Micah said the coffins at Bang Kwang come out through the red ghost door, but he didn’t tell me how they kill people. Suddenly, I need to know.
I google Executions in Thailand.
The first article that pops onto my screen isn’t from Wikipedia, though. It’s from the Sydney Morning Herald. Dated today. I click on it.
Young Australian drug smuggler Tye Roberts is rumoured to be among two foreigners executed by the Thai Ministry of Justice yesterday. Executions were reportedly carried out by lethal injection, without prior notice to the families of the deceased. Identities yet to be confirmed.
I double check the date. Micah said there hasn’t been an execution there for years.
It’s lethal injection. That’s how it’s done.
Two foreigners …
I realise I don’t know the real names of Micah’s friends.
Foreign Minister Jacqui Simmons could not confirm the report, except to say she has been in contact with the Australian Embassy in Bangkok and is awaiting a call from the Thai Ministry of Justice. She expressed concern that these executions may signify a more interventionist policy from the Thai Ministry of Justice after more than a decade without a single execution.
I want Micah to be safe, want to take him far away from the politics of legal murder. What if Tye Roberts is Boxer? What if the next article is about Micah? My throat tightens.
Yesterday, Tye Roberts was a guy who’d made a very bad choice. Today he’s dead. Exterminated by a justice system.
When my mother was murdered, the government called it a crime. When the Thai government kills people, they call it justice. Isn’t the purpose of justice to teach a lesson? What does a dead person learn from being killed? Or are these deaths supposed to be a lesson for the living?
All term in Legal Studies, Mr Robb has been going on about justice models. Rehabilitative justice and retributive justice. The major divide between systems that work towards rehab and those that seek retribution.
Micah said it’s getting more crowded in building five, so what if the two they killed overnight are just the first round? I do a couple of hours more research until my mind is churning.
No. I shut my laptop, my head heavy. This is not the sort of stuff I should be reading before bed. I tell myself Micah’s okay. His name isn’t mentioned. Time to switch off my brain.
But how can I sleep with my new knowledge? While Tye Roberts’ family, somewhere in Australia, aches with grief, how dare I lay my head on a pillow?
Nothing good can come from torturing myself, though, so I’ll think happy thoughts. Nice things about Micah. Who is still breathing, still sleeping under the same sky as me. I’ll think sweet things. Like how he sleeps with my photo. He said he dreamt about me. What sort of dream? I draw my bedroom curtains and go to bed. Force my eyes shut. Are they innocent dreams … or the other kind? I wonder what it would be like to kiss Micah on the lips, to lie on the warm sand in his arms, my hands tangled in his …
Two men in grey uniforms lead Micah from the prison gates. Gravel crunches beneath the shuffle of his shackled feet. They take him through a dark forest, to a clearing in the depths of the night. An owl calls from the safety of the trees. Nothing moves. A flash. Light floods the dark. Red grass. Lined at the far end of the clearing are dozens of uniformed guards, dropping to one knee, automatic rifles pressed hard against their shoulders. Micah is dragged to a spot marked with a cross. A guard unshackles him.
‘Stand or kneel?’ he says.
‘Stand.’
Micah looks sidelong at me. Nobody else sees me.
The guard binds his hands to a tall wooden cross. Micah Rawlinson is scrawled in dripping red letters along it. Micah flinches as they tape a large red cross to his shirt, right over his heart. He doesn’t break communion with my eyes. His are haunted, hollow pits. The guard binds his feet and steps away. Micah’s chest is a white canvas with a red bullseye.
‘Help,’ he mouths.
I wake panting. The pain of Micah’s last moment dissipates. Lying there a moment, I reorientate myself. I’m home. I’m safe. He’s not.
I get to my feet, pace the floorboards. Hug my numb rib cage. I’ve never had such a vivid dream before. Not even about my mother’s murder. Suddenly, everything becomes clear. I know what I have to do.
I force myself to sit down. With shaky fingers, I type out a group message to Tash and Eli.
Bel: Either of you awake?
I watch the agonisingly blank screen.
Bel: Okay, regardless – I need to change the plan.
Eli: What’s up?
I strip back my heavy curtains.
At the window, there’s a glow of light from a desk lamp and Eli standing in a pair of stripy boxer shorts. I pick up my phone and start typing. We need to go to Thailand.
He reaches for something on his desk. It’s his phone. I said yes, didn’t I?
I shake my head, and quickly type. Like now.
Eli frowns. Are you high?
Again, I shake my head. I don’t want to wait. You act like we have forever. What if we don’t?
Nothing bad will happen between now and then. I won’t let it.
I scowl. Don’t make promises you can’t keep.
I want to tell him this isn’t about my mum. Or him, or me. This is about a guy who might not have until Easter to get a visitor. And I want to give him that. A visitor does more for the spirit than vegemite. My head says to tell Eli everything, and now. My gut says don’t whisper a thing. If Eli discovers the reason for my Thailand trip, he’ll probably drop the idea. Which would kill any hope I have of getting there.
The dots flash up to show he’s writing back. Want me to come round?
I glance at the time. Past one.
No.
Yes.
I don’t know.
He disappears from sight. I’m coming over.
I creep downstairs in the dark, keeping an ear out for Dad’s heavy breathing, a sign he’s out to it. There’s a gentle tap on the door. When I pull it back, Eli’s standing there barefoot, the elastic from his Bonds showing above the stripy green boxers.
I press a finger to my lips as we climb the stairs, but the quaking of my body makes my legs feel bendy beneath me. I ease the door closed behind me, and he brushes past.
‘We can’t wait until Easter,’ I whisper.
‘Bel, we’ve got, like, three weeks left of the holidays,’ Eli says. ‘There’s no time.’
He sits down on my bed and, for some reason, him being shirtless on my bed makes me nervous.
‘Ten days,’ I say, doing a quick mental calculation. ‘That’s all we need. A week to plan, ten days there, and a few days before school starts back.’
‘Can you hear yourself? A week to plan? I know it’s late, but this is insane.’
‘You want to do it, don’t you?’
He laughs softly, and when he looks up at me, his face is crinkled. I sit down next to him, my hands all fidgety.
‘You want to, right?’ I say.
‘Course I do.’
‘So let’s do it together. You, me, Thailand. Why wait?’
He takes a deep breath, puffs air through his cheeks and when his blue eyes meet mine briefly, I catch a glimpse of give in them. Eli would follow me to Mars if I wanted to go badly enough.
‘Listen, I get that shit happens. That people don’t always get to do the stuff they planned, but –’
‘This has nothing to do with my mother,’ I say.
He nods, but I can tell he doesn’t believe me.
Maybe he doesn’t need to. He just needs to help me do this while there’s still time. And as soon as that plane is off the tarmac, I’ll tell him all about Micah.
I clasp my hands in my lap and look pleadingly at him. ‘Please, Eli, please do this with me. Take me to Thailand. I bet Dad will put us up in some swanky places.’
He hesitates. ‘You haven’t got the money.’
‘No, but I’ll borrow it.’ I sit up straig
hter. ‘Where there’s a will, there’s a way, right?’
‘In one week? We don’t have plane tickets.’ He shakes his head. ‘It’s imposs–’
‘I’ll book some,’ I say.
‘Bel, we’ve barely thought this through. Is your passport even up to date?’
‘Tick!’
‘Shit,’ he laughs incredulously, rubbing his eyes.
‘Think about it.’ I take his hand from his eyes, hold it in mine so he’ll look at me. ‘In three days, we could be in Bangkok. Can you even imagine?’ I stifle the urge to leap around the room.
He looks at our hands and smiles shyly. ‘Bangkok, huh?’
‘Dammit,’ I say. ‘What about Tash?’
‘Oh yeah, her. If she can’t come, do you want to go just you and me?’
I think about it for a micro second. Tash would make the trip more fun, but this was never about fun. ‘I’m in. You?’
He eyes me warily. ‘Deal.’
My heart races at the possibilities. Three days. Bangkok. Micah. A brave new world with Eli.
‘You swear? You’re not going to back out on me last minute?’
He laces his fingers through mine. ‘I swear.’
And with that simple exchange, the deal is struck.
It’s one thing to strike a deal. Quite another to convince your dad that it’s a good idea to let you loose on the world. Especially when that dad is my dad. And you’re asking him for a loan.
Eli is one card that might tip the balance in my favour. The other is guilt.
I catch Dad as he’s dressing for his party meeting. His week-long meeting to discuss election-campaign strategies. Since the Balducci husband got the five-year minimum sentence, Dad has been working on ways to channel the public outrage into constructive change. It’s kept him so occupied, he’s barely had time to eat. I know he’s still got the guilts about Christmas Day, but he’s hardly made it up to me in the weeks since. He’d barely even notice if I left the country.
There’s no subtle way to ask, so I launch straight in.
‘Dad, Eli’s decided to head back to Thailand in a few days.’
‘Uh-huh,’ he says, straightening his tie before the mirror.
‘And he asked if I want to come.’
Dad freezes.
‘And I said yes. Because it’s the truth, Dad. I want to go to Thailand.’
He clears his throat and it sounds like the rumble before a storm. ‘The answer’s no, sweetheart.’
‘No?’ I say flatly.
‘No. Annabelle, I haven’t got time to discuss it now.’
‘You know what, I’m kind of sick of hearing that.’
‘What?’
‘You’ve never had time for me. You won’t even notice I’m gone.’
‘You’re not going overseas by yourself –’
‘With Eli,’ I correct.
‘Whatever – with Eli – while I’m so focused on this election campaign. It’s important, sweetheart.’
‘And what I want isn’t, right?’
‘That’s not fair.’
‘Dad, I’ve told you three times now that I want to go to Thailand, and every single time, you’ve shut me down. What I want has never mattered to you.’
‘Sweetheart, can we not do this now?’
He runs a comb through his hair. Turns around and looks straight at me.
‘Dad, I’m going to Thailand, okay? I’m seventeen. Not seven anymore.’ I try to sound as resolute as I can, even though my heart’s pounding. ‘I’m not spending another week here by myself. Eli will look out for me. You trust him, right?’
He scoffs. ‘Yeah, a young boy full of testosterone with my teenage daughter. Very comforting.’
I decide to be blunt. Extremely blunt.
‘Dad, if Eli and I wanted to root each other, we could have done it a thousand times by now.’
Dad holds up his hands.
‘No, it has to be said. Trust me, we’ve had plenty of chances, but it’s not like that with Eli. He’s like … a brother to me.’
I block out the unbrotherly kiss from the other night. Dad winces at the word brother. Something he and Mum could never give me.
‘If that’s why you’re going to say no,’ I continue, ‘then that’s a stupid reason. Besides, Eli can speak Thai, so I’d be going with the best person.’
‘Look, sweetheart –’
He’s still at no, so I pull out my ace card. The last one I have left, even though my conscience is tugging at me not to.
‘You haven’t heard my biggest reason for wanting to go.’
‘And what’s that?’
‘For Legal Studies. We had to study a political cause. I’ve been learning about different justice systems.’
Dad’s nostrils flare.
‘Specifically the difference between systems like ours based on rehabilitation, and ones like Thailand –’
‘Modelled on retributive justice.’
Now I have his full attention. I’m speaking his language at last.
‘Exactly. So while I’m there, I’ll be studying the differences between the two.’
I feel bad about feeding him half-truths. Especially since it’s his dream for me to study law at Sydney Uni like he did. But Eli needs to carve his own path away from his dad, and I need to do the same.
‘And how do you propose to learn about retributive justice over there?’ He says it with a hint of scepticism.
‘We’re not going island hopping, Dad. Eli and I are going to do some research in Bangkok. Maybe even visit a prison, talk to some people there …’
Dad folds his arms across his chest and I can almost touch the spark of pride I just lit. Annabelle gives a shit about something.
‘You know I wrote a paper once on the merits and pitfalls of the different systems. I could email it to you.’
‘That’d be great,’ I say, half-stunned. ‘So can I go?’
Dad looks me up and down. This is the definitive moment. ‘I can go?’
When he doesn’t say no, the smile breaks across my face. Dad sees it and holds up his hands.
‘I’m not committing to anything unless I’m happy with the details.’
‘I’m going to Thailand!’ I leap over to Dad and hug him. ‘Thank you so much. You have no idea what this means to me.’
‘I want all the details!’ he yells, as I hurdle the landing and hit my room in record time. ‘Roaming, Whatsapp … and I’m booking the hotels! No dodgy backpacker places!’
All I care about is that Dad said yes. For the first time in my life, he listened and said yes to something that matters to me.
I snatch up my phone and call Eli.
Just after midnight, my phone beeps.
Tash: I’m out.
She’s out at midnight?
Bel: Out where?
Tash: No. I’m out of the Thai trip. Spent the last two hours in a screaming match with Mum.
Bel: Shit. Not that I really expected her mum would say yes. Even if we were going in six months, she’d have been about as malleable as a brick wall.
Tash: It was all ‘No way am I letting my 17-year-old daughter traipse around Thailand. You know an Australian tourist dies there every three days? Remember that girl Nicole who was in a motorbike accident? She went home in a coffin …’ etc. Didn’t matter what I said.
Bel: I’m so sorry, Tash.
Tash: I kinda knew it was just a pipedream. How’d you get your Dad to say yes?
Bel: I told him I was studying different justice systems for the Legal assignment.
Tash: So you lied.
Bel: No. I try not to be annoyed by her righteousness. Visiting Micah still fits in with my Legal assignment. I’m making his life better, helping him.
Tash: But you’re not studying different legal systems.
Bel: Not directly. But I’m learning about them in a roundabout way. She’s reacting this way because she’s disappointed, but I won’t let her put a downer on the most exciting thing that�
�s ever happened to me, so I add, I even told Dad I’d be visiting a prison.
Tash: Have you told Eli that yet?
Bel: I will.
Minutes pass before I get another message from her.
Tash: My Mum said no because I told her the truth. You’ve lied to your Dad and Eli so they’ve said yes. I hope it’s worth it. You could destroy some serious trust.
Wow.
Thanks for the bon voyage! I type.
Tash: Just promise me you’ll check out what Micah did before you see him. I don’t want you getting in too deep. But since you’re going to Thailand, I’m guessing you already are. Take care, Bel xx
I try not to let her disappointment sting me. Micah said she doesn’t understand. And he’s right, most people don’t. Besides, I’m buzzing so hard right now, nothing can bring me down.
I’m going to meet Micah. And he doesn’t even know I’m coming. I rip a sheet of paper off the notepad on my desk.
19th January
Dear Micah,
I can barely write, I’m so excited. I’m throwing this letter together on the off chance it might arrive before I do. Yep, you read right. You’re getting a visitor. In a few days, I’ll be skidding down the Bangkok runway, and then I’ll be there to see you at the prison. I can’t believe I’ll be meeting you in person.
Also, I love that you sleep with my photo. Sometimes I fall asleep with yours too. I’ve never tried meeting someone in my dreams. Sounds kind of like connecting in a parallel universe. I like it! We should set a day, say the 6th of February, and meet in our dreams. Is it a date? Haha.
See you soon!
Love, Bel xxx
‘Beer, wine or spirits?’ The blonde flight attendant blinks down at Eli through heavy eyeshadow.
‘Rum and cola, thanks,’ he says. Eli and I exchange glances. ‘Two, please,’ he adds.
I avoid the flight attendant’s eye.
She measures a nip of dark rum into plastic cups, passes them to us with a can of coke, and shuffles down to the next row.
‘This is the life.’ Eli grins at me and cracks his cup against mine. ‘To the beginning of an adventure.’
Inside my stomach, butterflies do somersaults. I glance out the window, thankful Eli let me have the window seat. Far below, the world is a sea of darkness and clusters of pin-prick light. I’ve never travelled so far from Australia before. I’ve only ever been to New Zealand. And that was with Dad, when I was thirteen, for a political convention. Now, watching the sparkling lights of Darwin ebb away beneath the wing of our plane, my throat feels tight. Goodbye safe country. Land of second chances.
Inside the Tiger Page 10
