by Paul Collis
Outside, Carlos closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. He threw his head back and stretched his arms, neck and shoulders as he let out a long sigh, ‘Fuck I’m horny!’
He was surprised by a young woman, with the baby in her arms, only a few feet away from him.
‘Sorry, car’s stuck in the mud over there. Reckon you could help me?’ she said. ‘I can’t git any mobile coverage out here otherwise I would have rung my dad.’
Carlos quickly adjusted to the situation, summing up the look of the woman in an instant.
Experience told him she was still breastfeeding. Late teens, maybe twenty at the most, he thought. Bosom was plump and full. ‘Nice tits,’ he told himself.
‘Uh huh. Let’s have a look, ay?’ said Carlos.
He allowed the woman to take the lead back to her car, hoping he might be able to see through the thin cotton material and get a good look at her arse, or at least her underpants.
The woman’s dress was tight on her body. She was aware that the man was eyeing her off but there was not much she could do about the situation she found herself in. She knew the danger she was in. She slowed so that Carlos walked beside her so that he would not be getting an eyeful of her from behind.
‘It’s just over here,’ she said. ‘I’m Silvia. This is my baby, Jimmy,’ she said, kissing her young child lightly on the cheek.
‘G’day. I’m Carlos,’ Carlos replied.
Carlos kept sneaking quick peeks at her cleavage. Aware that she might catch him perving, he made his glances as occasional and inconspicuous as possible. She started drawing the baby closer to cover herself up.
Realising she’d caught him out, he flashed her what he thought was his prettiest smile, then hastened to explain.
‘Sa, sa, sorry Silvia. I, I, I know it’s rude ta stare, ba, ba, but you remind me of someone I know. You haven’t been on tele ’ave ya?’
She looked like she knew he was bullshitting her, but recognised the funny side of the whole event so she decided to let him off the hook and instead of telling him off right there and then, she said, ‘Ha! Me? Not likely mate!’
She threw her head back and scoffed. Her laughter was a pleasant change from the harsh language and country music that Carlos had been suffering most of the long trip to this place.
‘Not out here in this rat-hole, anyhow,’ she went on to say.
Silvia’s family came to live in Dubbo when her father took up the manager’s position at the local oil company depot. He loved being king of the bush, but she longed for the bright lights of Sydney. Dubbo was hell to her. First, there was the death of her mother two years ago from the cancer. Then, she got pregnant to Springer – the footballer. Springer took off to Sydney on a football contract, leaving her and baby to look after themselves. A short note saying she should ‘get over’ him and ‘move on’.
He said, ‘I’d be no good as a father anyway, and you’re way too good for me.’
There were no hugs and kisses. She screamed his name as loud as she could, and yelled out of her bedroom window that he was a good-for-nothing, chicken-livered, cock-sucking bastard. She cursed and hoped he’d die a thousand times, a thousand different ways.
There was never any time for her these days and she quickly grew out of her school-girl ways when her baby came.
‘Oh … Coulda swore I saw you on tele.’
‘Piss off!’
Her little car was stuck up to the back axle in the greasy, red mud.
Carlos wasn’t stepping off the dry surface of the road in his two-hundred-dollar Julius Marlow imported leather shoes for no one. He bent low and looked at the car from the road to confirm that it was indeed bogged, ‘Well … there’s ya problem right there! Got a tow rope?’
They laughed together, and Silvia said, ‘Yeah. Got all that stuff in the boot.’
They walked the long road around back to where the black men were. The wind dropped, and the resident crows fled to their resting places for the evening. The cemetery gave Carlos the creeps. He didn’t understand the fascination that the blacks had with the dead anyway. It reminded him of his superstitious mother and her love of Jesus and all that crap. Feeling he was being watched made him jumpy and had him walking fast to get away from the dark and back to the light of the car and the company of men. Silvia struggled to keep up, but noticed Carlos’ change in mood.
‘Don’t tell me that you’re scared of ghosts?’ Silvia asked.
‘Wha, wha, what make ya say that?’ Carlos retorted, surprised.
‘Hey, s’alright. Ya just look like ya a bit windy that’s all. Lookin round all the time.’ She laughed as she waved her free arm in a wide arc to indicate the whole of the cemetery, ‘Not the dead ya have ta worry bout, as my mum useda say.’ Silvia laughed.
Rips was lying back, feet dangling outa the doorway. The music coming from the car stereo was loud and country. Buck Owens and his Buckaroos were singing ‘In the Palm of Your Hand’. The sound filled the empty space of the early evening, waking the baby.
Cradling her baby close she whispered, ‘Hello, my baby! You just wake up? You’ve had a big sleep.’
Jimmy felt soft and warm to her touch. She went through all the immediate checks with the baby. Knowing that he’d be ready for a feed, she wanted to get away to home as quickly as possible. ‘We’ll be home soon,’ she assured her baby with soft kisses.
Jimmy settled back into the safety and comfort of his mother’s bosom, and as quickly as he had woken, he closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep.
Hearing the baby gurgle made Carlos ask, ‘Kid alright, hey?’
She tightened the light baby blanket around Jimmy and when satisfied the child was all snug and secure, and re-gripping the hidden screwdriver, she said, ‘He’s fine! Reckon you can get these blokes to help, or what? It’s dark now and I wanna get him home outa the night air. Now!’ she whispered urgently.
Her tone caught Carlos by surprise and deflated his enthusiasm in a flash. Those sparkling eyes of hers, that had so impressed him a few minutes before, now flashed as wild as lightning in the darkened sky.
Hearing Silvia and Carlos, Rips looked up surprised in seeing the attractive woman with the baby in her arms standing next to Carlos.
‘Took ya fucken time, didn’t ya, Carlos? Whatcha walk all the way ta town ta do a shit, or what? He been lookin for you, man!’ he said, nodding towards the direction of Blackie.
Rips eyed Silvia carefully, and before Carlos could answer, he acknowledged Silvia by way of a nod.
She nodded back towards the big black man in the car.
She lowered her head towards Rips and she gently kissed her baby’s head. But her eyes didn’t leave Rips – not even for a second. He frightened her. She thought that he could see right through her and that he knew that she was terrified of him.
Rips had that look of hungry lust written all over his ugliness, like he just wanted to fuck her senseless and leave her for dead in the mud.
She looked towards where Rips had nodded his head. She strained to make out the shape of someone sitting alone on a granite gravestone.
Carlos was scared to hear Blackie had inquired about his whereabouts.
‘Her car’s stuck in the mud over there,’ Carlos said, pointing. ‘She, sh, she’s got a tow rope an all. Wanna know if we’ll help her git it out cause she’s gotta git her baby home.’
Rips was not listening to the squirming Carlos. He was interested in Silvia and enjoyed her vulnerability which had him feeling powerful and horny.
‘Nice name that, Silvia,’ he said.
The speed had re-ignited his need for sex, and his focus was her. ‘Wanna fuck ya! Wanna fuck ya! Wanna fuck ya …’ he repeated to himself.
Rips sniffed the air in the faint hope that he might get a whiff of her. He imagined his tongue on her skin. Images of gaol sex crept into his thoughts
. He imagined that he could still smell the sweat of the scared men struggling against his weight and against his hand held over their mouths as their souls screamed for mercy. The more they tried to scream, the higher the thrill. He had grown to like it. Rips had stopped thinking about morals years ago, wasting away in that bastard, sandstone hell that’s known as Bathurst gaol. A couple of the other boys told him that it was okay. That’s what they all do when they’re inside. It didn’t mean that he’d become a poofter. So it didn’t take long for him to love any hole in the dark. But as much as Rips enjoyed having his way with those tight young boy arses, hearing them cry and begging him to stop, nothing satisfied him like a woman could.
‘Well, ya better go an ask him. He’s over there, doin business,’ Rips said, casually nodding towards Blackie.
Silvia didn’t hang around to be told again. She didn’t hesitate a second longer and briskly walked towards the man at the grave.
Sweat ran down her chest and hung around her eyes. She approached the man near the grave, stopping a few feet away, watching him for a brief moment, seeing him rock gently back and forwards with his arms around his legs. She stood close enough to hear him chanting something Aboriginal.
Na, naa naa. Yumm-ma naa-numm-naa. Yumm-ma naa, numm naa
Na, naa naa. Yumm-ma naa-numm-naa. Yumm-ma naa, numm naa …
She listened for a short while summoning the strength her body could muster, then said, ‘Hi, mate …’
Blackie reeled and fell. He ended up with his arse in the mud.
‘Waa! What? Who are ya?’ he stammered.
Blackie’s eyes were red and sore. He strained to make out who was the figure of the woman in the dark that had spoken aloud to him.
‘Got me baby here with me. My name’s Silvia. Car’s stuck over there,’ she replied, pointing, trying to get all the information out in one purge.
Blackie looked towards where she pointed and scrambled to his feet. He straightened himself up, trying to strike a more dignified pose. Cold sweat ran down his face. His palms were wet from sweat too. His bones ached.
Silvia watched him scramble and slip on the slippery ground.
Blackie stared at her staring at him.
Long seconds separated them, just for a few seconds.
Unsure what to do next, Silvia went to draw away. She watched him raise his hand in an indication for her to stand still.
Blackie stepped up to her, looking deep into her as if he was seeing right through. ‘Nan?’ he whispered.
Blackie looked harder still, searching to see his grandmother in Silvia’s face. He walked towards Silvia, reaching out to hold her.
Silvia gripped her baby tight in one arm and pushed Blackie away with the other. He slipped arse over head.
He hit the ground with a jolt. The fall shocked him and brought him to his senses.
‘Ahh … Sorry sis. I thought … I, I, I. Didn’t mean nothing,’ he apologised.
Not knowing what the correct thing to do was, Silvia stood stock-still. She wanted to run but found that her feet were stuck fast and hard with the mud. No matter how hard she tried, she could neither move nor speak. Her lungs felt like they were going to burst and her throat tightened to the point where she thought she’d pass out from lack of oxygen, but still she couldn’t move or speak.
It took Blackie more seconds to gather himself before he said, ‘Huh? What ya want? Wad ya say?’ he continued.
They both watched each other, looking for some way to speak to the other.
Finally it was Silvia that spoke again. ‘Me car – bloody thing slid off the road in the rain. It’s stuck. Can ya give me a hand?’ she asked.
She waited a few seconds and then offered, ‘Got a couple a dollars, that’s all, if ya help me?’
‘Naa. No need for that, sista. The boys and me have ya out there and on ya way in a minute. Woz ya name there? Woz that little fulla ya got in ya arms there,’ Blackie said, forgetting that Silvia had already told him her name.
She thought that there was something different about this man. Though he stared at her twice, he did not have that predator hunger that Carlos and Rips had when they looked at her.
‘Silvia’s my name, and this is my baby, Jimmy,’ she replied and lessened the tight grip on the screwdriver she held under the blanket.
Before he walked away with Silvia, he stood still and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath to fill his lungs full of the cemetery smell. He filled himself full of his grandmother’s spirit. He looked for, and found, the candle, broken in the mud. He picked it up and walked to the head of his nan’s grave and gently placed it next to the faded letters of love. He held two fingers to his lips and then ran those fingers across where once was painted his grandmother’s name, her date of birth and the date of her death. Nan’s ghost began to fade slowly away into the dark. Blackie reached into thin air. ‘Don’t leave,’ he whispered. But the moment was gone, the ghost had disappeared, the smell of jasmine was everywhere, but his nan’s image was gone. Silvia saw Blackie and then seemed to know what he was doing. She turned herself and her baby away from the scene, giving Blackie privacy.
Blackie picked up his small bag from the gravestone. He softened and became filled with wonder at the sight of the sleeping baby.
‘Hey! He’s a beauty sis. How old, ay?’ Blackie asked softly.
And on that cheek and o’er that brow
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent
Silvia blushed.
‘C’mon. Let’s git ya car outa here. Must be past the little Boorie’s bedtime, ay? You from Dubbo?’ Blackie said as they moved towards the car.
Silvia was caught off guard by the forthrightness of the stranger’s demeanour. Sounding surprised and happy, she said, ‘Yeah, I live here. Bet I’m originally from Sydney. What bout you?’ she answered.
‘Me? I’m from all over the place. Nowhere particular.’
As they walked the short distance back to the car, Silvia asked, ‘What’s your name, there, mate?’
‘Blackie, sis. Jest call me Blackie,’ he said.
Blackie got his travelling companions to assist, and in no time at all, they had Silvia’s car back on the road.
Driving away, Silvia saw the strange trio fade from her view through her rear-view mirror. Something told her she’d see them again.
Chapter 7
Love in a Dingy Bar
The wind blew in strong gusts making even the lamp posts sway in the early evening.
The streets were mostly empty as the men drove. It was as if all those streets were theirs. House lights lit up the dirty yards and anything that wasn’t tied down was flying around and up and down.
Dubbo is a city where people mostly live on double blocks of land. The large yards give the home owners space to grow gardens and vegetable patches. All alone to face the night, the rose bushes bent against the wind. The wind blew so strong that the leaves were blown right off the branches. So strong was the wind that even the stray dogs scurried to look for cover. The men drove slowly, making their way towards the centre of town, being rocked in the car by the wind and music and drugs and beer.
Recognising a skinny, hunched white man shuffling along the street, Blackie said, ‘Hey, hey! Pull over, Carlos! Stop the car – I know dat bloke!’
Carlos eased the car to the kerb and brought it to a stop just behind the man. Blackie’s window was open and he casually called, ‘Hey! You there! Stop! This is the police!’
The skinny whitefulla froze in his tracks. He turned around slowly to find, leaning with his arm on the window frame of the car, his old friend Blackie.
‘Should see your face, Fingers,’ Blackie laughed aloud.
Feeling relieved and slightly shamed at the same time, the skinny man replied with a comment and a question to Blackie.
‘Ya bastard! What the fuck ya doin ’ere?’
‘Hey bud, dat’s Rips, and dis ’ere’s Carlos,’ Blackie said, pointing to both of his travelling companions in turn.
Blackie was always short on introductions. But there wasn’t any need for detailed explanations; the fact that he knew Fingers was good enough.
‘How ya goin there, bud? Woz ya name again? Fingers?’ Rips asked. He shook Fingers vigorously by the hand, offering him a swig from his beer.
Fingers took the beer and took a mouthful greedily. He liked the tone of the big man straight off the bat.
‘Yeah, that’s me name,’ Fingers answered. ‘Gee, you blokes must be desperate travellin round with this bloke!’ he continued, pushing Blackie on the shoulder hard enough that Blackie hit his head against the windshield.
Glad to see his mate again, Blackie laughed. ‘Look out, ya skinny bastard!’
‘Hey! Still with ya woman? How’s me big cousin Dorothy goin these days?’ Blackie asked, turning to look at the expression on Fingers’ face.
Fingers responded immediately. ‘Wozza matter with you, Black? You know I’ll never leave her!’ he said.
Blackie roared with laughter. He laughed so hard he thought he’d piss himself. Blackie hadn’t seen two people more devoted to each other than Fingers and Dot – ‘Joined at the lips, and joined at the hips,’ he joked about them, laughing loudly.
Not knowing any background to Fingers or the woman named Dorothy that Blackie had mentioned, Carlos and Rips stared at Blackie with blank looks upon their faces, wondering what was so funny. Blackie laughed so hard that he felt himself beginning to choke. He coughed and spluttered and swore as he tried to control himself.