Yellow Daisies

The rhythmic sound of the foam roller, gliding paint onto bare walls, helps to settle Daniel’s prickly mood and allows the music, playing through his portable speaker, to reach deeper into his soul and smooth his rough edges. Today is no different to any other work day. At least, it shouldn’t be, but it feels different and Daniel can’t put his finger on why.

     It’s his third new build job in a row and their predictability is starting to grate. Though empty properties are far easier to paint, they lack personality and warmth. Daniel enjoys spending time in other people’s homes, getting to know the occupants’ routines, their personalities. He enjoys them even more when there are children in the family. He loves the energy and noise of children, no matter their mood.

     His current job is another, newly built block of units and Daniel is ready for it to be over. He applies more paint to the roller and moves to the next wall, expertly gliding the roller up and down the wall until the bare plaster is covered in white.

     Clear, crisp, fresh white.

     Plain, boring, dull white.

     ‘What’s with me today?’ Daniel asks.

The only reply is the thud, thud, thud of a tail on tiles as Jock, Daniel’s twelve-year-old Border Collie, sensing a break coming, stirs.

     ‘Come on, mate. Let’s stretch those legs of yours.’ Daniel ruffles the fur on Jock’s head and the two go outside.

     Daniel stretches his back then pours himself a coffee from his red tartan, steel thermos. Battered and chipped, the thermos was a gift from his mother when he started his apprenticeship, sixteen years ago and it still works as well as it did then. Well, almost. Daniel chooses to ignore the fact that his coffee is lukewarm by lunchtime and cold by mid-afternoon. After all, how hot does he really need his coffee to be?

     He leans against his pickup truck and sips his now cold coffee. He watches Jock as he sniffs his way round the yard, looking for the perfect spot to relieve himself. The wind blows across a daisy bush and the flowers dance in the sunlight. His thoughts drift to his mother, Maggie, and Daniel reminds himself to visit her on the way home. It’s been five days since his last visit and he never goes a week without seeing his mother. His rock. His hero. His only living parent.

    A song catches Daniel’s attention, he nods his head to the familiar tune of Part Time Believer by Boy and Bear. Today’s playlist contains all their albums but it’s been some time since he’s heard this particular track. The tempo builds as it leads into the chorus and Daniel feels his emotions souring with the music.

     The chorus speaks of a boy, sitting on his balcony, waiting for his dad to come home from work so he can show what he has learned to play on his guitar. Daniel thinks back to the day he was waiting for his own dad to come home from work; a day he will never forget.

***

‘Come on, Danny, you’ll be late for school,’ Maggie calls out from the kitchen.

     ‘Just two more minutes. I’ve nearly got it,’ fifteen year-old Daniel replies. His face is a picture of focus and attention.

     ‘Will you take him today?’ Maggie asks her husband, Rob. ‘I need to get to work. You can drop him at the bus stop on the way to the site.’

     ‘Sure,’ comes Rob’s easy reply. He smiles across his mug at Maggie. His high school sweetheart and the love of his life. 'Anything for you my love.'

Maggie chuckles. 'Thanks.' She kisses Rob, rests her cheek against his for a moment then walks towards the front door. 'Bye, Danny,' Maggie calls out. 'Your dad will drop you at the bus stop.'

     ‘Bye, Mum,’ Daniel replies.

     Maggie turns back and looks at Rob. 'See you tonight.'

     Rob finishes his coffee then rinses the mug in the sink, placing it in the rack to dry.

     ‘Come on, mate. I’ve gotta go.’ Rob calls out as he grabs his keys and cooler bag from the bench.

     ‘I’m ready.’ Daniel appears at the door with his school bag on his back and his guitar case in his hand.

     ‘Got rehearsals today?’ Rob asks as they walk towards the car.

     ‘Nah. I wanna keep working on the song. I’ve nearly got it.’ Daniel places his case and school bag in the back seat.

     ‘Remind me again, which song.’ Rob starts the engine and begins to back out of the drive.

     ‘Come on. It’s only the greatest song on the radio at the moment, Boulevard of Broken Dreams, by Green Day. Remember? You showed me the chords for the chorus on Sunday.’

     ‘I’m messing with you, mate.’ Rob pats Daniel’s leg. ‘How long ‘til the school concert?’

Daniel blows out a breath. ‘Two weeks,’ he replies. ‘Which is why I need to practice. The band will kill me if I don’t get it right. I’m still stuck on the tremolo.’ Daniel chews his bottom lip.

    ‘You’ll be right, mate. We can spend some time on it after dinner tonight.’

     ‘Awesome. Thanks, Dad.’ Daniel sits up straighter in his seat. ‘Could we go through the whole song a few times, check my timing?

     ‘You bet.’ Rob parks his car near the Blairgowrie shops bus stop. There are students from different schools gathered around the shelter.

     ‘There’s Ollie.’ Daniel waves to his friend.

     ‘Wait a minute, Danny.’ Rob pulls the handbrake up and turns to face Daniel. ‘I’m proud of how hard you’re working, both with your music and your school work. You’re a good kid. When you commit to something, you go all in. That will serve you well when you’re older.

     ‘What about we drive up to Allans Music on Saturday, have a look at the Gibson you’ve been wanting?’ Rob asks.

     ‘Seriously?’ Daniel’s teeth shine brightly in the car’s interior as his smile stretches across his face.

     ‘Sure. You’ve proven your commitment and your birthday’s in a couple of months.’

     ‘Wow! Thanks, Dad.’ Danny throws his arms around Rob’s neck and squeezes, not caring who from the bus stop may be watching. ‘You’re the best.’

     Daniel rushes from the car, calling to Ollie as he drags his bag and guitar case from the back seat. ‘Ollie! Guess what? Dad’s gonna buy me the Gibson.’

 

Later that day, Daniel is home from school and is in his bedroom, his guitar resting on his lap. His fingertips, not yet fully calloused, are tender and raw but he desperately wants to impress his Dad and have all the chords right before they practice tonight.

     Pausing to stretch his back and shake out his hands, Daniel notices the time. It’s coming up to six o’clock. Dad should’ve been home by now.

     ‘Mum?!’ Daniel calls out.

     ‘In here,’ Maggie answers.

     Maggie is in the kitchen, listening to music as she prepares their dinner. Daniel recognises a Coldplay song. One of his Mum’s favourites.

     ‘Where’s Dad?’ Daniel asks.

     ‘He probably got held up on site.’ Maggie looks at the time. ‘He should be home soon.’

     ‘He said he’d help me with my song for the concert after dinner.’

     ‘Well, it’s not dinner time yet.’ Maggie say. She glances at the clock again and frowns.

     Daniel goes to the lounge room and turns the television on. Losing himself in an episode of Deal or No Deal he doesn’t hear the doorbell, or the strange voices at the door. But there was no missing Maggie’s wail.

     ‘Nooo!’

     ‘Mum?! What is it?’ Daniel runs towards the sound. There are two police officers in the front hall. Maggie is leaning against the wall. Her hands are covering her face. She is making a noise Daniel has never heard before and hopes to never hear again.

     ‘What is it? What happened?’ Daniel rushes to Maggie, wrapping his arms around her. His instinct is to protect his mother from whatever is causing her to make such a raw, guttural sound.

     ‘Mum? Please, Mum. What’s wrong?’ Daniel glares at the police officers.

     One of them takes a step forward.

     ‘I’m sorry, son. There was an accident at your dad’s worksite. Your dad was badly injured. I’m sorry to tell you, he died on the way to the hospital.’

     And just like that, Daniel’s world changed forever.

***

The sound of Jock barking draws Daniel back to the present day. He wipes a stray tear from his cheek. The pain of losing his dad is always there, just under the surface. He has never stopped missing him. Glancing at his watch Daniel notices the date.

     June 2.

    Now his mood makes sense. It was June 2, 2005 when Daniel lost his hero. His friend. His father. The day Daniel became a man.

     Daniel knows what he needs to do; where he needs to be and decides to cut his day short. He quickly packs up his equipment.

     ‘Come on, mate,’ he calls to Jock as he opens the driver’s door. Jock leaps from the driveway and across to the passenger seat. The drive home is short and within fifteen minutes he walks in his front door and goes straight to the spare room. He drags a couple of boxes out of the way and reaches under the bed. His hand searches for the metal handle. Finding it, he wraps his fingers around it and pulls, dragging the case from under the bed.

     Daniel flicks the latches and opens the case. Inside is the Gibson Maggie bought him for his sixteenth birthday, two months after his dad died. Daniel hasn’t played it in years. He never did perform at the school concert. Or any concert thereafter. But he did play Boulevard of Broken Dreams. Once. At his father’s funeral. With tears streaming down his cheeks and his eyes on his father’s casket Daniel played the song. He didn’t miss a chord.

     The song, once a source of joy, became an ode to the pain and loss Daniel felt after his father died. A reflection of the depth of his sadness, of his grief, of his loneliness.

     Daniel strums the strings, moving his fingers along the frets. He takes a few minutes to re-tune and re-connect with his guitar before putting it back in the case. He stands, the case hits the side of his leg.

     ‘Not this time, Jock. Stay!’ Daniel gives Jock a scratch behind the ear before walking back out to his truck, guitar case in hand.

 

‘How is she today?’ Daniel asks.

     ‘A little unsettled,’ replies the worker.

Daniel enters his mother’s room. ‘Hi Mum. You look lovely today.’ Not wanting to scare Maggie, Daniel doesn’t greet her with a kiss, but gently touches her arm. He removes last week’s flowers from the vase sitting on the timber television cabinet and replaces them with a fresh bunch of Maggie’s favourite flowers, yellow daisies.

     Daniel sits in a chair opposite Maggie. She is yet to acknowledge his arrival. Diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer’s at fifty, now fifty-eight, Maggie is mostly lost to the disease.

     He places the guitar case on his lap and once again flips the latches. He removes the Gibson and strums the strings a few times, checks the tuning.

     ‘I love you, Mum.’ Daniel places his fingers on the frets and begins to play Maggie’s favourite song, Yellow by Coldplay.

     He watches Maggie closely as he continues playing. Recognition dances across her features. A spark of awareness brings light back into her eyes; her mouth curls into a smile.

     ‘I love you too, Rob,’ Maggie replies.