Living on Hope Street

by Demet Divaroren

  It would take three cleaners to get it into shape. I sat on the edge of the couch away from the crumbs and blond hair that collected on the sides.

  The floor creaked under my feet. I wouldn’t have stepped a foot into this house if it wasn’t for poor Sam. I shivered thinking about his dad. He made my selfish father seem like an angel.

  Grandma kicked her feet up and down while talking to Sam. He snuggled under her arm and it reminded me of a documentary on Antarctic penguins who tucked their babies under their wing. Like Mum used to do to me. I’d been screening her calls, texting her to stay the hell away from me. It’d been eight days and it made me smile to imagine her all alone, munching on sunflower seeds and getting drunk in front of the TV.

  ‘How’s your leg, Mrs Aslan?’ Kane said, gawking at them.

  Grandma half choked and stopped swinging her feet. ‘Good! Before was bad but now better.’

  The Ninja Turtles were fighting on TV. ‘Should we watch something else, Sam?’ I said.

  ‘Like what, the Kardashians?’ Kane was so proud of his pathetic comment he couldn’t stop smiling. He sat on the arm of the couch with his hands in his pockets and his chest puffed out.

  ‘You know, maybe you’d have more of a clue if your poor brain wasn’t saturated with gel.’

  Kane turned beetroot red and I smiled.

  ‘Please don’t fight …’ Sam said, his eyes wide.

  ‘Tsk! No, they only talk, Sam.’ Grandma eyeballed us.

  Sam nodded. ‘Good,’ he said, ‘coz it’s gonna get to the best part soon!’

  I ate popcorn to pass the time but they felt like rocks in my throat. The Kardashians? Please. The guy had no idea. The Kardashians were the wannabe girls at Julie’s party tripping over their heels. I tried to shove them and the stupid party out of my head. The whole school had heard about Mum busting me kissing a girl and one idiot videoed her dragging me to the car by the arm. Mum didn’t say a word, thank God, but she pulled me like I was a dog on a leash, which was bad enough. I watched the video with everyone else on Facebook and it was embarrassing enough for me to quit school. I told my coordinator I was sick and to call Mum. Let her deal with it. If she cared enough.

  The chick I’d kissed private messaged me before I deactivated my account and told me her name was Casey. She said I was super cool and gave me her number, but there was nothing more uncool than being the butt of everyone’s jokes.

  ‘Ada … Ada?’

  ‘Huh?’ I shook my head and Grandma was looking at me funny.

  ‘You orayt, kızım? You crying …’

  I touched my wet cheeks and wiped my face quickly. Shit. I flicked Kane a look daring him to say anything but he shrugged and kept his mouth shut. ‘Turtles bore me to tears,’ I said with a wonky laugh.

  Grandma’s forehead creased and her eyes dug deep into mine. Sam untucked himself from her arm and snuggled next to me. He held my hand with his buttery fingers and put his head on my shoulder. He was soft and cosy, nothing like the two terrors at Dad’s house who tried to burn me with matches last time I saw them.

  ‘Why are you crying?’ asked Sam. ‘Is it coz of a bad man?’

  Kane let out a breath and Grandma pursed her lips.

  ‘No,’ I said. It’s because of a bad woman.

  ‘Gugu knows a bad man too,’ he said.

  ‘Who’s Gugu?’

  He lifted his head. ‘She’s my friend. She lives here now because the bad man did mean things in Africa.’

  ‘They refugee, new to street,’ said Grandma.

  ‘Oh, yeah, the girl with the big smile.’ She’d walked past a few times on her way to school when I had my morning coffee on the porch. It was the brightest part of the house. Grandma cleaned every day, and made me mop. I didn’t mind. There weren’t as many tiles as there were at our house and it gave me something to do during the day. Still, cleaning sucked. I didn’t know how Grandma did it for work. Especially when she was so old. The kind of old that spotted her face and fattened her feet. Sometimes I held her bird Ziya in my hand and wanted to set him free and Grandma would tsk and say he would be eaten, he was too old now to survive in the wild. I told her it was better to die when you were free than to have wings and not be able to use them, but I put him back in his cage.

  ‘Mrs Aslan, guess what!’ Sam flew off the couch. ‘Mum said I could give her small table to Gugu so she can do homework on it!’

  ‘Oh, this very good, my Sam! Maybe I give something too? What they need?’

  Sam started listing items that would fill half of Ikea.

  ‘Hang on, how can they not have beds?’ I said. How could anyone sleep on the floor?

  ‘Less private school and more real world,’ Kane said, walking to the fridge. He got a can of Coke and sipped it, licking the top with his tongue.

  My lip curled, and I lifted my chin. ‘I know all about the real world. I’ve taped my mouth and tied my hands at school protests to stand up for asylum seekers and refugees, thank you. My school teaches us to stand up to injustice!’

  ‘My school teaches the people you stand up for.’ He straddled the chair like he was sitting on a horse and kept slurping. ‘The people you know shit-all about.’

  My ears burned from anger. How dare he? I didn’t have to live next to these people to understand what it meant to be desperate. I watched the news, read books, I knew the meaning of empathy.

  ‘Buldum!’ yelled Grandma. ‘I give blankets and pillow!’

  Sam clapped his hands. ‘And they need couches but Kane said he wouldn’t ask Mr Tupu for his couch in the garden!’

  Kane nearly choked on his Coke.

  I smirked. Served him right! ‘What couch, Sam?’

  ‘The one in the front yard,’ he said. ‘At Sione’s house. It’s black and—’

  ‘It’s all wrinkly, right?’

  ‘Yeah!’

  ‘I’ll ask Mr Tupu,’ I said. Kane’s eyes bit into my skin.

  ‘Ada,’ said Grandma, ‘you not know these people.’

  ‘I want to help, Nene. What’s the worst that can happen? He’ll say no.’

  Kane went bright red. ‘I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it.’

  ‘Yes, you did—’

  ‘Shh, Sam,’ said Grandma. ‘This very good, Kane. You go with Ada to ask. She not be alone. Huh?’

  Oh great. We’d get nothing with his sour face.

  ‘I don’t know about her,’ said Kane, pointing to me, ‘but I’ll be going after school tomorrow. And then, bud, I’m going to talk to Ahmed and the boys to see if they have anything to give.’

  He disappeared behind a door with a 2Pac poster while Sam did a happy dance like a clumsy penguin.

  Mum helped Sam make a list for the doorknock appeal. She spoke to Gugu’s mum, who was so thankful she cried in Mum’s arms. It was Mrs Aslan’s idea to include the rest of the street and I wanted to say screw it, I’m out, but I figured I owed Sicelo for his help with Bad Bill and looking out for Sam at school.

  That weirdo Ada came over to help and supervised the whole thing like a school coordinator. ‘We can’t just turn up,’ she said. ‘We need an introduction, a back story or else people won’t care.’ So she wrote a few lines with Sam’s help and made everyone repeat it off by heart. I didn’t give a crap. I had my own spiel ready. Her top shit attitude annoyed the hell out of me. If she was so bloody good, what was she doing on this side of town? She was running from something. Why else would she show up out of the blue with only a backpack and ditch school to hang out at her grandma’s?

  ‘Let’s separate into groups,’ I’d said to bust her bubble a bit. ‘Me and Sam will start on the opposite side of the street and you and Mrs Aslan start on this side.’

  ‘Works for me,’ she’d said with a smile that made her eyes shrink into all that black eyeliner. She’d scare the shit out of people with that face. Mum stayed back to rest up and we scattered around the street like Jehovah’s Witnesses. Sam held the list and mumbled some lines he wrote with Miss My Shi
t Don’t Stink.

  ‘We’ll start with Ahmed’s house, bud,’ I said, leading Sam across the street. Ahmed and the boys were in the front yard working on a red Holden. He’d taught me how to change oil and adjust the drive belt of a customer’s car once. He was a good place to start begging. We gave way to some kids on scooters and met Ahmed on his driveway.

  ‘Kane, bro, how are ya?’ he said, punching my fist and messing Sam’s hair.

  ‘Good, bro.’ I nodded to his younger brothers. ‘Me and Sam need a favour. We are helping our neighbours out—’

  ‘Gugu and her family,’ said Sam, pointing to the house.

  ‘Yeah, I seen them,’ he said, nodding.

  ‘They’re new to Australia and don’t have much, and we have a list of things that they need and we’re kinda going around—’

  ‘Their house burned down in Africa coz of bad men and Gugu’s grandma died in there,’ Sam said.

  ‘Bud, you don’t need to give the whole story.’

  ‘Nah, bro, it’s cool. That’s stuffed up. Too much bullshit in the world.’ He shook his head. ‘What they need?’

  I handed him Sam’s list and held my breath. It felt weird asking for stuff but—

  ‘Geez, they don’t even have a washing machine. How’d they wash their clothes?’ He shook his head. ‘Hang on, I’ll show my mum, see what we’ve got.’ He went inside and Sam looked after him like a starving puppy.

  ‘Do you think they’ll give something?’ he whispered loud enough for Ahmed’s brothers to hear. They laughed behind the bonnet of the car and yelled, ‘Ahmed will find something, don’t worry, little bro.’

  Across the road, Mrs Aslan and Ada skipped Mr Bailey’s house. He hardly went outside since his wife died. They were knocking on the Jones’s front door when Ahmed jogged to us, his chain bouncing on his singlet.

  ‘Mum will make a pack of Dad’s old shirts. They’re in good condition.’ He winked at Sam. ‘We got some shoes and boots too so we’ll take them over later.’

  ‘Yes!’ Sam did a little jump.

  Ahmed laughed.

  ‘Thanks, bro,’ I said.

  Sam waved and we moved on to Mr Tupu’s house. The two-seater couch had been sitting there so long it had green stuff growing at the bottom. We pressed the doorbell and I hoped Sione wasn’t home. The door opened and Mr Tupu spoke from behind the flyscreen that hid his face. ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Hi, Mr Tupu, my name’s Kane and—’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, I know who youse are.’

  I swallowed. We were stupid for coming here.

  ‘Hi, Mr Tupu,’ Sam said quickly. ‘My friend Gugu lives there,’ he pointed behind him. ‘They come from Africa and they lost everything coz bad men burned their house and wanted to kill them and they have no couches or beds—’

  ‘Yeah, and?’ He opened the flyscreen. His hair was frizzy and his sideburns reached below his ears.

  Sam backed away a little and held my hand.

  ‘Mr Tupu,’ I said, forcing the words out and hating this whole bullshit idea for making me feel like crap. ‘We are helping out our neighbours and are pleading for your generosity …’ Ada’s words fell of my mouth before I could stop them. ‘There’s a list of things that the refugee family need like couches and beds and we were wondering if you could help them out by donating that couch over there in your garden …’

  He sucked in a breath, making choking sounds in his throat. ‘You want my couch?’

  ‘Yes, please, Mr Tupu,’ Sam said into my top.

  ‘For free?’

  ‘Ah, yes, we figure if you’re not using the couch …’ I mumbled, wanting to get the hell out of there.

  ‘Just like that to give it to strangers? I don’t know, fellas. It might be old but I still sit on that couch. Might use it more in future or maybe I won’t. Who knows? Takes balls coming around here asking for things, I tell ya. Let me think about it, hey?’

  He slammed the door and Sam’s tears smeared my top. I dragged him to the nature strip quickly before I went back to tell Mr Tupu where to shove his dirty couch.

  ‘That’s it, screw it,’ I said. ‘I’ve had it. I’m going home.’

  ‘Go then!’ Sam wriggled free and ran across the road to Mrs Aslan and Ada. They were at a house near the end of the street, the one with the green fence. The neighbours had just moved in.

  ‘Sam!’ I ran after him and nearly tripped on the two bikes in the new neighbours’ driveway. I stood back a little and the guy at the door eyed me. He was tall and skinny and stood in front of the flyscreen with arms crossed like a security guard. ‘Like I said, I got nothing to give to the likes of you,’ he said, looking at Mrs Aslan.

  I narrowed my eyes.

  Sam crept behind Mrs Aslan and buried his head in her back.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ said Ada. ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘To Muslims,’ he said.

  Ada’s mouth was open so wide she looked like she was going to vomit.

  ‘Hadi,’ said Mrs Aslan, turning around. Her face was stone and she lifted her chin as she tried to move Ada and spoke in her language.

  ‘You … but … that’s …’ Ada’s lips moved like a fish’s.

  The guy turned around to go inside. I walked towards him. ‘Hey, scumbag,’ I said. He stopped and faced me, his long nose twitching like a rabbit.

  ‘Kane,’ said Mrs Aslan, dragging Ada and Sam next to me. ‘We go. Hadi.’

  I tried to move past her but Mrs Aslan held my hand hard, which made the prick raise his eyebrows.

  Sam was whimpering and I squeezed my fists till my fingers went numb.

  ‘Piss off, kid, I don’t want to hurt you because of her,’ the man said.

  Ada hissed and her black eyes turned fierce. ‘Well, we don’t want anything that belongs to the likes of you,’ she said, her voice loud but wobbly. ‘You ignorant, narrow-minded bigot! Come on,’ she said, linking her arm in mine and pushing Mrs Aslan and Sam towards the street.

  My smile felt stupid but I couldn’t help it. The guy swore as we half ran out of there onto the street. We stopped a few houses away.

  ‘Did you see his face?’ Ada pissed herself laughing and slapped my arm with shaking hands.

  I laughed too. He looked like he had been punched.

  Mrs Aslan’s chin trembled and she wiped her eyes with the ends of her headscarf. Ada kissed her cheek and said something to her in Turkish.

  ‘I orayt.’ Mrs Aslan smiled. ‘I hungry, hadi, we go my house, I make food!’

  ‘No one’s gonna give anything …’ Sam said, staring at his feet.

  ‘I don’t know about Kane,’ said Ada, ‘but I’m not giving up, Sam. There are a lot of nice people out there and I’m going to find them.’

  Sam’s hopeful face looked up to me and I took a deep breath. I grabbed the list that Sam had scrunched up in his hand. ‘We’ve got this, bud,’ I said. ‘We’ll knock this list off!’

  ‘Yeah!’ Ada high-fived Sam and then dangled her hand in front of me.

  ‘Ah … yeah …’ I tapped it and she smiled and rolled her eyes.

  ‘Hadi, o zaman,’ said Mrs Aslan. ‘Me and Sam go home but you two go together, you not be alone, tamam?’

  ‘Tamam,’ Ada said and we headed down the street.

  I knock on Meryem door till hand become blood red from pain.

  It be ten day and she still not come get daughter! Ada, she my prenses, she my life, but she need mum not grandma. She have big problem, I know this, she tell me she can’t go school coz people talking. Her pain big I see in her eyes, but she want her mum. This written on her face too.

  The door open and Meryem look out like scared bird. Her skin have many lines, hair be white where it was brown. ‘Merhaba, kızım.’ Hello, my daughter. Her eyes have ocean inside and she fall to my arms, her crying big like she choking and I crying too.

  We stand like this, say nothing, just hug and I breathe her cigarette hair, her sweat and worry. ‘Tamam, kızım, shh,’ I say and my throa
t it hurt from too much tears.

  When time pass, she look to me, her eye red and I wipe her face with hand. We go inside house. It change from when Ada small and I play with her on floor. We sit on couch, Meryem look like child. ‘How is she?’ she ask in Turkish.

  ‘Come and see for yourself, daughter.’ My tongue talk free in Turkish. ‘What are you waiting for? If it’s because of me …’ I swallow coz pain in my throat. ‘If it’s because of me you haven’t come to get your daughter … then shame on you. Nothing should stand in your way when it comes to your daughter! I learned this the hard way.’

  She go back like I slap her. She cry now, her pain filling room like waves.

  She put head on my legs and I play with her hair. ‘I waited so she can calm down but I didn’t think she’d stay away this long. If she didn’t come home by tomorrow, I was going to come and get her. She’s falling behind in school too and I … I didn’t know what to do … she doesn’t answer my calls, doesn’t want to talk to me. I was scared if I came to speak to her that it would make it worse. At least I knew she was with you, she was safe …’

  ‘You talk to her and then you listen,’ I say.

  ‘I try, I tried so many times to be open-minded … nothing works. She hates me. No matter what I do … I don’t understand her.’

  ‘Tsk! She loves you! She needs you. She is different, my Ada. Her spirit, ah, her spirit is just like yours. Come and talk to her, show her you care, that you need her too.’

  ‘I don’t know how. Whatever I say is wrong. Everything I do is wrong …’

  ‘You raised a good girl, Meryem. She’s strong like you.’

  She sniff into tissue. I give to her from table with picture of Ada and Meryem at beach. There be so many photo, so many day I not see, I not share with them. ‘I’m so scared, so scared to lose her, Mum …’

  My heart melt when I hear this word Mum. I kiss her head, touch hair like time go back and she my baby again. ‘Come with me now. Talk to your daughter, listen to her with your heart. But first make me Turkish coffee! My feet hurt so much. Yesterday I walked up and down my street to collect donations for a neighbour. Just look at these feet! They are like balloons! If they get any bigger I’ll fly out of here!’