Over the Spam.

Tamika was really enjoying the new freedom. Her E scooter was travelling quite fast, as she sped along the pavement. Her big brother, Brock, was always ahead of her on his E bike, leading her again. He was fourteen years old, having a 'difficult' stage, into screen time and basketball.

Zooming on their new wheels made them both smile, it was cool to enjoy this happy time while they were free were on holidays from school. Brock liked to think he was a lady's man. Tamika did not really like his choice in girlfriends, but he usually dropped them soon enough.

When Brock was not wandering around the shopping mall with his arm around his latest chick, he could be quite fun. He was also into basketball, he loved his sports, aping his attitudes on some of his idols. But today, they were both free, laughing and happy. They had turned off their phones, as they had travelled along the local walking track. Their Mum did not have a clue where they had got to.

But they both arrived home safely, home in one piece. Their faces were aglow with such simple fun with their expensive toys. Their mother was having a bit of a bad hair day, so it had been good to escape for a while. Brock stood up for himself these days, he considered himself as an adult. Now he could stare down at their mother. Tamika crept away to her room, listening to the usual complaints. Most days, their mother did seem to get up on the wrong side of her bed.

Their father had brought Tamika and Brock their E wheels, sort of a bribe. Their mother always tried to stop the kids from having fun, doing the things they really liked. Tamika hoped her parents would not get a divorce, but Brock said they probably would. He was more realistic and mature, being older.

The happy mood soon disappeared, as the day went on. Tamika asked Brock if they could go for another ride, but he was by now as grumpy as their mother. So Tamika hid in her room, and lay on her bed. Dinner was full of their mother's nagging them both, and their father was interstate. Brock and Tamika's mood was not exactly jolly. Tamika meekly loaded up the dishwasher, while Brock finally said a very rude word to their Mum.

Mothers can over react, as the fur really started flying, a massive row erupted. Brock could be totally as stubborn as their mother, yelling and cussing over basically simple family stuff. Tamika went to her room again, switched on some of her favourite music, and wondered how long until she could grow up and leave them to it.

Brock called to her at 10 pm, "Going for a ride, you can't stop me either!" Tamika hid under her doona, and shut her eyes. It was dark, raining. By now, the roads were sodden, the sunshine day and happy mood had vanished. Brock took off on his E bike, pushing his limits, and his mother's. He did not wear a helmet, as he was supposed to. He had never ridden on the road at night before, expressly defying all the road safety manuals. He did not even have a light on.

Suddenly, there loomed a black four wheel drive, big vehicle, also travelling too fast. It came rounding the corner, followed by a police car, trying to arrest the teen driver of a stolen car. The young driver did not even see Brock or the E bike, and smashed the youngster with the side of the car. Brock went flying in a different way, straight into the tarmac. The police officer jammed on the brakes, and summoned the paramedics for support. The four wheel drive did not even stop.

Unfortunately, Brock did not survive. Tamika and her mother were left grieving, as her Dad could not face up to his survivor baggage. He moved interstate and tried to make a fresh start in his middle age. The funeral was a sob story, all the teenage girls wailed and made floral tributes at the site where Brock had passed.

Tamika held her mother's hand for a while, and gladly stopped riding her freedom E scooter. She grew very withdrawn, and sighed every time her mother exclaimed that a butterfly flitting in the garden was a sign from Brock. She told Tamika it was a message from Brock from across the veil to keep going. Her mother went through a a stage of planting a rose bush every time it was Brock's birthday remembrance, or his anniversary. Tamika kept very silent, she had much survivor guilt that she was still alive and breathing. Brock was still fourteen years old.

Her parents agreed to fund a counsellor for her, but Tamika did not get any vibes from the aunty type woman, or indeed, from the next more with-it chick. All their strategies to have Tamika express herself failed, she focused on her schooldays. She silently did not contribute anything. Her teachers wondered at her high achievements. In fact, Tamika still wanted to leave her mother and her emotional manipulation far behind. These things happen in the family therapy magazine. The blame game was futile, as years rolled by. All those older women had fed her was spam, with all their talking heads.

Tamika graduated from school as one of the top students. She sometimes wondered too about that young driver of the four wheel drive. But that was also a mystery, the teen codes of silence in the neighbourhood had closed ranks. With her great results, Tamika was accepted into a well regarded academy of nursing, and starred there too, always keeping to herself.

Having finished her nursing qualifications, she registered and aimed at becoming a nurse in a road trauma unit. Her grief counsellors had advised her to stop turning back, accept reality, stop looking for problems that might not exist. But she was very capable, assuming extra duties and spending devoted hours with accident victims and their families.

Other nurses looked up to her and respected her, but she kept everyone at a distance, so emotionally detached . Tamika was long over all that spam, and she never told anyone about all those dumb arguments between her mother and Brock. She did not really like driving, only did so from necessity. She had her vocation, even if she might someday relent, and unleash her womanly nature on some as yet unmet man. She had long ago matured with her own BS detector, over all family spam. She could wonder at night if she was ever going to raise her potential sons any differently. Who could say?