Page 36 of Spring Awakening

“Ma’s gone. So, I’m going to hit up Bleakers.”

“Gone where?” Zach asks, placing the boxes on the floor. His mum goes out, of course, but usually Zach goes with her, or someone comes to pick her up. “And you’re meant to be staying away from Bleakers, De.” Even beingnearBleakers is in direct violation of his licence. Zach tries not to think about it.

Devon scoffs, his entire body moving with the effort of it. “You gonna dob me in like that bitch you live with?”

“Call her that one more time,” Zach replies. Zach won’t hit him—Devon knows that—but with every insult he throws at Mali, Zach’s sympathy for his brother falls. Zach would defend a woman even if he didn’t know her, but the protectiveness he feels over Mali is sunken into his bones. She looked terrified when Devon was cornering her, and he didn’t have to. He could have explained, walked away, doneanythingother than get in her face. Zach’s not sure how to forgive him.

“Can’t believe you sold out your fam for some pussy.”

Zach does push him against the wall this time, his forearm heavy against Devon’s chest. Devon looks at least thirty-percent nervous, but Zach is over doing everything for him only for it to be thrown back in his face.

“Where’s Mum gone?”

Devon shoves him off, but they both know he only moved because Zach let him.

“She’s in her chair.”

Zach frowns, and Devon sucks on his teeth.

“She’s not gone outside,” he says, as if that’s obvious. “She’s gone loopy.”

“You still have to sit and talk to her,” Zach replies. He hates how Devon talks about their mum, but he doesn’t have the brainpower to deal with that right now.

“Nah. I got plans. She won’t know if I’m here or not.”

Zach sighs. “De.” He doesn’t want his mum to think she’s a burden, because she’s not. Zach has things to do for her, and what he needs is for Devon to at least be around to talk to her.

“Do you have a couple hundred?” Devon asks, and Zach slowly closes his eyes. He used to give Devon so much—money, time, a home—but it became apparent that it wasn’t helpful to either of them. Devon thinks Zach’s a prick who is giving up on his family. Zach thinks it’s the only way to keep his family together. Either way, Devon slams the door as he goes. Zach carries a couple of boxes downstairs, placing them at his feet as he sits opposite his mum.

“Hey, Ma.” His mum looks over at him, vague recollection on her face. It must be awful. Zach wonders how much being on her own isn’t helping. If he gets her a new place, it’s not like he can be around longer. He could look into getting her carers again. The last time he enquired about it, it wasn’t something the state could do more than once a day because she’s not high-risk, and he couldn’t afford to go private. She’d hate that as well—having random people in her house.

But if the sponsors Mali wants him to get go through, he could afford a place for the both of them. His heart sinks a little at the thought. It’s always been his plan—to live somewhere and have space for his mum. Independent space, but space. Now, he feels so guilty about it, but he likes being with Mali. He likes the way she talks to Buffy as if he’s a human. He likes the wayshe organises the spices, even though she can’t put a spice rack together. He likes the way all his clothes are slowly starting to smell like her. He likes the way she boils twelve eggs at a time because she knows he has to eat a lot of protein.

He likes her. More than he thought he would. And he’s not even brave enough to initiate a conversation. Most of the time, he loosely hangs around the kitchen or hallway and hopes to run into her. She can make a conversation about anything, and it’s always the highlight of his day if he manages to figure out a way to get her to see him. He doesn’t want to leave her. Not her life, not her house, not her mind.

Zach knows the feeling will not be mutual. He knows he’s plonked himself in her life, and she barely had a moment to decide if it was a good idea before he started sleeping there. He’s trying to keep himself as small as possible. There’s no new furniture, he tries to coax Buffy out of his room at night, and he’s trying to stop looking at her for too long. Oh, how he could look at her. How he thinks about her. How he dreams about her.

“Hi, sweetie,” his mum says, then turns back to the television. When this happens, Zach isn’t sure what to do. It’s been years, and he still hasn’t worked out what to do now. Sometimes he sits with her and folds laundry, batch cooks, or plays cards. Sometimes he tells her random stories from his childhood, and she smiles like she remembers parts of it. He has managed to figure out that she reacts better to newer news. He wonders if it’s because she knows she doesn’t know, so there’s no part of her brain trying to remember things that aren’t in reach. Zach just never has anything to tell her. He’s told her about the team, the sponsorships, the new house.

“There’s a girl,” he says, looking through the box of stuff in front of him for something to pay attention to that isn’t his mum showing no interest in the first girl he’s ever been thinking about. He’s not even sure how he’s interested. Well, he knows hethinks about her all the time. He knows he wants her to meet his mum properly—on one of her good days rather than one of her bad ones. He knows she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

But he’s not sure he can do anything about it. She’s the nicest person he’s ever met, and he’s a dick. Mali’s got so much to offer a person, and he grunts and has baggage bigger than himself. She’s friends with everyone at work in a freakishly short amount of time (the other night she went out with Frankie! Who even sees their work friends outside of nine to five?) so it’s only a matter of minutes before she thinks he’s a bellend too. His thoughts about how he’s interested in her won’t matter. He won’t be able to do anything about it.

His mum sits up, pausing the television. “The girl that was here the other day?”

“Yeah.”

“Oooh, she’s cute.”

Zach smiles. “She is cute.”

“Are you crushing on her?” his mum asks, a sparkle in her eye he’d have to be blind to miss. He tsks and pulls out the old action figures from his childhood boxes. He used to spend so much time in his bedroom playing with these. He never thought they’d be able to afford a real action man, and he remembers how happy he’d been when he pulled the paper away on his birthday. There was a time—probably when he was about fifteen and got his first job—that he was sad about this action figure. He grumbled about it for months, but his mum had to work so hard to get it for him, and he felt so guilty about it.

Now, he looks at it fondly. She loves him. She always has.

“I’m too old to crush,” he mumbles.

“Don’t be silly,” she replies, shuffling in her seat. “You had your first crush at six. Do you remember?” He-Man, but everyone had a crush on He-Man.

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