Regan sat in a chair beside him. Their parents were still dancing, not singing now, but swaying to the song in their heads. Regan leaned across to whisper to him, ‘Theo’s upset, he wants you to stay and watch the opening ceremony with him. Do you have to go out?’
He couldn’t hear anything in her tone, no anger or reprimand. But still her words made him furious. He took another sip of the beer.
‘Just go and talk to him, OK?’
He was ready to dismiss her. She couldn’t make him stay. He watched his parents, who were still lost in themselves, far away from their children.
Regan whispered again. ‘I’ll stay home, Dan, don’t worry about it. But go and say something to him, tell him you’ll watch the replay tomorrow. You know what it means to him.’
There was no anger in her voice, but there was urgency. She couldn’t bear conflict, couldn’t stand an argument. He feared for his sister, how she would cope when she found out that the world just happened: you couldn’t take something wrong and make it right.
‘OK,’ he answered, winking at her. ‘OK.’ He picked up his beer and headed into the lounge room.
Dan fell into the couch, in between Theo and Joel. The boys slid further apart, grabbing an arm each of the sofa, still entirely focused on the TV, even though an ad was running. Dan noticed that Theo was wearing a Sydney 2000 baseball cap, he was wearing it backwards.
Let it be a failure.
‘Mate, I’m sorry I have to go out.’
Theo didn’t respond.
Dan turned to Joel. ‘You into sport, mate?’
The boy nodded timidly and moved further into the corner of the sofa. Though spring had yet to beat back winter, both of the boys had on baggy shorts. Dan’s knee was touching Joel’s, the boy’s leg hair long and fine. In contrast, Theo’s legs were plump and almost smooth; he might not have even grown pubes yet but his mate was hairy, his mate would have a bush down there.
The shot cut back to the sea of people in the stands in Sydney. There were a million lights flashing from cameras, but the crowd was hushed, expectant. Let it be a failure, let it be a disaster.
‘You think it will be any good?’
Theo had his thumb in his mouth. He nodded emphatically. He wouldn’t countenance the possibility of a disaster, would never listen to his father’s complaints about all the money spent, about the marketing bonanza that was the Olympic Games. Dan knew that his brother had been waiting for this night as keenly and as hopefully as he himself once had.
Regan flung herself into the armchair across from them. Dan could tell from Joel’s sudden stir that the boy was checking out her tits.
‘Are you sure you can’t stay, Danny?’ Theo was pleading. The crowd in the arena had started to cheer and roar.
Dan got to his feet. ‘Sorry, mate, I can’t. I’ve got to catch up with Luke and Demet. How about we watch the repeat tomorrow?’
‘OK, Danny.’ Theo was nodding reluctantly but started to grin. ‘That will be good. Yeah, we’ll watch it together tomorrow.’
‘And I’ll stay till it’s over tonight,’ said Regan, smiling at Theo but it was a smile for Dan as well. Theo shrugged and Regan shifted in her chair and crossed her arms. She’d spotted how Joel was watching her.
Their mother called out, ‘Danny, if you want a lift into town we have to head off in twenty minutes.’
Dan checked the time. Good, twenty minutes was just before the opening ceremony started. Twenty minutes meant not having to be there for the Aussie Aussie Aussie, Oi Oi Oi. Dan rushed to the bathroom, showered, brushed his teeth. In minutes he had on his jeans and shirt, a thin woollen V-neck jumper and his best shoes.
‘See you,’ he said to Regan, and squeezed his brother’s shoulder, reminding him they’d be watching the replay tomorrow. Then he was out in the cold, dark night. Looking down the street, he could see through the gaps in the curtains that everyone had their televisions on. And that it was the same image, the expectant waiting crowd: Aussie Aussie Aussie, Oi Oi Oi.
Please let it be a disaster, please let it fail.
He didn’t know if it was because his parents were conscious of him there in the back of the car, but they didn’t play music on the way into the city. His mother just hummed, a ghost of a melody, and from time to time turned to smile at him. He wished she wouldn’t look at him. He could read the love in her smile, he saw that, of course. But also, always, there was the pity.
Between being dropped off and going into the pub, he experienced a warm delicious relief. He could have quite gladly stayed there, in the cold, in the darkness, in the in-between. A drunk couple were sauntering up the street, the man with his arm around the thin girl, and Dan had to step aside so they could pass. The man called back over his shoulder, ‘Sorry, mate,’ and then, jokingly, ‘Happy Olympics, man,’ and the girl sniffed, ‘It’ll be shit.’
The feeling of comfort didn’t last long once he was inside. It was an old-school pub, the kind that was fast disappearing; there were no pokies in the intimate, cramped space, and there were fading beer and whiskey posters on the wall, and a signed poster of the 199 °Collingwood Premiers took pride of place behind the bar. And it was crowded. But the first thing Dan noticed was the television sitting at the end of the bar. It was plain that the TV didn’t ordinarily sit there, it was a squat domestic model casually put there for the night. Everyone was watching it. Dan’s eyes were drawn to the screen, he was seeing the stadium in Sydney, shrouded in darkness, with flashes of light moving across the black sea. Then the lights took shape, filling with colour and taking on the form of the Serpent, and suddenly, in the pub, on the screen, in the arena, it was the first day of Dreamtime. A young woman sitting on a chair beside him exclaimed, clearly shocking herself, ‘My God, it’s beautiful!’ She was dressed in black, except for a purple beret. Her boyfriend, with a goatee and shaved head, nodded in agreement. They had probably been whining a week ago, thought Dan, about how much it was costing, and how all the blackfellas had been moved off the streets of Sydney, but now they thought it was beautiful. Stupid pricks.
From beneath the drone of the didgeridoo a new music emerged, and a European clown in top hat and tails rode into the arena on a bicycle, on the back of which was a rabbit in a cage. A woman near the bar said, ‘That’s good, that’s us bringing our serpent into the Garden of Eden, that’s great,’ and a man’s voice boomed, ‘Fuck me, I think it’s going to be good. I think they’re going to pull it off.’ There were explosions of light on the screen and Dan was sickened, thought for a moment he couldn’t support his own weight. He felt he was sinking into earth. But then he heard his name being called.
Demet and Luke were in a booth around the corner from the bar. Demet was there with Leanne, her girlfriend. When she’d told him about Leanne, he was not at all surprised; but he was still unnerved by the fact that she had someone else to share a life with. He worried that Leanne didn’t approve of Demet’s friendship with him, that she didn’t think he was worth it. She hardly acknowledged him now, she was tilting her chair back, trying to get a view of the TV. Luke was standing up, beckoning him over. There was a woman with them that he didn’t recognise, smiling shyly up at him.