Chapter 23
Max leaves work early after his showdown with Earl and spends the afternoon drinking with his mates. The guest list includes Dr Will Chapman as well as one other fellow cop but the rest are from his school days. His high school friends all know Heath and even though Max hadn't been in touch for weeks, other than a call or two after the news broke about Heath, a quick text message from him and they all met at their old local. While out in public he makes use of a cap and sunglasses to cover his face so people don’t recognise him and think he’s his brother.
Will settles right in with the younger crowd and goes drink for drink with his temporary friends. Max’s best mate Freddie was always the loudest of the group so it’s no surprise for Will to learn that during Freddie’s teens he studied acting and has since scored a few minor, but consistent, roles on TV and in movies. He remains one of those actors where people recognise his face but can't remember his name; they just know they’ve seen him somewhere before. This is exactly what Will thought when he first saw him.
Joe, however, was the odd one out in the group, choosing to spend most of his time reading fantasy novels. He's since had a few short stories published in fantasy magazines but none of the full length novels he’s written since leaving school, and of which he is very proud, have made it to book shelves. He remains a suffering artist and seems to enjoy letting people know he's written over a dozen novel manuscripts with all having been rejected by multiple publishers. Finally there’s Sam; he is the only one, other than Max, who has really settled down. He's working for the government, with a wife and five kids - all girls. The guys often remind him of how difficult things will be when his daughters are teens. Dr Will said exactly that when Sam told him he has five daughters.
Freddie offers a mock toast to Heath and they have a good laugh but Max is already too drunk to keep going. A few beers later he catches a cab home.
Tahlia is slamming dishes into the dishwasher when she hears Max fumbling at the door trying to put his key in the lock. She can hear the scratching sound of the key missing the lock and sliding along the wood of the door. It’s just after seven but she can tell he’s drunk. She considers opening the door for him but she's not in the mood to deal with him. Unfortunately for her he finally gets the key in and the door opens.
Max slinks inside thinking he's being quiet only to find Tahlia standing in the hall watching him.
“Really?” is all she says.
Max nods in defiance.
“You didn't tell me you'd be coming home drunk, or so late.”
“I didn't tell you a lot of things.”
“You could have let me know so I didn't waste all that time cooking.”
Max moves down the hall, sliding along the wall to keep him steady, and dismisses Tahlia with a wave of his hand.
“Don't you wave me off!” she almost screams.
“Don't tell me what to do!” He’s so drunk he can’t hold eye contact.
“You said you wouldn't…”
Max interrupts, “Whatever you're about to say should have been one of those things I didn't tell you.”
“You’re not the only one who has it hard, are you? You realise there are other people in this world?”
“Are you kidding me? My brother, Tahlia, is a serial killer. He kills people and thinks it’s fun.”
“So you'll just destroy your life? That's the best you can do? Turn into ‘that guy’?”
“As if you know how I feel. Besides, I’m not ‘turning’, I've just been hiding. Peek-a-boo.” Max laughs.
“That's not funny.”
“No it's not!” Max screams before sliding down the wall he’s been leaning against till he's sitting on the floor. For the first time, possibly ever, Tahlia sees her husband crying. “I'm sorry,” Max says quietly through his tears.
Tahlia sits on the floor with him, puts her arms around him and pulls his head into the side of her neck and says, “You can't let him control you.”
Max takes a deep breath as his head spins, “He carved my name into his victims with a knife.”
“What?” Tahlia isn’t sure if it’s the alcohol speaking or if he’s telling the truth.
“I saw it. The old man. The woman. She had a husband. Two little boys. He was devastated. She’ll never be there for them again.”
They’re quiet for a moment until Tahlia speaks, “Maybe you should talk to someone.”
Max forces out a laugh, “Does that sound like something I'd do?”
“I guess not.”
“I’m always talking. I’m sick of talking. I’m sick of the pretend concern from people who just want some gossip to tell their friends. Like it’s a freak show.”
“Well you two were a freak show growing up.”
“That's the truth. You know, I never had a problem with him disappearing. I literally shrugged when mum and dad told me they couldn’t get a hold of him. His phone was cancelled. He hadn’t used his email for ages. I probably should have felt something but him leaving to go find himself, or whatever he was doing, meant I had one less stress on my mind.”
Tahlia smiles, “Oh yeah? What, pray tell, were the other stresses?”
“Don't worry honey, the stress you bring me is good stress.” Max smiles and Tahlia slaps him playfully while pretending to be offended. They sit quietly. For the first time in a long time they are holding each other.
Tahlia breaks a long, almost enjoyable, silence, “I still remember the stories you told me.”
“It’s been a long time since all of that.” Max closes his eyes and struggles against the alcohol swimming around inside his head to remember his teenage years. “So many stupid games. Idiot got me in so much trouble.”
Tahlia laughs, “You can’t just blame him for that. You did enough of it yourself. But that’s why you stopped pretending to be each other?”
Max stares at the ceiling and thinks back, “We didn’t do it very often anyway but it wasn’t only the trouble he got me in. Not even burning our hands stopped the game straight away. It was Christina, really. She really brought about the end of it.”
“Your cousin?”
“Yeah. Christmas. We were fifteen or sixteen. We stayed with our Aunt and Uncle for a week and spent the whole time pretending to be the other. Our parents and Claire weren’t staying around. We got out of the car. I was wearing Heath’s clothes. He was wearing mine. They always asked us to confirm which one we were so we figured it wouldn’t be too hard. Christina runs up to me, it’d been at least nine months since we saw her last, I think, she runs up to me, throws her arms around my neck and kisses me on the cheek. She was only five or six.
“She was so happy to see me or, really, she was happy to see Heath. I watched Heath as me. She gave him a small hug. Nothing special. Nothing endearing. He didn’t respond. He was cold. Didn’t care. He was me, yeah? I’ll give him credit for that. And for the rest of that holiday she was climbing all over me and play wrestling with me, wanting me to do whatever her excited little self could think of for fun. Some nights, she fell asleep on my lap. She loved Heath. Loved him. I never even realised.
“Just before we left I asked her what she thought of Max. She said she hated me. She said I wasn’t very nice to her. And she was right. She said I was mean and it made her sad so she didn’t like being around me. She was five, or whatever. There was no malice or anything. She was just calling it how she saw it. I never even realised. That stopped the games and I just became so aware of how people responded to me compared to Heath. At school, at home, everywhere. The kids at school were always friendly to me even when I treated them like crap but I guess that’s because they were scared of me. They treated Heath like I treated them because they had nothing to gain by being nice to him. But I started noticing that friends of our parents and even relatives were always so kind to Heath while I got, I don’t know, the cold shoulder. If they were people who knew both of us then, you know, I'd have to... I don't know...”
“You'd want
them to start liking you?”
“Maybe.”
“And a little later we met.”
The moment holds with more silence. Tahlia spends it wondering if she should ask about the phone in the drawer. She wonders what Max is thinking about it. What is he going to do with it?
“Tell me,” she says softly. “What about that phone?”
Max doesn’t miss a beat. “It’s nothing, don’t worry. Probably sent to me by mistake. I’m going to throw it out.”
A dismissive and uninterested response ends that conversation. After that moment of honesty Max still put forward a lie without hesitation.
Tahlia knows he’s lying.