Living on Hope Street

by Demet Divaroren

  ‘You should have bought the meat pie.’ I swallowed the last bit of the lolly.

  ‘I only found a two-dollar coin. Wouldn’t buy it even if I had enough. Pie tastes like snot.’

  I slapped his arm and opened the green lunchbox the nice woman from the Salvation Army had brought me. She gave Umama pots too. I took out the corn bread Umama made. It was sticky because of the honey.

  ‘See that one over there with the pie?’ Sicelo said, tapping my arm. ‘He is in my basketball team. He can’t run straight because he can’t see his feet past his big stomach.’

  ‘Shh!’

  ‘Too much pie. And not just him. Look at those three with the doughnuts.’

  ‘What if they hear?’

  ‘Coach says I have good hands. I can be playing big league some day. But I’m not sure.’

  ‘But why? You love sport.’

  ‘I think I want to be a policeman. I want to protect people—’

  ‘Hey, Goo-goo,’ Sean with the wolf mouth said, moving his hands from side to side. He was walking with his friends and slowed down when he saw me. ‘Goo-goo the refugee.’

  His friends laughed.

  My heart beat fast like a bird. I put my head up. I didn’t care about what they said. Mean words were for weak people.

  Sicelo jumped up like a cat and the boys stopped laughing.

  ‘Sic, no!’ I whispered. What if he got hurt?

  ‘Say it again,’ he said, chasing them. ‘Say it!’ Sicelo was taller and they ran away before he got close.

  The boys yelled refugee like it was something dirty.

  ‘Don’t listen to them.’ Sicelo sat back down and picked up the crumbs at the bottom of the chip bag with his finger. ‘Stupid, all of them.’

  My fingers were shaking and I put the corn bread away. Sam was watching and before I could smile, he put his head down again.

  I kept my head up like Ubaba said. The meanness of others was their shame. Their words hurt but my heart hurt more. That is where Ugogo lived now.

  After the fire took Ugogo and our home, we ran down the dark street and Ubaba’s friend put us in a car full of chickens and corn. I told Ubaba I wished we could hide in the trunk of a baobab tree forever. He had smiled and kissed my head. ‘Life is not for hiding, beloved, it is for living,’ he said, and cried for Ugogo. When he hugged me to his chest, his heart was like a drum. ‘They have burned our past, Gugu, but they will never burn our future.’

  But the future looked like a long dark road.

  Sean called the African girl a refugee. Her brother was tall and made Sean and his friends run away. She was brave coz she didn’t put her head down when Sean was being mean.

  When Kane brought me home after school he went to the shops to buy food. I hoped he buyed baked beans with sausages coz it was yummier than the one with just tomato sauce.

  I sat on the grass on the street outside our house to wait for him. Ahmed was washing his car. It was blue and silver and had soap bubbles on top. He lived in the house with lots of cars and Kane called it cool coz they always fixed broken things. Ahmed had two brothers and lots of tattoos. Once he let me touch the tiger on his shoulder. It was orange and didn’t look mean like he said it did. Kane said he wanted one too; a green snake around his neck and Ahmed laughed and said, ‘Bro, that’ll look like shit, for real, just picture it. You gotta be careful what you choose coz it becomes a part of you. Tatts are art.’

  Ahmed waved to me. ‘How are ya, little bro?’

  I waved back.

  ‘Wanna help me wash my car?’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Yeah, bro, who else?’

  ‘I never washed a car before …’ I was scared coz what if I did something bad to the car and he got mad? Then Mum would have to pay money.

  ‘I’ll teach you. You worry too much, bro. Yalla, come.’

  He gave me the sponge and it was squishy. He taught me how to wash the car properly so I didn’t leave streaks. I made circles the way he showed me and the bubbles looked like icing on the window. Water dripped down my arms and got my top wet.

  Ahmed laughed. ‘Bro, if you keep doin’ it like that you’re gonna be drenched. Keep your arm out and don’t get too close to the window.’

  He put the radio on and sang and danced. ‘Like my microphone?’

  ‘Yeah.’ I giggled coz now he was getting wet and I pointed to his necklace. ‘What’s that?’

  He looked down and his chin got squashed. ‘This?’ He touched it.

  ‘Yeah.’ It was nice, silver and black and had a round thing dangling on it.

  ‘It’s a Muslim prayer. Was my dad’s. Mum gave it to me after he died. It’s for protection.’ He pointed to the cross tattoo on his hand. ‘Mum’s Catholic so I got two religions.’

  He smiled and I smiled back. I wished I had a protection necklace too.

  Mr Bailey was outside his house and Sunshine ran to me.

  ‘Khara,’ said Ahmed, throwing the sponge.

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘It means shit, bro.’

  ‘You don’t like Sunshine?’ I said, picking him up. ‘I can take him away—’

  ‘Not the dog, the owner.’

  ‘Oh.’ Mr Bailey was hanging something in his front yard.

  ‘Mr Bailey, is it Australia Day, bro?’ He didn’t answer and it made Ahmed more mad. ‘Huh? One flag’s not enough?’

  On Australia Day we made flags at school but they weren’t big like Mr Bailey’s. Miss Bree said it was the day Australia was made but Mel said that her parents called it Invasion Day coz of the white people taking land away from Aboriginal people.

  ‘It’s Australia Day every day,’ Mr Bailey said and went inside, closing the door very hard. A pot plant fell and made Sunshine bark.

  Ahmed’s eyes got watery like Mum’s did and he picked up the sponge but it was dirty. ‘Yeah? Well, least I’m not a racist bogan …’

  I didn’t know what that meant but I knew something bad had happened again. ‘Um … I …’

  ‘Sorry, little bro, the guy’s a dickhead. Didn’t mean to scare you.’

  He cleaned the sponge and I said bye and walked with Sunshine down the street.

  The African girl from school sat on the grass in her garden. I asked Kane where Africa was and he said far away where lots of bad shit happened. I looked down but Sunshine jumped out of my hands and went to her. He ran on the stones in her lap. He licked her hands and made her laugh. I wanted to laugh too but was scared coz what if she didn’t like me like the kids at school?

  ‘Hello,’ she said. It sounded happy. I wondered what kind of bad shit happened in Africa and if she saw any.

  ‘What’s your dog’s name?’ she said.

  ‘He’s Mr Bailey’s dog.’ I pointed to his house.

  She took out the red hankie from her pocket and came to the fence. ‘Thank you. I washed it with water but Mum can wash it properly if you want.’

  I shook my head. ‘You keep it.’

  Her smile was shiny.

  ‘Want to play?’ She picked up a stone from the ground.

  ‘With me?’ At school everyone played far away from me even when I didn’t have accidents. Butterflies tickled my stomach.

  ‘Come.’ She held my hand and took me to where she was sitting. Sunshine sat next to her. ‘Wait here.’ She ran into her house. It had a cream door and nice blue curtains.

  She came back with a big silver bowl with marbles in it. They were blue and green and yellow. She sat on her knees and pointed to the ground. ‘Sit, please, please.’

  I did and she put the bowl in the middle.

  ‘This game’s called kudoda. Watch.’ She threw a stone high up and quickly picked up four marbles from the bowl and caught the stone she chucked in the air.

  ‘Your turn. Throw this.’ She gave me the stone. ‘And get as much as you can from here.’ She touched the bowl. ‘And catch the stone before it touches the ground.’

  ‘Okay.’ This game looked easy but when I threw the ston
e it went sideways and she laughed.

  ‘Try again.’

  I tried again and the stone went up straight and I picked up two marbles before the stone came down. One marble was blue, the other one was green and they made a scraping noise in my hand so I put them on the grass coz I didn’t want to wreck them.

  She clapped and Sunshine’s ears went pointy and he ran away down the street. She covered her mouth with her hand. Her hair was pretty with red beads in it.

  ‘He’ll come back.’ I gave her the stone. ‘Your turn.’

  She won the game with fifteen marbles and I only got five.

  ‘They are yours,’ she said when I tried to give them back.

  ‘For real?!’

  She smiled and nodded. ‘My name is Gugu.’

  ‘I’m Sam.’ I got up to leave and grass was stuck on my jeans and dirt was in my nails but I didn’t care. ‘Thank you.’ I put the marbles in my pocket. It was nearly dinnertime and nice smells were coming from Gugu’s house. Kane would be home soon and I didn’t want Mum to worry.

  ‘Bye, Sam.’

  I waved back and walked home. The marbles made a clicking noise in my pocket.

  The fish heads lay on the large silver tray in a sea of orange sauce. They looked battered, their mouths wide enough to fit two of Mr Bailey’s fingers. This was barbaric, he thought; the skin was flaking, the jawbones were jutting out around the mouth! The refugees had it all wrong. Where were the succulent bodies with all the flesh? How could they eat heads that looked paralysed by fear, their features shocked by death? Mr Bailey saw expressions like this in the jungles of Vietnam. It was enough to make his stomach churn! It wasn’t as if he was closed-minded; he’d eaten some crazy things in his time – like raw fish in the Japanese sushi – but this was something else.

  ‘Hope you’re getting ready, dear, Katie and the kids will be over soon.’

  Mrs Bailey’s voice travelled from the kitchen just as the refugee man sucked a fish eyeball into his mouth! Barbarism, there was no other word for it. If they were capable of eating eyeballs, God only knew what else they were capable of. Mr Bailey put his binoculars away and sat back down in the dining chair he’d positioned in front of the laundry window. The refugees were still as foreign to him as the day they moved in. He was yet to find anything concrete to incriminate them but he knew it was only a matter of time and careful observation. He got up slowly to avoid jarring his back. Years had melted his muscles till all he had left were stiff bones and skin that exposed his insides for all to see. Sixty-nine years had reduced him to a dry cracker!

  Mr Bailey walked to his bedroom and changed into cream pants with an elastic waist that hugged his thin hips. Belts and buttons were too tricky for his hands. He combed his hair to the side with water the way the grandkids loved it. They messed it up, made a game of it. He was proud that he still had so much hair when every second lad was bald these days. Not Aaron though. His son-in-law’s head was covered with a mop of thick black hair that made his daughter’s blonde shine like moonlight. But he was over all of that. He followed the smell of rosemary down the hall and found Sunshine at Mrs Bailey’s heels in the kitchen.

  ‘There you are, dear,’ she said.

  ‘Judy, the refugees have lost the plot! You wouldn’t believe what I just saw them eat. My stomach’s messed up because of it! Fish heads, love. And they sucked the eyeballs like they were jelly!’

  ‘Oh, sounds awful.’

  He closed his eyes, swallowed the queasiness rising up his throat. The fish heads’ mangled features were imprinted in his mind. He rubbed his eyes to chase them away when all of a sudden he was caught in a mudslide in the Vietnamese jungle, and it wasn’t fish heads but his mate Jack’s dead face bobbing along with him.

  ‘Are you okay, dear?’ An arm on his, Judy’s voice reeling him in.

  Mr Bailey pried his eyes open. He clutched his heart, his breathing shallow as if he’d been running. ‘Yeah, yeah. Alright, love.’

  ‘Do you have pain in your chest? Come and sit down.’

  ‘I’m as fit as a fiddle!’ he said, slapping her behind. No point worrying his sweetheart with the past.

  She shooed his hand away, laughing.

  Sunshine barked, his eyes glazed, his head bent at an awkward angle as he eyed the roast lamb on the table.

  ‘Not just yet, Sunshine,’ said Mr Bailey with a wink. ‘Lucky Aaron’s not one of those vegetarian Indians, hey, otherwise there’d be no lamb for you tonight.’

  Mrs Bailey giggled. ‘Behave, dear. No stirring the pot tonight.’

  ‘I’m a grown man, love.’

  As soon as Mrs Bailey turned to the sink, he ripped off a small piece of lamb and threw it to Sunshine.

  ‘Not too much or it’ll make him sick,’ she said, without turning around.

  Mr Bailey threw his hands up in the air. ‘How does she do it, Sunshine?’ he said, kissing his wife’s cheek. ‘There’s no hiding anything from you.’ He rubbed up against her backside and nibbled on her neck. ‘There never was.’

  Mrs Bailey leaned her neck towards him and laughed when he made sucking noises. ‘Stop, the kids will be here any minute.’

  He leaned in more.

  She hugged his arms around her waist. He was the luckiest bloke in the world to be loved by her. ‘My beautiful Judy …’

  She sighed. ‘Not anymore, dear. There’s enough wrinkles on me to rival a prune.’

  ‘What rubbish!’ He swayed from side to side in a slow dance he knew she loved. ‘You’re still the girl I fell for fifty-one years ago.’

  The doorbell rang, making Sunshine bark and disappear into the laundry.

  ‘That’s them,’ said Mrs Bailey, fixing his shirt. ‘Now, remember, no stirring—’

  ‘Go, go.’ He waved her off with a tea towel and got busy wiping the bench top. It was wet and he’d told his wife a hundred times that the surface bubbled if water got in. Soon the whole house would begin to rot! Mr Bailey wrung the cloth until water trickled like the sweat down his neck. He went through a list of topics that wouldn’t stir anything more than friendly conversation at the dinner table. Sport, the grandkids, work.

  ‘Grandpa!’ Anita and Daniel were in his arms like a couple of golden puppies.

  ‘Kids!’ he said, ruffling their hair. ‘Missed you both! Give your grandpa a kiss!’ He bent down an inch until they reached up on their tiptoes to peck his cheeks. They had changed since he had seen them last. Anita’s skin looked darker than Daniel’s and he wondered if she’d been under the sun.

  ‘Hi, Dad,’ said Katie, sandwiching Anita and Daniel to give him a hug.

  ‘Bear hug, Mummy!’ they said, giggling hysterically and tickling Mr Bailey’s stomach.

  ‘Guys, gentle or you’ll hurt Grandpa.’

  ‘Who, me? I’m made of stone!’ He had an urge to lift them with one hand each, the way he used to pick up Katie when she was a kid, but the stitch in his back punctured his bravado.

  ‘You look well, Gary,’ Aaron said, shaking his hand.

  ‘Good to see you.’ Aaron’s palm was rough and Mr Bailey had always found it odd that a banker had a tradie’s hands. ‘Is it a condition?’ he asked Katie once and she told him it was genetics with a look that made him shrink. He wondered if Anita and Daniel had inherited Aaron’s hands. He would make it a point to look.

  They sat around the table and Sunshine was the only one missing. It took him a while to get used to the kids, who always played rough. Mrs Bailey served the lamb, and the congealed fat reminded him of the fish eyeballs. ‘Only the cooked bits, love, the sight of the fat turns my stomach.’ He cringed as she gave him a thin slice from the middle.

  ‘Are you unwell, Dad?’

  ‘Nah, love, I’m fit as a fiddle! I’ve just seen something awful, that’s all. Next door,’ he said in a whisper, pointing behind him, ‘sucking gooey eyeballs out of fish heads!’

  ‘Eeew,’ the kids yelled, making a fuss of the salad, Anita only eating the cucumbers and Daniel picking out
the onions.

  Katie shook her head, suppressing a smile. ‘New neighbours, Dad?’

  ‘Yeah, love. Real quiet and really b—’ … black, he was about to say, when Judy coughed. ‘And anyway,’ he rushed on, ‘Angie’s house makes enough noise for the whole neighbourhood when her bloke gets going!’

  Katie went white and Mrs Bailey pursed her lips in a way that made Mr Bailey want to kick himself. What an idiot to bring that up in front of Katie!

  ‘Is he still hurting Angie and the kids?’ she said, and quickly looked at her children who were making animal shapes with their lamb.

  ‘Ah, no, he … he hasn’t been around since the police took him two nights ago …’ Mr Bailey stammered. ‘It’s okay, love—’

  ‘It is not okay, Dad,’ she said. ‘Instead of spying on the neighbours—’

  ‘Spying! Who said anything about spying?’ said Mr Bailey, eyeing Aaron who was listening intently.

  Katie gave Mr Bailey a look that curdled the food in his stomach. ‘I like to know the goings-on in my neighbourhood, to keep it safe,’ he mumbled.

  ‘And yet you do nothing to help her and the boys,’ she said.

  ‘Which boys?’ said Anita and Daniel, dangling the lamb between their fingers.

  ‘Oh my goodness, is that any way to treat food?’ said Katie, forcing a smile.

  Mr Bailey was at a loss for words. He did everything to protect his family from harm and he figured that if the police couldn’t help Angie, what could he do? It wasn’t his responsibility. And suppose he intervened like Katie had tried to once – and it took all his strength to stop her – suppose the crazed man came after Katie or his Judy? What then? No, it wasn’t any of his concern, but a matter for police.

  ‘Aaron, how’s work treating you?’ said Mr Bailey, shaking off Katie’s words with a safe topic.

  ‘Good, Gary. Looking after small businesses now.’ Aaron spoke Australian despite his parents having thick accents.

  ‘A promotion?’