A Straight Line to My Heart by Bill Condon Page B

know that.
    If you married him, what would happen then? Would you move in with us? Would Bull move out? I know those things worry Reggie. It isn’t personal. It’s just the whole change thing – it scares him. I think it’s rubbed off on me a bit . . .
    A few minutes later Zoe breaks the silence.
    â€˜How was working at the paper? Did you like it?’
    There’s a lot I could say, but I manage to sum it up with a nod, and just one word. ‘Yeah.’ I figure that should cover it.
    She looks at me and laughs.
    â€˜Did I say something funny?’
    â€˜Well, yes, you did as a matter of fact. It got me remembering when I was your age. Whatever my parents asked me, I would try to answer in one word. Or a shrug was even better.
    â€˜What did you do at school today, Zoe?
    â€˜Schoolwork.
    â€˜Who was that boy you were talking with?
    â€˜Shrug.
    â€˜From when I was about fourteen to seventeen, maybe eighteen, my parents must have thought I was a spy, or an alien. I wouldn’t tell them anything and I would rather have died than be seen in public with them. And they probably felt the same way about me. At one stage I had three colours in my hair and a lip ring, because I knew that would drive them insane!’
    Smiles really are contagious. I catch Zoe’s from her. It feels kind of special being with her and talking like this and laughing and – is that something up ahead?

‘Roo!’ zoe screeches. ‘brake! Brake!’
    I jam my foot down till I’m almost standing. The brakes squeal and the car pivots and slews to the left. Zoe reefs at the handbrake but momentum propels us on, metal grinding and shuddering till we stop. The car is side-on and plum in front of a tree. Behind us a kangaroo hops off into the scrub.
    â€˜Sorry! Zoe, I’m sorry!’
    â€˜It’s okay. It’s over now. No damage.’
    â€˜It just jumped out from nowhere!’
    â€˜That’s the worst thing about night-driving in the bush. Things can happen so fast.’ She lays a hand on my forehead. ‘You’re so cold. Shaking a bit, too. You got quite a shock. So did I. Just straighten the car up and pull right off the road for a minute. We both need to catch our breath.’
    I do it.
    â€˜Better put the hazard lights on, too. We don’t want to be rear-ended.’
    I do it.
    â€˜Crazy roos.’ She turns around to try to see if there are any more. ‘Been here six months and I’ve been called out to five prangs caused by roos. The damage they do. Cars written off. People smashed up. There was one fatal, too. Bull might have told you about it, that one over at Gudden. A big red went through the windscreen and into a car. The driver made it – I don’t know how – but the old guy in the back seat wasn’t so lucky. The truckies have got the right idea: drive right over the top of them. Don’t swerve like we just did because that’s when . . . Tiff?’
    I struggle to open the door but can’t make it in time.
    Push my head through the window.
    Spew my heart out.

‘I’m so insensitive. raving on about accident scenes and here’s you in shock.’ She wipes my face with a handkerchief.
    â€˜I’m so sorry, Zoe.’ Can’t look at her. Feel like I’m about to die from embarrassment.
    â€˜Come here, you big dope.’
    She suddenly leans in to hug me. It’s a perfectly natural thing for her to do, but I still pull back.
    At the same time I hear myself telling her, ‘I’ve already got a mother.’
    I don’t know where that came from. It’s just there and I say it in such a cold and cruel way.
    She pauses a moment to take that in, to recover.
    â€˜Yes, sure,’ she says. ‘Of course. I understand.’
    But even I don’t understand.
    We sit for a moment, the night breeze a whisper on our faces. I’m certain she’s trying to work out what to