by Hager, Mandy
‘Can I come and see him — please?’
‘I’m—’
‘I won’t stay long. I just want to say goodbye.’
‘Well, that’ll really help.’
I hear her sniff and swallow loudly again. ‘I’m sorry, but I don’t want to go away without explaining face to face.’
‘Whatever.’ So she’s going to do a runner now Dad’s not here to pay. Whoop-de-fucking-do. Now I’ll have to deal with this drama as well.
‘Tell him I’ll be there in half an hour,’ she says, then ends the call.
When I relay this piece of news to Mikey he shrieks like a demented gibbon and runs off to his room. I finish washing up and frost the cake with the last of the icing sugar. Not my best effort, but the smell is kind of homely and I know Mikey will like it well enough.
He finally comes back into the lounge, and I have to smile. He’s spiked his mop of hair up with water and he’s changed into his best set of clothes. It’s funny in an awful way: he’s consumed by all the usual raging teenage hormones, even though his understanding’s trailing way behind. And now the poor dipstick’s about to learn the first vital lesson of all teenage boys: trust a girl and they will break your heart. I first learnt this at thirteen, when I fell like a total dork for Jasmine Paul. After she swore she was in love with me, I found out she’d also been snogging at least three of my friends. Girls suck you in, then chew you up. It’s happened to me so many times now, I swear I’m over girls for good.
Mikey haunts the window, watching for Jiao, and when he sees her coming up the street he runs down. By the time they step in through the door he’s draped around her like a shawl. Poor boy, he’s got it bad.
Jiao’s nose is red, her eyes bloodshot and puffy, and she’s clearly just as pissed off with me as I am with her. ‘Hi,’ she says, nostrils flaring like I’m dog shit on her shoe. ‘I won’t take too much of your time.’
‘Give Jow Jow cake!’ Mikey demands. ‘You sit here.’ He presses her down on the sofa, then snuggles in beside her, clasping her hand.
‘I know about your dad,’ she says, raising their joined-up knuckles to brush hers gently against his cheek. ‘It’s lucky you’re so brave.’
‘Yeah, big and brave.’ The tragic little sod drops her hand to flex his muscles in her face. It’s like he’s totally forgotten what he’s been through.
‘I thought you had weekend school?’ I say, nearly choking as I watch Mikey bury his nose in Jiao’s cleavage and wrap her in his arms.
She leaves him there, neither encouraging nor rejecting him, merely patting his back. Her watery eyes meet mine above Mikey’s spiked hair. ‘Things have changed.’
‘You’re damn right there. Just let me know how much Dad owes you — don’t worry about a little set-back like his death. I’ll guarantee you’re paid.’ Even to myself I sound a real prick. Still, she deserves it: one sniff of trouble and she deserts. When I looked after Mikey, I never let him down.
Mikey lifts his head, his cheeks all pink from nestling in between her tits. ‘Go away!’ he yells. ‘Ashy’s a bad, bad boy.’
I’ve had enough. I’ll not be shitted on in front of her. ‘Fine! You’re quite right. It’s all my fault.’ I storm out of the room and slam the hallway door. I’m trying to protect the stupid tosser and all I get is this. What’s the bloody point?
The hallway’s grown cold now. The sun has swung around to the west and streams into the next-door flat, not ours. I hover, undecided what to do. I should be sorting through Dad’s stuff or trying to figure out what the hell I’m going to do about returning to university. When there’s a knock on the front door, I stay where I am. Let her deal with it. It’s probably another ghoulish bastard getting their rocks off at our expense.
Mikey flings open the hallway door before I have a chance to step away and, there behind him, stands Jeannie. She’s wearing ordinary clothes and there’s a dark-haired boy with her. He’s around my age, riddled with piercings. He looks about as comfortable as a mouse in a room of cats.
‘Hi Ashley,’ Jeannie says. ‘I’m sorry I missed your call.’ She gestures to the boy. ‘This is my son Travis.’
Travis bro-brows me but can’t quite meet my eye. ‘Gidday.’
‘I brought him just in case your brother needed some company while we talked.’ Jeannie smiles eagerly at Mikey and Jiao, and offers her hand. ‘Hi, I’m Jeannie Smith.’
Mikey grasps her hand and pumps it. Thank god she came in civvies or he’d have another fit. ‘I’m brave,’ he says.
Jeannie looks to me to translate. ‘That’s Mikey the Fearless,’ I say. And, because Dad’s always hammered on about the need for good manners, I introduce Jiao as well. They all shake hands.
Jeannie looks at her son. ‘Do you mind waiting with these two while Ashley and I talk?’
‘We have cake!’ Mikey shouts, dashing away to parade my scruffy cake for all to see. He shoves the plate into Travis’s hands and beams.
‘Thanks mate,’ he mutters. He shoots a horrified glance towards his mum.
‘I’ll get a knife,’ Jiao says, delving into the kitchen like she owns it. She must sense I’m watching, because her eyes flick up to mine. ‘I’ll stay until you’re free and tell him then.’
I take Jeannie through to Dad’s study and show her the four threatening letters on his desk.
‘Did you know about these?’
‘No,’ she says. ‘When I got your message I phoned straight through to work and asked them to check the file, but apparently it’s been misplaced. No one could tell me if your Dad reported these or not.’
‘That’s ridiculous.’ I reach over to pick up one of the letters, but Jeannie blocks me.
‘Don’t. Your fingerprints will be all over them already — let’s not add more.’
She sends me off in search of two clean plastic bags, a difficult task since compulsory recycling came in. Jiao’s making coffee while Mikey shows Travis his favourite game. The two of us studiously ignore each other. I finally find a couple of plastic bags in the very back of one of the kitchen drawers and take them to Dad’s study, where Jeannie uses one bag as a glove to slide the letters into the other.
‘Has anything like this ever come before?’ she asks.
‘What? Threats? Only several times a year, but nothing on this scale, so far as I know. The odd anonymous call, or some rabid red-necked loony on talkback.’ I shrug. ‘Dad always took it in his stride — he reckoned that so long as all the criticism was allowed out in the open he’d be safe.’
My heart goes ka-boom, like the drum-roll finish to a bad, bad joke. Why didn’t I challenge Dad on this? He’s been speaking out about the foreign workers and corrupt free trade for years. He knew full well that he pissed the big boys off, and thoroughly enjoyed the fact he did. He seemed to think he was exempt from retaliation, but you only have to look at the UPR’s abysmal record on human rights — god damn, they have fleets of execution buses trucking round to ‘subdue’ dissent. And don’t start me on the so-called good guys, the great principled Western Alliance … How the hell could Dad be so naive? How could I?
Jeannie lowers herself into his chair and swivels from side to side, a frown etching deep into her face. ‘There are a number of things that don’t add up,’ she mutters, tapping her two index fingers on the desk.
‘You’re not kidding.’ I look Jeannie straight in the eye. ‘What do you know about my mum?’
Her fingers freeze mid-tap. ‘Only that she disappeared and, in light of no new evidence, the coroner declared her dead.’
‘I didn’t know until I saw it on the news.’ It comes out all accusatory, though it’s clearly not her fault.
Jeannie groans. ‘I’m sorry, Ashley. That’s terrible. This whole thing’s a mess.’
‘You think?’ She doesn’t take my sarky bait, just shakes her head as if she knows there’s nothing she can say. I like that she’s so honest, I like that she has stuck with me. It’s not even her work hours and yet she’s h
ere. ‘How old is Travis?’ I ask.
‘Eighteen next month.’
‘What does he do? He doesn’t look the student type somehow.’
She laughs, though it’s a little forced. ‘Right now very little. He left school last year and hasn’t found a job. He’s at a bit of a loose end.’ It clearly embarrasses her to admit he’s unemployed, though god knows why it should. It’s not like he’s alone in this. Dad blamed it on free trade — though, come to think of it, he blamed most things on free trade. Reckoned we’d sold ourselves down the chute.
‘Look, I know it’s probably unfair to ask you this, but I really need to know. Do you think my mother’s dead?’
‘It’s not my place to say.’
‘The TV made it sound like they thought she was part of Muru.’ I don’t know much about this group, just that they’re shady separatists who no one, except real fringe-types, likes.
‘I heard that too, though I don’t know where they got that from.’
‘Could you find out?’
‘I could try.’ She pushes herself out of the chair. ‘I’d better get these letters over to the lab. Meanwhile, I want you to be careful. Ring me straight away if anything else — and I mean anything else — surfaces or worries you. I promise to answer if I can — if not, ring 111. You understand?’
‘Holy shit. You think that we’re at risk?’
She pats my back, all motherly. ‘You’re going to need some friends over the next wee while. I’d like to help. Besides, politically things are heating up. There very well could be some kind of localised unrest. Sit tight and keep your head down. Okay?’
‘Do you reckon it’ll come to blows?’
‘Ashley, you of all people should know that it already has.’
‘You mean the bomb?’
She shakes her head. ‘In my opinion it’s all the opening volley of a bigger game. But that’s just me — I hope I’m wrong.’ She scoops up the letters in the plastic bag. ‘I’d better move.’
‘Jeannie, wait!’ Something that’s been shadow-boxing in my subconscious is now clamouring for air. ‘Do you think that when the bomb went off …’ I cough, then try again. ‘Do you think Dad knew what was happening? Was he conscious, do you think … in pain?’
‘Oh, Ashley.’ Now Jeannie actually hugs me, and when I pull away, scared I’ll start to blub, there are tears in her eyes too. ‘I understand he was very near the bomb — I truly doubt he knew or felt a thing.’
I know this is supposed to reassure me but ‘truly doubt’ is not enough. What if Dad knew his feet had blown off? What if he lay there knowing he was going to die — all on his own? But I let the matter drop. What difference does it make, anyway? Dead is dead.
I blow out a deep breath and open the door. The next deadly explosion will be when Mikey hears about the desertion of his not-so-loyal girlfriend Jiao.
He’s on the sofa, crammed right next to Travis. Rabbiting on, oblivious to the fact that Travis probably doesn’t understand a word he says. Mikey’s face is smeared with icing, the cake already half eaten — no wonder he weighs such a ton — and Jiao’s in the kitchen staring at the floor. Travis is on the joystick, in no doubt what to do. He’s so intent on the game he barely notices when we return, and looks disappointed when Jeannie interrupts and says they have to leave.
‘See ya, mate,’ he says to Mikey and gives him a high five.
As he gets up, I notice a Polynesian tattoo snaking round his neck. ‘Awesome tat,’ I say as we shake hands. I like that he’s been kind to Mikey.
‘Thanks. Your brother’s cool.’
‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘I wouldn’t swap him for the world.’ I can see that Mikey’s listening, so I play this down. ‘Well, maybe I’d trade him in if it was worth my while.’ I smile, to make sure everyone knows I’m joking, and they all politely laugh — except Mikey who, once again, pokes out his tongue. Sometimes he doesn’t miss a beat.
As soon as Jeannie and Travis have gone I sprawl, exhausted, into Dad’s La-Z-Boy and close my eyes. Maybe if I can lull myself to sleep, I’ll wake up fresh tomorrow morning in my fart-laced hostel room with Hayden and discover this has all been a bad, bad dream.
‘Jow Jow, come have your turn.’ Mikey doesn’t comprehend that others might not love that stupid game as much as he does.
I open my eyes and watch as Jiao slinks over to the sofa, her eyes and nose still cry-baby red. When she sits down next to Mikey, she’s shaking pretty much all over. I’m not surprised — even the coldest bitch must be aware how much her leaving’s going to break his heart.
She takes the joystick out of his hand and lays it in her lap. ‘Mikey. I have to go.’
‘No!’ he says. ‘You play the game.’
She glances up at me and I stare right back. Fuck you. If I get involved, Mikey will blame me.
She takes both his hands and rests them on his knees, holding tight. ‘I have to go away.’ Her voice is shaking now as well and she can’t hold back the tears.
‘Tomorrow then?’ He reaches up and wipes her cheek. ‘Don’t cry Jow Jow. Doesn’t weep see.’
‘Pardon?’ No wonder she looks so confused. He’s minced up one of Dad’s favourite quotes.
‘He does not weep who does not see,’ I translate, before I can stop myself.
‘Ah, Victor Hugo.’
I try like hell not to reveal my shock. I’ve never met anyone anywhere near my age who knows this too. ‘She’s ditching you, mate,’ I say to Mikey. ‘Doing a bunk.’
‘It’s not quite—’
‘No, Jow Jow. Don’t go.’ Mikey’s caught the drift. He flings himself across her lap and wraps his arms around her waist, pinning her to the sofa. Any moment now he’s going to melt down completely.
‘Why are you doing this?’ she lobs at me. ‘Why are you being so mean? You don’t know what you’re saying.’
‘Don’t I?’ Fury launches me from the chair. She’s going to bugger off and leave me to cope with him. ‘So if I handed you a hundred bucks right now, in forward payment, you would stay?’
‘No. I can’t—’
‘Ha! See, Mikey, it’s not even about the dough — it’s just she can’t bear clinging to this sinking ship.’
Mikey’s not listening, though, just sobbing in her lap. She grabs his arms and flings them off. Storms up to her feet and confronts me with her scorching eyes. ‘Leave me alone! You’re not the only one whose family’s in trouble.’
‘Trouble? Honey, ours is six feet under. We have no family any more — so don’t play little guilt trips with me. Just bugger off. I’ll make sure you’re paid exactly what you’re owed.’
‘Ignorant pig,’ she spits. ‘Don’t you even watch the news? My parents are in one of the factory farms up north. They’ve closed it down, and now they’ll either make them fight against your country or shoot them dead. You understand? My folks are trapped. And once your military, or mine, track me down — and, trust me, one of them’s sure to do it eventually — I’m good as dead as well. I’ve had too much Western education. They’ll see me as a traitor — too risky to their stupid war.’
‘Whoa!’ I certainly was not expecting that. Bloody hell.
Nor was I expecting Mikey, who’s tackling me to the floor, to kick me in the shins. ‘Hate you, Ashy. Go away. Say sorry now!’
My shin is frickin’ killing me. ‘Okay, okay …’
I feel like my brain’s gone on strike. There’s only so much shit it can take. The only thing I do know is that, whether what she’s said is true or not, Jiao believes it — the inflections in her speech make that quite clear. It’s one of the weird things about what I’ve been studying: by default, you end up listening far more intently than you ever knew was possible and, somewhere along the way, you start to realise you can sometimes pick up lies or truth. Mikey does this without even trying, like it’s wired into his damaged DNA. Maybe I should’ve taken more notice of the fact he likes and trusts her as a friend and not just because she’s the owner of such h
ypnotising tits.
I limp back to the chair and spread my hands to hide my face. I have to pull myself together. I’m acting like a total dick. ‘Look, I’m sorry. Okay? I had no idea.’
Jiao’s still standing by the TV, arms crossed and legs astride. ‘Thanks.’
It’s a marathon effort to rein my thoughts back under some control. ‘So, where are you going to go?’
She shrugs, her fuck-off demeanour slipping as her arms drop to her sides. ‘I don’t know. But I can’t stay where I am.’
‘Why not?’
‘I live in a boarding house with lots of other kids whose families work up on the farms. Our house parents are very pro-UPR.’
Now I really feel ashamed. I’ve seen docos about the kinds of conditions kids like her have to put up with. They may be living in a so-called free country, but they’re cramped into sub-standard housing and bullied like hell — and one foot out of line can see them shipped back home to scavenge for themselves or sent to work in regulated labour camps right here. Either way, their destiny is not their own.
Mikey slips his arm around her waist. ‘Stay here, Jow Jow. Don’t go away.’
‘Thanks, Mikey. But you guys have enough to deal with right now.’
‘No, he’s right!’ Jiao does a double-take. But I have to make things up to her. Dad would be furious if I let her go when it’s so dangerous. ‘Stay here — at least until we see how this unfolds.’
‘But you’ve just lost your father …’
‘Mikey needs you here right now. Besides, I’ll need someone to stay with him while I sort funerals and lawyers and all the other shit. You’d be doing us a big favour.’ Now that I’ve said it, I realise how true that is. Having someone to help navigate Mikey through the rapids of the next few days would certainly take the load off.
Jiao strokes the top of Mikey’s head, and I swear to god he purrs. ‘I haven’t any money to contribute. Everything I earn goes towards school and board.’
‘So?’ Dad would say money should never be the referee of what is wrong or right. ‘I’d be forking out for someone to help with Mikey, why not you?’
