Читать книгу Sweeties - Leon Silver - Страница 6

Second week back from their group honeymoon, Abel stays with Dad and Margaret and John, while Aaron and Cindy stay with Mum and Bernie and Rose and Mary, the weekend enterprise smacking of disaster from its onset, as the minute Mum drops Abel off, Dad waves a little too fervently to his ex-wife then introduces Abel to the new dog, Sunshine, a dumb golden retriever, with watery grey eyes. Of course Abel has been many times to this house – they were best friends of his parents, weren’t they? – but on past visits he’d torn into John’s room, the two boys closing the bedroom door to keep the four smaller brat siblings outside, then checking out any new toys or gadgets, spending the rest of the time chasing, hiding and playing – why, he knows that house as well as his own. But today he feels as though he’s dragged shit in on his heels, leaving stinking smudges on anything he touches. The sojourn to John’s room lasts no more than a few silent minutes, the door staying open behind him, John, mute, slouching on the floor. When he can stand it no longer Abel goes into the lounge and switches on the TV, from the corner of his eye he sees that Margaret is about to object to midday TV watching, but Dad gives a short sharp nod to leave Abel be and he sits, watching for hours, not as a visitor, not even a stranger, or a friend, just an un-belonging person, all he sees on the TV screen are his two sisters watching in silence at the breakfast table as the sleepover announcement is floated by Mum. Not one word, not a hug, not even a crying Ali, take us with you … especially Mary, accusing Abel of desertion with each fired glance … Later with a rah, rah, rah Abel is recruited to drag a spare mattress into John’s room, to sleep on the floor next to his new ‘brother’ and as soon as Abel clamps eyes shut, he sees Mary again in his bedroom doorway, watching him pack his pyjamas and spare shirt into his backpack, making a mess of the folding under her silent scrutiny. She’s mute again, mouth pursed, no way is she going to cry, her Ali should know better than to heartlessly desert her. Rose is too upset to come into his room, bad enough that Dad has deserted them, now Abel abandons his ‘two little squirrels’ to the enemy. On his way out past the girls’ room, he feels Rose scrunched up on her bed. On the floor mattress in Dad’s new house when Dad finally comes in to rub his back and tuck him in as he did years ago at home, Abel turns his face away.

The next morning, early, after a tasteless breakfast, Dad can’t wait to pack the two boys and new dog into the car and drive to the nature reserve and park in the street next to their house, so congenially planned and executed, that smiling Mum comes out and hugs Dad and laughing Bernie comes out and shakes hands, and Rose and Mary come out and, wailing, clutch Daddy’s legs and won’t let go … Finally, in a team effort, they manage to disentangle Dad from his crying daughters and then it’s the moment Abel has dreaded and is now seared into his brain – worse than scratching their baby faces: his sisters look up at him angrily, Mary slowly mouths I hate you, Ali with a cold and fierce stab way beyond her years – more reminiscent of Mum – an expression Abel will remember as clearly as an alien sighting years later when Mary, as payback, wrecks his life and hers … Meanwhile the man and two boys and dog shoulder their backpacks and Dad hoists the tied bundle of two tents, but Sunshine can’t manage his doggy backpack, trembling in shock, and at first Dad laughs and teases Sunshine, but after the tenth slip down of the pack Dad just takes it off and hangs onto it … Abel walks in silence, kicking loose branches while Dad explains to John the adventure’s procedure, but he may as well explain it to his son too as this is a different bush reserve, this forest is dead and silent, the leprechauns having emigrated, this trudging journey to the magical island of Ithaca is populated by mythical Greek monsters, but they’re half-hearted at best. The single eye of the Cyclops glares from behind trees, as intimidating as a paper cut-out. Bearded Poseidon waves his fist promising earthquakes and storms but Abel sneers, Bring them on. The tribe of giant cannibals raise themselves to attack positions, smacking their lips with hunger; Abel laughs in their faces … But this is nothing – mere kids’ stuff – the real danger raises its hostile head when the three weary travellers plus dog get to the sparkling cone-shaped cathedral – Dad doesn’t respect the occasion, this rite of passage to their private sanctuary has simply elapsed, Not a sign of recognition. Not even a shared grin. How could he? Abel’s last hope – the expectation that once they passed through to their private, isolated world, all would revert to what it was before – is dashed … Abel drags himself to the creek, Mary’s words I hate you, Ali weighing down his shoulders more than his backpack, and when they finally set up camp, even the fish refuse to cooperate, not one bites, whereas in previous trips Dad had to yell down into the water: Take a number, you slippery sea-creatures … Keeping up the charade they build the traditional campfire in the rocky space near the river, but there’s nothing to cook, when a kangaroo hops by – as a last walk-on prop to save this melodrama – but Sunshine barely lifts his head, and Dad has to rev him up and launch him into the chase but the dog returns soon after not even a little puffed out – and what’s worse, not showing the least bit of remorse, the dumb dog stands around watching them, Dad says: Give yourself a pat on the back, mate, for trying, Sunshine … which is a bit over the top. Hiding his tears with his elbow, Abel grabs a fishing rod to have another go at this farce but the bloody fish won’t cooperate even with the whimpering boy; even back home would be better, Abel could at least silently face off Mary’s anger, justified as it was for not sharing Dad with her … Finally night, they sleep in the two tents, Dad on his own and Abel with John who talks and farts in his dreams, but young Abel can’t sleep anyhow, even if John slumbered like a non-farting angel, because before Dad clicks off his torch, he gives his son one long apologetic look, and both manage to just hold back tears. When Abel finally goes to sleep he chants in his head the usual mantra he’s repeated silently every night since that travesty of a wedding: Mum is right, it’s all my fault. It’s up to me to set things straight. I must return life to what it was before I wagged school that bloody day just because I was a little bit sick.

Bouncing around on the playfield, from jet bumper to turbo bumper to mushroom pumper to drop targets, kickers, slingshots, ramps and saucers, the scoring reels on the pinball machine’s back glass kick over rapidly racking up time; it takes two years after that bungled camp­ing trip before a chance to rebalance their lives falls into Abel’s lap … He plays with his monster yellow dump-truck on top of the stairs when the upstairs toilet is blocked. A heavy, impressive vehicle, over half a metre long and almost as high, and Mum is pleased: Gosh, you haven’t played with that old truck in years … the rare praise wafts over Abel’s shoulder with no place to land, as Abel, on his knees, pushes the truck up and down the upstairs passageway, outside the toilet, alongside the bedrooms, making loud truck noises when it stops and starts at the imaginary traffic lights. Mary and Rose – under Mary’s leadership estranged from him after he’d defected to the enemy – watch their brother’s regression with suspicion, evaluating his crystal-hard eyes – the mood scares them … but old Abel in the car hums through the thick blanket of steam, short gasps of anticipation: that old yellow monster truck is leading Abel towards Roma, back arched, con­centrating on the playfield, humming her child­hood refrain: Pull the pin, hear the ping, silver ball bounce and ding … but at this stage it’s still many pinnie bounces away from young Abel, as the truck has a prior mission cast in solenoid pings, in this old house, with old toilets, and an absent plumber with replacement parts a week away, so every afternoon after school, Abel plays with his large yellow vehicle along the same route on top of the stairs – one way, then the other – his sisters leaning out from their shared bedroom, staring silently, Mary’s lip sneering; their traitorous brother can never restore balance to their out-of-kilter life. Then when the ball hits the right bumper, Bernie gets up in the middle of the night to use the downstairs toilet – as he does every night at least twice – Abel is waiting behind the linen cupboard, and silently launches the big yellow monster on its kamikaze mission along the top of the stairs, and dopey, hung-over Bernie trips over and tumbles head-first down the long, curvy stairs without a smidgen of his horsey laugh.

The thinly-veiled white nurse hovers over Abel as he lies back in the steamy car, reliving Bernie’s tumble and fall, her silent, irksome stare is asking as always, Have you given a full account of yourself? As Abel squirms, angry that he can’t recognise her, she begins squeezing pressure and release on his hands; the 3D vision is unavoidable – pasted onto Abel’s forehead – thumping bumping Bernie plummeting down the stairs. But he finds no residue in his psyche – this playfield is only so big and his chest has been scorched so long with the twisted relic of the melted wheelchair and the two gaping skeletons, there’s no space left for Bernie’s cathartic tumble. The white nurse nods and pushes him towards the pinball machine that has only the one supreme mission: to lead Abel to Dame Gypsy-of-the-Romani, Roma donning her cape of blue and green with the large red spoke wheel in the middle … a cape-wrapped bundle of laughing and teasing, long whipped jet-black hair. Abel does denial every day – dislodging the sound of Bernie’s tumbling thump – as he does every time he crosses eye-beams with Mum – her eyes all accusation – silent blasts that cut him up and bleed him for days, even his own returning silent eye-volley of: I just rectified what I fucked up in the first place doesn’t placate Mum at all … going to the cops would be less traumatic … on top of that – even worse – not only does Dad not come back to live with them, he never again takes Abel camping, and Mum starts inviting boyfriends to sleep over, punishing Abel with yet more silent missiles: It’s your fault … you made me a widow slut … Yet, strangely, Abel becomes thankful for his mother’s stabs, the only snippet of her familiar personality … this new Mum stranger in her loud, short skirts and lurid tops smells sickly sweet as though dunked in perfume, a much closer and much harsher health hazard than Granny Annie’s plates of sugar. Mum shimmies inside her clothes as though a bead is lodged between her breasts and she intends on shaking it all the way down to fall out of her dress on the floor, provoking her man friend to comment: When you move like that, baby, I want to throw you down and ram my dick inside your cheeky cunt, and Mum knows Abel loiters outside the barely closed lounge-room door, like she wants him to hear the result of his actions: There you go, Abel, this is what you made … The loitering has become a game of one-upmanship. Abel sneaks past in full view, Mum revs up her shimmying, Abel bounces on the trampoline and at the height of each bounce locks eyes with Mum, Mum’s eyes alternate between boyfriend’s face and bouncing son’s head, a cynical smile rising on her face, her first-born can do nothing to alter the situation he has created. Meow … meow … meow … Abel summons long-dead Ginger’s ghost, confident Mum can read his lips. But the victory is marred because on this particular occasion, his sisters have followed him and heard Mum’s boyfriend, and since Rose and Mary are now old enough to understand about dicks and cunts, silent tears spring to Rose’s eyes and Mary’s daggers stab at Abel: You did that, you turned our mother into a whore … Abel shrugs off Mary’s accusations and engulfs Rose with his arms to protect the grown-up squirrel, and all three kids silently retreat from the gaping lounge-room door, escaping to the safety of Abel’s room, even Mary – who hasn’t been in there for years, since the camping desertion – the girls sit on the edge of the bed, their eyes all a-panic, so that there is no way that Abel can go out with his mates as planned and leave his sisters on their own, sunken-face Rose is liable to self-harm much worse than just a scratched face, and Mary will blame him again … Abel jerks his head come on and Rose is slow to respond but Mary jumps up all a-smile. On their way back to the lounge room the three kids let loose an avalanche of noises to telegraph their presence to Mum and boyfriend; We’re going out, Abel announces and Mum gives a genuine smile, Abel is finally including his two sisters in his outside activities, plus she can take her latest boyfriend up on his offer … Old Abel watching the screen feels every forceful push as the grown boy dips down on his bike’s pedals, the girls following behind on their bikes, the three kids heading to Abel’s best mate’s house, where two guys sit smoking on the house’s front step, dumbstruck to see the three bike-riding Marvin entourage: The wanker brought his sisters? … Both Abels can read their surprise … They’re cool, Mum went out, couldn’t leave them at home on their own … Abel lights up as well, as the two mates shuffle and mooch around – these girls are old enough to be home on their own, old enough to do a lot more than that, Rose is a grown-up squirrel but Mary is now more of a fox – but then the mates decide to accept the package deal, his best mate puts it behind him and announces: Oldies went to the pub in Mum’s car. They won’t be back for hours. I know where Dad’s keys to the V8 are hidden …

The two mates sit in the front, Rose and Mary sit in the back with Abel next to them, contemplating the seatbelts (he’s never been in a car with back seatbelts), after a moment’s hesitation Abel grumbles to the girls: Put your seatbelts on, the sisters exchange a glance, decide not to push their luck, then click the belts into place … The kids drive to a burger joint, pool their money and stock up on burgers, chips and shakes, then drive to an empty parking lot, turn up the radio, open all four doors and tuck in, the boys drinking stolen warm beer from home and flicking cigarette ash out the open doors, and the girls gorging on flavoured milk. In the men’s world of the empty factory complex the boys miss their usual banter about girls that they know – who, where, how and what they’d like to do to them, which girl lets you go goal-to-goal and which wastes time with arm-wrestling – but Abel shrugs, What can I do? … Rose and Mary feel the heavy silence and know that they’re in its centre; Rose glares at the charcoal factory complex with the silent, empty chimneys, but Mary eyeballs the two boys, catching their quick glances, challenging them to face off. On the way back the boys need to release some pent-up testosterone so the best mate – Mary’s eyes stroking the back of his neck – drives too fast in his dad’s hot car, taking back roads to avoid cops; they hit something and the car bounces up, the passengers yell, the driver swears I’m fucking dead meat, and tyres squeal to a halt. Jumping out they run back into the dark, towards a pitiful yelping dog; when they reach it, it scans the three boys asking them with silent, crazy eyes Am I about to die? … Abel starts when his sisters grip his arms – he’d momentarily forgotten about them – he wants to shield their eyes but can’t tear himself away from the bleeding dog … Looks just like Wags, Rose whispers, digging her fingers into his flesh; Abel turns to stare at his sister in the dark – how the hell would she know? She was only a tiny tot when Wags disappeared during the bushfire … Just like when Wags lay down and played dead, Mary agrees – Not bloody likely, Abel thinks, but realises his sisters are referring to Wags’s framed pictures in his bedroom, next to 5×M+D. His best mate returns from inspecting the car, Dad’ll kill me, side fender fucked – Abel asks, What are we going to do with the dog? Now that his sisters have implanted Wags’s image onto the injured dog he can’t leave it to bleed so pathetically on the road. His best mate checks the boot: There’s no blanket. Abel takes off his shirt, his two mates do the same; they clumsily bandage the dog but when they lever him up, he yelps and snaps at their hands. We need to tie up his mouth, a moment’s hesitation, the three boys are already bare chested, Mary slips off her top and a long second later so does Rose. Rose’s arms snap shut tightly across her bare chest – but not Mary, whose boobs are now well and truly burgeoning. The two mates are stunned. Abel blushes, it’s been years since he’s seen his two sisters topless, but Mary – Geeze … let’s do it, Abel shakes himself, and his mates out of their reverie, they pull Rose’s top over the dog’s face and they tie Mary’s sleeves around the dog’s neck, he looks like he’s been to war … The dog yelps in heartbreaking pain as they place him in the boot, then they screech towards the vet in the town’s centre and the three bare-chested guys carry the dog inside, then slip away without giving their names or details, driving with the lights off. In a nearby street they stop, turn on the radio, open all four doors, with great sighs they light up cigarettes, the dark starry sky signalling that the status quo has changed, they now have two topless girls among them … Bare-chested Mary is offered a smoke and takes it without hesitation, flicking ash with the boys; Rose shakes her head, covers her chest and looks away … We’d better get back to your place, Abel, red-faced, flinches at the snapped glances of his two mates at Mary’s bare chest, floods with uncontrollable memories of Mum – he flicks away his half-finished smoke and tells everyone to hurry up … His best mate loans them t-shirts for the ride home that look like mini dresses on the sisters, Mary wiggling as she slips hers on. A week later Abel can’t resist a phone call to the vet – the dog has lost a leg but will survive – but the warm and fuzzy feeling for having saved a life lasts only about a year … Mary gets pregnant; Abel’s best mate is the father … Did you know this was going on? Mum accuses Abel, with words, this time, well, he did and he didn’t, if he hadn’t taken the girls that night … From Rose it’s If you hadn’t taken us that night – from Mary, We’re a team again, and this time I’m in your gang, Ali … But Mum has found legitimate leverage: I thought you looked after your sisters. All in all it hadn’t been a good night out – sure, he’d saved the dog that didn’t look anything like Wags, but he’d lost his two sisters and his best mate, who was of course barred from coming anywhere near Mary Marvin or her pimp brother ever again.

Just as scary as your first shag, right matey? Old Abel grins from the back seat of the driving instructor’s car, one steering wheel in front gripped by the driving instructor, a big guy with motley-veined face, suffering a permanent hangover, young Abel gripping the other. On a dare with himself old Abel extends his right hand through the whirling fog but the steam sticks to his fingers like wet glue; the more he strains the further the front seats stretch out of reach … Been driving for two years, mate, this is just to get my licence … Scratch of swollen red nose, But that other, first time, was terrifying, right? – bloodshot eyes grin – Those smooth young legs opening wide and the job is laid out to be done, right? … Scary or not, both Abels know that the first time was nothing notable; a few blind jabs, camouflaged by alcohol, cloaked in darkness beneath bushes, but the second time – a mammoth second time – was a lesson in itself, before obtaining that other licence – the one to know how to get women hot. But first things first, how he got here, with Granny Annie’s help of course … For the past few months, young Abel has been living with Granny Annie, in her big house raised on stumps, a heavy, brown wooden-beamed place, its hefty windows that take effort to lift, a place that groans with the wind, and smells from sweating wood in the summer. As a kid Abel’s dad used to play hide and seek under the house with his siblings, amid huge heating ducts like bloated silver caterpillars; Dad once confided, You can hear the grown-ups talk through the kitchen duct