by Duff, Alan
‘I thought addicts can’t quit,’ he said.
‘Let me tell you they can,’ said Anita. ‘If they really want to or, in my case, they run out of ways to turn a buck. I can look back on it now and see supposed addiction is like wrongly held assumptions. You are what you believe you are.’
‘Yeah,’ he nodded, impressed. ‘Guess you do.’
But then she ruined it when she pointed at her crotch and said matter-of-factly, ‘No man wants old pussy.’
‘That’s a nice thing to hear after twenty-five years.’ Johno could feel the illusion crumbling — if he’d had one to start with.
‘The world I inhabited is short on niceties,’ she said.
‘So why wouldn’t you move to another world if you’re off the stuff?’
‘Here’s what I know. Nothing else.’
‘So not even a few memories of life before it started?’
She came forward in her armchair and said in a quieter voice, ‘You go to all this trouble to come here and give me a damn lecture?’
‘Hell no,’ Johno said. Had to hold his judgement at bay, too, as his mother lit a cigarette. He’d forbidden Danny to smoke in their apartment.
‘I bloody hope not,’ she said, sucking at the fag. ‘So, why are you here?’
‘If we can go back to those memories,’ Johno said, ‘before you came to Australia?’
‘What’s that got to do with it? I fell down. Stayed down. Kind of got back up. I’ve got no illnesses, my heart feels strong and I can at least remember yesterday. Forty-three years here, seventeen in New Zealand, but what do I remember most and what place do I dream about?’ she said. ‘Back there. Home, even when it was never that. I mean with a happy-happy loving family.’
He wasn’t sure about her cynicism. ‘I’ve got a Kiwi mate stuck back there, too. Like you, he’s lived here longer and yet it still tears him up.’
‘Oh? Would I know this bloke?’ She sounded wholly Aussie.
‘You might. We met in jail. He’s in the wholesale weed game. We’re still mates.’
‘I heard about that, too,’ she said, showing little change of expression. ‘You going to jail. But …’ those bare, pale copper arms went out, ‘I also know you’ve come a long way since then. So I’ll ask again. Why are you here?’
‘Well,’ he started tentatively, and knew why — Danny. ‘Far as I’ve come it’s like I’ve gone backwards.’
‘The business is in trouble? No. You don’t dress like a big-spender. Fact I’m surprised how under-dressed you are, not a bit of bling to be seen.’
‘The flash look never appealed, and my business isn’t in any trouble. The opposite. It’s booming.’ Why the hell did he have to pause to suck in a breath? ‘But my son isn’t.’ Johno got it out in acted deadpan manner. When inside he was roiling. She nodded he should continue.
‘The question I’m here to ask, Anita,’ he said her name rather gently, ‘is what made you what you became? Because my son — your grandson — has a drug problem.’
‘I know about him. Danny.’
Johno smiled, kind of. ‘You got a PI, too?’
‘Sydney town’s just a village. People talk. I’ve followed you over the years.’ Every draw on her cigarette satisfied a need. ‘An ex-con with your kind of success gets talked about more. Your first Danny’s Drawings in Ultimo? You don’t know how many times I stood across the street wanting to come in and just say gidday. What would you have done?’
‘I don’t know,’ Johno said, but he did: she wouldn’t have been welcome.
She said, ‘Might have been like the first time, when you stood there while I walked down your street with your father’s abuse ringing in my ears.’
‘Your relationship with him was none of my business. You left me in his custody. Like I got left my son. I don’t think Danny would be that moved if his mother turned up,’ Johno said. ‘If you want to know, I did hurt for you that day but what could I do? I was a confused fifteen-year-old kid. It was like a bomb went off in my face. You were supposed to be dead. Why did you come that day?’
‘State I was in at the time, I don’t really know,’ she said. ‘Guess I wanted to see you. I was going through a bad period, which I thought I mightn’t survive. Last time you were a baby just starting to walk.’
‘And what were you?’
She gave him that sharp look again, born of decades on mean Cross streets. ‘Guess I’ll have to tell you a bit more, won’t I?
‘My stepfather murdered my two-year-old sister, not in a fit of drunken rage but because he was jealous of the attention the little kid got from my mother. I guess that set the pattern of my life and my siblings.
‘The child-killer dog got life, minimum twenty years’ prison. My old lady got sent round the twist by what happened, guilt at choosing such a man, losing her kid like that. She drank heavily. Her kids ceased to exist, we took care of ourselves. Hardened our little hearts.’
Her mouth tightened, grooves appeared in her cheeks, her eyes glistened with angry tears.
‘Not how you were raised, is it? That bastard old man of yours would’ve loved you and made sure you never went hungry. But he liked a beer on a hot day, as they say. And you …’ She gave him an all-over look.
‘I never let booze become a problem,’ he said. ‘Felt it could have.’
‘The fact you went to the trouble of finding me says you really love your Danny.’ Hearing his son’s name spoken by her sounded strange.
‘Laurie was a good father — if I don’t count the times he was out partying when I needed him there. But I wasn’t, as they say, scarred. Nor is Danny, or not from anything I’ve done. I’ve been a good father and now I’m trying to understand why he’s doing this.’
‘I get that,’ said Anita. ‘Got a girl I worship, too, and she’s not even my daughter. She flats here. She needs me and I’m here for her. She’s out right now doing the business with a john. I don’t allow it here — Hey? Don’t drop your head like that. Every world has its own reality. You were in jail — you should know better than most how cruel life is. And now you’re trying to understand your lost son’s world. Like I said, I do get it, Johno.’
First time she’d said his name.
After Johno explained Danny’s gentle nature, his artistic talent, his different personality, Anita said, ‘Not a type I’ve come across on either side of the Tasman. Guess they wouldn’t survive in our dog-eat-dog world. But if you’ve come to me for advice after all these years then, I’m sorry to tell you, I only gained hardness from my experiences, not wisdom. But I know I allowed what happened to me in childhood to rule me, and I wasted my life. I don’t have any secrets for putting your kid on the straight and narrow.’
‘I was wondering if you had, like, an addictive personality.’ Johno got the awkward question out. ‘And maybe that’s part of Danny’s problem: he’s pre-wired like this. I don’t know.’
‘I had a personality like every child,’ Anita said. ‘I was born addicted to wanting love. But, seeing I didn’t get any, I searched for it in weed, drink and finally hard drugs. How it goes.’
‘Except I’m not letting it go there,’ Johno said and gave his own firm look.
She laughed then, a thin sound from a thin person. ‘Your old man could have given me a bit more understanding. Not saying he’s to blame, but he might’ve been able to lead me out to the light.’
‘Might,’ Johno said.
‘That’s right. I only said “might”. You’ve got a hard side, like he had,’ she said.
‘Not if I’m sitting here.’ At a table barely big enough for two, on old cane chairs, two mattresses on the floor, duvets with no covers, a skylight above, tiniest of kitchens with basic facilities, nothing was hidden except presumably a bathroom somewhere.
Johno thought that a couple of Danny’s paintings would not only liven the place up, they’d fit right in.
‘You think I know people,’ she said.
‘Not as friends. I wouldn’t expect that
. But …’
‘I’ve never got near the main players. You want me to help Danny?’
‘The Maori mate I mentioned, I could go to him. But he won’t take any prisoners.’
‘And you would?’ she asked sceptically. ‘Put it this way. I would hate to be the ones supplying your son and meet face-to-face with you. Or you want me to ask around, see if I can get this boy special — unique — exemption?’ Paused and added, ‘Hah. And pigs will fly.’
‘I know how the world works. Just wanting to stop it working against my son. I want to try to understand an addictive personality, see if there’s any way I can stop Danny falling right off the cliff,’ said Johno.
‘Or throwing himself off,’ said Anita. ‘You see, I think this addictive personality stuff is a cop-out. Nowadays they talk about sex addiction, gambling addicts. It’s all bullshit.’
‘So where does that leave Danny?’
‘You’ll know without me telling you: it has to come from within. Your son — my grandson? Sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it? My own flesh and blood and yet as much my grandson as I’m your mother,’ said Anita with a wry smile. ‘If it is genetic, then he’s inherited my give-up-too-easily mentality. Don’t be giving him excuses, Johno. He’ll seize on them all and still look for more.’
Eventually he said, ‘I have money for you. Should’ve given you some years ago.’
‘To keep me permanently wasted?’ She couldn’t have looked less like a reformed drug addict then. ‘Now that would’ve truly taken me out early. As to money, I don’t need it. I’m in the welfare system. They pay me a sickness benefit. Me, who’s contributed nothing to society.’
He told her of his grandfather and then his father saying the same thing on their deathbeds. ‘Maybe last-minute guilt?’
‘Maybe misplaced guilt you wanting to give me money,’ she said.
But Johno still wasn’t feeling satisfied with this encounter. ‘What if I used some force to keep these people away from my son?’
‘A big tough guy like you, asking me, a former drug addict?’ She was either incredulous or a damn good actress. ‘You want a war?’
‘They started it.’
‘Listen, buster. A whole army of good-intentioned people couldn’t keep someone from getting drugs. If they want it, they’ll find a way. And what if drugs just plain make your son feel better?’
‘Feeding a kid sugary stuff and fat makes him feel better,’ Johno said. ‘Doesn’t mean it’s good for him. Least I can afford to get him doing cold-turkey someplace overseas. No. Hold on a minute …’ He stopped her from responding. ‘When you took drugs, is that what it did — took you out of it, took away the pain?’ Waited till she nodded then said, ‘Danny’s pain was losing his best friend — a homeless guy with severe depression who committed suicide. What I know is, someone took advantage of the situation, of his timid nature. And now he’s hooked or getting close. You at least know how to quit.’ So tell me — tell me how I can save my son from ending up in a place like this.
‘You don’t want Danny to suffer the consequences of his own actions?’ she said. ‘How about me? Would you exempt me from my sordid behaviour, my wretched years of doing anything to get my next fix?’
He said, ‘You’re not young, with artistic potential.’
‘But I am your mother.’
‘I didn’t think they handed out prizes for just the birthing part.’ He wasn’t falling for this. Yet he said, ‘I’d really like to give you some money.’
‘Why?’ she said. ‘When I haven’t given you an answer for Danny?’
‘Guess I feel I owe it.’
‘For just giving birth to you? You said—’
‘Not a prize I want to give. It’s a gesture,’ he said. ‘And the fact that life seems to hand more to some than to others without their deserving it. For better or worse.’ Had never talked like this in his life.
‘Meaning what?’
He drew in breath. ‘That coming here, even the act of finding you, has put something to rest I didn’t know needed it.’
‘If I hadn’t been clean …?’
‘Then I would’ve found a mess of a mother I couldn’t have talked to like this.’
‘Are you glad, then?’
He didn’t answer immediately. Let it reach deeper. ‘I don’t know. How about you?’
‘You look better up close than the person I saw from a distance. I even went into your Balmain bar, charmed the Maori guy you had on the door. Nice place you’ve got. I loved the waterfall. And the way you walk around, chatting with your customers when I can see now it’s not your natural style.’ She smiled then. ‘No. But you’re not so much a thinker as someone who dwells deep.’
He smiled back. ‘Danny’s mentor, a guy called Wilson, calls it the whale that only comes up to breathe at night. Even in a business dealing with the public I’m a private person.’
But Anita shook her head. ‘With so much stuff wanting out.’ A statement not a question.
‘As Danny’s friend, Frederick, said to me once, “I am what I am.”’
‘But he took his own life. You’ve embraced yours. Just it didn’t work out for your son. And maybe …’ she looked briefly at her hands, nibbled-down fingernails Johno hadn’t noticed before. Lit a cigarette, her hands trembling slightly. ‘Maybe it won’t?’ Now that was a question, yet asked in hope.
He told her of his years growing up with only a father. She admitted to having a fling with Shane McNeil’s father. Johno, surprised at how shocked he was, admitted he’d been no angel of fidelity to Evelyn either.
‘Yet now I have the choice of the whole shop, I’m happy with one.’ Told her about Melanie, and how good a singer she was.
So they talked music, and Anita knew her seventies soul. Johno found himself laughing quite a lot more than he’d ever expected to. He even hummed the tune of Blue Mink’s ‘Stay With Me’ and Anita sang lines of the chorus and not too badly either.
‘Danny’s Drawings,’ she said. ‘I love the name. And how appropriate. All right, his art’s too way-out for me. But I stared at his work and thought, I’m his grandmother?’ Her laugh had emotion in it, trust too. ‘If I hadn’t been so scared of attracting your attention I would’ve cried on the spot. At what I missed out on, with you and my grandson.’
‘Who you’re saying might not beat this problem?’ Johno stood up, ready to leave.
His mother stood up too. ‘It’s funny, when I was hooked I used to think life was a movie and I was in it. Not starring, but at least a bit-player. When I got out the other side I saw how pathetic that was.’
‘Danny doesn’t even watch movies.’
‘Pleased to hear that. ’Cause self-delusion is a harder bridge to cross.’
‘Anita? Why have you told me all this but with no suggestions, no solution?’ He really wanted to know.
‘Got a feeling we won’t see each again,’ she said. ‘And I could never have had an answer. We are what we are, like it or not.’
He nodded. ‘We might cross paths again.’
‘No. Twice in forty years says not likely. But it was nice seeing you. Sorry it had to be in these circumstances.’
Both standing there, awkward, back to being strangers, nodding stiff goodbyes.
Chapter thirty-six
For over two hours he sat in the car, watching Danny’s apartment building. He saw Wilson arrive and, over an hour later, come out. No sign of shady characters likely to be Danny’s suppliers. In a way Johno was glad — this shit was killing him. He’d have no control.
He no longer enjoyed his job; it seemed pointless now. He should sell everything and be done with it. Go and visit European cities with Danny and Mel. Trick or drag Danny onto the plane if he had to, promise to buy him cocaine while they were overseas, break his word in the name of the higher good. Danny’s good.
Parked where he was, he copped Wilson both ways on his side of the pavement. He got out.
‘Well, I wondered if that was you.’ Wilson
beat him to the draw.
‘Knew I should’ve worn a disguise. Want a chat?’
‘Yes.’ Wilson got into the car. Johno knew he’d look away more than make eye contact, which suited Johno just fine.
The feeling of guilt wasn’t helped when Wilson said, ‘You should go and spend time with him.’
‘Nothing I want more.’
‘He’s perfectly normal. It’s just that his head is in yet another space. Chemically assisted, yes, but he won’t bite you.’ Wilson spoke to Johno and not the windscreen as he usually did.
‘Not his bite I’m worried about.’
‘Come on, Johno. You’d never lay a hand on him.’
‘I might if I found him taking drugs.’
‘You mean defiantly? As in against your fatherly authority?’
‘Give me a break,’ snapped Johno. ‘Our relationship was never like that, never. But nor was I a pushover, letting him do whatever he wanted.’
‘My apologies,’ Wilson said to the street. ‘I was just trying to find your level. Ask me how his art is.’
‘I’m listening.’
‘Wild,’ Wilson said and turned to Johno. ‘Not undisciplined wild. Just set free wild. Some of the major artists have been hooked on drugs.’
‘He hasn’t earned his place at the majors’ table.’ Johno was firm.
‘Well, something has set the bird free,’ Wilson said. ‘I’m not advocating for or against, since we’re talking drugs. Might be heightened emotions at losing his friend Frederick — I don’t know. What I do know is, he’s producing art that can hold its own against all but the very best.’
‘What does that mean? I thought he was already in that league?’
‘You didn’t hear that from me. I’ve always said that he’s a work in progress. Now I’m saying much progress has been made. But he’s not quite there yet. Great that he’s not so self-conscious — he’s stopped trying and just lets it happen.’