Nailed It!. Mel Campbell

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the house. He briefly nodded at her, then turned back to his phone. ‘I can’t even!’ he yelled. ‘This is the conversation we need right now!’

      The front door was harder to open than usual. A couple of kicks from Rose’s work boot and it finally yielded. She heard a crash and thud from inside.

      ‘Sorry darling,’ Sarah called out from the back of the house. ‘I’m writing a cultural history of thin-cut chips, so I had to move that stack of books to get to my copy of Fries of the Planet of the Apes. But then I rediscovered my Winter Reading Stack. I’d totally forgotten about it.’ She sighed. ‘That got so many likes on Instagram. So I figured – why not do a Spring Reading Stack?’ She paused. ‘Then I kind of lost track of time …’

      ‘That’s okay,’ Rose said, stepping over the volumes scattered on the hallway floor. To get to her bedroom door she had to move more books out of the way, without disturbing the other wobbling stacks lining the walls. Her bedroom curtains were drawn and the room was dark. She dropped her work bag on the polished boards with a satisfying thunk, and heard a strangled cry from the far side of the room.

      ‘Bloody hell! Renton, what are you doing?’

      ‘I had to use your computer,’ her brother said. ‘Mine had too much malware.’

      ‘Maybe if you stopped downloading those foreign art films …’

      ‘Art films!’ he said in an outraged voice. ‘Hardly – I was downloading the current season of Tramp Academy.’

      ‘Whatever,’ Rose said. ‘I’ve brought dinner. Get out – and leave my laptop.’

      Once Renton had shambled away, Rose flopped down on the bed. After a day spent navigating the landlocked labyrinth of Ocean Springs, she dearly wanted a chance to rest. But the Thai takeaway was already getting cold, and Rose knew that if she hadn’t brought dinner home nobody else here would think about eating until 10 p.m. Her job meant she had to be in bed by nine.

      She picked up the bag and carried it to the lounge room. Setting out the plastic containers on the coffee table she’d made during her apprenticeship, she wished she had the kind of family who sat around a table to eat dinner, rather than slumping on the couch looking at their separate phone screens. She’d even made them a dining table; but it was always stacked with her parents’ books and papers, and the chairs were draped in coats and scarves.

      ‘You’re home early,’ Sarah said from the couch, looking up from her laptop screen. She also had her phone in one hand and her iPad in the other.

      ‘I’ve finished up with Old Steve,’ Rose said, sitting down next to her mother.

      Sarah frowned. ‘Oh no!’ she said. ‘I know you said he was a struggle sometimes, but I thought you were going to stick with it.’ She gave her daughter a determined look. ‘Never mind, Rose – we’ll tighten our belts. I can cancel my subscription to Jolly Good Show … even though their top 200 TV series of the decade issue is next month …’ She trailed off.

      ‘Don’t worry, Mum,’ Rose said, ‘I’ve got a new job. On television!’

      ‘Oh Rose, I’m so proud of you!’ Sarah said, hugging her daughter. ‘Alan! Rose has got herself on television!’

      ‘Great,’ her dad said, strolling into the lounge room, ‘I heard they were building new sets for the upcoming season of … you know, that period drama with Dame … whatsername.’

      ‘It’s Dame Matilda Petersen,’ Sarah said, ‘and the show is called Macarthur’s Park. It’s really quite good.’

      ‘If you like local dramas,’ Alan said. ‘But good on you for getting a job there.’

      ‘I’m not working on Macarthur’s Park,’ Rose said. ‘I’m working on The Dock.’

      ‘Legal drama, is it?’ Alan said. ‘I don’t think I’ve heard of it.’

      ‘It’s not a drama,’ Rose said, ‘it’s a reality show.’

      ‘Reality?’ Alan said. ‘Is that like a documentary?’

      Rose looked at her mum. Sarah’s face had gone deathly white. Rose reached out to her. ‘Mum?’

      Sarah shrugged off her daughter’s touch. ‘Reality television,’ she hissed. ‘We raised you better than that.’

      ‘It’ll cover the rent,’ Rose said. ‘It’ll pay for the internet.’

      ‘I don’t care about those things,’ Sarah said.

      Rose looked at her.

      ‘Okay, I do. But I care about you more. And the idea of you parading around on one of those trash shows, flaunting yourself, is –’

      ‘Mum! I’m not going to be a contestant.’

      ‘But what else is there to do on a show like that?’

      ‘I’m going to be helping out the contestants, behind the scenes. I’m not on-camera or anything.’

      ‘Well, that’s good news,’ Alan said, ‘we won’t have to make any awkward explanations down at Cinémathèque.’

      ‘I don’t know,’ Sarah said. ‘It’s soap opera for dumb people.’

      ‘“Dumb people” is implied,’ Alan said.

      ‘Well, I’m sick of sharpening nails and pretending it’s going anywhere,’ Rose said hotly. ‘Why am I the only one in this family who worries about paying the bills?’

      ‘We all try our best,’ Sarah said. ‘It’s not our fault the personal essay is dead.’

      ‘Not to mention the rampant casualisation of academia,’ Alan said.

      ‘And the massive cutbacks to review sections in both broad­sheets and tabloids.’

      ‘I get the idea,’ Rose said. ‘I’m sorry your careers have flatlined. But it’s this kind of “shit” job that’s going to keep this family in takeaway food.’

      ‘Takeaway sounds like a great idea,’ Alan said. ‘Rose’s new job calls for a celebration.’

      Rose gestured to the coffee table, where the boxes of food were laid out. ‘One step ahead of you, Dad.’

      Her parents cheered, and rushed the table like starving hyenas. Hearing the commotion, Renton burst into the room. For people who did nothing all day, they sure seemed to have worked up an appetite. Rose barely had time to hand out the plastic forks before her family descended on the food.

      Defeated, Rose picked up the pad thai – the only dish left after everyone else had served themselves. ‘So, what’s been happening here?’ she said in a last-ditch attempt at conversation.

      ‘Big day today,’ said Alan. ‘Did you see the STIFF lineup announcement?’

      ‘Did I!’ Sarah replied. ‘What is it with all these white American male actors thinking they’re directors now? Retire, bitch!’

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