by Jared Thomas
‘To the bus stop.’
‘My car is parked just over here,’ she said, pointing a little way down the curb.
‘No problem,’ I said feeling like a dickhead.
Clare stood at the door of her car, an older model red Toyota Celica, a real deadly little one. She searched through her handbag for her keys. Peak-hour traffic was whizzing past so she pressed her body against the car door. After a sec she pulled out her keys, jumped in and then reached across to unlock the door for me. Clare started the car, cranked the air-conditioning and then we drove off.
‘I can walk to work easy so having a car seems a waste, I’ll probably get one soon though,’ I explained, cool way.
‘They suck your money and make you lazy,’ she said.
‘I guess so, and I only really travel to work and sometimes down to the beach, and that’s just a quick bike ride.’
‘So that’s why you’re so buff,’ Clare said as we approached an intersection.
I felt deadly with Clare saying I was buff. I just thought I was a skinny fella. ‘You just need to turn left here, and then it’s the second street on the right,’ I directed.
‘Will your dad be home too?’ Clare asked.
‘No, he died when I was a kid.’
‘Sorry.’
‘Thanks … but it’s alright. Okay, just pull up there where that white fence is.’
I opened the gate for Clare when we were out the front of Mum’s place and when we stepped through Mum’s screen door I put my hand lightly on her back and directed her to the kitchen where I could hear the Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton song ‘Islands in the Stream’ playing on the radio and Mum singing along to it. Shame job, she was singing her guts out standing there doing the dishes with her back to us. ‘Hey Mum,’ I called out.
‘Hello dear,’ she said reaching over to turn down the radio on the bench. She said another big ‘Hello,’ when she saw Clare, and her face lit up. So did mine.
‘Hello Mrs Summers,’ Clare said, all polite.
‘Call me Audrey, and take a seat. Make yourself at home here dear.’ As Clare sat down Mum asked, ‘What would you like to drink dear? Tea, coffee, water, juice, fizzy?’
‘Got any Fanta Mum?’ I asked, remembering Clare’s lips up against her glass at lunch, her lipstick leaving a mark.
‘Yep, and it cold too. Would you like some Fanta dear?’
‘Yes please,’ Clare said.
Mum went to the cupboard for a long glass and then grabbed an ice-tray and bottle of Fanta from the fridge. She half-filled the glass with ice and slowly poured the drink. She handed the glass to Clare as small drops of water rolled along the chilled bottle.
‘Calypso tells me you’re Ngadjuri.’
‘Yes.’
‘What’s your mob’s surname?’
‘Stewart.’
‘Stewart?’
‘Yes.’
‘Is your dad Frankie?’
‘Yes. You know Dad?’
I was getting myself a drink of water and I looked at Mum all worried. Oh fuck, I thought, don’t be saying Clare’s my cousin.
‘I see your dad at the health clinic when I go there. He been working there a long time, hey bub?’
‘Yep.’
‘You’re a bit lighter than him but you look a lot like him ’ey?’
‘That’s what everyone says.’
I was unable to stand it any longer. ‘Clare’s not related is she?’
‘No, she’s not, dear.’ Clare shot me a real sexy look. ‘I know some of your mob though you know,’ Mum said turning to Clare.
‘Nukunu and Ngadjuri are next-door neighbours and we used to marry up, that’s proper way you know. Our old people used to do lots of things together.’
‘I didn’t know that,’ I said.
‘There’s a lot you don’t know dear,’ she said with a little laugh.
I was just about to tell Mum that I knew she was holding back on telling me more about bush medicines and things but the front door opened and my niece and nephew came running to the kitchen.
‘Nanna, Nanna,’ they yelled, ‘we just got some ice-blocks from the shops.’
‘Did you get one for me?’ I asked, stirring up my eight-year-old nephew Vance. I pretended to try and grab his iceblock.
‘You wish,’ Vance replied cheekily.
‘You can have some of mine Uncle Calypso,’ my little niece Millie said.
‘Awww,’ Clare murmured smiling at Millie.
‘It’s all right Bubby. I don’t really want an ice-block,’ I told her.
Evelyn walked into the kitchen with some bags of shopping. She was sweating like anything and looked real buggered. ‘Hello,’ she quickly said to Clare as she walked to the sink, where I was standing, to get some water.
‘She’s gorgeous,’ Evelyn whispered to me, ‘I hope she breaks your heart.’
After Evelyn had a glass of water and splashed her face she moved over to Clare and shook her hand. ‘Hi, I’m Evelyn. You must be Clare. Mum told me you were coming. This is Millie and Vance.’
‘Hello,’ Clare said looking at the kids who were snuggling up to Mum. ‘You’re both so cute aren’t you?’
‘I’m four,’ Millie said, holding up three fingers.
‘A big girl,’ Clare said laughing and reaching out to touch Millie on the cheek.
‘You got any brothers and sisters Clare?’ Evelyn asked.
‘An older brother. Jamie.’
‘Better than a little one I bet,’ Evelyn said punching me in the shoulder.
‘He’s alright. We get on better now that he doesn’t live at home.’
‘Where do you live bub?’ asked mum.
‘Semaphore.’
‘That’s nice, just down the road and you’re close to the sea too,’ Mum said before drinking her last mouthful of tea.
‘And you’re a hairdresser, hey Clare?’ Evelyn asked.
‘Yes,’ she replied.
‘Do you reckon you could do something with my hair? It’ll look like Calypso’s before too long.’
‘She likes my hair Ev,’ I said grabbing a fat dread and pointing it at her. ‘Anyway, leave Clare alone, how would you like it if someone were asking you all of these questions?’
‘We’re only being friendly,’ Evelyn said rolling her eyes.
I could see that Clare was starting to get uncomfortable, sitting there playing with the ice in her glass.
‘Being nosey more like it. Stop asking so many questions.’
Mum stood up and started clearing things from the table. ‘There’s just one more thing I want to ask,’ she said.
‘Yes?’ said Clare.
‘Would you like to stay for dinner dear?’
Clare looked at me and I just shrugged my shoulders. ‘I’d really like that,’ she said.
‘You sure? Don’t let them pressure you,’ I said.
‘Of course,’ Clare said.
There was a bit more questioning going on as we ate beef stir-fry but it wasn’t so personal you know. Evelyn and Clare mostly talked about the schools they went to, and what they got up to. Evelyn slipped in a few smart-arse comments about me, like telling Clare about the time I jumped off the Semaphore jetty when I was little and had lost my shorts when I bobbed back up to the surface. Evelyn made me wear her skirt home and a lady on the bus said I was a real pretty little girl. It was better that the stories came out sooner rather than later.
I mucked around with Vance and Millie while they talked but was focused on Clare’s every expression and movement. I also found out from her chatting with Evelyn that Clare was eighteen months older than me, liked hip-hop, playing basketball and camping with her family.
After dinner Millie fell asleep on my lap and Vance was starting to nod off too. ‘I’d better get home,’ Clare said, standing up and searching for her car keys in her bag.
‘I’ll walk you out,’ I said, handing Millie to Evelyn.
Clare leaned back on her car door when we were out
side and I stood close to her. The night was real still you know and warm and I could smell the jasmine in Mum’s garden and Clare’s perfume.
‘I had a great night, your family are deadly.’
‘For a while there I didn’t think you’d cope with all the questions.’
‘It’s okay,’ she laughed, ‘That’s why I came right? …To find out.’
‘Yeah,’ I laughed. ‘Good thing we’re not related, hey?’
‘I reckon.’
‘So when can I see you again?’
‘Any time you want,’ she said, moving in closer to me. I put my hand around her waist and pulled her to me. I just kissed her softly you know but we kissed for a while and she put her hand on the back of my neck. She tasted wicked … all sugary. I felt the butterflies in my guts again. I was falling big-time for her.
‘Can you meet me for lunch tomorrow?’ Clare asked when we stopped kissing.
‘Absolutely, I’ll come down and meet you.’
‘And you have to come around and have dinner with my parents on Friday night. That was the deal, remember?’ I kissed her again and after Clare let her hands slip from mine she jumped in her car.
Mum was sitting in front of the television watching when I went back into her house. ‘She a lovely girl,’ she said. ‘You better not bugger things up.’
I took a seat in the darkest part of the room to hide the smile that I knew was right across my face. I could still taste Clare’s kiss and my heart was beating flat out like a rabbit’s.
°°°
I spent so long in the shower and working out what to wear before I caught the bus to Clare’s on the Friday night that I’d listened to half of the tracks on Bob Marley’s Catch a Fire CD. I stepped out of the house in a pair of long shorts, a cool short-sleeved shirt and my Puma sneakers.
Clare’s street was just off Military Road, the same road as my flat but about ten kilometres north. I must have walked past her street at least a hundred times when I’d gone to the Odeon cinema or to buy fish and chips on Semaphore Road after a swim.
I was nervous about meeting Clare’s parents and jumped off the bus before Semaphore Road thinking a walk would settle my nerves a bit. It was a real steamy night and there were stacks of people at Semaphore, sitting out the front of the pubs and cafés and waiting out the front of the Odeon cinema with its star lit up on the sign’s red glowing background. I told myself not to worry, and then realised that for once I didn’t need to worry about the colour of my skin with Clare’s dad being Aboriginal. I started walking real confident as I looked to see an amazing sunset of pink, purple and orange in the distance above the jetty and clock tower with the angel on top.
Clare’s house was real flash. It’s a done-up red brick cottage with a fancy iron fence and big green veranda. A small aluminum dingy was in the driveway and there were really cool palms and plants in the front garden. I wiped the sweat off my face with my shirt before I reached the veranda to ring the doorbell. It was good feeling cool air flowing out of the house through the screen door as I waited. I could hear the song ‘My Sharona’ playing somewhere. Clare looked deadly when she opened the door, especially ’cause I hadn’t seen her in a day. She was barefoot and wearing a summer dress. She must have just had a shower because her hair was still a bit wet.
She kissed me and asked, ‘You had a good day?’
‘It was long not seeing you.’
‘Tell me about it.’
She took me by the hand and led me through the house. I was looking around spinning out about how nice it all seemed. There were polished floorboards the whole way through the house, this really trendy lounge room with black leather seats and a huge television. There was a big colourful dot painting on one of the walls and in the kitchen there was a flash big silver fridge and nice table and stuff. When we got out to the backyard where ‘My Sharona’ was coming from, Clare’s mum was sitting on a bench with her feet up reading some magazine. Her dad had his back turned to us with a beer in one hand and a garden hose in the other. When Clare’s mum saw me she said, ‘Oh hello, let me turn this racket down.’ I was surprised by her English accent. When she turned down the CD player, Clare’s dad swung around. He turned the tap off, and wiped his hand on his board shorts as he walked towards me. Clare’s mum placed her magazine on the table, and straightened up her dress as she stood up.
‘This is Calypso, Mum and Dad.’
‘G’day young fella,’ Clare’s dad said as he shook my hand firmly, ‘I’m Frank, but everyone calls me Frankie.’
Clare’s mum brushed her long blonde hair away from her face, leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek, taking me by surprise. ‘I’m Linda,’ she said.
‘Good to meet you,’ I said, noticing that Frankie’s skin was a shade darker than mine.
‘Same here young fella,’ he said, his big bushy moustache spreading across his lip as he smiled. ‘Want a beer mate?’
‘Calypso doesn’t drink, Dad.’
‘Marry him,’ Linda said.
‘Sure?’ Frankie insisted, ‘I’ve got some cold light ones there and it’s bloody hot.’
‘Don’t pressure him,’ Linda said, but I said, ‘Yeah, okay, I’ll have one thanks.’
‘Really?’ Clare asked me.
‘Don’t let him pressure you, he’ll have you under the table before you know it,’ Linda said.
‘It’s alright.’ I thought about the saying ‘When in Rome’. The least I could do was have a beer with Frankie.
‘Love, can you get us a couple of coldies please?’ Frankie said taking an empty bottle from his stubby holder and handing it to Clare.
Clare shot into the house and Linda asked me to sit down. Clare came out of the house with two ice-cold beers and slid in beside me.
‘Cheers mate,’ Frankie said clinking his beer against mine.
Even after a few minutes I was feeling heaps comfortable and Clare’s hand was on my thigh. Frankie and Linda seemed heaps cooler and younger than Mum. I guess they must have been younger than me and Clare when they got together.
‘So how are things down at the health food store?’ Linda asked as Frankie took a mouthful of beer.
‘Yeah good.’ I was surprised that Linda knew I worked there.
‘Steph is my best friend, you know?’
‘Clare told me. She’s nice.’
‘She loves you, you know, told me you’re a sweetie.’
‘If you’ve got her approval you’re in the family,’ said Frankie laughing. ‘I can’t do shit without her knowing.’
I could tell Clare was blushing a bit. ‘Yeah … my boss Gary sold some things to Steph and he likes me to take her coffee and things sometimes.’
‘We know,’ Linda laughed.
Frankie chuckled. ‘Do you want a glass of wine, Clare?’
‘Calypso’s having a beer so I might as well.’
Clare and me cracked up when Frankie checked out Linda’s bum and then tried to pinch it as she walked past to get the wine.
‘Good looking woman my wife,’ Frankie said. ‘Pity Clare got my looks.’
‘Oh Dad.’
Before Clare could say anything else Frankie said, ‘Clare told me about your mum. She’s lovely, Aunty Audrey, I’ve known her for a long time. See your sister and kids at the health clinic too sometimes. Haven’t seen you there in a long time though.’
‘You seen me at the health clinic before?’ I asked, surprised.
‘Yeah, I seen you grow up. What, you don’t get sick or nothing no more young fella?’
‘Never really sick, only colds and things but nothing much.’
‘Must be working in that health shop?’
I couldn’t help laughing.
‘What’s so funny about that?’ Clare asked.
‘I’m more worried about the things Gary sells killing me than doing me any good.’
‘But they’re all natural and that, no chemicals and things, hey Calypso?’ Frankie asked.
‘Yeah, but there�
�s weird things there like bug juice and stuff that he sells.’
‘Yeah, but that’s like us blackfellas, our food wasn’t just for making our guts full, it’s medicine, proper good stuff.’
I wanted to ask Frankie what he knew about bush tucker but Linda stepped through the back door with a bottle of wine in a fancy wine cooler with ice in it and two glasses. As she poured wine for her and Clare she said, ‘I hope you like fish Calypso. Frankie’s put a little snapper on the BBQ, should just about be ready.’
‘Ah shit, said Frankie, jumping in. ‘That reminds me. Come and have a nukkun at this, Calypso,’ he called from the BBQ, where smoke was rising along with the sizzle and lovely smell of the baking fish.
I watched Frankie carefully peel away aluminium foil from the good-‘sized fish.
‘How do you reckon that looks?’ Frankie asked. My mouth was watering as I peered at the pink skin and juicy, firm white meat.
‘That looks deadly.’
‘Too deadly,’ said Frankie slapping me on the back before he placed the fish on a tray, using his bare hands to lift it in the foil it was wrapped in.
‘Did you catch it yourself?’
‘Course I did, just off the jetty down there,’ said Frankie pointing his chin in the direction of Semaphore beach.
‘Don’t let him bullshit you,’ Linda said before laughing.
‘Yeah, he’s full of shit,’ Clare said.
‘Clare’s brother Jamie caught that when he was out on the trawler,’ Linda said kind of proud way.
‘I could have caught it if I wanted to,’ Frankie joked as he carried the snapper over to the table.
‘Just let it sit for a while love, I’ll light some candles before the mozzies start attacking. The mozzies go after you Calypso?’
‘Not really.’
‘They love us British,’ Linda said. ‘The little buggers.’
As Linda started to light some mozzie candles among the pot plants, I asked her straight out, ‘How did you fellas meet?’ It must have been the few sips of beer I’d had that loosened me up to ask that.
‘How did we meet?’ Frankie said, laughing. ‘She was backpacking and I was working as a tour guide, you know, around Alice Springs.’
‘The bus driver on this tour I was on and everyone else I had met in Australia told me to be careful of Aborigines,’ she said with a mocking Australian accent. ‘The way they were talking, you would have thought Aboriginal people were starving cannibals or lepers or something … Despicable, god it pissed me off, even then.’
