Joyous, I do not wish to tell you all of the things that were said and done, just to know that it was a most unpleasant time of yelling and his use of words like liar and betray which were not true but these were his thoughts. Unfortunately my friend Jonathon tried to stop this rant at which point Sammy-K hit him with a fist in the nose which bled and that made it time to go, Alice saying, Don’t, Margaret, you don’t have to put up with this, we’ll ring the police! But, of course, I did go. What choice did I have? We were living in his apartment and I was trapped, as always. On the way he said he’d been suspicious and followed me and one day seen my Special Bible given to me by the church on my inducting with the inscription inside so that was how he’d twigged and invented the story about the job and working to prove himself. Then the drinking nearby until the time came he said to stop all this stupidity and marched over.
Oh, Joyous! Mamma felt so lonely and foolish then, my secret gone, my happiness too, and on the way home I became a different person. It was like I couldn’t see or think straight, like a storm around me, his words and my mistakes and the past and present hitting together in a big flash. It’s very hard to explain, My Special, but you have to understand that on this Saturday, a day you know well, Mamma was not her normal self but fretted and knotted at her wits’ end.
In the apartments, as you know, is a lift to our third floor, as well as steps. Of course we always take the lift especially since The Weight but on this day Sammy-K said, No, no, you don’t deserve it, and he was dragging Mamma up the steps with some shouting about too fat anyway and lying and betray and holding my hair all the way. Near the top step he stopped out of breath and just for a moment he let go of Mamma, and that’s when it happened, Joyous, that’s when Sammy-K lost his feet and fell.
Poor Sammy-K, once a good man, but so defeated in time by his Fears. He never stood a chance, tumbling down to the bottom and landing on concrete. What is most strange to me is how I felt then, no sorrow or sad, nothing really, I just felt nothing. I am guilty for this but the heart provides for itself and I do believe God understands and accepts my emptiness. So I stood in quiet for I don’t know how long and God said to me, A sign will come, and I wondered, what now? And that’s when you showed up, My Special, a sign from God as I always knew.
You know the rest, how we met on the middle steps and held together and I told you about his drinking and slipping then to ring the police and when they arrived you told them what I said for you to say, since it was fatal, an accident from drinking and slipping with Sammy-K being passed away on the concrete. I will be grateful to you for all time in talking to them on that day, me being in shock of course.
Now I must close this my last letter with the hardest Secret of all and one I should tell you face to face but I can’t, just can’t. So please, forgive me again.
Joyous, I have already told you of The Weight and how it has taken hold of Mamma for some time now and been impossible for me to control. When I was friendly with Alice one thing she did for me was take me to her doctor, a good lady, and kind, by the name of Doctor O’Donnell. She specialises in lady diseases and problems such as The Weight. Mamma had been seeing Doctor O’Donnell on and off for some time now and trying different things but after the accident I was not wanting to go out in case of questions from neighbours so missed several appointments. But very recently after not feeling the best I decided to give it another shot so went along and did a full check up which was way overdue and then not good news. Not good, in fact, the worst, I think.
My Special, Mamma is very sick. It’s hard to tell but this is how. The Weight is such that it hides many things and one of those things is called a tumour which is a malignant badness like a hard piece that grows inside and eventually makes all parts of you sick and hard to recover from, impossible, in my case. This is what you must understand. Joyous, I have to write this, most difficult of all, it may be that Mamma will pass on sooner than later. We do not know when for sure, but Doctor O’Donnell has said, Margaret, you best put your affairs in order, so this is partly what I am doing with my letters to you. Please also understand how proud Mamma has been of her Joyous with lots of wonderful memories, like your first time with shoelaces and learning the twelve times table when you were only six and the first time you wrote a birthday card for Mamma which I still have hidden in my top drawer with, Love Your Son, Always, Joyous, and knowing the train times off by heart and being so kind to that poor man Roscoe and many other moments which made me both glad and crying. It has been an honour to be your Mamma and replacing Jennifer, poor soul, taken too early.
I have often told you to be true, be honest, and you will soar like a bird, like an eagle, you will soar. In saying this I wanted you to become a fine man of independence of whom to be proud. I wanted you to become a man befitting the memory of Thomas Bowen. Well, Joyous, I have spent so long wanting you to become that I didn’t realise that you already have. Yes, My Special, you have. You are definitely a fine man of whom to be proud. No one is more loving or more loved. This will guide you through the rest of it all even when Mamma is passed and I am happy and proud to call you mine and Jennifer’s and Thomas’s forever.
For now, though, there is no more to say.
With much love always, Mamma
JOYOUS
Go back, you say, mister, go back. But not to be going too far because of yesterday and today much of which you already are knowing, like going to Kinsville and lunch with sandwiches in the sky and coming home on a blue bus and then a new walk to the park my favourite which was googlish, and then on the inside of the apartment I am meeting you, waiting with Mamma crying soft tears and Mr Santorini out of the chair saying, It’s okay, Joyous, it’s okay, they just want to know where she is, and the other man is being worried for Moonbeam with a red face, her dadda.
Yes, mister, this is the way of the road that we did come on turning off.
Ever since the drinking and slipping accident of Sammy-K and Mamma being many moments of quietness, all of the times Joyous would be thinking to work things around a little like my dadda Thomas Bowen was writing on my certificate. I do recall that after the accident in the nights it was being a different time. Mamma and Sasha and I did be watching our own shows on TV not those of Sammy-K like criminals or footballing, and after tea we are eating homemade cookies on the couch with hot coffees which was the most googlish thing ever, and we did be laughing at The Goodies and scared of Doctor Who and the talky green slime but only pretending. So that was how we worked things around about the accident and Sammy-K being ashes to ashes, dust to dust, by having lots of oom-papa away from the hurly-burlisome of life. And not be having to walk in soft-socks or going to bed by sundown lights-out, mouth-shut, Spazzo, or eat chops with mash and peas, barbecue sauce, his favoured and the only one allowed.
Yes, mister, you will be seeing the river there, there to the other side and the same river as we did see from the bus and the ducks.
Mister, as I did be telling you, on yesterday Moonbeam was meeting Joyous in his favoured park and saying of going travelling with her back-packer borrowed from her dadda and big with things. And Joyous did be thinking in his daydreams of Moonbeam travelling rivers and countries like the coloured ones in Mamma’s big old atlas with the names I am always loving to say – Mongolia, Morocco, Madagascar, Malaysia, Poland, Paraguay, Portugal, Patagonia. I did be dreaming that Moonbeam was walking on the dusty old roads with her back-packer and picking of the wilderness flowers pink orange yellow, and waving to other peoples hello and catching blue buses and being a fine and dandiful traveller to make her heart be in a happy place. Joyous is no travelling man, mister, loving Mamma too much and missing her but Moonbeam is liking of the travelling to work things around a little, being sad about her school times and the burned library and home with the splitting and quiet dinners, so she did say. And Joyous was trying to be a trusting man of independence as Mamma is always wanting, and has some special letters for me to be reading tonight or tomorrow soonish depe
nding.
So that is all to do, mister, no more, because of all questions finished and the river nearby. But Joyous is saying not to be worrying too much because I am knowing that Moonbeam is in okayness. I am feeling this in my bones, like Mamma says. I am feeling that in my bones, Moonbeam is becoming happy by the minute and working things around because she is filled to the brim with understanding of my dadda’s unique and honkingly good philosophy which Joyous did be teaching her in return for saying cool. And she will be hugging her dadda and being filled to the brim with hello, so that’s the plain and simple kookity end of that.
Yes, mister, this is it. And look, be looking, on my finger! That is Moonbeam sitting by the river! That is Moonbeam who is my bestest good friend since Roscoe with his gar-gar and boh-boh and makes the warm wave be splashing inside of me with lots of googlish oom-papa. Yes, mister, that is her, my friend, that is my Moonbeam who I do so love.
JOYOUS and MOONBEAM
Time to go.
Yes, indeedy-do. The three o’clock blue bus will be chugga-lug over the hill for home and city.
Sure you’re okay to go by yourself, Joyous?
Some. But is Moonbeam –
I’ll be back later, I promise. Just want some time out, remember?
Yes. Joyous is remembering of the time out. But –
Are you going to tell your mum where you’ve been?
Yes. Joyous will be telling Mamma everything of travelling. There will be telling of the farm gone and kingdom tree and ducks and lunch in the sky, working it around a little.
Okay. Hope she doesn’t mind.
Mamma will not be minding.
Well, that’s good.
Moonbeam?
Mm.
Joyous will be helping now to understand how to be happy. Mamma is my only one, and Moonbeam’s mamma is her only one and dadda too, so going back to home will be a goodness in time.
I don’t know …
But Joyous does be knowing. And also be knowing that no one else is being Moonbeam’s mamma or dadda ever, so that is righteous to be going home after travelling and saying like Joyous does, I be loving you.
I don’t know if I can do that.
Moonbeam, it is good to be saying, Mamma, I be loving you and Dadda, I be loving you. This is the advice of Joyous working things around a little.
Thanks, Joyous. Looking out for me, yeah?
Mm. Cool.
What about you, legend? Are you going to do what we talked about? You know, you and your mum – get out of the stinky apartment, head back to Kinsville?
Yes. Joyous will be chit-chatting to Mamma.
Good for you.
Yes. It is good for me.
So. Here comes the bus.
Blue one at three o’clock.
Ready to go?
Yes, Joyous is ready. But Moonbeam is having the wet eyes.
Sorry. I didn’t mean to – sorry.
Joyous will be holding Moonbeam’s hands in the happy old way that is comfortable.
Thank you. Again and again.
It is muchly.
Geez, this is tougher than I thought. Hey, Joyous, ever seen a wishing fountain?
Wishy fountain?
Yeah. You know, like in the middle of a square. There’s one over at the City Plaza, between David Jones and the Food Court. It’s a big black fountain with a man on top, playing a trumpet. The water comes out of the trumpet.
Joyous is not knowing the City Plaza or black trumpet-man.
It’s like – it’s a statue in a pond. People chuck money into the pond and make a wish.
Wish to be coming true?
Maybe. Anyway, I saw it last night but it was weird because I looked in and there was only one coin.
One coin?
Yeah, a gold one. Black tiles, the dude with the trumpet and one gold coin.
Mm.
What I’m saying is – that’s you, big guy. You’re that coin.
Joyous is not –
Everything else is cold and dark. Except you. You’re the gold coin, shining in the middle of the fountain, alone but – beautiful.
Joyous is being the beautiful gold coin?
Yes, you are.
Then Moonbeam is also being a beautiful gold coin.
Nice in theory, Joyous. Trouble was, there was only one coin.
But Moonbeam, Joyous is knowing of this in his bones.
What? What do you know?
That one day there will be two of the gold coins and they are being us in the fountain with the trumpet-man. They are being happy Joyous and Moonbeam.
The bus, big guy.
Blue bus three o’clock back to the city for train home and chit-chatting with Mamma.
That’s it. See you soon, okay?
See you soon, legend.
Yeah, of course. What I meant. See you soon, legend.
Yes, Moonbeam. Okay. See you soon. After travelling. See you soon.
ASHLEIGH
Moonbeam, he calls me. Moon-beam. Joyous is liking of your fingers.
Lovely.
It’s getting late. The sunset up here was amazing. Ice-blue and watermelon melting into this giant honeycomb of sky. The kind you get after days of rain have cleared out the muck. And there has been rain, there are still puddles on the road and that sharp, sour smell coming out of all the plants. Amazing stars too, no city lights to steal their brightness.
And moonbeams, real ones, on the river, like silver spokes connecting the water and the night-sky. Joyous, you’d love being here, I know you would. Everything is shiny and clean after the rain. It’s beautiful.
So, state of play. It’s Tuesday night, I’m sitting on a wooden bench in country Kinsville, it’s near the river, there’s no one around, a few house lights in the streets and up further, in the hills. It’s quiet too, some bird noises, music coming from the pub but softly, like it’s a signal – hey, people, the day is done, kick back, relax. I’m sitting here feeling a bit lonely but okay, I’m okay, and I’m whispering into this recorder-thingy and wondering why the hell I’ve never told anyone else about Joyous.
Thinking: three reasons.
One – didn’t want to because the reactions would be so predictable and pathetic. Like, But Ashleigh, he’s disabled! Yes, he is. As we all are, hey, Mr Santorini? I get that now. Thanks for letting me in. Or, Ashleigh, you need to think this through more carefully. I do? What’s to think? The big guy is kind. He’s consistent. Honest, genuine, doesn’t judge, no put-downs. You need more than that? Or, Ashleigh, is this safe? Safe? Kidding, right? Never felt safer than when I’m hanging with Joyous. Crap-crap-crapola.
Reason two – didn’t want to share our friendship because he means so much to me and I can’t – I don’t want to – have to explain how much and I’m not sure that I could anyway. Not even to Bracks.
Reason three – who would I tell? There is no one. No one worthwhile, anyway.
Of course, if I said that to Joyous, he’d say, But, Moonbeam, there will be being someone. Joyous is feeling it in his bones!
That’s okay, Joyous. I know you’re right. Yeah, I’m working it around, like you always say. Hurricane, rainbow. Re-growth.
Feeling a teensy-bit guilty about bringing him here but, hey, that’s what happened. We had our little adventure. Still, hope you got home okay, big guy. Hope you’re giving the poo-dog a big hug, watching TV with Mamma, chit-chatting about moving out. Reckon you were happy too, saw your dream come true. The kingdom tree and the ducks, right on cue.
Getting cold now. No wind. Reminds me of my dream, that perfect picture and only me being able to move – reaching out, putting my hands in the water, feeling the rough old fish and the birds in that endless sky.
Important things, dreams. Get you through. Dreams and moonbeams, making silver patterns on the river. White light bouncing off dark water.
Lovely.
What’s the time? After ten and I’m tired so … sleep-time. There’s this neat little cut-out under the bridge, b
etween the pylons, out of the wind. Bag, back-pack for a pillow, I’ll be right. Then maybe, in the morning, I’ll go back to the kingdom tree, have breakfast in the sky.
After that? After that, I might follow someone’s advice and do something righteous for once.
That’s for tomorrow. Now … now I guess I should say goodnight. Goodnight, Joy-ous. Hey, while I’m at it, here’s a little prayer. Thanks heaps for being you, and thanks heaps for showing me your dadda’s unique and honkingly good philosophy. All life is joyous, and even the bad bits can be worked around a little, yeah?
You bet.
So, time to nestle down, watch the moonbeams, wait for sunrise, wait for the ducks. I’ll be right. I’m lucky. Gotta rainbow out there, watching over me.
Stay cool, legend. Love ya.
Goodnight.
About the author
Richard Yaxley has written novels for adults and young adults, plays, poetry, school musicals and many books for the classroom. His verse novel Drink the Air won the 2010 Queensland Premier’s Literary Award for Young Adult Fiction. He lives and teaches in Brisbane, Australia. Richard can be contacted at richardwyaxley.wordpress.com.
Copyright
Published by Scholastic Australia
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Text copyright © Richard Yaxley, 2013.
Cover photograph copyright © iStockphoto.com/nicolechill. Rico
First published by Omnibus Books, an imprint of Scholastic Australia, in 2013.
This electronic edition published by Scholastic Australia Pty Limited in 2013.
E-PUB/MOBI eISBN 978 1 921990 69 4
Joyous and Moonbeam Page 10
