Dancing Home

by Paul Collis

  He knew that the storm was a sign of bad things to come.

  That the wind was his warning for him to blow out of town.

  That the apparition in the graveyard yesterday afternoon, and the floating woman in the park, were warning him of the dangers he had brought to Dot and to her family.

  That the men fighting in the park had warned him of the fight he now found himself in.

  But did he listen to the wind?

  No!

  Did he understand the storm?

  No!

  Did he read the signs?

  No! No, No, No fucken NO!

  ‘Some fucken blackfulla I am!’

  Feeling that his fate was cast like that of Macbeth, he decided that, like Macbeth, he’d take whatever came his way, best he could. Now came time for him to pay the price for every bloody thing he’d done.

  If only he hadn’t been so bloody busy being a big man – looking for drugs, wanting to drink, looking for fights, maybe these things would not have happened. Oh, why hadn’t he taken more notice of the ghost in the cemetery? He didn’t heed the warnings. He cursed himself for being so blind to that other world. He understood now what a shitty situation he’d brought down upon his relations and friends.

  And he knew he had to fix it. He remembered the wind pushing him forwards and backwards and to the west in the cemetery. Finally, he understood. Well, he thought he did anyway.

  Poor Blackie! One of his great gifts was that he was calm in a crisis. He was the sort of person that could automatically take charge at an accident scene. He wouldn’t let fear hold him back. He was the kind of person others would look towards for advice and protection in such times as that. Blackie took command and controlled the pace of things, while giving himself time to consider.

  ‘Fuck it. I’ll be cool. Just gotta be calm,’ he whispered. Thinking and hoping, Blackie tried to clear his mind. He was hoping to get this mess cleaned up as quickly as possible. And he was thinking of how to resolve it. He stirred the cup of hot tea and passed it to Dot. Silvia collected the twins, and took them into the kitchen for comfort food, and away from the grown-ups, while the grown-ups did their grown-up things.

  ‘Now … tell me again what happened. What’d the dogs say?’ Blackie asked.

  The pretty Tegan had her hair tied up in a black ribbon that hung down the middle of her back. She sat quietly with Rips, listening.

  Dot’s furrowed brow began to soften now that Blackie was back and giving her a hand. ‘It’s alright Blackie. Not your fault. These bastard cops always on our back here. They came about, oh … a good hour ago I s’pose … It’s a wonder you didn’t pass them on your way downtown. They got here soon after you left,’ Dot said.

  Blackie looked at Rips. Rips looked at Tegan and Tegan grabbed Rips’ arm.

  ‘Yeah. We passed ’em alright, ay Rips?’ Blackie said.

  Rips nodded.

  ‘That bastard! Hunter McWilliams was the big shot, Black. Said something about another bloke. Carl or Carly, somefin like that? Know anything bout him?’ Dot asked.

  She obviously wanted Blackie or Rips to shed some light on the reason the police were after them, and as to why they’d taken her old man.

  ‘McWilliams, hey?’ Blackie asked.

  A plan was beginning to take shape in his mind.

  ‘Fucken Carlos!’ Rips swore.

  Blackie gave the shaky Dot a little hug of reassurance and said, ‘It’ll be right, cuz. I’ll git him out. No worries.’

  Despite the madness of the situation they found themselves in, Dot believed that somehow Blackie could do it. Even when he bullshitted her, it made her feel better. He just had that way about him that brought her both heartache and comfort. But she could always count on her cousin to be there when the chips were down, and when danger loomed in every place, Blackie’d be there to do what he could to help. Like how he turned up with cash from out of the blue and paid in full for her dad’s funeral. Like the many times he’d be on hand when push came to shove and her boys were being bullied by cops or other thugs. Blackie’d jest smile and say, ‘She’ll be right cuz. I take care of it.’ And despite the odds, Blackie’d mostly come up trumps and set the problems to rights. Dot had tears in her eyes knowing that the cost of all these dramas was mostly borne by Blackie. And now what? What would this cost him? she thought.

  ‘’Ere, Rips. Help me up brother. Take me to the toilet mate,’ Blackie said.

  Rips took Blackie’s arm and Dot watched as Blackie gingerly walked across the lonely floor, into the hallway. She knew that there was something very wrong with him and it frightened her to her bones. She knew that she couldn’t fix him up this time. Dot thought how bad luck and misery seemed to follow Blackie everywhere he went. So she told herself that she’d march straight down to that station, kids at her side, and free her man!

  ‘You coppers ain’t seen nothin yet!’ she whispered.

  In the bathroom, sweat was pouring out of both black men. Rips’ eyes were big like fifty-cent pieces and the frown on his face told Blackie that his big mate was wild with worry.

  ‘That fucken arsehole, Carlos!’ Rips cursed. ‘I, I, I’ll fucken smash ’im w, w, when I see ’im!’ he promised. ‘I’ll kill that bastard!’

  ‘Yeah. Drive that little cunt when ya see him for me, brother,’ Blackie said.

  Blackie sat on the toilet seat as Rips positioned himself beside him on the edge of the bathtub. They figured that Carlos had been out showing off, driving black women around town, looking for what he’d fantasised about the night before, an easy fuck, and got pulled over by cops. Carlos would have given up Blackie and Rips faster than a snake bite. Rips and Blackie knew only too well what a weak-arse bastard Carlos was. Blackie grabbed for the towel and wiped his face dry, then handed it to Rips who did the same.

  ‘Wa, wa, whatcha gonna do, Black? I ain’t far, far, fucken goin back ta gaol, man!’ Rips stuttered. Rips’ voice showed the strain of worry and despair of a gaol proposition. Blackie knew another round in the clink would kill his old brother.

  ‘Don’t worry bra. I know that McWilliams. It’ll be right. You should piss off ’fore they come back, bud. Take Tegan with ya. They’ll probably ’ave her name now, too. Git away from ’ere. Say g’day to ya mum for me, ay? Tell her I’ll see her again soon, no worries bud,’ Blackie said, without much confidence.

  Rips asked, ‘Whatcha gonna do Black?’

  ‘Well, first of all, um gonna have another crack at dat Force ya got in ya pocket there, bra,’ Blackie said, smiling.

  Rips smiled back: he wanted more of the powerful speed too. Blackie knew well how the speed brought him comfort. It took him far away from the troubles of this world and into another one, where all things were possible and everything free and easy. It’s a junkie’s way, that way. A real highway to hell. Although both men were revved up from the drug they’d taken before, they dug in again. Blackie swore about the taste and almost vomited again. Rips laughed at him.

  ‘’Ere Black. You take dis. I’ll git some more on da way out,’ Rips declared as he passed the remains of the bag of speed to Blackie.

  Rips then drew from his pocket crisp, clean-smelling bank notes, tied up in a red rubber band. He withdrew from the bundle and kept just one hundred dollars, and then thrust the rest into Blackie’s palm.

  ‘What’s this, big fulla?’ Blackie asked, surprised.

  Blackie attempted to give the money back, but Rips would hear none of it.

  ‘Eight ’undred dere cuz. You keep it, man. I still got eight thousand in da bank. Old Rips, right.’

  As Blackie started to protest the gift, Rips waved his arm, blocking him before he had a chance to say anything about the money.

  Blackie understood the gesture and just said, ‘Okay. Ta, bud.’

  They both washed and dried their faces, and shared their moment befo
re returning to the lounge room. The pain had begun to return to Blackie’s stomach and it made him double up as he walked. The twins had settled down and were once again sitting either side of their mother, staring at Blackie with big eyes. Understanding that their bravery was covering their fear brought deep pain to Blackie. He knew that no child should have to be traumatised by witnessing their father being snatched from them – especially on their birthday. The fact that this house had been turned upside down, and he was to blame, made him wild with himself. His anger gave him strength and his mind ruled over the physical pain he’d been feeling. The ‘steel’ in him let him know that given the chance, he’d be able to make a stand and take on anyone, there and then. He knew that ‘true’ strength found its life in love, and everything else was bullshit. And he loved this family as he did no other. Blackie decided that he’d do something to lighten the load they were all carrying.

  ‘Hey cuz?’ he said to Dot. ‘Reckon it’d be alright ta give these two big fullas their birthday present?’ he said, with a smile. The boys sat straighter and smiles replaced their frowns.

  ‘Yeah, course ya can!’ Dot said happily.

  Everyone gathered around and waited patiently as the twins took no time at all at tearing the paper wrapping clear to discover their gifts.

  ‘AHHH! Unca Black,’ said Vincent excitedly. ‘Is we real abba, abba, diginezes now?’

  He held the boomerang tight in his grasp and struck a pose as if to let it rip. Ralph followed suit and the room erupted in laughter at the boys’ attempt.

  ‘You sure are, brother! You a real “Abadiginee” now, alright. You always a real one, big fulla,’ Blackie assured.

  ‘And you’re what?’ Dot asked with a smile.

  ‘We’re black and deadly! Yay!’ the twins yelled.

  ‘Don’t you fullas chuck them in this house!’ she roused, just as Ralph was about to try to take his brother’s head off with a throw.

  ‘Well, can we go outside and play then, Mum?’ Vincent asked.

  ‘What! You bloody mad or somethin? No! Ya bloody can’t go outside! Ya wanna git blown away, hey? You’ll end up in Timbuktu or somewhere!’ Dot argued.

  The blue gum tree in front of a neighbour, two doors down from Dot’s place, had fallen and crushed a car on the street. The SES workers tussled with the wind and rain to cut the long branches and free the vehicle. The chainsaw was just audible above the wind.

  Vincent had something else to say on the matter too, but Dot was ready for him and shut him down before he could get the words out.

  ‘And before you say anything, Vince – the answer is still no!’

  Vince blinked and his argument froze in his throat. He looked at his two older brothers, who giggled, and then he launched himself at them full tilt with a playful roar. The boys wrestled and tumbled onto the floor and fell on Dot’s feet, squashing her sore toes.

  ‘Git away you boys! I’ll git up for you in a minute! Take ’em in the room there, you big boys!’ she yelled.

  When they reached the hallway, without speaking, the twins jointly spun on their heels, and flew back and wrapped their arms around Blackie’s waist.

  ‘Thanks Unca Blackie!’ they said together, and then they were gone again.

  Not being used to being around young children, the tender moment took Blackie by complete surprise and left him feeling happy and sad at the same time.

  ‘Hey, look Dot,’ Blackie said then. ‘Coppers will prob’ly be back, so these fullas gonna git goin,’ he said, referring to Tegan and Rips.

  ‘Yeah, that’s a good idea. You know what they’re like alright,’ Dot said. Rips and Tegan kept their goodbyes to a minimum. Tegan cried. ‘See ya Aunty Dot,’ she said. Dot kissed her cheek and said, ‘You watch yaself, girl.’

  Dot gave Rips a stern look and warned, ‘You look after this girl, boy!’ Rips looked down and nodded his head. The moment was a sad one for all as they faced their goodbye. Rips looked up and turned to Blackie and quietly said, ‘Stay strong, bra! See ya.’ He then turned and disappeared like a phantom out into the wind and the rain.

  Chapter 14

  Give Up, Give In

  Blackie felt sorry seeing his big mate leave, but he knew it was the best thing in order to keep Rips safe … Silvia returned from a bedroom where she’d been nursing her Jimmy and sat holding Dot’s hand.

  Blackie finally broke the silence by saying, ‘I know that McWilliams, he’s from Bourke. He’s me mate. I’ll go down there and talk to him. I’ll see if these whitefullas are fair dinkum bout this reconciliation shit! I’ll give meself up! And den let’s see if they’ll let Fingers go. It’s me dey want anyway, so, she’ll be right.’

  Dot said, ‘That’s not what reconciliation’s all about Blackie. You can’t do that!’

  ‘Well, when dey all marched across the bridge down there in Sydney, I wuz on me way up ta see what the fuss wuz bout. They had “S-O-R-R-Y” written in the sky and ebreyding. Ya know what the bastards did ta me? Two pigs strip-searched me in the toilet in the park – jest cause I’m a blackfulla – jest cause dey could! Pulled a fucken gun on me and ebreyding, they did! I got nothin from reconciliation. Fuck ’em! They owe!’ Blackie said.

  Dot worried about what Blackie might do next. She sat quiet. But she could not think of a thing to do. She began to cry and her boys cried too.

  ‘Fuck this,’ Blackie said, standing and struggling with his sore stomach.

  He reached Dot and put his arm on her shoulder.

  ‘She’ll be right cuz,’ he said. ‘Here, you take this,’ he said smiling, placing a fistful of the dollars that Rips had given him onto her lap. ‘It’s not much, but it might help ya a bit.’

  Dot looked at Blackie, trying to thank him, but just nodded her head.

  ‘Won’t need it where um going, cuz,’ Blackie assured.

  Wiping her eyes with a stiff hanky, Dot complained, ‘I can’t let ya do that Blackie!’

  ‘She be right … I gotta dry out anyway. The rest’ll do me good. She’ll be right, Dot. No worries,’ he answered.

  The speed he’d swallowed was beginning to do its work. Grinding his teeth, sweat dripping down his neck, the shirt Fingers had lent him sticking to his back. He wiped his brow with the shirt sleeve and reached for his cold tea, took a swig and regretted doing so as it had turned bitter.

  ‘Who’s got a phone?’ he asked. ‘I’ll git a cab down to the station.’

  ‘I’ll give ya a lift,’ Silvia offered, a little too quickly.

  She glanced towards Dot for some kind of approval. Dot nodded at her and reached to take little Jimmy.

  ‘Okay. Ta,’ Blackie said.

  Blackie shook hands with the elder boys and wiped tears from his eyes as Dot cried at the door as she waved goodbye. She felt much pride in the fact that Blackie was so proud to be black. Proud too, that he would never give up, nor give in. She heard the car doors slam shut, and ached as she watched them drive out of the driveway and onto where Blackie’s past and destiny would soon collide.

  Silvia pulled the car to the side of the kerb a few feet from the police station. She looked at Blackie, and Blackie returned the gaze, both unsure what to do next.

  He was sweating from the speed and sweating from what was coming next. He reached into his shirt pocket and drew from it the remainder of the cash. ‘Here,’ he said and placed the lot in Silvia’s hand.

  She sat shocked from his generosity. Before she said anything Blackie continued, ‘See, sometimes dreams do come true. Wish I could do more for ya. Dunno if it’s enough, but it might help ya ta git outa this “rat-hole” town as you call it … I think Dubbo’s a poxy place too!’

  Silvia pressed into his arms and kissed him. The kiss was so sweet. Blackie eased away from her gently and said, ‘Wish I had more time, but I gotta go.’ He took a deep breath and took in all her smell. He liked it a lot. But tha
t was his problem. If he allowed it, he’d probably end up liking her too much and he hated commitments that he would not keep and so, without another word spoken between them, he opened the door and left her there alone in the car.

  ‘Hey, Blackie … Don’t go yet,’ Silvia called.

  She opened the window and Blackie leant on the frame.

  ‘Don’t worry bout it,’ he said. ‘Tell ya what. How bout ya write ta me, ay? I like letters. I’m gonna be locked up for a while by the looks-a it. Dot’s got me MIN number. Probably send me ta Silverwater for assessment first. Dunno where afta that though. Dot’ll know, so jest ask her.’

  Silvia said, ‘Take care Black. Take care …’ and then cried.

  ‘I’ll be right. Look after that little fulla. Look after yaself too. See ya,’ Blackie replied, and then turned to walk up the steps to the police station front door.

  Walking hunched over with his head tucked onto the shoulder as he braced against the beautiful storm. At the doorway, he propped and turned and waved to her and watched as she drove away.

  He suddenly felt very old. He stuck his tongue out to taste the rain.

  ‘See ya Dubbo. See ya Mum. See ya Nan. See ya all later,’ he spoke to the sky.

  Chapter 15

  Police Negotiation Ain’t Negotiation at All

  The cop-shop was the same as all the rest he’d been through. Efficient was the word he’d used to describe them. Everything bolted down and made of steel. Blackie assumed it was so blackfullas like himself couldn’t steal any of it. As if he’d want to, he mused. Missing people, illegal weapons and other similar posters adorned the dreary walls painted in cream and grey, warning the public of one thing or another. He was breathing hard when he straightened himself up, and made his way to the counter. On the other side, a young constable sat with head down, staring seriously at a computer screen. The sound of a distant dispatch being radioed to someone somewhere broke the silence. The reception area and the office were empty save for Blackie and the copper, and the whole scene had an air of loneliness about it. Blackie hoped he wouldn’t live to regret what he was about to do. He smiled a cynical smile and prayed, ‘Lord, please make me thankful for that which I am about to receive.’