Reluctant Activists

by Helena Phillips

  “No sweetheart. You must stay here a while longer.”

  “Then why have you come? To torture me further?”

  “No.” He said firmly. “I have come to bring you comfort.”

  “What comfort can you possibly offer in this blackness?” Her tone was angry and hardened in a manner so foreign to her nature Torrenclar’s face screwed up in an attempt to ward off the effects of it.

  “Give me your hand sweetheart.” But, she would not.

  “Still so certain you are doing the right thing, Elaris?”

  He drew back as she suddenly leapt to her feet and glared across the barrier at him.

  “Of course you would take kus side,” she snarled, furious with his sweetness of temperament. “You are like putty in kus hands. Weak and with no mind of your own! I find you disgusting. Go away and leave me alone. I will never trust the Source again after this terrible thing has been done to me!”

  “Give me your hand, Elaris.” He smiled bringing a tear to her ugly face which she hastily swept aside.

  “Give me your hand, Elaris,” he said again, putting his own through the barrier and begging her to take hold. She glared at it for a long time, then, because she could bear the isolation no more, she held out her own tentatively towards it. Torrenclar remained motionless and waited. It flashed into her mind that she might be able to use it to escape and grabbed at the hand, which Torrenclar withdrew.

  “What are you doing, Torrenclar? Teasing me? You are going away from me this day, and you will leave me imprisoned here. For how long? How long do you imagine I can endure this?”

  He shook his head sadly. “You are enduring it far too long Elaris.” This brought a glimmer of hope to her despair, but it was of no use for she was wondering how to manipulate the situation to her purposes.

  “You must help me.” Her voice was silky, like slime on a rock buried deep in the mud.

  “No darling. You must help yourself.” She glared at him, and Torrenclar was grateful for the barrier. “Put your hand in mine and let me help you,” he said again. “You need to trust there is a way out of this, and you must take a step towards it.”

  Elaris sat down on the ground, no trace of her former elegance in the stance, and thought about this.

  “If I touch you, I know I will be revolted by your sweetness,” she said sadly, “but I cannot bear to let you go from me leaving me here in this vault.”

  Torrenclar lay on the ground and put his arm out towards her. Desperate, she allowed herself to crawl towards its warmth not touching it but feeling the strength flowing through the arm and recognising, with some tiny part, a longing for the connection again. He lay there with her for hours, and still she could not bring herself to move further towards him, but she was comforted.

  When at last he lifted himself from the ground, she quickly became distraught and began to rage at him, but he was immovable.

  “Elaris, I am going now because we all have a gathering at Bridey’s house tonight, and I want to be there. It will be Irritat’s first visit with us, and we intend to stir up some fun for her. You will be sorely missed.” He turned and left her then unable to bear the sadness in her eyes a moment longer. “I will return soon darling. I promise you will not be abandoned here.” And with that she had to be content.

  ***

  Flagran spent his afternoon trolling the streets searching for mischief. He stopped to converse with a number of friends who lived on leftovers, and struggled with such life skills as washing, getting on with others, working, addictions, and the like. They enjoyed their freedom and supported their habits, as well as those of their friends, by engaging in many and varied activities which would not have been accepted by most of the residents of Melbourne.

  One of these was a young man by the name of Josh who, turning seventeen, decided to celebrate it by stealing the makings of a party from various shops and narrowly avoiding capture by the police by heading across the backyards of as many houses as had footholds for him to climb their fences. Josh was enterprising having been separated from his family when he was ten and sent to a dozen foster homes all of which took on the task of rehabilitating him, unsuccessfully. So far, he had managed to live on the streets for a year and a half after absconding from a family whose rules included forbidding him to ‘steal’ from their fridge when he wanted a snack. Determined to avoid any further hell holes in his future living arrangements, he had made tentative friends with a few on the streets who knew the game and had been there themselves.

  Flagran felt an affinity with Josh. In some ways, they were kindred spirits. Although Flagran could not and did not encourage Josh to steal, he often turned a blind eye to methods of surviving which seemed reasonable, if not lawful. Not big on vegetables, Josh occasionally stole them from someone’s vegie garden, and Flagran interpreted that as progress because vegetables were good for humans, and Josh needed nourishing. Begging for McDonald’s hamburgers only supported some part of his system.

  “Hey Josh!” he said, coming across this young man with an armful of flowers. “What’s up?”

  Startled, Josh cringed a moment and then, recognising the voice, turned sheepishly and said, “Don’t fuss, Flagran. They’re for my party.” This seemed incongruous given that Josh didn’t have a home, and he was male and seventeen; obviously just, if he was having a party.

  “Why flowers Joshie? Where did you pinch those from?”

  Josh took a quick look around the streets, sheepish and wary. “Don’t tell everyone within a hundred k, Flagran! D’ya wanna get me locked up on my birthday?”

  “Well, Happy Birthday Joshie. What about the flowers”

  “I snitched ‘em from someone’s front door. They don’t need ‘em. They’re dead!”

  Flagran, a little taken aback by this, asked for more information. Josh showed him the card attached to the floral display. It read, ‘Very sorry to hear about your mother’s death. Please put these on the grave for me tomorrow? Regards, Bill xxx’

  “Well now, how do you suppose Bill is going to feel about you pinching them instead?”

  “I dunno, Flagran. It seemed such a waste for a dead woman to have ‘em, when I can’t find a birthday cake.” It was so clear to Josh, Flagran could do no more than shake his head.

  “Where’s the party? Am I not invited?”

  “Of course you are Flagran. How the hell am I supposed to know where to post the invite?”

  “Good point,” agreed Flagran cheerfully. “Are we on our way?”

  Josh hesitated a little wondering about Flagran’s reaction to the heap of party supplies in a pile at the back of a house which was currently unrented in Collingwood. It had a large back veranda and Josh had been sleeping there for two weeks now, hastily moving his stuff whenever he heard the sound of the front door being opened by an estate agent. This place had the excellent advantage of a leaning gate, though tall enough to keep out some intruders, ajar enough for Josh to struggle through at a moment’s notice.

  “If you come, we can have a fire!” Josh’s face lit up suddenly forgetting about the stolen supplies completely.

  Flagran made his way towards Josh’s place chatting about this and that, the flowers held carefully cradled in Josh’s arms. Along the way they greeted several friends, none of whom thought the flowers at all out of place. Josh was well liked. A few more guests were added to his list before they reached their destination. Only some of these were likely to make it, Josh told Flagran carelessly, so it was a good plan to invite as many as possible. Fortunately, it was late in the day which meant stray Estate Agents, or eager renters, were unlikely to disturb the celebration.

  “What are you going to do with your life now you’re grown up, Joshie?” Flagran asked him lightly.

  “I dunno!” was the inevitable reply, but Flagran wanted to pursue this conversation as they’d begun it many times before and all had ended in exactly the same spot.

  “What do you like to do?” he asked.

  “I like talking
to people. I like helping folks. I like doing my own thing.”

  “Maybe you could become a Carer, Josh!”

  “What would that take?” he asked, wary.

  “Doing a TAFE course. Not too hard. Easy for someone with your brains.”

  “I don’t like people telling me what to do.”

  “Are you talking about me or people in the course,” Flagran pursued.

  “Not you, stupid. Every time I try to learn stuff, someone gets angry with me because I don’t do the work.”

  “So, why don’t you?”

  “How can I study? I’ve got no computer, and no paper, and no place to do it in.”

  Flagran thought he had a point. He decided to introduce him to Sandro. “Leave it with me mate,” he said. “I’ll get back to you after I get some more info.”

  Not long after their arrival at the house, Flagran had a fire blazing. His way of shielding this practice from the neighbourhood by casting an invisible barrier around it meant fires passed undetected, which was fortunate because it was a big bonfire which took some time to burn down to nice hot coals. The party food consisted of trays of pies and sausage rolls ingeniously filched, one at a time, from several different venues by being stuffed up Josh’s shirts which were always oversized for several reasons: first, they were then handy for acquiring things; second, Josh was emaciated; third, people on the streets took what they could get. Size was irrelevant.

  In addition to the ‘soon to be hot’ food, there were a great many chocolate bars. Chips would have been good, Josh informed Flagran, but they had a bad habit of crackling as you walked which had led Josh to being arrested a couple of times after he’d absconded from a foster family. These incidents were followed by his return and some unpleasant scenes with the families involved. When the Department of Human Services dealt with Josh, they tended to expect his lapses. Lectures from them were a way of life. But the hurt feelings of a foster parent were a totally different matter.

  Flagran supervised the heating of the food. This was important because a bout of food poisoning could kill half the guests easily, and Josh had been gathering the frozen packets and leaving them in a bin under the back veranda. The weather fortunately had been cool. He accomplished this task by subjecting each treat to an intense burst of his own heat, holding it there until the contents of the pies were dangerously hot. It fell to Josh to supervise the distribution of these amongst his guests at exactly the right time to avoid mouths. Smothering them with tomato sauce also helped. The guests arrived one at a time and by seven o’clock there were almost a dozen frail friends consuming pies with relish.

  “Gotta split Joshie,” Flagran announced, keen to get things started at Bridey’s. He’d told his invitees to be ready around eight which didn’t leave much time for dallying. “Catch up with you soon about the TAFE thing.”

  “You’re right mate!” Josh replied, busy cleaning up the chin of Alf, an old codger with no teeth, and preventing Emily, a younger woman with an intellectual disability, from eating a dozen chocolate bars all at once. He was in his element. The flowers had been placed centrally on the veranda, propped up against a post.

  “Return these before you sleep tonight, eh Josh?”

  “Yeah, no worries Flagran. Thanks for coming.”

  “Happy Birthday, mate.” Flagran flung an arm around Josh’s neck and rubbed his knuckles into his friend’s skull in lieu of a hug. This resulted in a jostle between them and Flagran disappearing from the middle of it.

  “That’s not playing fair,” Josh said to the air around him. “See you soon, eh?”

  ***

  Homarta had taken the trip into Melbourne from where I’d bidden them goodbye in easy stages. She introduced Irri-tat to some of the lovely garden areas around the Darebin River. Together they explored the quarry at Ivanhoe spending time floating along its banks the way spirits do, and Homarta encouraged her charge to send some warm thoughts to the people strolling along after work. She told the young spirit about what she was picking up from a woman who looked anxious, and about the quarrel taking place between an older man and his son.

  “How does thinking about them and sending thoughts to them, help?” asked Irri-tat curious.

  “The evening air and the trees along the path, just being free of the office, or the shop, smelling earthy smells, it all lifts the hearts of humans. This is part of our job Irri.”

  “But how does it help them not to fight with each other?”

  “Often it makes no difference,” Homarta replied thoughtfully, “you’re right there. That’s because, although they’re walking here, their minds are concentrated on their troubles so intensely that they shut it all out.”

  “Then what’s the point?”

  “The point is we are here if they remember. Imagine if we weren’t.”

  “Are we going to stay here?”

  “No. This is the haunt of some other Caretakers. If you focus you will be able to seek them out, Irri.”

  But Irri found her mind turning to the evening ahead where she knew she would confront a group of people and was terrified. When Homarta pointed this out to her, she turned anxiously away, saying, “Oh! You see. I told you I wasn’t ready for this. I can’t even recognise other spirits. How am I going to handle humans? What use would I be?”

  “Just be your good self,” Homarta told her. “That’s what works best.” But saying this was a mistake. Irri gasped.

  “I couldn’t even get it right up in the mountains on my own. My piles were all wonky, and I couldn’t keep up with the tasks.

  “No Irri,” Homarta put her arm across her charge’s shoulders. “You’ve got that all wrong. Making tidy piles has nothing to do with being good.”

  Irri-tat, swamped in confusion, went silent, and the remainder of the trip was useless for teaching purposes. They arrived in Bridey’s backyard around seven thirty. It was dark, and Flagran had not yet arrived to start the fire. Irri-tat was unable to see what Homarta had achieved in a couple of short months. She attempted to hide herself behind what was now known amongst them all, as Homarta’s lair, crouching down and looking miserable. Her mentor was keen to have other company.

  ***

  Bridey

  Attempts to prepare food for Flagran’s cooking spree were tangled with anxiety after my time with Sandro that afternoon. Because I’d been brave and shared some feelings didn’t mean he wouldn’t eventually realise I was too young and silly. He had also proposed a terrible plan which was agitating my mind like a washing machine in full load. He had such confidence in his mother, he thought we should arrange a meeting between Gabriella and my parents. Dinner at Gabriella’s! A terrible plan. We hadn’t even heard from mum for weeks; not since Sandro had pointed her towards the door. Why on earth would she agree to come? Why would she even speak to me on the telephone? Maybe a text might work. But when Sandro had an idea, he was immovable. He couldn’t imagine managing a mother like Elaine.

  I could, and did, imagine the meeting between the parents. How embarrassing! Gabriella would have a fit. She’d probably never met people like that. They would be all stiff and superior, and would criticise me in front of everyone. Once Sandro had sat through it, he wouldn’t be coming back for more. Why would he? He had no idea about how messed up my world was. He’d made up his mind I was something I wasn’t. Once he started to get the real picture, he’d be off. Perhaps it was just sexual attraction. Once we’d had sex, he would probably get bored. I wasn’t even good at that.

  Time was marching on because I’d tried to squeeze in some housework this afternoon so had to rush to shower and dress before everyone arrived. Homarta was in the backyard, but she’d have to wait before we caught up. The shower was running when Sandro arrived. He was calling out something to Flagran as I heard him run lightly across the veranda and in the back door. He knocked on the bathroom door. “Can I come in Bridey?”

  There were Caretakers gathering outside, and my clothes were down in the bedroom. Before I’d made
up my mind to say no, in he walked.

  “Sorry sweetheart. Can’t wait any longer to see you naked.” He opened the shower door and any protests were swept away when he stripped off his jeans and joined me. The timing was all wrong, but everything else was right. Enjoying the warmth of the water running all over us, a stream of needy, intense, skin to skin stuff became heaven. Our bodies were made for each other. That much was crystal. No doubts intruded because it was impossible to imagine us ever voluntarily moving apart. Sandro’s hands had been in most places before, but this was better. So much better. Or does every new time feel better than the last one? My groans were muffled by his mouth as water streamed through our kissing. An intense ache was pulling at me, insisting it be addressed. Sandro’s excitement meant he couldn’t exercise any control. We were just beginning to slip towards the bottom of the shower, when Flagran’s voice complained from outside the bathroom door.

  “Come on you two! You can’t do that while you have guests in the house!”

  “Well get out of the house then!” Sandro groaned, but the interruption was all he needed to gather himself. He fastened his hands on my buttocks and said softly, “Sorry. This is not what I’d planned. Besides these tiles are disgusting. We’ll end up with a nasty infection.” He continued holding my body against his while he reached behind me and turned the water off. “You are so beautiful.” He kissed me in several places, and then reached for my towel and wrapped me in it before he lost control again. We had to share the towel and run dripping through the house to my room where the longing hadn’t abated in the slightest, but somehow we decided to get dressed. Both of us thought it might be good to have more privacy around when we went further. It was a huge struggle, and Sandro had to hold me off in order to get himself under control.

  “I’m getting desperate Bridey.”

  “I know.”

  “Soon.” He said. I nodded.

  “I’m going to plan something very soon. Something lovely, with no interruptions.”

  “Tonight?”

  “No, Babe. Not tonight I think. Maybe next weekend. Then it will have been a month.”