Was there something wrong with me being there? I sat down on my usual seat beside the bed. Well, ‘usual’ since my first visit.
‘I’m Noreen Jones. And you are?’ she asked.
Who am I? As in, who am I in relation to Charley? ‘I’m Kirrali Lewis.’
She eased down on the end of the bed, puffing from the exertion. ‘From up Echuca way? Maybe we’re related then, eh, girl? Where you from?’
‘I’m from … doesn’t matter. Lewis is my adoptive parents’ name.’
‘That’s all right, my girl, we might still be related.’
A silent laugh overtook her body like a building at the mercy of an earthquake. No leaf on her tropical print shirt was left unshaken. Then a young guy entered the room. He was big, he was shy and he didn’t make eye contact. Noreen made the introductions.
‘This here is Kirrali. This here is my son, Ahmed. Don’t worry ’bout the name, he’s as Koori as me or you.’
I felt a little rush — I had been included. I was one of the mob. Ahmed was followed by an older boy who slipped into the room.
‘And this is his other brother, Jamal. This is Kirrali, from “it doesn’t matter”.’ Another laugh.
I suddenly felt claustrophobic. Where was Charley? He had been in the bathroom for ages. Maybe I should leave. I eyed the door but my escape route was blocked. Here I was, in a small hospital room, surrounded by a group of loud blackfellas in even louder shirts who I may or may not be related to.
‘Having a party without me?’ Charley demanded from the door of the bathroom.
‘God, Uncle, did ya spill half ya guts in there?’ the younger boy asked.
I was taken aback — the man was chronically ill — but Charley laughed it off.
‘Crap hospital tucker. Now if Sammy’d bring in some of that delish Afghani tucker. Where is he anyway?’
Just then, a tall thin man walked through the door. This must be Sammy, the boys’ father, and he must be Afghani. He immediately produced a clay pot, whisked off the lid and the room was filled with a truly appetising scent. Bread appeared and they swooped on the food like a flock of seagulls. I was offered some but I declined and just sat quietly. They were all so intent on eating that I felt superfluous. So I made my getaway, pausing at the door to give Charley a small wave but he was oblivious.
I walked down the corridor leaving behind the sounds of their laughter and them all talking over the top of one another. It made me sad. Charley hadn’t even introduced me. If they were his family — the young fella had called him Uncle, after all — then they were mine too. Maybe I was an embarrassment.
I pressed the lift button. There was a holler down the corridor. I turned to see Charley standing at the door to his room, yelling at me. Suddenly he swayed. I bolted back towards him but the boys appeared and caught him on either side. They carried him back into the room and I followed.
Charley was back on the bed. ‘Don’t you go disappearing on me, girl.’ He could barely talk. ‘You should be shame, nicking off on ya old man when he wants to introduce you round.’
‘Old man?’ Ahmed exclaimed. ‘Unc, you sly dog!’
‘This is Kirrali. My daught.’
They all turned and stared at me. I could feel myself blushing.
‘Actually, when you look close, she’s the dead spit, brother,’ said Noreen.
‘On the outside, maybe,’ said Charley, who had gained a bit of wind. ‘On the inside, she’s been brainwashed.’
I couldn’t let that go unchallenged. ‘But I haven’t. My adoptive parents would never do that. They’re white but they were always wanting me to watch TV shows like Women of the Sun and they gave me Boney books to read. But I wasn’t interested. I guess I just wanted to fit in.’
Charley’s face contorted and he erupted into laughter. ‘My daughter. Wants to fit in. Ha, ha. The joke’s on me.’
They all laughed and I felt like complete shit. I held back the tears and was about to bolt again.
‘Charley, give the girl a break. She’d be in shock, poor love, findin’ out you’re her old man,’ chastised Noreen. ‘Don’t worry, love, he’s the biggest stirrer around. I’m your Aunty Noreen, love. Good ta meet ya.’
She gave me a hug and I felt better, safe even. They all gave me a hug, even the boys.
‘Aunty, as in related, or Aunty as in Elder?’ I ventured.
‘You’re my niece, girl. I’m his big sister.’ She turned to Charley. ‘See she knows something. She knows about Elders.’
‘She’ll know a lot more before the week is over. Here, daught, pull up ya chair and I’ll tell you all about our mob.’
‘Got a spare couple of days?’ laughed Noreen.
‘Weeks.’ suggested Sammy. ‘I’m still learning and we’ve been married twenty-two years.’
‘I’ve got as long as it takes,’ I replied.
‘That’s all very well and good,’ Charley said. ‘But promise me you won’t neglect your studies, Kirrali. Our community desperately needs Aboriginal lawyers. We’ve only just started to fight for our rights.’
How could I tell Charley I was interested in corporate law? I settled down beside him and he began to yarn about the Jackson family. Aunty and the cousins threw in a few stories of their own. Charley talked all about the political events and battles — war stories — while Noreen’s stories were about the family, who had what kids, where they lived and what they were doing. The cousins just had cheeky stories of who’d been caught doing what. My gut was sore from laughing. If I included all the second cousins, I had fifty-one cousins.
Twenty-five
I was kind of stuck without transport as the uni and the hospital were on different sides of the city. Cherie still had her brother’s car so when she agreed to pick me up each afternoon and take me to see Charley, how could I say no? The downside was that Cherie was beginning to get on my nerves. She was always bugging me about Charley’s health and passing on bottles of vitamins that she thought he should take. I’d give them to Charley and he’d literally chuck them in the bottom drawer of his bedside cabinet.
One day, after some polite questions about my studies — yes, they were going fine — she got on to her favourite topic.
‘Did you talk to Charley about the transplant?’
I had to tell her straight. ‘He doesn’t want to have a transplant.’ ‘Why not — this hospital is one of the best in the world for transplants.’
‘It’s Charley’s choice.’ What could I say?
‘But he needs to think of his loved ones. We don’t want to see him die prematurely. I’m sure you don’t.’
I felt like she was trying to emotionally blackmail me. ‘Cherie, he doesn’t want one.’
‘But it might give him more time,’ she whined. ‘He’s not worried about getting a white heart, or something like that?’
I couldn’t believe the gall of her. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. Charley doesn’t believe a heart’s white or black. It’s nothing like that.’
‘Oh …’
I almost felt like I was explaining Charley’s wishes to a child.
‘He’s just accepted it. He say’s it’s his time.’
Her voice began to crack up again.
‘But I don’t want him to die. It’s not fair. It’s just not fair. Why does this happen to me?’
I looked at Cherie in amazement. ‘Actually, it’s Charley who is dying — not you.’
I was fuming and I sat with my arms folded across my chest. Cherie pulled into the hospital car park and as soon as she had parked, I got out and slammed the door. I had just met my biological father and he was amazing. But my biological mother was becoming a pain in the arse. Why her? Why did Cherie Taylor have to be my frigging mother?
I got home just on dusk and Kirk was waiting out the front of the college.
‘Hi stranger,’ he said, and I went a little gooey.
‘Well, hello stranger to you.’
‘Why haven’t you …’
‘Why didn�
��t you …’
We looked at each other and burst out laughing.
‘You go,’ I said to Kirk.
‘I left so many messages but you didn’t call back. Every night in my hotel room, I sat waiting by the phone.’ Kirk pulled a cute sad face.
‘Hotel room? What messages?’
‘Lisa? Leeda?’
‘Luda. Now I get it.’
Just at that moment, the very same Luda was walking up the steps towards us.
‘Her,’ I muttered under my breath.
‘No guests, remember,’ said Luda. I could feel myself tensing up as she walked past.
Kirk, reading my mind, put his hand on my arm to stop me as I stepped towards her.
‘Come on, it’s not worth it,’ said Kirk.
He grabbed my arm and pulled me back down the steps. It turned out that he had been called away to Sydney on an acting job. It was the first time he’d been on such a big stage and my initial hurt at not hearing from him soon gave way to pride.
We caught a tram into town for spicy noodles and once Kirk had finished telling me all his news, it was my turn. When I told Kirk who my father was, he was almost speechless. Charley had been one of his heroes for as long as he could remember. It was so good to talk and so great that he understood what I was going through. And later, so good to kiss him.
The hospital discharged Charley a few days later. His health had plateaued and the pneumonia was under control. He’d been pacing the corridors of the hospital like a caged animal anyway. Cherie worried about him going home to his bachelor pad but Charley scoffed at her, saying he’d been fending for himself all of his life and that, anyway, he was on a first name basis with the pizza delivery man. This didn’t seem like a recovery plan that maximised his wellbeing. At least on this, Cherie and I agreed.
Cherie organised to take him home and Charley invited me to come. I was curious to see where and how he lived. When we arrived at the hospital, Charley was already packed and sitting on the edge of his bed like an eager boy waiting for his first trip on a steam train. I noticed he’d thrown the get-well cards in the bin. Of course, he noticed that I noticed.
‘It was nice that they wrote but I don’t need to keep them to know how they feel about me.’
When Charley went to the bathroom, I retrieved the cards and slipped them in my backpack. He didn’t need them but I did.
The nurse came to take his temperature before he could be discharged. ‘Best of luck, Charley,’ she said. She leant forward and gave him a hug.
I smiled. He really did leave an impression on everyone he met.
Charley’s flat was small and dark but cosy and neat. There was an old scrubbed pine table in the kitchen and a plastic set of kitsch flour and sugar containers on the shelves. The rugs in the lounge room were faded, but beautiful, Turkish kilims. The lounge suite was vintage Danish style. Charley joked that he found all his furniture on the street.
He was so much more relaxed in his own home, even if he was now surrounded by bottles of tablets.
The next day I went back and dragged Kirk along. It was amusing to see him and Charley act in a blokey way with one another when neither of them did that around me. They talked football and politics and then they really got started.
‘Anyway, what happened to your study, young fella? So much promise — then what? Couldn’t ya handle it?’
‘Nah, wasn’t that. I thought I’d become a hot-shot actor. Seemed like a good move for a bloke with a face like mine.’
‘What a load of crap. We need lawyers. You prancing around on a stage lookin’ pretty isn’t going to change a thing.’
‘Charley.’ I was offended even if Kirk was pissing himself laughing.
‘Anyway, you’ve got one here.’ Kirk put his arm around me.
‘Her? She’s no good. She wants to be a wanky business corporate lawyer or some rubbish.’
‘Charley.’ Now I was really offended.
‘We need black faces on our stages and screens too, Uncle Jacko. Not just in courtrooms and clinics. We can tell our stories our way. I was thinking about developing a one-hander.’
‘What’s that?’
‘A one-man show about a radical black activist.’
‘Who’d wanna see crap like that?’
‘Me,’ I said, struggling to get a word in.
‘Jesus! Kirrali, better get one of them corporate gigs after all.
You’ll be supporting him.’
‘Times are changing, Unc. Our stories are changing things. We’re edumacating them fellas but doing it our way.’
‘Not fast enough, Kirk.’
While we were talking about acting, Kirk told us that Margaret from the cinema was finally having her stand-up comedy debut at a local pub. She wanted us to go for moral support and Kirk suggested Charley come too. I warned him that Margaret was crazy but he was unfazed. We made arrangements to meet up on the night and then I noticed that Charley was looking really tired all of a sudden. I told him we had to go, I had study to do.
‘Yeah, go on you two, get out of here. I’ve had enough of your ugly mugs and crazy dreams for one day.’ But he shook Kirk’s hand and he kissed me on the cheek, his rough bristles digging into my skin.
Twenty-six
I did my best to fit everything in — visiting Charley, Kirk, study, work — but I was still behind in my studies and I was worried I was going to fail my torts exam. Amber was urging me to apply for special consideration but I couldn’t bring myself to do that. I wanted good grades without special treatment. That much I was still clinging to.
One evening, I was settling down with Adam’s notes and tucking into a bag of salt and vinegar chips when there was a knock at the door. Luda, stood there, clearly annoyed.
‘There’s a phone call for you — you know personal calls are only for emergencies.’
‘Maybe it is an emergency.’
‘Maybe it’s not.’
I ran down to the foyer and grabbed the phone. Luda had got me worried. Every phone call made me anxious lately.
‘Hello?’
‘It’s me.’ It was Cherie.
‘Is something wrong?’
‘It’s fine. Everything’s fine. Charley’s fine. I’m fine.’
‘Okay, well this phone is meant for emergency calls only.’
‘Oh.’
There was silence.
‘Hello?’
‘It’s just that … now that Charley’s back home, I haven’t seen you.’ The whine in her voice came across loud and clear. It got my back up.
‘I’m busy, Cherie. I’m behind in my course. I have a job. Then there’s my family — the Lewis’s — I hardly even get to see them. And I visit Charley whenever I can.’
‘Yes. He said you visit nearly every day. I thought transportation was an issue.’
I chose to ignore that last comment. ‘So that doesn’t leave time for anything else,’ I said.
‘Like me, you mean? Your biological mother?’
I lost it. ‘You’ve got a cheek,’ I screamed down the phone. ‘When in the last eighteen years did you ever try to find me? Did you once wonder what I was doing? If I was all right? If I was loved?’
I slammed down the phone. Then I jumped when Luda stepped forward to use it. I couldn’t help my sarcasm. ‘It’s only for emergencies.’
‘Ha, ha,’ she said with a sneer.
I stomped back upstairs and sat at my desk. I stared blankly at the pile of half-written essays, textbook chapters I was meant to précis and statutes I had to learn. So I did what I had to do. I grabbed Shonky the teddy, hopped into bed and pulled the doona over my head.
The pub where Margaret was doing her comedy debut was smoky, dim and the carpet was sticky. It was a Friday night and we scored ourselves a table just off to one side of the stage. The place was almost empty. As for the acts, well, luckily each one was only ten minutes long. Then it was Margaret’s turn. I was right to worry. She soon spotted me and Kirk. She waved and we sheep
ishly waved back. It was the first time I’d seen her out of her cinema uniform.
‘I’m just wavin’ at me little co-worker there. Smile, Kira, else they won’t see you in the dark.’
I was shrinking inside but Charley was pissing himself laughing. She spotted him and made a beeline over to us.
‘And she’s with her darkie friends. So who are you, handsome?’
‘Charley.’
‘Charley. Charles. Named after bonny Prince Charley, no doubt. But much better lookin’ on account of not bein’ inbred. Yes, you are tall, dark and handsome. Where have ya been all my life?’
‘Around. Where have you been?’ Charley seemed to be enjoying himself.
‘Around. Tell me, handsome ...’ she manoeuvred her tall ample frame onto his lap, squirming around suggestively.
The audience tittered, unsure whether they should be appalled or delighted.
‘What do you call an Aborigine in a snow storm?’
I nearly died of shame.
Charley replied, as quick as a flash, ‘A lamington?’
‘Boom, boom.’ She high-fived him. ‘All right then. Beginner’s luck. What about … why are aspirins white?’
‘Ah, because they work?’
I threw my hands over my face in humiliation.
‘Hey, Charley, you and I should be a duo. Black and white-on?’
‘No thanks. I won’t be around.’
‘Why’s that, handsome? Skipping the country? Gotta go check on your Swiss bank account?’
‘I’m dying. Unless you can incorporate that into the routine.’
‘Dying? What of? Black plague? Black fever? Black …’
This was too much. I stood up. ‘Stop! It’s not funny.’
‘Sweetie, hang around and I’ll have a go at everyone else too. Even me — a six-foot dyke with feet like a yeti.’
But I was already running out of the bar. Outside, I leant my head against the wall. A moment later, Kirk’s arms were around me. He held me tight, saying nothing, just letting me cry. And cry. And cry. After about five minutes, Charley and Margaret came out.
‘Sorry, I had to finish my routine. You only get one slot,’ said Margaret. ‘It’s like I have Tourette’s, isn’t it? I just say the things that other people think. The stuff just comes out.’
Becoming Kirrali Lewis Page 16
