Chapter Eight
Ryan’s huge black truck was in the driveway of the small house, and he opened the front door as they walked up the footpath past a tangle of dry shrubs.
Inside, surfboards lined the wall of the living room, leaving sand on the wooden floor. The window was covered by a massive Aussie flag instead of curtains, and a huge TV sat on a wall. A coffee table in front of a saggy couch was littered with beer bottles and game controllers.
No one else seemed to be around, and Ryan led them to a room at the back of the house, ushering them in and closing the door. He crossed his arms. “Well?”
Ryan’s room was full of stuff. An old gaming system, fishing gear, the desk he’d insisted on bringing to Queensland even though they’d planned on buying him new furniture. Posters of metal bands decorated the walls.
When Maria didn’t speak, Tim said, “Really glad you came to the barbie today.”
Ryan waited. “And?”
Tim spread his toes on the thin carpet. The curtains—actual curtains—were closed against the sun, and the air con was off. The air was stuffy, and sweat prickled his neck.
Ryan huffed. “Seriously, what?” He went still. “Are you sick or something?” He peered at Tim with—was that concern?
For a moment, Tim let himself soak up that worry like it was the midday sun. His throat was thick, but he managed, “No.”
“Neither of us are unwell, darling,” Maria said.
“Okay,” Ryan said slowly. “Then what’s up?”
“The three of us haven’t been in the same room since you moved home,” she said. “We need to work on our communication. Anya says—”
“Mum. I can’t stand that woo-woo shit.”
“I know, I know. But your father and I have a few things to tell you. Long overdue.”
Arms crossing again, Ryan demanded, “What now?”
“Sweetheart, can’t we just have a reasonable conversation? You’re thirty now. You’re an adult.” She glanced around and added under her breath, “Not that you’d know it from the state of this house.”
Ryan’s jaw set, and Tim said, “Maria.”
She raised her hands. “Sorry. That was out of line. I apologize. I just… I need to tell you…”
As she faltered, Tim said, “I wanted to talk to you about the money. Your money.”
Ryan rocked on his bare feet. “You spent it. The end.”
“I did. I just want you to know that I put it in another account once I earned it back. Low-risk stocks, so it’s been making interest, and I’ve been adding to it over the years. Whenever you want it, it’s waiting for you.”
“Well, that’s lovely,” Maria said with a smile. “If you decide to move in with Jodie at some point—”
“I don’t wanna talk about Jodie.” Ryan glared at Tim. “So, what? I’m supposed to be grateful? You pissed my money—nanna and poppa’s money—away because you’re shit at teaching surfing.”
“He wasn’t,” Maria said. “He’s an excellent teacher, and you know it. Making a business profitable is challenging.”
Tim laughed darkly. “Especially when your business partner is stealing every penny.”
Ryan and Maria stared at him in silence until she asked, “What are you talking about?”
His heart thumped, a familiar wave of nausea rolling through him. He hadn’t planned on saying anything about it, but if they were spilling their guts…
“Scotty said we needed more money. He swore we’d get it all back—with double profit—in a year.
Two, tops. Too good to be true, which I should’ve clocked.
But I wanted to believe it. He was bloody convincing.
I’d already invested half to get us off the ground.
He said he had backers, and once they saw the business was good, they’d flood us with capital so we could expand.
In the meantime, we needed more for ‘overhead.’ So, I thought, ‘We’ve already put everything else into it.
Moved across the country. Can’t stop now, or it would all be for nothing.
’ Another thirty grand in, and I’d have it back in your account with no one the wiser.
Not you or your mum or your grandparents. ”
The shame burned, a sick swell of acid that seemed to fill his lungs. Ryan and Maria watched him, clearly waiting for more.
Tim cleared his throat. “I wanted it too much. My own business. Being the boss. Scotty let me run the show, and I was happy as a pig in shit. I love lifeguarding, but my own surf school? It’s what I always wanted.
Teaching kids and tourists and whoever wanted to learn.
Teaching them properly, not like these fly-by-night operations run by ratbags that crop up and disappear and don’t know what the fuck they’re doing. ”
“Back to Scotty,” Maria said, her brows meeting.
Tim blew out a long breath. His skin prickled all over. “It was a con. There were no backers, and I was the only one who’d put money in. The school was going great—turning a profit. I thought, how good’s that? Then Scotty fucked off with all of it.”
“Uncle Scotty?” Ryan blinked in shock. “Are you serious?”
“Every penny. Gone.”
Ryan’s jaw was on the floor. “Far out,” he murmured.
“One day, I couldn’t get a hold of him. Texted, rang, went round to his place. Nothing. I was worried something’d happened. Tried the hospitals. It was a few days before I realized the business account was empty. He was long gone. Thailand, Vietnam, who knows where these days.”
Ryan’s shock disappeared in a burst of anger. “That fucker! Did you tell the cops?”
“There was nothing they could do. Scotty had made sure all the paperwork was in his favor. And I trusted him. Signed everything he asked me to sign.”
Maria gaped. “Why didn’t you tell us this?”
“Too embarrassed. And I reckoned it doesn’t change anything. I stole the money from Ry’s account. Scotty being a thief too doesn’t make any difference. There’s no excuse for what I did.”
“No, but…” She shook her head. “That must’ve been devastating.”
He shrugged, humiliation hollowing him out like a crab shell washed in by the tide.
Maria barked out a laugh. “Jesus, we really are terrible at communicating. I can’t believe you never told us! I thought you and Scotty were on the outs because of the disappointment that it didn’t work out.”
“You really are an arsehole,” Ryan added. “You could’ve said. Should’ve.”
Tim was hot with shame, his throat dry as sand. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. For all of it. For not telling you when I should’ve. If I could change it, I would in a heartbeat. I was wrong. I was a shit dad.”
“Usually feels heaps better to be right,” Ryan mumbled.
The burning in Tim’s eyes faded as he managed a smile. “Remember when you were twelve and—”
“No!” Ryan snapped. “Not ready for having a laugh about the good ol’ days.” He peered between Tim and Maria. “So, if that was news to Mum, what else are you two tellin’ me?”
Through the closed door suddenly came the thump of bass and screaming guitars. Ryan brushed by Tim and opened the door to shout, “Oi! My parents are here! Turn it down.”
Parents. Tim hadn’t been a father in too long, and he had to make it right.
As Ryan shut the door and the music volume came down enough that they could hear themselves think, Maria said, “You didn’t have to deal with that on your own, Bull.”
“It was my fault. I didn’t deserve your sympathy.”
“That doesn’t mean—bloody men and your egos,” she muttered, then turned back to Ryan. “Right, well. Here goes. Darling, I’m polyamorous.”
Ryan blinked at her. “Huh?”
With a tight smile, she said, “Have you heard of consensual non-monogamy?”
He grimaced. “Mum, I don’t want to hear about your sex life!”
“It’s not about my sex life. It’s about my life. Who I am.” She pressed a shaky hand to her chest. “My identity. Can I tell you about it?”
Looking baffled, Ryan nodded, and Maria explained about her relationship with Warren and David and a couple of other blokes. Then she glanced at Tim. “When your father and I were still married, after you’d moved back here, we explored the swingers scene.”
Ryan rubbed a hand over his face. “Oh, my god.”
Say it! Tim’s mouth was dry. “I’m bisexual!” he blurted as the music fell silent for a moment before another song crashed through the speakers.
Eyes bugging, Ryan stared. “You’re—what the fuck?”
“Bisexual,” Tim repeated, his heart racing. “I like men as well as women.” He had to get used to saying it. “I’m bi.”
“Yeah, I’m not deaf.” Ryan sputtered and demanded, “Since when?”
“Reckon since always, but—”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” There was familiar fury in the accusation, along with unmistakable hurt that was a knife to Tim’s gut.
“Haven’t told many people yet. I’m working on it.”
“I’m not ‘people’!”
“You wouldn’t talk to me.”
Ryan opened his mouth, then snapped it shut, dropping his gaze and crossing his arms. They stood in silence aside from the screeching “singing” coming from the living room.
Then Ryan asked, “Are you poly too?”
“No.” Tim and Maria shared a glance, and she took a deep breath.
“Darling, when your father and I started exploring the swingers community, we had certain rules. No kissing, no secret meet-ups. It was something we did together.”
Ryan shuddered dramatically.
“But then I broke those rules.” She clasped her hands together. “I fell in love with Warren. The three of us had had fun together—”
Ryan’s lip curled. “Wait, whaddya mean the three of you? Like, you two and Woz? Together?”
Tim tried to stay casual. “Yeah, Woz and I got on, and he’s a good-looking bloke.”
Ryan stared at him like he’d sprouted asparagus out of his ears. “You and he…” He made a rolling motion with his hand.
Tim nodded, and Maria said, “I understand this is confusing for you. Polyamory—”
“Mum, I get what it is! One of Jodie’s sisters is in a foursome. Sounds like a hell of a lotta work. I can barely get my shit together to keep Jodie happy.” He held up his hands. “But wait—you said you fell in love with Woz. Like, after Dad left you?”
She shook her head, knuckles white where she clasped her hands.
“As I said, I broke our rules. It was cheating, especially emotionally. I was ashamed, and… I was hurt. I didn’t want to divorce your father.
” She kept her eyes on Ryan. “I wanted to have a relationship with Warren and with him. But your father isn’t polyamorous.
Swinging is a form of it, but it’s not the same as being in a true poly relationship.
So that’s why he chose to leave our marriage.
And in my hurt, I let you blame him. It was wrong, and I deeply regret it. ”
A sudden sob racked her, and Tim and Ryan reached for her in unison. She backed up a step, holding up her hands. “No. I don’t want you to let me off the hook because you can’t take the tears.”
Sweat dripped down the small of Tim’s back. He flipped on the ceiling fan, which whirred and thumped softly.
Ryan asked him, “That’s why you left?”
Tim nodded. “I tried to make it work. I did. I’ve known your mum since we were barely more than kids, and we had more than twenty years together.
But people grow apart. Want different things.
I tried, but I can’t do it—I was jealous and angry all the time.
I’m not built that way. She was my wife.
It was one thing to have fun with other people while we were together.
Sex is different—that’s not feelings. I had to leave or I’d just end up hating her.
And I’ve loved your mum far too long to hate her. Can you understand that?”
Ryan stared up at the ceiling fan. He was silent for so long, Tim was afraid he’d call him an arsehole and storm out.
Then his son nodded.
There was a knock at the bedroom door, and Ryan went to open it as Tim squeezed Maria’s shoulder. She gave him a shaky smile and quickly wiped her tears.
The music—if you could call it that—was still too loud, and Ryan had plans with his mates, and Tim and Maria shared a nod of silent agreement that it was time to go. That was enough gut-spilling for the day. She took a deep breath and put on her bright everything’s-just-fine smile.
They followed Ryan into the living room, where several young men had gathered. Ryan was slapping hands with one, and Maria greeted them warmly. “Hiya, Jacko. Cam.”
Tim supposed he might’ve met them when they were kids, but he didn’t remember. Then the front door opened—and guess who fucking walked in.