Finn and I leave Claire and Paddy waving to us from the front door. I hug her so hard before we go. It's like she's part of me; that we already know each other even though we've only just met. She tells me I can call her whenever I want and stay with her whenever I need to.
Our first stop is the deli on Bridge Road to get some of the expensive cheese Alex asked for. I use Ben's credit card again. Sorry Ben, I cringe as I see the amount come up on the cash register. I know I'll pay him back.
I drag my shoes off and rest my feet on the dashboard as we cruise back over the Westgate Bridge with the shining skyscrapers in the rear-view mirror. Dark clouds loom ahead of us and I message Minda while Finn fills up at the servo.
Miss you Minds. So much to tell you. Going home now. Can't text it all. Too much. x
I'm glad I've been honest with her.
Finn comes out of the servo with a packet of cigarettes. I don't know why. He grins at me and says if he's ever going to smoke, it has to be out the side of a cool car, with the window down, and Silent Moth playing on the stereo. I let him go with his weird retro fantasy as we cruise along the highway past kilometres of graffiti fences and McMansions. The suburbs and factories churn past then the orange flat of suburban spread at Rockbank turns into rolling hills and farmland. As soon as we're out of the city I feel better; more like me. I need the space and the light and the air around me. The overbearing skyscrapers and traffic of the city seem constant and oppressive. When we hit the real country, way past Ballarat, Finn tosses the packet of cigarettes at me.
"It's time, J," he says, winding down his window. It's still overcast and dark grey clouds still hang low, billowing like foamy waves in the sky in front of us. "It's time for us to make a vivid experience."
"What are you talking about? What's this 'vivid experience'?" I laugh and hold my hair back where the wind grabs for it through his window. I wind my own window down and the cool breeze catches inside the car and fills it with fresh air.
"It's a Tim Winton thing. We're never going to be in this car, at this moment, at this time, ever again," Finn grins at me. "So, chuck us a ciggie and let's feel the vibe. Put your dad's tape on. Loud. And go with it. I guarantee that's what he'd do. Do it with me, J."
I crank the volume on the stereo and some song about a mountain comes on. I check the song list. Jane's Addiction. It's raw and powerful. A wall of bass notes then wailing guitars drive heavily along like they're part of the car's engine. I tug the plastic off the cigarette packet and prise one out as Finn pushes the lighter into the dashboard and we wait for it to heat up. Sticking my hand out the window, I let the air catch between my fingers as I dance them along in time with the music. I imagine my dad nodding his head in time to the song, letting the beat pound through him; take him over. I wonder if my mum ever let herself go—if she ever listened to the tape; to this song with its heavy riff and repetitive throb—and thought about my dad.
The cigarette lighter pops out. I hand Finn a cigarette and he props it in the corner of his mouth as I pass him the lighter. He sticks the glowing tip on the end of the smoke and breathes in heavily as tiny sparks light up at the end of the cigarette.
"Enjoying your cancer stick?" I laugh, take the lighter back from him and push it in the dashboard to re-light.
Finn coughs out the other side of his mouth and I see his eyes water as he grins at me. "It's pretty foul," he chokes, but he takes a longer breath in and manages to make it look like he's actually smoking the thing. "Join me, J," he says, pinching the cigarette from his mouth, waggling it at me.
I don't really want to, but in this car, with this music playing, I get what we're doing. I prise the cigarette from his fingers, and place it in between my lips, breathe in. I don't do it properly the first time and end up having to hold my hand over my mouth as smoke billows out my nostrils and catches in my throat, scorching my nose hairs.
"It's disgusting," I mutter, grabbing for my bottle of water, slugging it down as the cigarette burns away between my fingers.
Finn chuckles. "Taste the olden days."
"If this is what they tasted like I'm okay leaving them behind." I laugh but I know what he means. I take another tentative suck on the cigarette and this time the acrid smoke fills my lungs and my heartbeat gallops away. The nicotine hits my brain and thaws me out. Does it feel good? I don't know. But when I lift my eyes to the road, and the next song comes on, I totally get what Finn's on about.
The wind tickles at my face and the cigarette smoke coils up and around me as I take another drag. The music is more electronic this time and gives me a weird sensation inside as the singer's voice rakes out over the top of the repetitive bass notes and quakes through some pretty intense lyrics.
Finn nods over to me. "Nine Inch Nails. It's epic. Listen to how it builds up. Your dad had insane music taste. He's totally trying to seduce your mum with his music."
I pass the cigarette back to Finn and realise how sensual the song is. My parents were the same age as Finn and I are now. Without mobile phones to help overcome their awkwardness—no text messaging to hide behind—was this tape the only way my dad could tell my mum how he felt about her? The only way to say what he wanted to say?
"If someone put this on a mixtape for me," Finn says with the cigarette hanging from his lips and the song comes to a climax, "it'd be a done deal. I'd be naked, ready and waiting for them."
"You'd be like that if you heard the Top Gear theme tune, I reckon," I laugh.
He winks at me; takes another drag on the cigarette. He nudges the volume up more and we watch the open road ahead of us, sharing the cigarette back and forth. Dark clouds descend around us and the temperature drops. Finn flips the headlights on. We wind up our windows as the tape cruises through the songs my dad put on it all those years ago. It's like Finn says, all the songs seem to have something seductive and suggestive about them. But maybe because that's what I'm feeling about Finn right now. I check him out from the corner of my eyes and a tug deep down inside me makes me want to lean across and kiss him. But I don't want to distract him from driving.
I know he's clocked me looking at him.
"What is it about the Nineties that's so sexy?" Finn grins, glancing over at me.
I have to agree with him.
The next song is The Disappointed.
I lean over and punch off the stereo. I haven't heard these songs properly yet. I heard the grainy version on the video and we heard them in the car when we were driving down but I wasn't paying attention to the vocals like I know I need to. And I was watching Ben—not my dad—on my video. I don't know if I'm ready to listen to my dad's voice; listen to his lyrics. Not like this anyway.
Finn doesn't say anything. He hands me back the cigarette and I take the last drag, wondering if I'm enjoying smoking too much. I stare at the white lines down the side of the road and a green road sign appears as we cruise around a wide corner. The closer we get to Koroit, the less I want to see my mum. The less I want to see her pointed, cold expression. I don't want to be apart from Finn. I don't want to be told to turn my music down when all I want to do is turn it up. I don't want Ben to leave. I don't want things to go back to the way they were – like it's winter all the time and I'm trapped under the ice with no air to breathe and no escape.
"Hey, Finn," I say, stubbing the cigarette out in the ash tray.
Finn darts his eyes at me before he checks his mirrors and changes lanes to go around tractor. "Yup."
"It's gonna piss down."
"I know, J." Finn doesn't look at me; keeps his eyes on the road. The darkening greenery around us has shifted to endless fields and farmland and the road is straight and flat. The sky is covered in billowing grey clouds like a blanket's being thrown over us. Finn's still driving cautiously but he's way more relaxed than he was on the way to Melbourne. I love how he's still paying attention to everything.
Fat raindrops start to batter the windscreen and I see a sign for a truck stop coming up.
"Pull in." I point to the sign.
"Don't you want to get back—"
"Quick. Pull in."
"Please."
"Please, Finn."
Finn taps the windscreen wipers on as he slows the car and turns carefully off the highway onto the gravel road. Behind a vandalised concrete picnic table is a leaning gum tree, its leaves starting to glitter in the car's headlights as the raindrops clatter down onto them. An overflowing rubbish bin is being attacked by a flock of screeching magpies who scoot off into the tree and sit there like hunched gargoyles when the car comes to a stop. Finn turns the keys and the engine shuts off. The wipers come to a halt halfway across the windscreen. He undoes his seat belt, twists in his seat and looks at me carefully. His expression reminds me of that day in the car with Ben. Except this time, it's Finn. This time it's okay. I need his help with something that needs to be done before I go home and deal with my mum.
"Finn," I say over the metallic skins of the rain in the roof of the van, "will you listen to my dad's songs with me and finish Mum's journal with me? Now. Here. Like this. With the rain. In this car. Together. Another vivid experience? Can you help me do that?"
And because it's Finn he says yes. Just like that. A simple yes.
***
We lie in Ben's Sandman van with rain pounding down on the roof. Finn's arms are around me. We're under the sleeping bag because it's even more cocoon-like. My dad's voice hails out through the car speakers. It's raw and deep and cracked with emotion. We've listened to the three songs on the tape through twice. I stare up at the roof of the Sandman where the paint is all glossy around the metalwork listening closely. Finn gets up, rewinds the tape and snuggles back down with me and we listen again.
The song Ben played in the lounge room is on there. Finn whispers that it's the one Silent Moth covered. I realise how crazy it is that my dad put a song he wrote for my mum on this tape and now the world knows it. But the version on the tape is the real song – not the Silent Moth version. It's the truest version of this song, given to the person it was written for. I listen to the lyrics and Finn tightens his arms around me. Half of me is heartbroken at the intensity and sensitivity of the song and the way my dad sings it. The other half of me is angry at my mum because the song is beautiful. It's about her and him. It's like everyone in the whole world knows more about their relationship than I do.
***
~December 1992~
It's happened. I don't know what to feel or think but I need to write it down because it might help me work through it.
Matty borrowed Ben's van so we could go down to the beach and hang out. The sea was as smooth as a mirror and it was so warm outside - like that settled-in warmth where you don't have to think about it. It was so good to take my boots off and feel the air on my toes and stretch out together basking in the salty air.
Matty gave me this mixtape with his favourite songs on it. It must've taken him ages to make. We put the tape on and lay in the back of Ben's car looking at the stars and listening to the music.
Sonic Youth. Smashing Pumpkins. Nine Inch Nails. I love those songs so much.
I can't explain how music makes me feel. Like my stomach is twisting up inside and there isn't enough of me to take it all in. Like I'm too small and the music is too big.
We were kissing and because of the music and the waves and the warmth - it happened.
Matty was really sweet and he made sure I was okay. I only said yes because he seemed to want to do it so badly. And I did too. I really did want to have sex with him. At least I thought I did. And I was okay at first. It's supposed to feel good, isn't it? I don't know. I guess, after building up to something for so long, maybe it wasn't what I thought it was going to be.
I was so nervous.
All I could think about were my parents and everything they'd ever told me about sex being wrong and bad and disgusting.
And the whole time I felt like I was outside of my body; trying to be the way I thought Matty wanted me to be; trying to do the right thing. I felt like crying after. Maybe I was crying while he was inside me. I don't remember. I only I felt so alone even though we were doing the closest thing we could do together.
Is that normal?
I wish I was still friends with Mara. She could tell me.
When we were lying there afterwards, Matty was so quiet and so distant.
I took his hand and told him I'd love him forever.
I probably said it too softly.
He probably didn't hear.
He just got out of the van and walked down to the shoreline, smoking those herbal cigarettes he likes. And he was so strange on the drive home. Like he didn't want to talk to me. Like everything we'd done in the past hadn't happened. Like I'd done something wrong.
I don't want to make a big deal of it. I'm probably being paranoid. Half of me is worried things are going to be different now.
Why am I so stupid? Why do I have to be so pathetic about everything?
I know I have to talk to him about how I feel. I'm not good at that. I'm scared he'll say I'm overthinking it. I'm scared it'll make him change the way he thinks about me. I'm scared I'll lose him. But it's Matty. He knows me. I know him. He's kind and patient and generous. Isn't he? So why am I feeling so anxious about this?
It's the Silent Moth concert tomorrow.
Tomorrow, everything will be fine.
I'll tell him what I'm feeling and we can work through it together.
Because there is always tomorrow.
I close Mum's journal.
There are no more entries.
That was the last one.
Finn curls my hair around in his fingers. "J, you realise you were probably conceived right where we're lying?"
I want to laugh but I feel pricks of tears in my eyes. My mum. My dad. In this car. Right here. A moment of love that ended in confusion and anguish. And then me. And eighteen years of heartache afterwards.
"I'm not sure I get why your dad acted that way. I hope it's because he was worried about your mum but didn't know what to do," Finn says.
"I hope so."
Finn brushes his finger over my neck in a way that does things to my insides. But he doesn't try anything. He just lies there with me listening to the raindrops echoing off the roof and the music my dad made filling the cavity of the van where so much happened.
I think about how hurt and confused and alone my mum was. And my Dad's reaction in such a vulnerable moment.
I think about how I feel about Finn. I could never swear I would love Finn forever like Mum did with Dad. Because I don't know if I will. Who knows things like that? But right now, in this moment, I love him. And our story is so different to my parent's story but also how similar it could have been if it weren't for Finn being so great. His fingers are so warm on my skin and he smells so good. I wonder if he knows just how important he is in all of this.
I think about how we're in Ben's van. How my dad was here too—on the night before he died— with my mum maybe being too much in love with him.
The rain pounds down on the roof and the wind whistles around us shaking the van; causing Finn to shiver and nestle down closer to me under the sleeping bag.
I think about how we're in the middle of nowhere. No one can find us. No one can tell us what to do. But I'm worried what comes after the last page of Mum's journal. And I wonder why she let the music die inside her.