All About Me by Joanna Mazurkiewicz Page B

mother failed as a parent and, yeah, maybe that wasn ’ t her fault. Can I forget that she treated me like a worthless piece of shit? Can India forgive me the amount of pain that I put her through?
    I open the garage and swear under my breath. Christian ’ s old car should be in decent condition. My father always forbid me to touch it, stating that it never belonged to me and that it was the only memory he had left of him. Well, my father is also dead, rotting in the ground along with that bastard brother of mine.
    The keys are in the glove compartment inside the car. It ’ s an old Audi. He crushed my Dad ’ s BMW the night of his accident. The car doesn ’ t start, so I curse a few nasty words, slamming my fists on the dashboard. I ’ m furious with myself. India shared those terrible days with my mother. Everything is fucking broken. My stomach churns and I try hard to keep the food from last night in my stomach. Even thinking about that fated party brings all my raw emotions out.
    “ Oh, man, this baby looks fucking incredible! ”
    The voice from outside startles me. I take some oxygen into my lungs, feeling how my heart hammers between my ribs.
    I get out of the car and see Jacob, who runs his hand over the rooftop. If my brother were here, he would go mental. He was weird like that — no one could ever touch his stuff. I don ’ t move, watching as Jacob admires the car.
    “ This is another reason why I ’ m here. This beauty used to belong to my dead brother. He can go fuck himself in hell. The car is mine now. I don ’ t care what my mother says about it. ”
    Jacob looks at me with his calm and calculating stare twisting his lips.
    “ Listen man, I accidentally overheard your conversation downstairs. ”
    Probably even our nosy neighbours heard me. I was pretty loud.
    “ It ’ s fine. I was out of line, but she always protected him. Christian didn ’ t deserve any of his stuff. There are some good things up there, ” I say pointing at the boxes that both my parents gathered just after Christian died. No one asked me if I wanted to take anything. At one point I came back from school and they were arguing about his shit in the living room. Pathetic.
    Jacob is more interested in the car, but after a moment he helps me rip some boxes apart and put them outside the garage. My father wasn ’ t stupid. He made sure that all the stuff would be well preserved. From what I can see, there is a lot of good shit here. A few iPods and old-school mobile phones. A brand-new rugby kit that Christian was going to take to Uni. His surfboard and tools. A lot of good mechanic tools.
    “ This stuff is worth a fortune. You sure your mother will be all right with this, what we are doing now? ” he asks.
    “ I told you, it ’ s nothing to do with her. All of this belongs to me, ” I insist, looking back at the house. My mother is probably working today. Besides, I haven ’ t finished with her yet. She apologised, but fuck, we have a long way to go.
    Jacob looks impressed with everything that we find. Soon we segregate everything that we ’ re taking back to Braxton, and the rest of the rubbish. Staring at all his pictures from high school, I have an urge to burn them. Now I sort of get why my mother took all his pictures down when India and I came home for the funeral a few months back. Before I left to go to Gargle two years ago, she had his pictures everywhere. My mother must have gone through quite a shock when she heard that her perfect son was a rapist.
    Once everything is sorted, Jacob drives me to the local mechanic, who agrees to look at the car. I don ’ t mind spending some cash on it, but I want to use it or maybe sell it. By the end of the day, when we come back from town, the car runs like a well-oiled clock. My mechanic is an old mate that isn ’ t as far up his arse as everyone else in this shit hole. I give him some money and he is off. When we walk back to the house, it looks like my mother has