was determined not to repeat the conduct of his boss, but those learned behaviors are not so easily shed. There was always pressure, and he felt he could never relax. Dealing with tradies, apprentices, clients, suppliers, rising costs, and the many other components of the self-employed machine. And he had three young kids and his wife to support. New jobs were not coming easily, and then there was a stand-off with a client over the standard of their workmanship. He was owed tens of thousands of dollars and was struggling to see a way out. He knew his uncle in Brisbane had helped himself to some tools and materials from job sites before. What’s the harm? he thought, shallowly. It’s just to get me through this period, he tried to justify to himself.
Josh tried not to look at or think of Charlie any differently, though he couldn’t help but see the likeness now. It was the eyes – a little beady, and they darted around the same way as his dad, always like something big was about to happen. A few days after the meeting about Charlie, Josh found himself alone with him, down the back corner of the school yard. This is where the school kept chickens, and Charlie was quite taken with them, even giving them names. It wasn’t uncommon for Josh to take Charlie out of the classroom during class time, especially when he was disrupting other students. Josh watched Charlie as he crouched down to talk to the chickens. His mind wandered, and his thoughts felt a little wicked, but he didn’t care.
It was a Friday, and right on cue, his phone dinged with a text message. He felt a flutter of excitement. It was from Sheree - same time same place? xx Josh couldn’t wait for the school day to end. He hesitated over his reply, unsure of what was most appropriate. A ‘thumbs up’ emoji was the best he could think of.
Beyond the bawdy afternoon that awaited him, Josh was looking forward to family fish and chips night and then fishing with his grandpa, dad, and Maddy the next day. He felt grateful.
On that same morning, Julie had her head in bookwork for a local Plumber, whose wife she knew through the yoga class that she occasionally attends. Her attention is broken by a beeping sound coming from the front of the house. She peers out the lounge room window to see a van reversing into their driveway. Who can that be? she wonders. A man exits the van with purpose and opens the rear door. He places a large box onto a trolley and rings the doorbell. Upon opening the door, the man blurts, ‘Delivery for Julie Rickard.’
Julie is perplexed and simply asks, ‘What is it?’
‘It’s a dishwasher,’ the man says, as if this were the most obvious, most expected thing in the world.