Living on Hope Street

by Demet Divaroren

  First published by Allen & Unwin in 2017

  Copyright © Demet Divaroren 2017

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher. The Australian Copyright Act 1968 (the Act) allows a maximum of one chapter or ten per cent of this book, whichever is the greater, to be photocopied by any educational institution for its educational purposes provided that the educational institution (or body that administers it) has given a remuneration notice to the Copyright Agency (Australia) under the Act.

  Allen & Unwin

  83 Alexander Street

  Crows Nest NSW 2065

  Australia

  Phone: (61 2) 8425 0100

  Email: info@allenandunwin.com

  Web: www.allenandunwin.com

  A Cataloguing-in-Publication entry is available from the National Library of Australia

  www.trove.nla.gov.au

  ISBN 9781760292096

  eISBN 9781760638023

  For teaching resources, explore www.allenandunwin.com/resources/for-teachers

  Cover and text design by Debra Billson

  Cover images by Shutterstock and 123RF

  Set by Midland Typesetters, Australia

  www.demetdivaroren.com

  To Mum, Dad, Nüvit and Buket, who called me a writer before I had the courage.

  To Jerome, my love, the boy with the goofy smile and an unmatched heart.

  CONTENTS

  KANE

  SAM

  KANE

  MRS ASLAN

  GUGULETHU

  MR BAILEY

  KANE

  SAM

  MRS ASLAN

  ADA

  KANE

  SAM

  GUGULETHU

  MR BAILEY

  KANE

  SAM

  ANGIE

  KANE

  ADA

  GUGULETHU

  SAM

  MR BAILEY

  SAM

  KANE

  ADA

  MR BAILEY

  KANE

  ANGIE

  GUGULETHU

  ADA

  KANE

  MRS ASLAN

  SAM

  ADA

  MRS ASLAN

  KANE

  MR BAILEY

  MRS ASLAN

  KANE

  SAM

  KANE

  ADA

  KANE

  MRS ASLAN

  KANE

  SAM

  ADA

  ANGIE

  ADA

  MR BAILEY

  KANE

  SAM

  KANE

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  The lamb roast looked like a giant fist.

  Sam eyeballed it. He sat at the dinner table sniffing the air. ‘Smells so yum!’ he said, scooping a ball of mashed potato with his finger and shoving it in his mouth. ‘Can we eat now, Mum? Please?’

  ‘Soon, baby,’ Mum said. She covered the hole in the mashed potato with a spoon, trying to make it wavy the way Dad liked. Her fingers shook and she closed her eyes.

  I got up from the couch and took the spoon out of her hand. ‘I’ve got this, Mum.’ She opened her eyes, squeezed my fingers. I flicked the mashed potato with a knife while Mum buttered bread at the kitchen bench. Sam moved towards the lamb, his bony shoulders sticking up. ‘Dad will be home any minute, bud. Have some buttered bread.’

  Sam shook his head. ‘I want lamb,’ he whispered, putting his chin on the table.

  Mum took a deep breath that made her back straight. She walked to the table, her head up, and cut a slice of lamb from the bottom of the leg and popped it into Sam’s mouth, kissing his head. She moved the veggies around the lamb so it covered the missing piece, and eyed the clock on the wall.

  It was nearly seven. Dad was an hour late. I sat across from Sam. The slice of lamb was too big for his mouth and he chewed and chewed till spit dribbled down his chin.

  His eyes bulged. ‘The meat’s cold,’ he said.

  ‘All good, baby.’ Mum filled a jug with water from the tap and put it on the table. ‘I’m going to warm it up again.’ She ran her fingers through Sam’s hair and it rippled like flames. She put the lamb back in the oven.

  I stuck a pea up my nose. Sam smiled but his eyes kept darting to the clock. ‘Catch, buddy!’ I blocked my empty nostril and pushed the pea out. It landed near Dad’s plate.

  ‘Kane.’ Mum pushed down a laugh. ‘Stop clowning around.’ Her fringe was stuck to her sweaty forehead. She threw the pea in the bin. ‘I should throw it in your mouth instead,’ she said, sitting down next to Sam. ‘That’ll teach him not to waste food, huh, baby?’

  ‘Rather waste food than time,’ I mumbled, looking at the clock. Mum heard. Please, her eyes said, nodding towards Sam, who got smaller in his chair. I took a deep breath, pumped the tingling out of my hands.

  This morning, Dad’s eyes were like glass. ‘Ditch school today, son,’ he’d said. ‘We got a lot of catching up to do. Maybe we can get rid of the weeds in the jungle out there.’ He pointed to the front yard. Mum dropped Sam off to school and me and Dad ate cereal, his beard dipping into the milk. ‘They’re crazy, the blokes on the rig. Roughnecks. But they need me, you know? Hard to find good engineers.’ He slurped the milk from the bowl.

  ‘Ease up, Dad,’ I said. ‘You’re a mechanic.’

  The bowl paused at his mouth and his eyes were ice blue. ‘Well, I maintain engines, don’t I?’

  Not on the rig, I wanted to say, to watch his face crumple, the only thing you maintain is the cleaning, but I filled my mouth with cereal instead.

  ‘And anyway,’ he said, ‘all those fancy titles are a crock of shit.’

  At lunchtime he got a call from the fellas at the pub. ‘Promise I won’t overdo it. Be home in time for dinner,’ he said. ‘Don’t start without me.’ That was seven hours ago.

  Mum ate buttered bread and gave a piece to me and Sam. ‘If he’s not here in five minutes we’ll eat, I promise,’ she said, a frown knotting her forehead. ‘Did you finish all your homework, baby?’

  Sam nodded. ‘Miss Bree said I draw good.’

  ‘You draw great,’ she said. ‘Maybe you can draw the porcupine that’s living on top of Kane’s head.’

  Sam laughed and bits of bread flew out of his mouth.

  I rolled my eyes, flicked the edges of my fringe. ‘This is an artwork.’

  ‘Maybe you can submit it for your next art assignment. It might improve your marks.’ Mum smiled and it smoothed out her face. Her eyes were the colour of leaves.

  ‘Maybe Sam can draw the beak that’s taking over your face,’ I said.

  ‘Where?’ Sam looked at Mum. ‘Huh?’

  Mum laughed till it leaked out of her eyes. ‘He means my nose, baby.’ She hunched her shoulders and leaned forward, rubbing her hands together. ‘All the better to smell you with, my dear,’ she said in a shaky voice.

  Sam giggled and I bit my lip to stop a smile. Mum’s acting was the worst.

  ‘Although sometimes I wish it wasn’t so good at its job,’ Mum said, all serious.

  ‘Yeah, like when you change old people’s nappies,’ I said.

  ‘Like when I walk into your room and it stinks like sweaty feet.’

  ‘You’re funny, Mum,’ Sam said, hugging her. A car door slammed outside and he flinched. ‘Is that Dad?’ he whispered.

  Mum let go of Sam and walked to the window. ‘That’s him.’

  I sat up straight. ‘Dinnertime, bud!’ I smiled but my heart hammered in my
chest.

  Sam curled in his seat.

  Mum opened the door.

  ‘I got it, love,’ Dad said, jiggling his keys. ‘How are ya?’ He tried to plant a kiss on Mum’s cheek but got her chin instead. ‘The lamb smells delish.’

  ‘Cooked just the way you like.’ Mum pulled back her fringe and wiped her forehead.

  Dad staggered inside, nearly tripping over his boots. His eyes were two red holes.

  ‘How are my boys doing?’ He slumped in his chair next to mine and belted out a burp that stank like beer. ‘I’m starved. I told the fellas I gotta get back, family’s waiting for dinner but they didn’t listen.’

  We’re the ones starving, I wanted to say, while you work on your piece-of-shit rig and drink yourself to death. My lips twitched and I focused on the peas to keep the hate off my face. Sam lowered his head, eyes on his empty plate.

  ‘Well, this is a feast. A nice way to start my three weeks off. Got so much to do around here. Maybe paint the house. Didn’t get around to it last break.’ His words frothed from his mouth. ‘You had to see the look on the fellas’ faces today. They keep beggin’ me to get them a job. Like it’s that easy. I worked hard for it. You proud of your old man, son?’

  ‘Yeah, for sure,’ I said.

  His smile was blunt. Only half of him was awake. Fear crawled on my skin.

  Mum took the lamb out of the oven and put it in front of him. ‘Would you like to serve it, Dean?’

  ‘Nah, love, you do it.’ His eyes searched the table. He looked up at Mum like a dog who wanted a treat. ‘Saw John, the bastard. Cleared some of our debts. Soon we’ll be living like kings. I promise.’

  ‘That’s great, Dean.’ She put slices of meat on his plate in the shape of a fan.

  ‘Sammy, spewin’ I missed your seventh birthday. Did you like the chopper I got ya?’

  Sam nodded, his chin nearly hitting his chest. ‘It needs batteries.’

  Mum stopped carving and looked up. Dad scratched his beard and leaned forward in his seat.

  My breath caught in my throat. The air got stuffy with meat.

  Dad smiled. ‘Okay, little fella. I’ll buy some tomorrow and we’ll make that chopper fly.’ The words stretched into one. ‘Come on, then, let’s eat.’

  Mum piled the lamb on my plate and Sam dug into the mash.

  Forks scraped plates and Dad looked at us between mouthfuls, his eyes getting small. ‘Why so quiet, you two?’ He nodded at Mum and me. ‘Or are you saving your mother-and-son banter for when I’m not around?’

  I swallowed water to wash down the lamb fat that stuck to the roof of my mouth. ‘I’m thinking about what it would be like to work on the rig,’ I quickly said, cutting Mum off.

  ‘It’s good.’ Veggies fell out of his mouth. ‘The blokes are great, real respectful.’ His hair was the colour of fire under the light. He turned to Mum. ‘They believe in me.’

  She smiled but her lips didn’t curve. ‘So do we.’

  Dad coughed and swallowed. ‘Ange, how about a beer, love, to wash this down. Getting caught in my throat.’

  Mum put her fork down and went to get it. She brought back a bottle and put it in front of him.

  His eyes were shrivelled sultanas. ‘Why the long face, love?’

  ‘Just tired, Dean.’

  He took a swig and leaned back in his seat. Mum sat down and took small bites of lamb.

  ‘And I’m not, is that it? I don’t work hard enough to provide for this family?’

  My stomach burned and I curled my hands into fists. Sam whimpered into his peas.

  ‘I’m not saying that,’ Mum said.

  ‘You’re tired because you cooked a meal?’ He flapped a piece of meat in the air. ‘You call this a meal? It’s as dry as bark. Taste it.’

  He grabbed the back of her head and put the meat in her mouth. Mum whacked his hand away. ‘Stop it.’

  Sam cowered in his seat.

  ‘What are you gonna do if I don’t? Huh?’

  My breathing got shallow, like someone was squeezing my throat.

  ‘I said stop it!’ Mum said.

  He grabbed her by the neck and dragged her away from the table. ‘You ungrateful bitch!’ He slammed her onto the floor.

  ‘Dean, stop—’

  Dad laid into her stomach with his foot. ‘That’ll teach you,’ he mumbled, ‘to disrespect me …’

  ‘Mum!’ Sam yelled, dropping his fork.

  ‘Stop it!’ I flew out of my seat.

  ‘Don’t you dare move from that table,’ Dad said, pressing Mum’s face into the ground. ‘Don’t you dare help her! Keep eating!’ I sat back down and thought of the time when my knife had snipped Dad’s arm and he went after Sam instead. Sam was smaller then. Dad had flung him across the room, and he’d hit the wall.

  I didn’t budge. Tears and snot dribbled down Sam’s face.

  ‘I said eat!’ Dad pulled Mum up by the hair and rushed to the table. He shoved a handful of veggies into Sam’s mouth.

  ‘Dean, stop!’ whispered Mum, trying to push his arm away, her hands flapping in the air. Her head was bent under Dad’s grip, but she twisted to the side, her eyes searching for me, urging me to eat. The sight of her bloody nose sent hot rage through me.

  I stood up, eyeing the phone on the wall. I had to call the cops.

  ‘Don’t,’ Mum said, and the look in her eyes made me sit.

  Dad kept shovelling food into Sam until he gagged. I picked up peas with my fork, to keep it from finding the veins on the back of Dad’s hand.

  Me and Sam ate but the forks missed our mouths as Dad hit Mum. He cried after, when Mum lay in the corner gasping for air. He shook his head as if he didn’t understand what had happened. I called the ambulance then and sat next to Mum, moving her hair off her bloodied face. Sam curled next to her, holding her hand. When the ambos came, they brought the cops. Dad was taken to the station, leaving me bloodied and guilty.

  *

  The ambos stretchered Mum away. People crowded our front yard as if we were a museum or something. They stayed until the blue and red lights rounded the corner. My fingers twitched, my heart beat louder than the sirens seeing them like that. But I walked inside.

  Mum’s blood was splattered on the kitchen tiles like spilled paint. I wiped the blotches with a sponge so Sam didn’t have to see it anymore. The kid had seen enough.

  The Department of Human Services arrived in heels that scraped the tiles.

  She put a box of Lego in front of Sam, to tempt him out from under the dinner table but he moved back.

  ‘You’re gonna take me away,’ he said, wiping snot on his knees.

  ‘Bud,’ I said, kneeling down. ‘They can’t touch you. Mum’s fine, okay? Ambos said so. She’ll be back tomorrow. It’s just some bandages.’ I eyeballed the woman, daring her to say different.

  ‘Yes, everything’s going to be okay, Sam. I’m here to—’

  ‘Make arrangements for us. We know the drill. We don’t need you people coming around here every time the shit hits the fan. We can look after ourselves. Come on, Sam.’

  Sam shook his head, and shrank back even more.

  ‘I’m here to make sure you’re okay and that you have somewhere to stay until your mum comes home—’

  ‘We have a place to go. Come on, buddy, we’re going next door.’

  Sam inched closer.

  ‘Kane, I know you’re scared,’ she said, ‘but I’m doing my best to sort this out—’

  Just then, Mrs Aslan burst into the room, slapping her knees like some African woman doing a tribal dance. ‘Oh, children,’ she said. ‘You poor, poor children!’ She walked past the DHS woman and knelt next to me. ‘Sam, is okay now, come, hadi, we go my house.’

  Sam flung himself into her arms and curled there like he was a part of her. She patted my hand. ‘Come.’

  She got up, cradling Sam. ‘These children stay my house till mother come home,’ she told the woman, who stared like we were some kind of freak show. ‘Is w
ritten there.’ She nodded at the woman’s folder. ‘I Mrs Aslan.’

  ‘Yes,’ said the woman. ‘I see that. Thank you, Mrs Aslan. It will just be tonight anyway as Mum will most likely be out tomorrow.’ She smiled at Sam, who looked away. ‘I’ll be speaking to her doctor to confirm and let you know, Mrs Aslan. But since it’s been a year, I’ll still need to come with you and check where the boys will be sleeping.’

  ‘You welcome,’ muttered Mrs Aslan. ‘I make good coffee … you drink?’

  ‘Not if I plan on getting sleep tonight,’ she said, laughing.

  I smiled at Sam, and pulled a face that made his eyes shine. His lips didn’t move. He’d lost his smile ages ago.

  Dad hit Mum again, like the baddies in Karate Kid – kick-kick-kick to where it hurts most. I know it does coz of kids at school.

  Dad said he was so sorry and kissed Mum’s hand. Blood went on his face and his crying sounded like Mr Bailey’s dog Sunshine. Mum didn’t move and my knees wobbled coz I was scared she would never wake up again.

  When the Wicked Witch came, she followed us to Mrs Aslan’s house. Her shoes were pointy and her voice was mean. She walked behind Kane. She said I’m not going to hurt you, but I didn’t believe her coz she only came when Dad hurt Mum. Last time she made Kane so mad he yelled till his face got red and he said she could shove her rules, she would never separate us.

  Mrs Aslan’s arms were big and soft and she kissed my head and said shh, everything gonna be okay. The street was dark and small drops of rain fell on my nose. I hugged Mrs Aslan tight till I couldn’t see the Wicked Witch. What if she took me away? My piss was gonna come out so I squeezed my legs to make it stay in, to be brave like Kane.

  Sunshine barked. I looked down the street and he was running so fast he nearly hit Kane. Then he jumped up on Mrs Aslan’s legs. She stopped in front of her letterbox and said psst, psst and flicked her legs like Mum did when there was a spider.

  ‘Sunshine!’ I waved at him and he smiled, with his tongue hanging out. He was black and white and grey and his fur was prickly sometimes when he was dirty. He didn’t like water but he loved mud and put marks on my top when we played.

  ‘Hey, buddy,’ Kane said, and scratched behind Sunshine’s ears. The Wicked Witch stared at Mrs Aslan’s house and Mrs Aslan said hadi and walked into her garden. I waved goodbye to Sunshine and he sat outside on the street. I hoped it wouldn’t rain on him. I put my head down on Mrs Aslan’s shoulder coz my eyes burned and my cheek hurt inside coz I bit it when I spewed out the food.