The Pain, My Mother, Sir Tiffy, Cyber Boy & Me

by Michael Gerard Bauer

  For the hundredth time I began reassessing all the males in my life to see who might be suitable for the coveted role of Maggie Butt’s graduation dance partner. It didn’t take long. The truth was, besides the St Gregory’s boys I knew from our combined activities and a few mixed science lessons over the past year and a half, I really had no one else to choose from. Of those, all the desirable (or even just barely acceptable) candidates had already been snapped up to star in other people’s stories. And making my challenge even harder was the fact that I’d set some VERY STRICT CRITERIA for anyone hoping to bag the role.

  In order to even be considered for the dance partner gig alongside me, a candidate must:

  1. Be Male.

  2. Have progressed substantially beyond the caveman stage of human evolution.

  3. Be able to demonstrate the existence of functioning brain cells.

  4. Communicate via words of more than one syllable.

  5. Use correct spelling and grammar.

  6. Not be a jerk.

  With less than eight weeks to go till graduation, and no obvious prospect of casting a suitable partner, there was only one slim ray of hope left. My final throw of the dice. The last chance I was going to get for a close encounter of the male kind.

  The Community Service activities.

  Community Service was one of the activities we did together with the St Gregory’s boys, so it at least provided the possibility of meeting someone new. The problem was, when I’d put my name down that day for the Aged Care Visit, the other names on the list with me belonged to three St Brenda’s girls.

  Bummer.

  My only hope was, that between last week when I checked the noticeboard and the pre-visit briefing meeting scheduled for lunchtime on Tuesday, some last-minute, potential partners might have added their names to the list. But when Tuesday rolled around, it looked like I’d lucked out again.

  As I sat in a classroom waiting for our supervising teacher, Miss Cheong, to start the meeting, I checked out our awesome Aged Care Visit Team. It consisted of Alison DeGroot (world’s nicest person), Naheer Nabal (world’s nicest person’s best friend) and Rayna Dubois. There wasn’t much doubt in my mind that Alison and Naheer were proper volunteers, but I’d seen Rayna looking more thrilled about a post-lunchtime rat dissection. I was guessing she’d been slow off the signing mark, just like me.

  When Miss Cheong started distributing a sheet of Dos and Don’ts and Helpful Conversation Starters for our first visit, I more or less resigned myself to being part of an all-girl team. But then a tall figure in a St Gregory’s blazer with a messy mop of dark hair appeared at the door, mumbled something then ducked his head and slid into the nearest seat like an octopus into a rock crevice.

  Miss Cheong welcomed the late arrival and gave him a handout. He pulled it close to his face as if it held the secrets of the universe. Alison and Naheer exchanged a blank look. Rayna closed her eyes and shook her head and somehow managed to appear even less thrilled.

  The boy was Jeremy Tyler-Roy.

  Most people knew Jeremy. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that they knew about him. He was a strange, gangly visitor from another planet who’d come to us with powers far greater and geekier than those of mortal men. A certified computer guru, Jeremy was the dux of every grade he’d ever been in and a regular winner of maths and science competitions. Also, according to Jazzmin Mellors, ‘so straight, he makes arrows look kinky’.

  Only a few weeks ago, he’d appeared at our school assembly as part of a combined St Brenda’s and St Gregory’s science team (well, five of them and two of us) that took out some statewide school robot-building challenge. I remember him standing awkwardly up on stage, looking all arms, legs and grey matter. Some girls sitting behind me kept giggling and referring to him by his nickname, Jeremy Cyber Boy.

  I studied him as he read through his handout.

  Volunteering to go to an aged care facility and interact with actual, elderly, stranger-type people rather than having a meeting of minds with some kind of electronic interface didn’t really seem to me like it would be Jeremy Tyler-Roy’s thing. So my best guess was he was here because remembering to sign up for activities had probably got lost amongst all the facts, figures, equations, calculations and geeky trivia that cluttered up his brain.

  The fact that Jeremy Tyler-Roy was an unlikely candidate for the Aged Care Visits was one thing, but how did he stack up as a potential graduation dance partner? I focused on the tall figure in the crumpled blue St Gregory’s uniform sitting hunched over his desk and assessed him against each of my VERY STRICT CRITERIA. When I’d finished, I was left with two clear conclusions.

  First Conclusion – Jeremy Tyler-Roy must be my dream date because he’d blown all my VERY STRICT CRITERIA clean out of the water.

  Second Conclusion – I obviously needed to add more criteria.

  For the remainder of the briefing I observed Jeremy Tyler-Roy closely. Apart from glancing up a couple of times in Miss Cheong’s general direction, he made no eye contact at all with anyone in the room. Nor did he speak. He spent most of the briefing taking detailed notes on a tablet, and then as soon as Miss Cheong dismissed us, he untangled himself from his desk and loped from the room without a word.

  In my head I added another point to my six VERY STRICT CRITERIA.

  In order to even be considered for the dance partner gig alongside me, a candidate must:

  7. Be humanoid.

  12

  A man of mystery

  Our first Aged Care Visit took place after lunch that Thursday. Miss Cheong took us to the Evensong Nursing Home in a school minibus. It was only a ten-minute drive away.

  Alison and Naheer sat together in the front seat chatting happily. The rest of us were spread around the bus like we were contagious. Rayna was slumped with her forehead against the window. Jeremy was in his own little world, tapping away on a laptop. I spent the journey silently cursing myself for being too slow to get my name down for the pre-school reading activity.

  It was a fun trip.

  When we arrived at Evensong a carer named Lily took us to the residents’ lounge area where we waited to be matched up with our ‘buddies’. Miss Cheong explained that the residents (Rayna referred to them as ‘inmates’) were just returning from lunch and would be with us shortly.

  I was nervous. I didn’t really know what to expect. And it didn’t help that I’d forgotten to bring along the ‘items of interest’ that Miss Cheong had wisely suggested. It would have been nice to have things like photos or school projects to fall back on if the conversation started to dry up. Maybe I could have brought along an empty vodka bottle and talked about that wacky, heartwarming, laughter-packed comedy romp that was The Vodka and Me! Definitely a missed opportunity.

  To pass the time, I began running through all the different questions I was going to ask my buddy. According to Miss Cheong, what we needed were ‘interesting, open-ended’ questions, not boring ones that just required single-word answers like, ‘What’s your favourite colour?’. By the time our buddies finally began arriving, I had a stack of excellent questions ready to roll.

  Alison and Naheer were first to be buddied up. Both girls looked as if they’d been doing it all their lives. They were already chatting happily away to their partners as they headed off to find a quiet place to sit. Jeremy was next. He didn’t look quite so comfortable waiting there clutching his laptop. Lily led him over to a little old lady sitting in a wheelchair in the corner near a fish tank. Jeremy sat awkwardly on the seat beside her. Poor woman, I thought. She’ll probably spend the next hour watching Jeremy play computer games or have to listen to him explaining the wonders of quantum physics. That’s if he remembered to talk to her at all.

  My thoughts were interrupted when Rayna’s buddy made her grand entrance. She had blinding white hair slightly tinged with pink, truckloads of bling, a generous application of make-up and a long flowing scarf. ‘Come along, my dear,’ she said, grabbing Rayna’
s arm and lifting her gold-handled walking stick slightly off the carpet. ‘Into the breach! I must tell you all about my life. Nothing boring and tedious, mind you. I’ll try to stick mainly to the wicked bits! And I’m thinking I might just have a lovely necklace and earring set to give you that will really set off those gorgeous hazel eyes of yours!’

  Rayna’s face went from gloomy to glowing in world-record time.

  Finally it was my turn. Lily checked her list.

  ‘Lucky last then. Maggie Butt?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Well, Maggie, you’re matched up with Bert Duggan. Lovely man, our Bertie. But just be careful he doesn’t chew your ear off!’

  She seemed to find this idea most amusing.

  Chew my ear off? Was I was being matched up with some kind of a geriatric cannibal?

  ‘Sorry, love, my little joke. Bertie’s harmless. Just a bit of a man of mystery, that’s all. You’ll see. Oh, and if you have any problem at all, I’ll be around somewhere, so just give me a yell, okay?’

  Man of mystery? What did that mean? Was he an ex-spy? A retired assassin? A former drug lord in hiding? And what’s this about giving her a yell? If Bertie’s so ‘harmless’, why would I need to ‘yell’ for? And why even bother mentioning that he’s ‘harmless’ in the first place, if he is in fact, harmless?

  ‘Anyway, let’s go meet him, shall we?’

  Have I got a choice?

  ‘This way.’

  Apparently not.

  I was taken to the quiet reading corner. My buddy was sitting by himself near a bookcase. He was wearing a faded green cardigan over a long white shirt and grey trousers. They each seemed just a little too big for him. What hair he had was snowy white and neatly combed. At least he did look harmless. And kind of sweet. He was flicking through a women’s magazine. There was a stack of them, with more on the small table beside him. I made a mental note to include them in our conversation.

  When Lily introduced us, he smiled quickly and nodded nervously. I said hello, told him that it was nice to meet him and sat down. Then Lily left us ‘to it’.

  So far, so good.

  I smiled at Bert Duggan. He looked back at me like I was a police interrogator with a short fuse and he was a criminal with something to hide. Right. Time to get some interesting and stimulating conversation flowing!

  ‘So, Mr Duggan, how long have you been here at Evensong, then?’

  He seemed stunned that I’d started off with the tough questions first. He rubbed his forehead.

  ‘Oh … it’s been … a while now.’

  Great. Could you be a little more vague?

  ‘Right. Umm. Good. That long? That’s interesting. And … um … so do you like it here? At Evensong, I mean?’

  ‘It’s … nice.’

  ‘That’s … nice. Aaaaaaaah, so where did you grow up then, Mr Duggan?’

  He nervously pointed out the window.

  ‘Over that way.’

  ‘What? So you grew up around here? In this suburb?’

  He nodded.

  ‘And have you travelled much?’

  ‘No. Not really. No.’

  It was becoming fairly obvious to me that Bert Duggan wasn’t what you might call a human search engine when it came to providing information.

  ‘Right, so you spent most of your life around here … and now … here you are! That’s ummm … aaaah … and … like … what do you do all day? I mean, how do you spend your time here … at Evensong?

  His eyes shifted around the lounge like he was searching for inspiration.

  ‘Well, I … read …’ he offered.

  Time to display my superior powers of observation!

  ‘Magazines?’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘You like to read magazines?’ I said, pointing to the pile of magazines beside him as a visual aid.

  ‘Oh no.’

  Now I was totally confused but I decided not to pursue the topic. Didn’t want it to appear like a cross-examination. Best to just move on.

  ‘Okay … so one of the other things I wanted to ask you was … about your hobbies and interests? You know, what you like to do in your … spare time.’

  Bert Duggan thought for a while.

  ‘Read … mainly,’ he said eventually.

  So much for moving on.

  ‘Reading. Cool. Like you said before. But not magazines,’ I added quickly, just to show that I’d been paying close attention.

  ‘No …’

  Time to go out on a limb.

  ‘Books maybe?’ I suggested, throwing caution to the wind.

  ‘Books?’ he repeated.

  Bert Duggan’s pale eyes focused on me for a few seconds. The tension was almost unbearable.

  ‘Yes,’ he said.

  Woo-hoo! Nailed it!

  ‘Books, that’s great. You like to read books. Me too. I like to read books too. I guess that’s something we have in common. And I like to write as well. Sometimes I write stories … mainly for school … not that I ever get an A for them any more. Not these days, thanks to … but anyway … ummmm … So what did you do before you retired, Mr Duggan? What sort of work did you do? I bet you had lots of amazing jobs in your lifetime.’

  ‘I was a clerk. All my life.’

  ‘A clerk? Wow. Doing that … clerking stuff. All that time. Really? That sounds so … yeah. Ummm … You must have lived through some incredible experiences, so another thing I was wondering was … if you don’t mind me asking … Did you ever have to … you know … fight in a war or anything?’

  Bert lowered his eyes.

  ‘No.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Right. That’s … that’s good! That’s a good thing, isn’t it? That’s great. I’d hate to fight in a war. I’d be hopeless in something like that. Like if I was in The Hunger Games I’d get killed in the first five seconds. Truly. Do you know those books? Have you read them? The Hunger Games books?’

  I could hear myself starting to babble on. It wasn’t a pleasant sound. I mean, a babbling brook is one thing, but a babbling Butt should be avoided at all costs.

  Bert Duggan smiled sheepishly and shook his head.

  ‘Sorry. No.’

  Time for more babbling on, only let’s pick up the pace a bit, shall we?

  ‘Oh, I thought you might have read them … you know because of your … reading thing … apart from magazines of course. They’re pretty good. Not magazines. I was talking about The Hunger Games books. A bit violent. There’s three of them. It’s like a trilogy. Maybe you could read the first one sometime, see if you like it. I could even lend you a copy. Or you could just see the movies they’ve made … based on the books. Jennifer Lawrence plays the main part. She’s great. I like her. Do you know her? Jennifer Lawrence? She’s been in heaps of stuff. Jennifer Lawrence? The actor?’

  He was still shaking his head.

  Medic! Help! Help! Emergency! The conversation wasn’t just drying up, it was dying of thirst!

  ‘Right … well … that’s okay … that’s fine … ah … maybe you’ll see those movies sometime in the future … or read the books even … if you want to … or not. It’s up to you of course. So … aaaah … now … yeah … that’s all good then … but there’s still lots of other things I want to ask you of course … like … ummm … aaaah … for instance … one thing … ummm … that I was really curious about … is … ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm …’

  Bert Duggan waited in terrified silence.

  ‘What’s your favourite colour?’

  Game over.

  After that I just rambled on and on about school and movies and television shows and anything else I could think of to fill in the time and cover up the screeching silences. Bert Duggan sat there nodding with a dazed expression on his face, probably wondering what crime he’d committed in a past life to deserve this level of harassment.

  By the time the visit was over and our minibus had arrived to pick us up, I was feeling pretty down. I
was feeling practically subterranean on the trip back when Miss Cheong starting asking everyone to share how their session went.

  Of course Alison, Trudy and Rayna had plenty to say. They went on and on about their buddies and all the amazing and interesting things they learned about them. (Miss had to censor some of the amazing and interesting things Rayna had learned.) Jeremy, on the other hand, was about as free with information as Bert Duggan. All he said at first was, ‘It went okay’. But Miss Cheong jumped in and informed us that it went ‘more than okay’ and that Jeremy was a big hit because he’d used his laptop to find his buddy’s home town on Google Earth and zoom right in on the street where she grew up and the house where she was born. She hadn’t seen it for fifty years. It brought tears to her eyes. Very happy tears, Miss Cheong assured us.

  Then it was my turn.

  ‘And what fascinating things did you find out about Mr Duggan, Maggie?’

  I quickly racked my brain.

  ‘Aaah … he was a clerk … ummm … and he likes to read. Not magazines though. Oh, and he hasn’t seen the Hunger Games.’

  ‘Right. Anything else?’

  ‘He doesn’t have a favourite colour?’

  ‘Yes, well, sometimes these things can take time.’

  BA-BOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW! WE HAVE A LOSER! Thanks for coming. That would be a major Aged Care Visit FAIL for you, Maggie Butt. Unfortunately you walk away empty-handed because, hey, YOU TOTALLY SUCK AT THIS PEOPLE STUFF!

  No wonder I had no friends and no prospect of finding a partner for the dance. What we have here is a failure to communicate! Even Cyber Boy did way better than me. Now, not only was I friend-less, partner-less and A-less, I was probably going to be buddy-less as well, just as soon as Bert Duggan put in an official complaint about my lack of people skills.

  When I arrived home and slouched through the front door of our house that afternoon, all I could think was, seriously, could my life get any worse?

  My mother delivered the answer almost immediately.

  ‘Oh, Maggie, you’re home. Good. Now before I forget, Danny’s coming over Saturday morning to do some work on our car for me and then he’s staying on for lunch. It would be really nice if you were around to join us.’