‘I’ll take breaks.’
Pete doesn’t look convinced. ‘You’ll have to stop every two hours.’
I nod. ‘Okay.’
Sue comes to help me pack, ensuring I have everything I need for an unknown amount of time. ‘Don’t you come rushing back here,’ she tells me. ‘Stay as long as you need to. Sounds like your father’s going to be out of action for a while.’
She hugs me, and I stand there, arms at my sides. I’ve forgotten what maternal affection feels like. She’s undeterred by my lack of response, doesn’t need anything back.
When she releases me, she brings a hand to my face. ‘You keep us updated with what’s happening and tell us if you need something.’
I feel the rise of tears, which I immediately blink back. ‘Will do.’ I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this family, but I’m grateful.
Pete’s waiting by the ute to say goodbye. There’s a cooler on the floor of the passenger’s seat. ‘Food and drinks for all those breaks you’ll be taking.’
‘Thanks.’
He hugs me too, which brings me dangerously close to losing my shit in front of them. Eyes down, I climb into the ute and drive away.
The drive takes me a little over twenty-three hours. I stop every two hours because I told Pete I would. I eat the sandwiches, the muffins, the honey-roasted almonds, all made by Sue. I drink the juices and bottled water. The only time I have to open my wallet is for petrol.
In Chirnside, I drive straight to the local hospital only to be told that Dad’s been transferred to Turram Hospital because he needs surgery on his collarbone. When I get to Turram, the nurse behind the desk asks me if I’m family, then proceeds to tell me that the surgery went well, and someone will collect me from the waiting room when he’s awake.
An hour later, a different nurse arrives and takes me to see Dad. His eyes are closed when I step inside, head shaved on one side, revealing a line of stitches. His face is a swollen mess. My chest hurts the longer I look at him. I can’t help but think about how Mum would react if she were alive. She’d be devastated seeing him like this, but she would also be at his side holding his hand.
The nurse fiddles with some of the equipment, and Dad opens his eyes. He sees me, blinks, then closes his eyes again. Tears fall down both of his cheeks.
‘Don’t you go feeling sorry for me,’ he croaks.
I move closer to the bed. ‘Were you drunk?’
He opens his eyes and stares straight ahead, giving me my answer. I can’t look at him now. Not because of the injuries but because he’s a selfish prick.
The nurse gives me a sympathetic look before leaving the room.
‘Who told you?’ Dad asks.
‘Sammy.’
He looks at me. ‘Where’d you come here from?’
‘Brisbane.’
He tentatively raises one hand and scratches his neck. ‘You didn’t have to come all that way. And you’re certainly not expected to stick around.’
‘I disagree. You’re going to need help.’ I take a seat in the chair by the wall. ‘Who else is going to do it?’
‘I’ll be remanded. Sentenced.’
‘I know.’ I lean forwards. ‘I’m gonna help you, but I need some things from you in return.’
He looks at me, waiting.
‘I’ll need you to make me power of attorney so I can run the farm the way I need to.’
He nods.
‘And I need to know that this is your first day of sobriety. No more. No fucking more. Not one drink. There are no second chances. I don’t have it in me.’