Little Issues

“Ryan, you come back here this instant!” Shouts my father angrily as he chases me out of our house then to our fence line.

Like that’s going to happen! I think to myself as I jump up grasping at the top rail of the beige Colourbond fence. Biceps straining, I am pulling myself up, drawing my stomach over the top rail. My trainers’ thud into the fence panel toes first shaking the fence under me.

 Huh. I gasp swinging one leg over the fence. For a second, I am astride the fence. Then with a thrown look down I work the other leg over. From there is a short drop to the neighbouring Adelaide property’s immaculate lawn. I arrive in a crouched landing in belted blue jeans, a white tee shirt, with blue Sox topping grubby grey trainers. I am white faced, scared, and angry all at once. I back away from the fence warily knowing where the familiar outdoor swing set, and double garage are.

 “Ryan you’re not making this easy, I just want to talk.” Dad shouts as he collides with the fence panels jarring them for its length.

“Awe, that shit those hurts.” I hear him mutter.

I am seeing left-then right-hand finger sets curl over the top rail. Perhaps he’ll follow me over it. 

“I hate you, ---- if you really cared you wouldn’t be leaving us!” I shout full mouthed, bent from the waist with my arms, hands, fingers dangling loosely. Adrenaline surges through me. I am charged with righteous indignation with endorphins coursing through my being empowering me.

“I never want to see you again---Ever!” I shout at the beige fence.

” Ryan please ---you’re not being fair.” Dad says dropping one set of fingers from the top of the fence.

“I'll always love you, Ryan!”

“Ryan. Please listen to me?” Dad implores me his voice edged with anger initially then frustration.

“Get stuffed.” I mutter under my breath. Spots of rain hit my face seemingly from nowhere.

The two sets of hands are back on the top fence rail again.

 I throw a last look back over my shoulder breaking into a run. Seconds later I am outside a friendly set of vertically sliding aluminium windows.

Face pressed to the glass I can see Joey reading on the black carpet of his bedroom his hands propping his jaw line, his bare feet are raised from the knees in mid-air idly kicking.

My white knuckles, wrap urgently on the rain spotted glass.

I look at the neighbours corrugated iron roof seeing the wet spots multiplying plague like; on its green surface.

 “Quick, open up!” I mouth through the glass, stirring him into action as he boils off the floor, in a flurry of movement that lands him on his leafy green single bed which is pushed up against the windows sill.

“What the?” Joey asks as soon as the windows glass and fly screen slide clear.

“Quick pull me inside.” I order Joey who responds by grabbing at my shoulders then my brown leather belt as I launch myself  stomach first onto the lower window frame. In a tangle of arms and legs we land on the single bed. I am wet skinned, panting, as well as being the object of Joeys curiosity.

“My family falling apart – Divorcing ….” I blurt at him seeing his face change from curiosity to concern before my heavily lidded chestnut-coloured eyes.

“Please Joey, Don ‘t tells anyone I am here?” I beg throwing a look at the open plywood door as if Dad may appear there.

Working his knees backward off the bed Joeys on it. The door lock clicks, flooding me with relief.

Joey’s ball of light brown hair with its sweeping collar to left eyebrow fringe sways above his

face as Joey advances to sit alongside, me on the single bed legs dangling.

 Turning Joey’s light blue eyes roam over me. There is real concern registered on his unblemished pale face.

“Why? “Joey inevitably asks picking up from where we left off.

“It’s my dad!” I gasp as my brown eyes brim with tears.

“He is having a baby! Well not him—his girlfriend.” I say correcting myself.

“Your Dad has a girlfriend and a family? “Joey says looking incredulous.

“Oh Yea, but he’s cashing our family in---to be with his girlfriend! “I reply honestly.

My chest is tight. My heads a mess. Through teary brown eyes I see my best friend reach hesitatingly out to me, he’s a ten-year-old classmate. I am risking everything on his understanding.

“Tough break Ryan! I can’t believe it.” Joey says solemnly. Channelling his mother's habits.

 Joey’s slim belted body slips closer to me. Tentatively I sense him extending his right arm across my white tee shirt clad shoulders. Perhaps he pauses unsure.  Anyway, there is a delay before his small flat hand passes above the white tees neck band then settles on the cotton material. Feeling the weight of his hand I deeply appreciate his commitment to me. I am further surprised when he instinctively he pulls me in toward himself. The intimate heat of Joey’s body leaches through his grey tee shirt triggering the release I need. My eyes fill with tears. I hug him back in the privacy of this moment, my palms to his shoulder blades, neck over his shoulder I break down completely crying.

“My parents are getting divorced.” I wail pulling back to be able to see Joey’s face.

“My Dad just told me, he’s packing his stuff and leaving us.” I say sniffing back a runny nose brought on by my tears. Joey pulls me back into himself again.

 Slowly, I pull back from him.

“It’s true!” I assert wiping my face and nose with the back of my hand, searching for a reaction from Joey. Joey’s face is a blank mask with creeping comprehension stalking across it.

“I thought he loved me, but he doesn’t! ---At least not to stay around and be, ---my dad.” I tell Joey’s shocked face. I am inpatient for him to really understand my feelings.

“I hate him, Joey! I never want to see him again, it’s like he’s been acting all my life!” I say guiding Joey’s thoughts to align with mine.

It works because he pulls me in to continue his hug of me.

Joey breaks the silence.

“Shit happens Ryan, but you’re still my best friend ever.” Joey says, his fingers rhythmically patting my back.

A moment passes then Joey s face pulls back then drops to my level.

“Ryan” -- I ‘ve got to pee!”

 I feel Joey’s grip loosen. Scooting off the bed he keys the door edging around it out of sight managing to close it after him.

Opposite me the twin mirrors of the wardrobe perfectly reflect my triangular shaped face with its shapely boyish jawline, button of a nose, and chestnut brown hair that sweeps from my nape to my forehead ending as a splayed-out fringe mid forehead. It’s an expected unblemished image.

What’s not expected is my damp cheeks, shiny eyes, and messed up hair.

Hurriedly I look away seeing neatness is everywhere. Its hung, folded, arranged, or just put away.

This is Joey’s room, his special place, and it shows. We are the same age and the same height four foot four inches high. We are even in the same class. At that moment all I want to be is his twin brother, so I never have to go home to face the broken pieces of my life with its dreams slowly dying in my home. Why is Joey’s existence so trouble free, so neatly, hung, sorted, stored? What secret power drives him and why don’t I have it? Maybe I never learned something?

Joey’s return is heralded by a flushing toilet, the splash of water in the hand basin.

I am shoulders hunched; fingers pushed into my would-be fringe; eyes blurred when Joey appears again.

He picks up where he left off but this time standing in front of me bent at the waist with only a hand on one shoulder, looking searchingly into my vertically spaced fingers.

Removing my fingers, I am just in time to see Joey turn around on jean hemmed bare feet. It’s his heels I see slipping past the door.

***********

“Mum, Ryan won’t stop crying.” Complains Joey towing his mum into the bedroom by one hand.

“His dad’s moving out and not coming back! “Joey explains his light eyes lifting to his mum in a silent appeal to fix the situation.

Weakly she smiles sympathetically.

“Ryan” Sarah coaxes me being rewarded by my boyish head momentarily lifting before embarrassment floods through my mind.

“Ryan, look at me.” Joey’s mum says expecting my head to lift in response. It doesn’t.

 Finally, Sarah prises my head off my chest with a well-placed finger under my jaw lifting my tearful features.

“Ryan, I am not going to sugar coat this for you. But feeling sorry for yourself is not going to help.

I am a social worker, so I see grief and tears every day!”

“If you let me help you there are some tools, I can give you to help you through this time.” Sarah says looking towards me encouragingly. Joey’s mum Sarah is a thirty-five-year-old oval faced mum with a high forehead, shoulder length straw coloured hair tucked behind her right ear. Blue sparkling eyes sit above the eyeballed curve of her lower eye sockets. Theres an ingratiatingly wide welcoming smile, set between two notable laughter lines either side of her shapely adult nose.

I am touched that she cares, she doesn’t have to, but I respond by wiping my tears away, sniffing back mucus that threatens to appear from my nose.

Joey offers a box of tissues from his bed side table. Thankfully, I pull out several going on to use them.

“Thanks Joey.” I say with my thickened voice.

Joey returns the tissue box, reverently to its place. It's like it connected by elastic to its spot.

“Am I right?” Sarah asks gently.

“I am not feeling sorry for myself.  I don’t know what’s going to happen.” I manage my voice warbling with uncertainty. Mentally I am replaying those moments when dad tickles me causing uncontrollable physical movement and laughter. I see us driving to the basketball, football, and shopping together realizing that won’t happen either.

“I might lose my basketball friends, may be my football friends too.” I say struggling with the thoughts. Joey slips towards neutrality the door opting to use the edge of it as a leaning post. His eyes fall to the floor where he as he adjusts his right leg angled toe down bent at the knee.

My eyes drift to the dark black carpet too.

Unexpectedly Joey bursts in on my thought’s hands wide in appeal to his mum

“Hey mum can we teach him our family principal?” Joey asks eagerly bringing his angled foot to the floor steading himself.

“It might help him.” Joey says waiting on his mother's reply.

“Of course, it’s a good idea. Why don’t we say it together on the count of three?” Sarah says joining Joey by the door smiling down at Joey a hand on his right grey tee shirted shoulder.

One, two, three.” Sarah counts.

“In life you should always take care of the little issues and never-ever be lazy!” Joey and Sarah say together. I see them chuckle as a couple. Sarah pats Joey’s ball of hair. In turn Joey rolls his head back lapping up the affection smiling upwards at his mum. Inwardly I am jealous of his attention but confused.

“Ryan, I see it every day, in my work. People forget to take care of the little issues, then the issues become too big and nasty for them to handle.” Sarah explains dropping her hand free of Joeys head.

“But what does it mean?” I ask dropping my hands to my seated thighs, eyeballing their unbitten nails with delicate white moons.

“Let me give you an example, Ryan.” Sarah suggests.

“Imagine the issue is Joey’s bedroom, tidiness. Ok?”

 “Now if he doesn’t take care of the little issues of keeping it clean and tidy it will become a bigger issue with me and for him. Ok? “Sarah says eyeing me.

“But if he is never lazy and takes care of the little issues it won’t become a bigger issue, will it?

“No.” I reply following her logical example.

Now if I am not worrying about Joeys room, I can do more, for him and us a family can’t I?” Sarah explains her face creasing into a huge smile as my understanding lightens my face.

“I get it.” I say straightening up, alive to the prospects being offered.

“Wait,--- is that why Joeys room is always so neat and tidy? I ask my eyes swivelling to Joey whose once again propping himself on the edge of the door.

Joey cracks a huge smile over his folded arms. His angled legs are pushed out in front of him feet together in what I take to be a confident pose. I wish I could have a photo of him just now.

“It’s pretty cool, isn’t it? We call it our family principal, because helps our family.”

“That’s Right Joey. But if we look at Ryans situation right now. “Sarah pauses drops her voice and then continues.

“Ryans family is going to have to support each other now more than ever.”

But if everyone helps take care of the little issues, it will give Ryans Mum the chance to sort out the bigger issues she needs to.” Sarah says quietly.

In the silence that follows Sarah squats down before me clasping both her hands over mine.

“Ryan you can’t begin to fix adult problems, but you can help your family to cope through this crisis.”

Even I can’t fix adult problems as a social worker. All I do is listen, advise, motivate, fill in forms and sometimes people listen. But mostly when they look back it was the small issues, they “let go “that were the signposts of trouble ahead. At least that’s what they tell me after its all over.” Sarah says giving my hands a little squeeze, so the light catches her plain gold ring on one finger.

I glance quickly to Joey whose smiling with no hint of jealousy that his mum has reached out so intimately to me.

“Thanks” I mumble accepting her words.

“Maybe I can start with my room?” I suggest warming to the suggestion.

“I’ll help you.” Joey offers a wide smile breaking out across his round face.

“Would you, Joey? Please I’d like that!”

I venture pushing the raft of intent out into the open between the three of us.

Joey nods.

“Speaking of little things, I have to get some done, so I’ll leave you boys to play, some games or watch a movie.”

“Oh yes. Ryan I nearly forgot your mum said its ok for you to sleep over tonight. I think that’s for the best don’t you. Your mum needs her space. Just like you need Joey right now!

“ And Ryan you have to decide on how best to help your family from now on.” Sarah says putting me on the spot.

‘Sure” I nod seeing Joey's face brighten noticeably knowing I am going for the family principal.

“Cool, I can show you my new Nintendo game Ryan.” Joey says crossing to his sliding mirror doors where, sliding one mirror door aside he reaches up on tip toes heels rounded and high.

“One little issue we need to fix though before it becomes a big one?” Sarah says standing in the doorway hand on its handle. A smile playing on her face.

“Huh?” I manage caught off guard because I am watching Joey bring down his Nintendo box.

“Next time you come over; please would you use the front door instead of the window?” Sarah says brushing her straw-coloured hair behind her right ear.

I laugh head back mouth open teeth exposed arms open in laughter seeing Joey’s laughter too.

” You told your mum; I came in the window!” I laugh.

“Of course, I had a little issue, but I didn’t want it growing into a big one! “Quips Joey smiling expanding his laughter lines into an impish grin.

                                                                           The End