The Sum of Us Page #7

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Not now. It's not just him,

anyway; it's everything.

I can't.

- Joyce.

- I just need to be on my own for a bit.

Sort things out in my head.

It was so good for a while there, Harry.

If only you'd been honest.

- Ashamed of Jeff?

Never.

Disappointed?

Yeah, disappointed that...

he'll never give me a

grandchild. Disappointed that...

I honestly believe he'd be missing out

on something wonderful.

What I had with his mum,

making a baby.

Knowing that I'd put the seed

in there and watching it grow,

then seeing him.

But if he's never going to have that,

then I want him to have

all the things he can have.

Our children are only the sum of us.

What we add up to.

Us, and our parents

And our grandparents and theirs.

All the generations.

- Hello, mate.

They said you'd be up soon.

Why'd you go and do a silly

bloody thing like that for?

You've had a bit of a stroke, Dad.

It was more than a bit of one, actually.

Did they tell you what

it was going to be like?

You'll be all right, mate.

I'll look after you, no sweat.

Things will be just the same

as always, Dad, I promise.

Can I get you anything?

Need to go for a wee or something?

Silly, eh? 'Suppose they look

after that sort of thing here.

But still, you never know.

Why do you keep moving your hand?

Can you hear me?

Once for "yes."

Twice for "no."

Oh, Dad.

- Smooth.

Are you knocking off early?

- What do you mean, it's five past.

- What are you, a bloody

clock-watcher now?

I thought you might give

us a few minutes extra.

Considering that cock-up you made

with that bed of Pansies last week.

- He's a prick. Don't Take any notice.

- Water off a duck's back.

- You're in a good mood.

You piss off, I'll put your gear away.

- Thanks, mate.

- Great, boys! Is there

going to be a rodeo later?

- Hey, why don't you come

with us, Walter? Come with us!

- Love to.

- Marty! Marty! We'll see you there.

See you down there.

- Police

estimate tonight's crowd

to be nearly 600,000.

This is believed to be

the largest crowd ever

to gather for the Gay

and Lesbian Mardi Gras.

- Mum.

What are you doing up?

- You're late.

What have you been doing?

What were you doing?

You were all over the late news!

- I was having a good time with my mates.

- I ought to beat the sh*t out of you.

- Well, why don't you try?

- Get out. Get out of here now.

You can come back once for

your things, when I'm not here.

Then that's it.

I never want to see you again.

- He doesn't mean it, Gregory. He's angry.

- No. He does, Mum.

- Damn right, I do.

- Fair enough.

- Here you go, Dad.

I fixed it up a treat, mate.

Now we can talk to each other, sort of.

What do you think? It's good, isn't it?

No, it's not silly, Mate.

It's good. It works well.

I thought we'd have an outing this arvo,

take you down the supermarket.

Pick up a nice bit of Fish for your tea,

Some of that frozen

lasagna you like so much.

Here's the remote. You want it on?

What about your wee pan?

Need a piss?

Come on, Harry, now.

You know you're not

going to be able to piss

in the supermarket, right, hmm?

I'll just go and get us

ready. Back in a tick.

- The trouble with having a stroke

is that people treat you

like a fuckwit afterwards.

- Shut up, Dad.

Don't make a row.

- Jeff.

- G'day.

Thought it was you.

- G'day, Greg.

How're you going, Mr. Mitchell?

Not too good, by the look of things.

Dad's had a bit of a stroke.

Yeah, I heard. Down the pub.

- He can't, uh, speak or anything,

But he knows it's you.

- How can you tell?

- Just can.

So how are things?

Oh, not bad. I've left home.

- Your folks?

- Mum's been great, but Dad, uh...

Found a place of my own, actually.

A studio flat, they call it.

It's quite nice, but...

There's hardly enough room to swing

a cat, and it's pretty expensive.

- I would've, uh, thought

you'd have found some nice...

friend to move in with.

- I wish.

Uh, you know, I do meet blokes, but

they're all only after one thing.

That's not everything in life, is it?

- Can't understand it.

Look, we better push off.

I've got to get dad home.

- Yeah, of course.

- I'll see you later, Mr. Mitchell.

Hope you're feeling better soon.

- Yeah, thanks Greg.

- Listen, uh,

I might drop round one night,

and make sure he's looking

after you properly.

- Uh, probably be a bit difficult.

- Oh, well, if you don't want me to...

- No, it's just, it's a

little difficult with Dad.

- You've gotta have a life

of your own life, surely.

- Yeah, of course... Dad, Dad,

Dad... yeah, of course I do.

It's just, you know, maybe

when he's a bit better, eh?

- Yeah.

- Tooroo.

- See you later.

- Yeah, two ticks!

- No, sorry. Don't want any.

- Jeff,

My name's Joyce Johnson.

I'm a friend of your dad's.

- Joyce, yeah. Sorry, come in.

How is he?

- As well as can be

expected, you know, um.

Doc says he'll never walk again.

He can't speak, of course.

Do you want to see him?

- Oh, I didn't realize it was that bad.

- He'd be pleased to see you.

Dad, someone to see you.

- Harry? I'm So sorry about you...

About your being sick.

- Oh, he's not sick now.

- Look, I'll leave you two

alone, so you can have a chat.

- Look, it's all right.

I just dropped by, I...

- I'll make a cup of tea.

- I'm really sorry, Harry.

- Tea's ready.

- Look, um, I won't stay.

My daughter, um, Jenny,

she's waiting for me.

Bit of a shock, seeing him like that.

He used to be so full of energy.

- Ah, still is.

Always wanting to go down the park .

for a walk, or walk down the shops..

or 'wheel', I should say.

- Must be difficult for you.

- No.

Got a nurse comes in

three times a week, and

it's my dad, you know.

Look, drop in again some time.

He likes visitors.

Sorry I gave you such a hard time, before.

I thought you were one

of them missionaries.

We get a lot of them around here.

When it's blokes like the Mormons,

I just open the door, tell 'em I'm

a poofter and watch them blush.

- You tell them what?

- I'm a poofter.

Didn't he tell you?

Yeah, he was going to.

He was a bit worried

about how you might react.

- No, I knew.

You're nothing like I expected.

- Real sweet on you, he was.

Had his heart set on you.

- How was it? Are you ok?

- There's no fool like an old

fool. Isn't that what they say?

- You're not so old, Mum.

- No.

But I'm a fool.

- My mother was 80.

She was getting infirm, and

Mary was a bit younger.

But neither of them could

look after each other anymore.

And we all made the

decision to split them up.

My brother took Mum. And Mary...

went to a home.

It was for their own good.

How many times did we tell ourselves that?

We drove Mum away, and

she didn't say a word. She

didn't speak for days. She just

sat in her new bedroom with

her suitcase full of memories.

And she died in her sleep one

night, not long after that.

And I never had the chance,

or the guts,

To ask her the one thing I wanted to know.

I always wanted to know

What they said to each

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