by Moira Burke
You make a poster, Mr Phillips said if you think the bomb is a bad thing how would you depict it in a visual way? You draw the beautiful mushroom cloud but it’s not a cloud cloud, it’s a cloud made up of little tiny skulls, there’s another cloud behind it exactly the same but in reverse like a negative, there’s tears coming from the eyesockets of the skulls in the clouds that turn into feathers and then become little aeroplanes dropping more bombs that turn into words then there’s a big white border, that’s the hole that would happen if the world wasn’t here and then another border, a black one with white jumping lines all over, that’s what would happen if they only blew up the cities, all broken with bits missing. The words that are formed by the bombs dropped by the aeroplanes that were the feathers are no. Nonononononono all along the bottom on top of the white border because that’s the only thing that you can think of and it makes a nice pattern, the right pattern. You show it to Mr Phillips the next week he says that’s very good, he really likes it and he pins it up but you know he didn’t really mean it he pins everybody else’s up too no matter what they look like and you don’t get a chance to explain the white border or the black border and you think to yourself that you’re never going to do homework again.
Sometimes learning new things makes you feel bottomless, there’s so much to know so much to understand and you want to know it all, want to fill up that empty bit, the bit you didn’t even know was empty until the words came along in the right shape.
It’s scary when you feel bottomless, you keep going on for ages and ages you could be anybody inside yourself and you think all kinds of things until you don’t know who you are any more, even though you really do know who you are but when you’re in that empty place all kinds of things happen and all kinds of yous show themselves. There’s the cartoon-you just in outline waiting to be coloured in and shaded, there’s a skinny-you a fat-you a rich-you a baby-you, a you that’s very old. There’s the you of you that doesn’t talk, a you that only screams, a you that’s dead in some doorway somewhere in the city, a you with babies with a normal family in a normal house, the you that your dad would love who knows how to make him better, there’s a you that paints, a you that doesn’t have a body, a you that’s full of spiders, a you with her face on the cover of Cleo, a you that is invisible. There’s a champion lacrosse player a famous scientist there’s somebody who can be drunk all the time there’s somebody who can eat whatever she wants and never get fat, there’s a boy-you, a girl-you, a you that’s both a boy and a girl and one that isn’t either.
You come home from school one day and your dad’s in the loungeroom in his blue-checked dressing-gown chopping up the couch with the axe. He says that your mum said that she didn’t like it so he’s getting rid of it for her. You wonder where he’s going to sleep now as you carry out the bits of broken wood that stink of his own piss and you wish he wasn’t here so you could watch telly whenever you like and you wouldn’t have to act like you’re not there any more. He lost his job as a taxi-driver for drunk-driving and he and your mum have stopped talking again so you’re supposed to take messages to them from each other, you don’t know whose side you’re on, you don’t want to be on anyone’s side and your mum gets new armchairs, you wish he was dead and you tell yourself not to think like that but you do anyway then he stays away for days and comes back saying sorry and he promises never to do it again but he does anyway and you get into trouble even when you didn’t do anything and he stinks the toilet up and sprays Glen-20 which only makes it worse and if you have to go in there after him you don’t because you don’t want to touch the same toilet seat as him and he hides the Truth down the side of the chair and you look at it when he goes out then he goes into hospital again he’s got cirrhosis and you never bring your friends home and everything stays inside you.
Looking at your sister you wonder if she knows what you’re thinking, she keeps looking at you and you know you’re both thinking the same thing. She says I’ll go Josie, stay there and you say but he called me and she says I’ll go. Your mum’s not home from work yet. Rosie opens the door that separates the kitchen from the loungeroom and says hi dad, he says Josie? she says no it’s Rose, he says Rosie love. Rosie’s visiting today she comes over once a week with a cake or something and all her washing. He says can you make me a sandwich? she says cheese? he says you’re a good girl Rosie love and then he says something else but Rosie’s already shut the door. Can I have one too? you ask her she says am I your slave? you go yeah, she says okay but you have to help me, Cleopatra. Cutting the cheese with the knife you pretend it’s a snake that’s going to bite her poison her kill her but she just says don’t, it becomes only a knife again silver and shiny and cheese bits. Then it grows in your hands. Slithering, big, trying to get your neck it really is a snake now glittering eyes you’re not pretending. Rosie’s laughing as you grapple with it on your knees on the lino twisting trying to get away, it’s going to get you it’s a black asp Rosie! you call, Rosie! and she takes the knife from your hands. Idiot she says. You’re a good girl Rosie love you say in your dad’s voice looking at the blade as it slides easy through the cheddar block in Rosie’s hands strong her knuckles hard. But you don’t get off the floor. Come on, butter the toast says Rose, I don’t want one now you say, you lie on the lino cool and grey and speckly. Then you’re in the kitchen chair vinyl orange. Then you’re standing looking out the window breath frosting the picture of the backyard through it. Cherry plum tree stark. Grass long getting longer. Then you’re looking at Rosie again you’re in each other’s eyes again you know what you’re both thinking again he calls you from the loungeroom again. I’ll take it you say. She gives you the plate with the toasted cheese sandwich on it cut into triangles and you open the door that separates the loungeroom from the kitchen, the kitchen where you and Rosie are, the loungeroom where the TV is, blaring, and the heater hot, venetians closed him and his smell. Rosie he says, it’s Josie you tell him. He looks at you from the couch. He takes the sandwich. Thanks Josie love, you’re a good girl. For a tiny little moment you stand there, hating hating but something soft as well, and then you go away.
You look at all the numbers on the page that you’ve been writing and you don’t know what they mean. You know what they’re supposed to mean, you wrote them, you can see all the numbers but they’ve stopped being numbers, the numbers that are equations made up of letters, the letters that aren’t letters any more they’re just little black marks on paper that stick out in strange shapes, lines and circles and dots and crosses and they leap out at you trying to get you to understand them so you close your eyes and open them again but the same thing happens and they start to move over the page, little skinny spiders crawling everywhere a wriggling mass of legs and bodies all over each other trying to get out of the place you put them in between the lines of your Maths book. You close your book you open it the spiders are still trying to crawl out you quickly close it. You shut your eyes and lean back on your chair with your feet catching on the edge of the table to balance yourself and you do a big yawn. Something flicks into your back. You bring your chair down with a bang and snap your head around. Abbott and Pepi are laughing from the table behind you. You pick up your pencil case and fling it at them hard, it’s open, the pens and pencils go everywhere but at least you got Pepi, in the face, good, and you yell at them piss off ya pricks, Pepi throws things back at you and the Year 10 Maths teacher Mr Apad roars Miss Cregan! What do you think you’re doing? You go it’s them, sir and he says pick up your pens, pack up your things and get up to the office and you go no! you’re yelling, don’t yell, he roars do as I say! and the whole class goes quiet, suddenly, still, and you just sit there for a moment. Your chair moves backwards scraping falling over onto the wooden floor as though it’s not you doing it, on your knees it’s as though it’s not you picking up your things, saying to Abbott and Pepi you’re ratshit ya fucken arseholes, your voice isn’t your voice you don’t know who’s saying these things, you don’t
know who it is slamming the classroom door telling the teacher to get fucked.
*
Nothing’s anywhere everything’s all over the place you’re going out tonight all your clothes are stupid, you end up borrowing some of Tina’s she wears your diamante earrings. You’ve both got the same boots on, black suede with three buckles up the side, you got yours first you hate it when Tina copies but sometimes it’s all right, you feel better than sisters and she just lives across the road. Linda doesn’t come out with you any more she’s been going back with Sylvio so long it’s like they’re married. It takes ages getting ready but finally you look right. You’re wearing the black boots with black stockings your short pleated bright tartan skirt and your tight fluffy red jumper, your earrings are gold and big your make-up is gold and red. Your hair is cut short up the back with a plaited tail hanging down, the top is curly and it’s dyed dark red, Tina’s is cut nearly the same but it’s dyed black so it looks really different. You go across to her place and ring a taxi, after three-quarters of an hour it arrives. You both wanted to go somewhere different tonight instead of the Hideaway as usual so you’re going to the Tok-H in Toorak, Tina’s older sister Rita who’s a lawyer’s secretary said it was really good, the taxi ends up being really expensive but Tina says it’ll be worth it.
The brass bar is shining in the gaps between the people, you can hear everybody talking without catching a word lots and lots of voices all together the ceiling is burgundy so are the walls. Your table is round and high your chair is burgundy with fake brass bits your drink has got an umbrella in it it cost heaps it’s called a Harvey Fudpucker. Tina tries to get up it’s getting very crowded now there’s all these guys standing around in groups in suits. Tina’s chair bumps into the back of someone’s legs he turns looking down at her and shifts a bit, she looks up stands up laughing and says hey, watch the merchandise, he just turns around again his back looking like everybody else’s back. Tina straightens up she wiggles her little finger under his jacket up his bum but not touching and says frajoles, you crack up she goes to the toilet. When she comes back you say what took you so long? she says it’s crowded in there I even had to queue up to wash my hands and she goes to sit down. Turn around you say and she says why? you say show me and she half turns and says what? looking over her shoulder at herself. You grab the skirt of her dress and pull it out of the top of her stockings where it got tucked in showing half her arse and you laugh and say Tina and she goes shit and you laugh more and she plonks herself on the chair without looking behind her to see if anybody saw and you don’t tell her you just say don’t worry but you’re still laughing and she says yeah it wasn’t you was it. You both keep drinking your cocktails you try to make her cheer up but it doesn’t work so you go to the bar and get two more drinks this time you get Black Russians. There’s a guy at the bar waiting to be served you know he’s looking at you he moves closer his aftershave gets into your nose and makes you blink. He says I like your friend’s dress, trying to be funny. You don’t say anything. Then he says hey smile, it might never happen so you show him your teeth and turn your back to him as you take your drinks from the bar.
At the Hideaway crowds of people blue jeans and runners, music thumping get a drink first thing pushing your way through, smoke hovering swirling slowly above. You look down at the tea-towel thing on the bar see the patterns in the fabric see the way the bits that are wet look different from the bits that are dry, Tina’s right behind you talking to George and Nooch who are here of course as usual. You get Black Russians again they’re half the price here you look through the familiar archways to the pool tables and wonder if there’ll be any fights tonight. Tina says let’s dance and you get the boys to mind your drinks. The dance floor flashes squares of blue red bright yellow light you’re in the corner you’re dancing Tina’s really good you start doing the new steps she taught you waiting for the taxi tonight, you don’t care how you look you just move, feel your hips go and your shoulders shimmy, you and Tina do impersonations of other people on the dance floor, you know the boys are watching and you’re laughing, laughing, Tina’s laughing too, mouth open wide. Back to the bar drink more drinks your nose gets itchy you say my nose is itchy, you let George rub it for you he goes to kiss you, you go get lost, he goes I know you want it, you say yeah, but not from you, you just say it you don’t even care what he thinks and his eyes shine and he smiles a little smile. Off the dance floor on the dance floor, people everywhere your make-up’s getting shiny you say to Tina is my mascara smudged? she says I can’t tell, what about mine? In the toilets, dark, the mirror is dark, smooth your eyeliner cat’s eyes blow a kiss leave it on the mirror you can’t tell what you look like the floor tilting under you Tina, am I pretty? she goes yes, am I? and you go yeah, I reckon, all the boys are looking at you. Inside yourself you say Tina, I feel hard and then you say it out loud. Tina goes what? you go nothing. Back at the bar again standing next to George you see his profile his lips moving and his eyelashes, his arm next to yours, Tequila Sunrise in your glass sticky sweet red and orange light through the yellow the straw keeps missing your mouth, George’s arm around you now you don’t pull away, tongue in your mouth teeth bump together rock into him through your skirt his jeans and the music pounding loud, his voice saying let’s go outside, you saying what for? he goes come on, so you do, slide through the doors the dark, swaying in some car just let him, get what you can and you do.
Smooth in the taxi riding in the back seat looking out at the night-time going past quickly, air-freshener smell stuck in your nostrils. You get there you get out the front door’s not locked the outside light is on. It’s about two o’clock or probably later it’s busy in the kitchen your mum’s there your sister Theresa is up making pancakes her best friend is over they’re having a slumber party in the loungeroom it’s great when your dad’s in the hospital. You’re really pissed. Your mum starts telling you off you tell her to get fucked you don’t mean to you never swear at your mum it just comes out of your mouth everything is swaying you hold on to the bench. Theresa goes into the loungeroom with her best friend taking the pancakes with her. Your mum really starts going for it then who do you think you are madam don’t you dare talk to me like that where have you been and what kind of hour do you think this is? and again before you know it you’ve opened your mouth and out it comes you tell her to shut up she’s a stupid moll. All these other things come out too like how much you hate her, it’s all her fault anyway, you keep going and going it’s like there’s somebody else inside you making you act like this you don’t want to be here saying these things flinging your arms about but you are, you just are, everything’s coming out yelling slurring nearly falling over. Then, you stop. Your mum is looking at you like she’s never looked at you before she says to you in a voice you’ve never heard you are so horrible how did you get to be like this? speaking to you like she doesn’t even know you, speaking to you like she thinks you’re disgusting and you say well, you should know, you brought me up and then she slaps you. You slap her back. She bursts into tears. So do you, but you don’t care you just go up to your bedroom you don’t even turn the light on you just stand there in the dark leaning against the door you shut your eyes it’s even darker you’re just a speck, a speck of darkness in the dark that nobody else can see.
*
When you wake up the sun’s coming in through the blinds the walls are really close the ceiling’s low, you’re just lying there staring at the wallpaper and you secretly peel a bit of it off, liking the sound of it and the way it looks, rough edges and curly. Maureen comes in to say something to you and you cover yourself up with the blanket rubbing it over your ears so that you can’t hear her. She goes out of the room and you give yourself an orgasm trying not to move so that the bed won’t creak but then when you get to the best bit you don’t care if the bed creaks or even if it thumps against the wall, you wouldn’t even care if anybody walked in even though you know you’d never be able to look them in the face
again. There’s noises from the kitchen dishes and cupboards and voices and the phone rings and everything’s happening away from you. You smell your hand it stinks you are disgusting you fart that’s worse it puffs into your face. You think about the money you got from George last night, how easy it was. Him all huffing and puffing thinking he’s getting you off because you’re huffing and puffing and oohing and aahing except you’re only pretending and he thinks your hands are on his arse but it’s really only one hand working twice as hard, the other one’s in his pocket in his wallet scrunching out the notes, you got $40, if you go to Sydney maybe you could be a prostitute.
You leave the house you don’t want to stay inside, outside the sky’s bright the door bangs cracks behind you. You feel like something’s missing a bit of you isn’t there, not a broken bit or anything but something is slipping inside, you try to hold it grab it keep it you can’t find it you’re not really sure what it is, if there really was something or if it’s just your mind tricking you.
chapter five
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YOU SIT on the edge of the mattress. You lie down and look at the ceiling and then you sit up again. The bedroom that’s only your bedroom now has only got your bed in it and a chair and the built-in wardrobes. You made the walls bare today, all the posters of Led Zeppelin you had up you took down, pictures of David Bowie Boys Next Door Angels and The Models, it’s stupid they’re stupid music’s stupid and bands and rock stars, you can never be like them, now there’s only tiny holes in the wall and a blister on your finger from the drawing pins. There’s something crawling over the floorboards, the carpet didn’t stretch to your room you don’t know if it’s a beetle or a spider you don’t look you just stamp on it and then you try to guess but you can’t tell. The room looks better empty.
