I Am the Messenger

Tommy agrees.

He says, "You're right, Ed."

We're still brothers, and who knows? Maybe one day. One day, I feel certain, we'll get together and remember and tell and speak many things. Things bigger than university and Ingrid.

Just not soon.

For now, I walk across the lawn and say, "Bye, Tommy, thanks for coming out," and I'm satisfied with just one thing.

I'd wanted to stay on that porch with him until the sun shone bright on both of us, but I didn't. I stood up and walked down the steps. I'd rather chase the sun than wait for it.

As Tommy goes in and I leave again, Ma comes out.

"Ed!" she calls.

I face her.

She walks closer and says, "Merry Christmas, all right?"

"Same to you." Then I add, "It's the person, Ma, not the place. If you left here, you'd have been the same anywhere else." It's truth enough, but I can't stop now. "If I ever leave this place"--I swallow--"I'll make sure I'm better here first."

"Okay, Ed." She's stunned, and I feel sorry for the woman standing on the front porch of a poor street in an ordinary town. "That sounds fair."

"See you later, Ma."

I'm gone.

That had to be done.

I drop in at home for a quick drink and go to Milla's. When I get there, she's waiting eagerly, wearing a light blue summer dress and holding a present. She also holds an excitement across her face.

"For you, Jimmy," she says, handing me the big, flat box.

I feel bad because I don't have a gift for her. "I'm sorry," I begin to say, but she shuts me up quickly with a wave of her hand.

"It's enough that you came back for me," she says. "Are you going to open it?"

"No, I'll wait," and I offer the old lady my arm. She takes it and we leave her house, heading over to my place. I ask if we should get a cab, but she's happy to walk, and halfway there, I'm not sure if she's going to make it. She coughs hard and struggles for air. I imagine myself having to carry her. She makes it, though, and I give her some wine when we get there.

"Thank you, Jimmy," she says, but she sinks into the armchair and falls asleep almost straightaway.

As she remains there, I come back a few times to check she's still alive, but I can always hear her breathing.

In the end, I sit in the lounge room with her as the day dies outside the window.

When she wakes up, we eat turkey from last night and some bean salad.

"Marvelous, Jimmy." The old lady beams. "Just marvelous." Her smile crackles.

In normal circumstances, I'd prefer to shoot someone who uses the word marvelous, but it suits Milla down to the ground. She wipes her mouth and mutters "Marvelous" several times, and I feel like Christmas is complete.

"Now." She slaps the arms of the chair. She seems much more alive now that she's slept a little. "Will you open your present, Jimmy?"

I give in.

"Of course."

I go over to the gift-wrapped box and lift the lid. Inside is a casual black suit and an ocean blue shirt. It's probably the first and last suit anyone will ever buy me.