by Scot Gardner
‘She giving you head or what?’ he asked, and smiled.
Angie sat up and poked her tongue out at him.
He pulled a plastic bag out of his shirt pocket with a grubby hand. He waved it in front of my face. ‘Want one?’
There were four or five little yellow tablets in the bag. I held my hand up. ‘No thanks, mate. What are they?’
‘Ekkies. You’d love them, you know. It’s not addictive and that. Just a good rush,’ he said, and grabbed one out. ‘Twenty-five bucks each. I’ll give you one if you want.’
‘No thanks, Griz.’
He shrugged and put the bag back into his pocket.
For one reason or another, that shocked me. Griz is pretty wild but I thought he had enough going on in his life not to bother with that shit. I dunno. It just looked too easy. I needed to pee.
‘Where are you going?’ Angie asked as I got up.
‘For a leak.’
‘Can I watch?’ she asked, and her eyes lit up. I rolled my eyes and walked into the hall and down to the toilet. Tanya was already in there.
‘I won’t be long,’ she slurred.
I wasn’t in a position to hang on so I went out the back door. There were no lemon trees but there was a stack of old paint cans covered in grass so I peed on them. It went on and on. The back door opened and Angie came down the back steps holding her stomach. She looked back up towards the house and, convinced that no-one was watching, dropped her tracksuit pants and squatted on the path.
I could see her back and her head looking at her feet. I couldn’t smell anything, thank God, that would have been off. I could hear a hiss like a tap was running. I wanted to look but I didn’t want to look. If she caught me, she’d be embarrassed and I’d die but I’d never seen a girl pee before. I’d spent a whole summer with Kerry, some of it naked in the surf and I hadn’t seen her pee.
Then it was over. She held her pants out of the way, jiggled and wriggled then pulled them up. I’m glad she didn’t see me as she turned to go back inside. I shook the last drops off and tucked myself away, only to feel more pee dribble into my undies. God, I hate that. I looked down and in the light falling into the backyard from the kitchen I could see a wet patch on the front of my jeans the size of a twenty-cent piece. I pulled my jacket down but it was too short to cover it up. I rubbed it with the palm of my hand but that didn’t work. One time when it had happened at the Pizza House, I’d dried the spot out with the automatic hand drier. Not a chance of that here. It was so bloody obvious. Bugger it, it happens to everyone. Every bloke, anyway.
Angie wasn’t in the lounge. Or the kitchen.
‘Where’s Angie?’ I asked Tanya.
‘I think she went to the toilet.’
She wasn’t in the toilet either.
‘Psssst.’
I spun around and Angie grabbed my hand and dragged me into a darkened bedroom. It smelt clean like a flower. She kissed me. Stuck her tongue right into my mouth. She rolled me onto the bed and pressed her hot body onto me.
I knew what was supposed to happen next. I was supposed to get a hard-on and after a bit of fumbling around, we’d do it, you know. Hard and hot and wet. That’s where we were going but something happened. My head got all tangled. I didn’t get a hard-on and my guts weren’t sick but I felt like I was going to spew. I could feel my heart beating in my neck and there was nothing sexy about it. I knew what was supposed to happen. I knew how I was supposed to smile after the act. I knew what my mates were supposed to say and everything but in the broken blue light coming from the street, Angie looked like a zombie. I freaked. She kissed me again and it felt like I was kissing a dead thing. Not that I have kissed a dead thing, but it didn’t feel right. I rolled her off me and sat up.
‘What?’ she whispered.
‘Nothing.’
She sat beside me. ‘What is it, Wayne? You okay? Did I do something wrong?’
‘No. It’s not you. I don’t feel so good.’
‘What? Sick?’
No, not sick. Scared, maybe. I dunno. ‘Yeah, sick,’ I lied.
‘You all right?’ she asked, and put her hand on my back.
I got up. ‘Yeah. I’m okay. Just need a drink of water,’ I said, and bolted for the kitchen. They were sitting around the kitchen table, Griz and Mario, Rod, Tanya and Anna. They each had a glass and one of Griz’s yellow pills sitting on the gold-flecked table in front of them.
‘We ready?’ Griz asked. His head tilted to one side like he was going to fall off his chair. He grabbed the table.
Rod nodded and picked up the pill. The others did the same. Only Anna hesitated.
Mario elbowed her. ‘Come on.’
She shrugged and put the pill in her mouth. Angie came into the room and put her arm around my back. I walked into the lounge. That wasn’t what I wanted. That wasn’t where I wanted to be.
Angie stood in front of me and held my hand with her eyes struggling to stay focused on mine. Her brow scrunched and she asked me again if I was okay. I pulled away and bolted for the door.
‘Wayne. Wait! What is it, Wayne?’ she shouted after me as I burst into the cold air and stumbled down the darkened front stairs. I stood in the middle of Ashburn Street for a full minute looking left and right, trying to remember which way to go. Nothing looked familiar. I almost shouted.
Angie appeared in the street. ‘Wayne, what is it? You’re freaking me out. You’re going all weird.’
I spotted the old Torana rusting away on Rod’s front lawn and I remembered everything. I started running.
‘Wayne,’ she shouted. ‘Where are you going?’
I ran like mad for ages. It was probably only five minutes. I realised I wasn’t going home. I was heading for the caravan park. A car pulled alongside me and I thanked the god of Bundy that I could still walk straight. It was the cops.
‘Hey, big fella. Where’re you heading? Come over here.’
I slipped my stump into my jacket pocket and walked over to the van. I crouched with my hand on my knee just a few feet from the door. The guy in the driver’s seat was fat and his gut nearly touched the steering wheel. The bloke looking out the window was young and looked fit.
‘Been running, mate? What’s your name? Where have you run from?’ the fit cop asked, and I looked back up the street.
‘Ashburn Street. Wayne Armond.’
‘Yeah? What were you doing up there?’
‘Party,’ I panted.
‘Yeah? Whose party?’
‘Rod Ashburn.’
A light like a desk lamp lit up his lap. He was writing down everything I said, his left hand carrying the pen which curled awkwardly over the top of his pad. He stopped writing and looked at me. ‘Rod Ashburn who lives in Ashburn Street?’
‘Rod Holloway, sorry.’
‘What number?’
‘I dunno. It’s about halfway along. Rusty old car in the front yard.’
‘What have you been drinking?’
I shrugged. ‘Nothing.’ I thought if he breath-tests me, I’m rooted.
‘Show me what’s in your pockets.’
‘Pardon?’
‘Empty out your pockets please, Wayne. Where do you live?’
I kept my stump in my jacket pocket and rummaged in my jeans with my hand. I didn’t have anything in my pockets. Except the strip of condoms. Shit.
‘Um. I live in Chisholm. Vincent Drive.’
‘Where you going now? What’s that you’ve got?’
I held the strip of condoms with my thumb and forefinger and he laughed and looked at the driver who was smiling.
‘Get lucky tonight Wayne, or are they insurance?’
I shrugged and stuffed the condoms back in my pocket.
‘Where are you going now?’
‘Home.’
‘You’re going the wrong way. Vincent Drive is down near Merrimans Creek, isn’t it?’ He looked across at the driver who nodded.
‘I’m going to my dad’s van. Mum’s not home.’
<
br /> ‘Oh yeah? Where’s that?’ the fit cop asked.
‘What’s in your jacket pocket?’ the fat cop asked.
‘Nothing,’ I said, and pulled out my stump. I heard the fat cop catch his breath.
I explained that Dad’s van was in the caravan park.
The fit cop just started babbling. ‘Ahh . . . good night for a party. Do you want a lift?’
I said no. Thanks anyway. As he was winding up his window he said ‘good luck’ and smiled. The driver pulled away from the curb quickly.
That shits me up the wall. That’s happened more than once—they pull you up when you’re minding your own business and not doing any illegal shit and ask you a thousand stupid questions and that. I bet if I was in a suit they wouldn’t even stop. Must remember to pull my stump out a little earlier next time.
It’s a good walk to Dad’s from Ashburn Street and about halfway there my head had cleared enough for me to think about what had happened. Angie wanted me something fierce and I should have been thinking that all my Christmases had come at once. Instead, it felt like Christmas always does. Fake. It was like I already knew what I was getting. No surprises. Too easy.
I always thought that the first root I had would be something special. I would have wasted that with Angie. But by the time I made it to the van I’d decided that I should have done it anyway. What the heck. I’d waited long enough. It’s a battle for me sometimes—my dick wants one thing and my head has its doubts. What about Kez?
Dad and Ernie got a bit of a surprise. They were just watching telly but it was nearly eleven o’clock.
‘What are you doing here?’ Dad asked, and invited me in. Yellow dog sniffed my crotch and wagged his tail.
‘Nothing much. Just been up to a mate’s place. Thought I’d call in on my way home.’
He flicked the telly off and offered to drive me home.
‘Would it be okay if I camped here tonight?’ I asked. The words just came out of my mouth.
‘Yeah. No worries. That would be great. We’ll ring your mum?’
‘She’s gone out.’
His eyebrows climbed halfway up his forehead and hung there for a second.
Yeah, I guess it was hard to believe. Mum was falling in something with Richo. I wanted to tell Dad about it but my head wouldn’t co-operate. They say ‘He’s got his head on straight’ when someone can think clearly about their life. Yeah, mine was on crooked.
‘We’ll leave a message for her then,’ he said, and we started walking up to the payphone.
Whatever. She won’t miss me till the morning.
Chapter Fourteen
NORMALLY, I’D GO TO BED WITH A BENT HEAD AND WAKE UP okay. Not this time. The Friday morning after the party I felt like shit. And it didn’t get any better. Not a hangover or anything. Well, not a normal sort of bourbon brain ache anyway. I think my soul was aching. Dad had to be at social security by half past eight so Ernie and I went to the flat. It was nine o’clock when we got there. Mum’s car was backed in the driveway. She should have left for work half an hour before. She wasn’t inside. She would have gone in Richo’s BMW on the big date. Didn’t look like she’d made it home. I started to spin out. Where would she be? I went to the phone. I couldn’t decide who to ring first. Richo? The cops? Dad? Steady Wayne, think.
The phone rang as I reached for the handset and I nearly head-butted the ceiling.
‘Hello?’ I squeaked.
‘G’day love.’ It was Mum. ‘How’d the party go? Got your dad’s message, thank you.’
The air hissed through my teeth. A crazy mix of anger and relief. ‘Where are you?’
‘I’m at work. What’s the matter? Wayne, are you okay?’
‘Yeah, I’m . . . I’m okay. Saw your car in the driveway and I got . . .’
‘Yeah, bloody thing. Battery’s dead. Richo picked me up and dropped me at work.’
‘That was good . . . that was good of him.’
She started talking fast. ‘I’ve got another call, love. There’s a bloke coming round from the RACV to change the battery. Give him the keys when he gets there. Bye.’
‘Okay. See ya,’ I said, and she was gone.
Her keys were on the kitchen bench. I didn’t feel right. It was like I’d woken from a nightmare and I couldn’t remember what it had been about. Edgy. Scared. I dunno. That feeling stuck. It hung around with me all day, off and on. It got to eleven o’clock and there was a knock at the door. My bum clenched and I grabbed a breath. The feeling was there again. It repeated like a Boss Cocky Burger. It was the bloke from the RACV and I hoped he couldn’t see my heart racing in my temples. Took him a total of seven minutes to fix Mum’s car and he knocked on the door again all cheery and calling me mate. He had a mouthful of teeth that looked like they were trying to escape. Poking out everywhere. He dangled the keys and I caught them, then he was gone. I stood in the doorway with the keys warming in my hand and it seemed like the most sensible thing in the world for me to get into Mum’s car and go for a spin. As if Mum would find out. I stuffed Ernie in the passenger seat and started the car. The engine ticked along and got excited when I pushed the go pedal. I rested my stump on the gear stick and slipped it into first. That was the easy part. I stalled it getting out of the driveway. The thing bucked and shuddered. Ernie dropped off the seat and into the passenger’s side footwell with a grunt. I stalled it again before I rolled onto Vincent Drive and down to the corner of Merrimans Creek Road. Ernie jumped back onto the seat. My take-off from the give-way sign into Howard Avenue was superb. Smooth. No harsh revving. Well, not much harsh revving. I decided to cut a lap of the block. I couldn’t get the gear-changing thing happening so the engine bawled along in first the whole trip. I stalled it and swore at each intersection. I was on the home stretch—the steering wheel slippery with sweat—when I bumped into a wheelie bin. It jumped onto the nature strip like it had a mind of its own then toppled across the footpath.
‘Whoopsie,’ I sang, and hoped like hell that the plastic hadn’t dented the car.
It took nine goes to get the bastard of a car backed into the position I’d found it on the driveway and when I finally turned the engine off, I rested my forehead on the steering wheel and panted. Ernie looked out the window and panted. It’d been a bit of a buzz and the creepy nightmare feeling had vanished. I could smell something burning. Reckon I’ll buy myself an auto.
I jumped out and inspected the bumper where I’d bounced the bin. Couldn’t see a mark. I rubbed the plastic like a sore knee and tried to work out where the burning smell was coming from. It had already faded and I decided that it wasn’t anything to worry about. It wasn’t until I was heading for the door that I saw Ted in his front garden. He was watching me. When he saw me looking, he waved and started pulling dead flowers off the rose in front of him. I waved to him and smiled but the nightmare feeling rolled back into my guts and put down roots. How much had he seen? Would he tell Mum? Dunno. Just dunno.
Mum was cackling like a little kid that night. She’d had a good time at the opera. Said that she felt like the queen. She made dumb jokes and interrupted the Friday night movie (Moulin Rouge with Nicole Kidman. Mate, that red dress . . . grrr) with a long and mumbled phone conversation with Richo. I watched the last of it in my bedroom. Yellow dog snored at me and gradually spread out and took over the bed.
I left my curtains open and the moonlight painted my bedroom a dull blue. The moon wasn’t quite full but it was brighter than a streetlight. I sighed and that feeling was there again. It had a face in the moonlight—loneliness. I missed my friends and I missed the way things were and I missed summer and I missed just hanging out. On their own, the things that I missed weren’t really that huge but all rolled into one, they oozed sadness. Ernie snuffled and I rested my hand on his head. Good dog.
Mum nearly broke the door when she came in the following morning.
‘Get up, Wayne. Now.’
The sun barged in my window and didn’t stop until it crashed
into the back of my brain.
‘What? What’s the matter?’
‘Get up!’ she barked. Ernie dropped off my bed and trotted into the lounge.
I sat up and rubbed my eyes. ‘What?’
‘Did you drive my car?’
‘What?’
‘Did you drive my bloody car?’
‘What . . . what do you mean?’
‘Answer the fucking question, Wayne,’ she whispered. Sometimes her whisper is scarier than her scream. ‘Did you drive my car?’
My head wouldn’t co-operate. I wasn’t awake enough to bullshit. ‘Why?’
‘Did you drive the fucking car?’ She was screaming and I wanted her to stop.
‘Yes,’ I mumbled. ‘Took it around the block after the bloke came to fix it just to see that everything was . . .’
‘You’re not licensed to drive! You haven’t even got your fucking learner’s permit!’
‘Yeah? So? I can drive.’
She scoffed. ‘Ted heard you going out and he thought someone was stealing the car. It still smells like burning clutch pedal. He watched you smash into a bin for Chrissake!’
I shrugged. ‘No damage.’
‘Yeah, no damage. You’re a bloody idiot sometimes, Wayne. You don’t think. You’re so much like your father it makes me sick.’
I shrugged again.
She clicked her tongue and put her fists on her hips. Her head went red and started to shake like it was going to explode, then it did.
‘If you think you’re ever going to learn to drive in my car, let me just smash that idea for you. You are never, ever going to sit behind the wheel of my car again. For anything. Anything, you hear? Licence or no licence. I cannot trust you.’
Then she left and slammed the bedroom door. I had a shower and grabbed my bike. Had to get out of that hole. Richo arrived as I was leaving. He smiled and wanted to shake my hand. I shook it. It wasn’t his fault that my mum was a total bitch.
Mum gave me the silent treatment for a week. When school went back she started being nice as pie to me but it was too late. That feeling of loneliness had well and truly taken over my days and nights. It had taken root and sent up new shoots and was thriving in the hopelessness. It started to flower. A dark and spidery bloom that smelt like sadness.
