Broken
Page 3
HAM: Piece of bone sticking through. Shit.
Block her view with my body—
ASH: Is it okay?
HAM: … gonna need to splint that. Hang on. It’ll hurt a bit.
ASH: Jesus! A bit?!
HAM: I gotcha.
ASH: … screaming …
… splintered …
… shooting …
HAM: Hang on, that’s the way.
ASH: up my leg
into my rib cage.
HAM: Bite down on something if you have to.
Beat.
OW! Not me! Jesus!
ASH: Pain lodges behind my jaw and temple.
A perfect pearl of Pure. White. Pain.
HAM: I stop the wound. Bind her foot up firm.
Watch her close.
Face twitches in pain.
She says nothing, just watches me
… closely …
Keep her talking.
Turns out she’s a PhD student or some such. Scientist.
ASH: Environmental biologist.
HAM: Doing—and get this—a paper on the reproductive cycle of the Mulgara.
ASH: Dasycercus cristicauda.
HAM: It’s a rat.
ASH: It’s a carnivorous marsupial. And it’s a thesis. Not a bloody ‘paper’.
HAM: … don’t see the point, myself …
ASH: You don’t study these things and the animals become extinct. It’s like losing your language. The crest-tailed is already endangered.
HAM: … well, I got her talking, anyway …
ASH: Wild cats, dingoes, foxes.
HAM: … challenge’d be to shut her up.
ASH: Nitre bush, that’s what they …
HAM: There y’go. All done.
ASH: You can eat it.
HAM: The rat?
ASH: The fruit. From the … [nitre bush]
HAM: Prefer a steak, myself.
ASH: How can you kill things just to eat them?
HAM: Well, I don’t actually do the killing.
ASH: We can live without meat.
HAM: No question there, love.
ASH: Life is bigger than us.
HAM: Sure is.
ASH: What do you do?
HAM: Me? Structural engineer. At the mine. Just heading back for my week off.
ASH: Lucky me.
HAM: Yeah. Lucky.
ASH: Where’s home?
MIA: Where’s your jacket?
HAM: … it’s …
MIA: You’re late.
HAM: … I’m …
MIA: Where’ve you been?
HAM: Accident. On the road.
MIA: Anyone die?
HAM: No.
MIA: Boots off.
HAM: I can’t remember when it got routine…
MIA: Hear them hit the floor.
HAM: … never a moment where I thought:
MIA: Fridge opens.
HAM: ah; she doesn’t want me anymore.
MIA: Dull clud of hand around a beer.
HAM: Nothing specific.
MIA: Can you put your boots outside?
HAM: Can you see the early cracks if you look closely enough?
MIA: They’re right in the doorway.
HAM: Stop them up with gaffer and Selleys No More Gaps?
MIA: Why should I have to move them for you?
HAM: Make things whole again?
MIA: I keep tripping over them.
HAM: Did I do this? Make her into this?
MIA: They’re dangerous there.
HAM: This shell of a person, focussed on nothing?
MIA: And I don’t tell him about the baby, can’t tell him.
I try, but …
nothing comes out.
HAM: Her mouth opens and shuts, but …
MIA: I head to bed.
HAM: not a word.
MIA: Lie there. Watch dawn break across the world.
HAM: Can smell the grog on her from here.
MIA: Soft around the edges.
HAM: The smell of whiskey and sadness.
MIA: Pinky-purple. Orange tinge
HAM: Champagne on the table. Warm. Two glasses.
MIA: … red sky in the morning …
HAM: Flowers from the garden. Gravy, congealed.
MIA: Dawn.
HAM: Roast beef, spuds burnt to a crisp in the oven.
MIA: The start of a new day.
HAM: Shit. What?
Birthday?
Anniversary?
What then?
HAM: Rack my brains, but …
Easier not to ask, in the end. So I don’t.
Crack another beer. Go outside.
Take my boots with me.
Sit and watch the sunrise
… remember how we used to be …
MIA: … hands that hold a memory and fling it back at you …
HAM: She’s serving coffee at the airport.
MIA: Comes across to the counter. Big hands. Chunky legs. Blundstone boots.
HAM: Wild. Something wild about her. Untamed.
Coffee, love. And one of those panini thingies …
MIA: He says ‘those’
fellas around here say ‘them’
one of them thingies
he says ‘those’
—and he knows what a panini is.
He’s not from around here.
HAM: She makes me a coffee and gets me a panini.
MIA: … thingy …
HAM: She smiles with her eyes as I hand over the money
MIA: He smiles back as I hand over the change
HAM: … and she makes sure her fingers touch my palm …
MIA: … rest them there, just for a second …
HAM: … or two.
And I nod at her.
Just once.
Just the once. A single nod.
MIA: And I know that he knows and he knows that I know …
HAM: … that all the rest is just a matter of time.
MIA: He asks around town after me.
HAM: What’s her name?
ASH: Lucky.
HAM: Right. LUCKY!
Beat.
We’ll find Lucky, okay?
ASH: He goes off, calling her name.
Nothing.
He moves further out in the scrub.
Nothing.
Is she in the car?
HAM: No.
ASH: She must’ve been thrown out.
HAM: I checked where you rolled. Nothing there.
ASH: Oh, God. Where is she?
HAM: Probably hiding in the scrub. What’s she look like?
ASH: Staffy cross. Purple collar.
HAM: She starts to shake.
ASH: I want my dog.
HAM: Delayed shock.
ASH: Cold. So cold. Teeth won’t stop clacking. Shivers right through to the top of my skull. Bones jangling.
HAM: Clammy skin, sweaty, disoriented.
ASH: Every time I move. My leg, pain shooting up.
HAM: Don’t get up!
ASH: My dog, where’s my dog?
HAM: Hyperventilating.
ASH: Head spinning.
HAM: … you can’t … [get up]
ASH: Want to vomit.
LUCKY?!
Fuck OFF! Don’t TOUCH me!
LUCKY!
HAM: No. You need to stay right there. You need to stay put, you hear?
ASH: No, I …
Let me go!
HAM: Jesus Christ, woman, if I have to sit on you to keep you here, I will. Understand?
ASH: Please. I need to …
HAM: I’ll find her. Okay? You have to trust me. You can’t use that leg. Okay?
ASH: … I …
My dog.
Help me, I …
HAM: She breaks down.
Wrap my jacket around her.
Lie her down.
Cover her with the blanket.
Sh, sh. You’re okay, love. I’m here. You’re gonna be alri
ght. The ambos’ll be here soon. I’m not leaving you, okay? You’re safe, now. You’re with me.
ASH: The air curls its cold fingers around us.
HAM: Put my arm around her. Curl into her with my body.
ASH: Cocoons me. Holds me into him, close.
HAM: Like we’re trained to do. Keep her warm. Safe.
ASH: The imprint of his arm across me.
The warmth of his body curled into mine.
HAM: Until she stills, finally.
ASH: I could stay here forever, wrapped up in him.
HAM: And we don’t say much, just lie there …
ASH: … listen to the stars falling.
HAM: … feels like I’m living in outer space.
MIA: The heaviness. I can’t get up.
HAM: Atmospheric void.
MIA: The guilt. Weighs me to the bed.
HAM: Cuppa cold on the table. Dishes dirty in the sink.
MIA: And the feeling of space in my belly where that little life was growing
won’t go away
… just …
MIA / HAM: empty. / empty.
HAM: Don’t think she’s showered for a week.
MIA: And nothing I do will fill it up.
HAM: Try to help, but …
Barrier’s up.
MIA: And I can’t stop thinking that it was me; my fault.
That I’m a failure.
As a mother.
As a wife.
As the caretaker of new souls.
HAM: Then she comes to me all soft
—tells me
HAM / MIA: She wants a baby. / I want a baby.
MIA: A baby will fix it
make it right
stop my guilt
bring him back to me, and me back to myself.
Make us whole again.
My want grows into a need,
and the need becomes an aching. A physical aching.
I have to have a child.
Want a world that’s bigger than us.
I move our bed out of the sunny room,
strip back the wallpaper,
paint balloons and clouds, and on the ceiling
the moon and the sun
and a barely-there star.
And we try, but …
HAM: Not ready for a baby yet.
MIA: … nothing …
HAM: The responsibility.
MIA: … and we try again the next month …
HAM: Paralysing.
MIA: … and again the next.
Gets so’s we only ever do it when I’m ovulating.
Stick my fingers into my vagina.
Feel the mucus.
Straddle him.
One month.
HAM: Orion.
MIA: Nothing.
ASH: Aquarius.
MIA: Two …
HAM: The Keel.
MIA: … false alarm …
ASH: No, that’s Big Dog.
HAM: It’s The Keel.
ASH: Look, I’m not gonna argue with you.
MIA: … three …
Beat.
HAM: Keel.
Beat.
ASH: Big. Dog.
HAM: … thought you weren’t gonna argue …?
ASH: I changed my mind.
Beat.
HAM: Centaur.
ASH: Sagittarius.
HAM: Unicorn?
ASH: Seven-four-seven.
HAM: Nah; that’s a satellite.
ASH: Reckon they can see us?
HAM: Oh; shit yeah.
ASH: Really?
HAM: Yeah; really. One on the left there’s just writing you a postcard, now.
ASH: Fuck off.
HAM: Course they can’t bloody see us.
ASH: They’ve got infra-red sensors.
HAM: Yeah; but they’re not gonna be looking for two lost souls in the middle of the desert, are they? They’re gonna be looking for nuclear warheads or Korean submarines or …
Silence.
ASH: You got family?
MIA: Buy a swing set for the backyard.
Above-ground pool.
Sand pit, cubby house.
Dream of soft tiny hands grabbing hold of a universe.
Have you ever wanted something so much
that you’re prepared to risk everything you have for it?
HAM: No.
MIA: … even though you don’t know what the reality of what you want actually is …?
ASH: … and something in me soars …
MIA: … and every time I bleed,
the red thread unravels me.
HAM: I collect some sticks to build a fire.
MIA: Four months. Nothing.
ASH: I watch the flames flicker and spit.
MIA: And I know it’s because of me. What I did. My body punishing me.
But we keep trying.
We start to talk about IVF.
Well, I do.
He starts to talk about having a break
from the house
from work
from the routine sex
two weeks on, one week off
he’s exhausted.
Wants a holiday. Up north.
Take the pressure off.
Rifle, spotlights, Jarvis Walker rod ’n’ baitcaster, five-metre tinny.
Do some fishing. Spend some time in the open.
HAM: I’ll have another look for your dog.
MIA: Stalemate.
ASH: I start to imagine. Start to dream
that we’re stranded out here forever.
Plenty of food, if you know where to look.
Plenty of water, too.
Just us,
and the universe.
HAM: LUCKY!
ASH: A world spins on its axle
—the lottery of chance—
and you can start again: any time,
any place.
Throw some dice into the cosmos.
Watch them twirl and scatter.
Refract.
Fall back to earth.
Snake’s eyes on a paradise.
HAM: Sorry, love.
ASH: Takes my hand in his big one.
HAM: She’ll come back.
ASH: Leaves my hand resting in his
or his in mine.
HAM: Dogs always do.
ASH: Entwines my fingers with his.
HAM: Loyal. It’s in their nature.
ASH: The wind picks up and the trees turn to glass
the fractured light of possibility.
He tilts my chin up to look at the gash in my forehead.
Brings his eyes to meet mine, and …
HAM: I feel myself falling into her and all I know at that very second is not just desire, but the purest fucking moment of love I’ve ever felt in my entire life.
ASH: Kiss. Endless.
Feel I’m gonna faint. Head spinning.
Come up for air. Gasping.
Laugh. He laughs.
Traces my lips with his stubby finger …
HAM: Soft. So soft.
Warm.
ASH: … along my cheekbone, barely touching …
HAM: Beautiful.
HAM / ASH: Shaking / Shaking
ASH: with lust, with love, with fear
HAM: So fragile she could break.
ASH: … and in we go again …
HAM: A bubble of possibility appears above my head: pure and clear and crystal.
A life with no weight
no judgment
no laws.
Live out here forever.
Erase all memory. Forget the future.
Just the moment. That’s enough.
MIA: He asks around town after me.
Comes calling. Flowers. Champagne.
Something old-fashioned about him. Solid.
HAM: Hands that hold a memory and fling it back at you.
MIA: We drive out of town
to a secret place, along the river.
There
’s no-one. Just us.
And we make the sweetest love
in a pool of sweat.
HAM: Sensual.
MIA: Strong arms.
HAM: Wild.
MIA: Full lips.
HAM: Insatiable.
MIA: Chunky legs.
HAM: Straddling me.
MIA: Big hands. On my hips.
HAM: Endless.
MIA: Slow, and hot and wet.
The earth and the sky and the river running past us.
First time it’s flowed in thirteen years …
ASH: Ambulance siren twirls chaos into the night
MIA: … and it smells like …
ASH: red blue red blue
MIA: Hope.
ASH: wee-oh, wee-oh.
HAM: They see my car on the road.
MIA: I couldn’t move for an hour after.
HAM: Pull in.
Headlights drown out the yellow moon.
MIA: And he just lies next to me, stroking me.
HAM: Scurry across.
Shove me aside
ASH: Trying to find him
HAM: check her out
MIA: … watching me …
HAM: take her vitals
ASH: trying to touch him.
MIA: We shack up, rent a place in town.
HAM: Put her on a stretcher.
Carry her away.
HAM / ASH: They won’t let me in / They won’t let him in
ASH: Won’t let him in the ambulance.
Follow us. Please … I can’t …
MIA: He heads off for his mine job, two weeks on, one week off.
ASH: I’m scared.
HAM: My mouth goes dry and I can feel my heart palpitating, and I
MIA: Count down the days …
ASH: Please.
HAM: nod.
Just once.
MIA: Thirteen, twelve, eleven, ten …
HAM: Just the once. A single nod.
MIA: Count down the sleeps till he gets back.
HAM: A look of utter calm passes across her face
MIA: Six, five, four, three …
HAM: and she nods back.
MIA: Sit on the verandah waiting for the sound of his car.
HAM: Tell her I’ll find her dog
MIA: Lights sweeping in …
HAM: and then follow.
ASH: Thank you. God, Ham, I …
MIA: … picks me up, carries me inside. Bursting with the wanting of him.
HAM: She’s crying. So grateful, she’s crying.
ASH: Thank you.
HAM: They close the doors of the ambulance and drive away.
Drive her away.
Into the night.
Down the long straight road.
The midnight desert road.
ASH: They hook me up to a drip and check my vital signs and clean the wound on my forehead and ring ahead with orders and stabilise my leg and all the time, all I can think of is him. The ambo woman asks me why I’m smiling and I can’t even speak for the joy stuck in my throat.
HAM: It’s like the world’s picked me up by the feet and hurled me into the cosmos where I explode into tiny atoms of hope, raining down onto the earth, expanding my chances of happiness in any one place at any one time.