by Linda Jaivin
I mouthed the word ‘bruvva’ and made the smokes signal to Edward, what took one hand off a his chick’s back and pulled a packet a ciggies outta his back pocket, holding them out to me. I took two and winked me thanks at him. His woman never even noticed. She was working up a sweat what made dark circles in the fabrication under her arms. Women what sweat like that are fully sexy.
I thought about getting Edward in on the escape. Then I remembered he’d decided to go back to the Lebanon. His woman was going with him. Lucky him.
I was just stubbing out me second cigarette when this French dude, Jacques, came over. They brung in Jacques the day before. They took him from his office in the city cuz he was two days late renewing his work visa. He was wearing his suit and tie when they brung him in and he was still wearing it now. He sat down and pulled out a packet a them Gally-ose smokes. We’d barely lit up when he started bellyaching.
‘I cannot believe I am ere, zees ees a travesty, a vee-o-lah-see-own of ooman rights, zees place ees a sheet–ole, regards ze razorwire, zees ole place ees a ooman rights problem.’ Kvetch kvetch kvetch, what be a Jewish word for complain what April learned me. While he spoke, he blew air out of his lips, what he stuck out a lot, and he waved him hands round like he be from the Middle East. ‘I am Franch!’ he said like it be written with an A instead of an E what even I know is the right spelling. ‘Franch! I am a citizen of France! I don’t dees-erve to be ere!’
‘Who fucken does, mate? Pardon me French,’ I said, feeling grumpy.
‘Pardon me…par-done?’ He looked puzzled, like he be made up a five hundred pieces what hadn’t been put together yet.
I explained how ‘pardon me French’ was just a trigger a speech. ‘What do youse say in France when you swear in front a people and you wanna apologise for it, but not so much that you have to stop doing it?’ He got even more confused then.
‘Par-done?’
Fuck, maaan. I was just trying to be a conversationalist what passed the time. Eventually some people came into Visits from the Franch embassy and he went over to talk to them, what blew out more air and stuck out them lips, and waved them hands around a lot too. I reckoned he’d be outta Villawood in two days max.
After his woman left, Edward came over. He told me some news what got the hairs on the back a me neck doing a Mexican wave. Hadeon, the Hatchet—the meanest bastard I ever met in any prison, the muvvafucker I told you about what got that fella in the workshop in the back a the melon with a screwdriver—had been taken from the supermax at Goulburn to Stage One. They wanted to deport him back to the Ukraine, what was not far enough, but he was fighting the deportation. Thanks God, Stage One was separated from this place by two sets a double fences and gates and a road.
Apart from everything else, I was pretty sure he eventually figured out it was me what stole his drugs that time.
We was detracted by the appearance a Conchita, a South American babe what they brung in five days ago for overstaying her visa. Conchita was small and dark and pretty what everyone liked. Of all the guys she coulda chose to get with Inside, she got with crazy Bilal, what was so happy he forgot all about the coffee for two whole days. Now she was approaching the gate from the compound. She wore a red minidress and make-up and a big grin what be splitting her face like a slice a watermelon, except the juicy red bits was her lips what be on the outside. She pulled a suitcase with wheels what made a sound like thunder on the pitted concrete. Bilal followed, hauling another one of her suitcases. It looked like it be stuffed with bricks, or maybe it was just him what was heavy. He looked like all his Christmases had come at once and now was going away again. When she got to the gate what connects with the passage to Property and then Out, she sang ‘I’m getting out! I’m getting out!’ in her cute Spanish accent, and did a little dance. When the blue opened the gate for her, she was so excited she almost forgot to give Bilal a kiss goodbye and take her suitcase from him. About fifteen minutes later, we could see her walking down the exit road outside the fence with some Latino guy what was carrying her suitcases. She waved and jumped up and down and yelled, ‘Buena suerta, everybody! I’ll miss you all!’ We knew she wouldn’t really.
‘Hasta la vista, baby,’ I said. It means ‘catch youse later’ in Spanish, what I learned from American movies what have Mexicans in.
‘Fuck her,’ Edward said, but not loud like she could hear. ‘Fuck ’em all.’ Then he went inside, tossing me another couple a ciggies first. I thought about how the ones what get Out after they been In for years and years never danced like Conchita did.
Bilal stood staring at the fence for a long time, but he didn’t come into the Yard. I reckoned we’d be seeing him on his coffee rounds again that night. I was right.
At seven, the blues was getting everyone to leave. The Chinese gang and them mates all moved to the gate, a solid mass a black hair and black T-shirts. Some a the chicks started pashing gang members right in front a the gate. No one else could get past. Sue was looking at her watch and some a the other visitors was saying ‘Excuse me, excuse me’, but it was like them Chinamen’s ears was painted on. They was blocking the road what good dogs don’t do, and that be a Chinese proverbial what Ching learned me. The blue at the gate was clapping his hands and snapping his fingers at them.
Something about it got me criminal instincts going. Finally, the chicks let go a their men and went through with the others. When the last a the gang’s visitors fronted up at the gate, he wasn’t wearing his wristband. The stooge said he lost it, what was bullshit, and the guards knew it. In a spit they was ringing the alarms and running round, but by that time the gang leader was long gone. One a the blues what was himself a Chinaman told me that none a the officers twigged cuz they all looked alike. Fuck, maaan, I wish I all looked alike.
Par-done me Australian.
Two more days went by. Tip was nowhere to be seen. A blue what be a mate a Tip’s came on duty. ‘Seen Tip, mate?’ I asked, all casual like it didn’t matter much one way or the other.
‘He’s gone, mate,’ he told me, and made his hand like a plane taking off.
I didn’t wanna be hearing this. ‘What d’ya talking about, mate?’
‘They transferred him to Woomera. What with the hunger strike and all the shit going down over there, they needed reinforcements. He put his hand up. Said the hardship pay would help with his kids’ school fees. Good man, Tip. We’ll all miss him.’
He could say that again.
Seventeen
Feeling lower than a dachshund’s balls, I dialled Marlena’s number that evening outta habit more than hope. No answer. She mighta been at work, what was cool, but she mighta been out with some bloke, a friend a Pink-nuts maybe, what might be taller than me and better looking and have a steady job and smaller ears and maybe never even been Inside, but what could never give her sweet loving the way I did. Muvvafucker.
I played a game a poker with a new Bangladeshi dude and two Russians. I cleaned up and I hardly even cheated, I swear. I packed me winnings into the sock in the video player. I had a fresh stock a ciggies thanks to an old mate on the Outside what owed me a favour and brung me a couple a cartons the other day. I flogged some smokes to a new guy what told me he was from Innonesia. ‘Where you from in Innonesia?’ I asked, not cuz I been there or nuffin but I heard lots about Bali, what apparently be a good place to party.
‘Aceh.’
‘Bless you,’ I said, even though it wasn’t much of a sneeze. I asked him again about where he came from but he just shook his head and walked off. People can be so weird sometimes and they just get weirder when you lock them up, I swear.
I hung out in me room smoking a joint what Edward gave me. His woman was a real pro at getting the stuff in. I put on Public Enemy, what I was beginning to think I was, just like the asylums what was always complaining about being villainified in the media. It was past midnight. I didn’t have no one to talk to. Ivan got released on a Bridging Visa two days ago. It was too depressing talking to Ham
id and Azad, and Thomas was giving me the shits. I figured I’d hunt down some vids. I walked back to the fence with Stage Three and whistled for Edward.
‘Whassup, bro?’
‘Can’t sleep, mate. Watcha got on vid?’
‘Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Pearl Harbor and somefin else…The Mummy Returns. Want ’em?’
‘Oh, mate.’ I gave him the thumbs up.
‘Wait there.’
He came back with the vids. Swinging one arm right back, he chucked Pearl Harbor straight over both fences to where I caught it. Not everyone throws that good. High up on the fence there was one shoe dangling by its laces, a baseball cap and a plastic bag snagged on the razor wire with some roast chicken in, what was beginning to smell. Then Edward let fly with The Mummy Returns. They shoulda had the Detention Double Fence Throw in the Sydney Olympics, I swear. He’d a been a gold medallionist for sure.
I was thinking we got a trifecta when Texas Chainsaw Massacre fell just short a the fence on my side and a blue appeared behind him.
I ducked behind a tree. Edward was shrugging like he didn’t know nuffin. Good man. After the blue wandered off, I got me a broom from the laundry. Lying flat on the ground like a lizard what be drinking, I managed to extradite it by pushing it along the ground with the broom handle.
I was getting to me feet and brushing the dirt off me trackies when me heart stopped. Hadeon, the muvvafucker, was standing there on the Stage Three side, smoking and looking at me with them cold, dirty-ice eyes. He waved. His wrist had a tattoo like a bracelet a skulls on. They should never a moved him to Stage Three even. The man was an animal. ‘Nice to see you, Bogan,’ he goes, showing me every one a them skulls.
‘Togan to youse,’ I go, pretending to be tougher than I was in factuality. ‘Nice to see youse too, Hatchet. Catch youse later.’
First Clarence, now him. Me past was tailgating me present. It was time to put the pedal to the metal.
I was heading back to me room, me head filled with thoughts about the highway to hell what I be on and where the exit be, when Angel whispered me name from the fence between Stage Two and Lima. ‘Zek. Zeki.’
‘Hey, Angel.’
‘Zeki, please. Can you help me?’
‘No worries, Angel. What’s up?’ I was thinking she wanted me to get Hamid to the fence to talk.
She looked around to make sure no one was watching and gestated like she was putting a needle in her arm.
‘Whoa, whoa, you know I don’t touch that shit. Besides, Hamid would have me balls for breakfast if I did that. You know that.’
‘You know people, Zeki,’ she said like she didn’t hear nuffin I was saying. ‘You get it for me. Please.’
A noise made me jump. ‘What’s goin’ on ’ere?’
I turned to see Clarence’s ugly mug what was in me own.
‘Muvvafucker,’ I go.
‘Yeah, so? She loved it, your mum did. Moaned like a right ho.’
I saw red for a second. Like a kung fu master, like I was Jet Li or him cousin Bruce, like I was Zek Li, I smashed Clarence hard on the cheekbone with the corner a the Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Then I whacked him up the family jewels with Pearl Harbor and The Mummy Returns. I got him on his ugly knees with me hands round his thick neck. He was begging for mercy with them creepy girl’s eyes.
That was all happening in me head, anyway. In factuality the joint I smoked earlier in me room had just kicked in. I realised I was just waving the videos at Clarence, what was pissing himself laughing and calling me a fuckwit.
I mighta been stoned but I got dignity. I turned and walked away.
Clarence headed up the walkway what passes by Medical and up towards Stage Three. That’s when I realised how Hadeon got himself transferred outta Stage One when he be exactly the sort a person you need maximum security from. They was old friends, mates what was always doing favours.
Two days later, Clarence got him moved to Stage Two.
Eighteen
Farshid was in me room. He had his guitar. We was listening to the Eagles and singing along to ‘Hotel California’. He put it on for the third time. We got to the bit about checking in any time you want, but never being able to leave.
‘Just like us,’ said Farshid.
‘That’s it, Farsh,’ I go. ‘That’s what makes it worse than prison, and you know I speak with authority about prisons.’
‘I should do something to get myself into prison,’ he said darkly. Farshid wasn’t in a top mood. The night before, Reza started pulling out his hair in clumps. Then he ate it, and then he vomited it up like furballs. Reza eating his own hair, what was gross as well as crazy, really flipped everyone out. The Shit House hauled him off in the middle a the night to some hospital what has a loony bin what is for children too. They told Nassrin she could visit Reza in hospital. But they wanted to put her in handcuffs. Everyone argued with them—it was too humeliorating and she wasn’t gonna run nowhere with one son in the looney bin, the other in Villawood, and her husband still in Port Hedland. In the end they listened to Nadia the psych what said it would send Reza right off the deep end to see his mum in cuffs. We gave her heaps, but Nadia was all right, really.
I gave Farshid a ciggie for free.
The Eagles sang about how you could find them there any time a year.
‘Fuck this shit,’ Farshid said. ‘I’m sick of it. Sick of it. Sick of it.’
I hit the eject button on the CD player.
‘I got the new Eminem.’
‘I don’t mean the music. This shit.’ Farshid swept his hand through the air. ‘Villawood. Detention. I vant to be out. I vant to go to school. I vant to have a life. Detention is the opposite of life. Fuck this place and fuck everyvun in it.’
It occurred to me that I might still be able to buy some wire cutters with that two thou. Farshid would probably say yes to escaping. I could go back to me original plan. All I needed was two people in, besides two to keep a lookout. Farshid would be good. He was fast and strong and smart and young, only sixteen.
And he had a girlfriend now, what he’d be pretty keen to see outside the razor wire. Laura was from Chile. Her mum was being deported. Laura was fifteen and a babe, but she wasn’t Inside cuz she and her brother had been in Australia long enough to get citizenship. Their little sisters, what were three and seven and nine and what were being deported with their mum, were Inside. The little ones was wetting them pants all the time with the stressation. Laura visited every day after school, and she and Farshid, they was spending a lotta time behind a particulate tree in the Visiting Yard what offered the only semi-privacy in the whole place, even though what was private to the rest a the Yard was open to the street beyond the fence. Plus they talked on the phone every night for hours.
‘Vat’re you looking at me like that for?’
‘Mate, I was just thinking…’ It then occurred to me that having him in on the escape meant I be abdicating a minor. And even if it’d make Laura one happy girl, it’d detonate Nassrin. I may have been a crim, but I had me family values. I couldn’t do it. ‘Nuffin,’ I said. I gave him another smoke. He stuck it in his mouth, lit it, and attacked the strings on his guitar like they was something he wanted to hurt.
It took us a while to notice someone banging on the door. ‘Farshid! You in there?’ It was Tip’s mate, that other Maori dude. ‘Hey, Zek. Hey, Farshid. Yer ears painted on? They been calling both your names for half an hour. You got vusutors.’
Farshid looked at his watch. Laura would still be in school. ‘Fuck visitors.’
The blue threw up his hands like it didn’t mean nuffin to him one way or the nuther. ‘I’ve seen her, though. She’s a babe, bro.’
‘Fuck visitors.’
‘Total babe,’ he goes. ‘I’m talking ten outta ten?’
‘Fuck visitors.’
‘Up to you, bro.’
As soon as he was out the door, Farshid and I did a high-five. He went back to his room to change his shirt. I combed me hair and put in so
me product and changed into me Adidas shell suit, the black one with the blue trim. We wasn’t really that interested. Just bored. Bored was the name a the game in that place, what I spose made it a bored game. What was a joke, what I wasn’t making too many of at the time.
Nineteen
We saw her through the fence. She was seated on a chair. Her hair was long and curly and shiny. Every time it fell in front a her face, what was a lotta times, she threw it back with a move what stretched out her smooth, milky neck, what was long even when she wasn’t stretching it. She wore one a them midriff tops and hipster jeans what revealed a lotta information, all good. Her tits was big and bouncy like her mum’s, except perkier, what she was too. It was Marley, April’s daughter, the handcuff protester babe. Azad was sitting facing her, his elbows on his knees and his head pulled forward like she had a rope through his nose. His face had a loopy smile on.
‘So, Azad is a human being after all,’ Farshid observed while we waited for the blue to let us through the gate.
April was there too. Thomas was talking in her ear, and she was nodding, but her eyes kept drifting to Azad and Marley.
‘At least it looks like Azad’s snapped outta his depression.’ Azad hadn’t come out for visits or even to meals in two days. Not since George W Bush, what is the most powerful man in the world and what our own Prime Minister be the deputy of, called Iraq and Iran part a the Axle of Evil, what meant they were the exact part a the Car of Evil what makes the wheels turn round. Azad hated Saddam but he didn’t want to see the country bombed to buggery by the Yanks like Afghanistan. Even though he kinda foresaw it all on September Eleven, it still upset him.
The blue finally found the right key and the first padlock clunked open. In the short time we’d been waiting, a small crowd a male detainees had pulled up chairs and joined Marley’s circle. More was collecting behind us.
