Coming Home to Roost

by Mary-anne Scott

  ‘Yeah, yeah.’

  The two boys slid into the back seat with Deeks and Ratty hopped in the front passenger side. ‘Keep his arm up,’ Elliot said as he sat in the driver’s seat. He couldn’t remember if it should be arm up or arm down but he figured arm up looked more dramatic.

  Ratty was nodding his head to some mysterious beat that no one else could hear. Elliot wondered if he’d been into something like garden fertiliser or weed spray from the garage.

  ‘Hurry, Roothsta. I’m losing blood,’ Deeks said in a weakening voice. Elliot doubted that he was, but he didn’t like to take any chances.

  ‘On my way, mate.’

  After Hours was lit up like a Four Square and the receptionist at the front desk seemed pissed off to see the five boys troop in. ‘We really prefer just one support person,’ she said. She glared at them as she came around from her desk to whip the towel off Deeks’ arm. ‘What’ve we got here?’

  The towel was bright red and Deeks swayed on his feet. The woman shook her head in disgust. ‘Have you lot been drinking?’ She led Deeks by the elbow to a side area. ‘How much has this boy had to drink?’

  ‘I’m not sure. I arrived just before he fell over.’

  ‘You other boys wait out there, please,’ she said, shooing the other three away. ‘And oh dear! That is most unhygienic. Get that cat out of here.’

  Mike was clutching Deeks’ cat. It struggled and twisted to get free. ‘Oh,’ Deeks called out in a babyish voice, ‘he’th come to look afta me.’

  ‘What’s going on here?’ A young doctor who scarcely looked older than eighteen poked his head around the curtain. ‘It’s okay, Meredith. I’m free to deal with this now.’

  ‘Merry-dith?’ Deeks laughed. ‘Who the hell calls a kid Merry-dith?’

  The young doctor caught Elliot’s eye and seemed to realise in a moment that Elliot was the sober sidekick. ‘What happened?’

  ‘The guys were playing beer-pong on rollerblades and Deeks fell over and cut his hand on the lawnmower.’

  The doctor said, ‘As you do,’ and unwound the towel again. ‘Come on through.’

  He cleaned the area and had a close look under a light.

  ‘Can you save my arm?’

  ‘Of course. It’s superficial.’ He looked at Elliot. ‘Have you been drinking?’

  ‘No. I’d just arrived.’

  ‘Good, you can assist. My nurse went home with a migraine. Come over to the basin.’ Elliot followed him and scrubbed his hands the way the doctor instructed. ‘Now, your job is to keep him still. He’s unpredictable with all that booze on board, and I need to numb his hand.’

  ‘I hate numb-bing,’ Deeks called from the bed.

  ‘We need to keep him distracted too.’

  ‘Can we watch?’ Ratty was at the door. ‘It’s only me and Mike ’cause Will’s asleep.’

  ‘Yes. Okay. Sit quietly.’ They all thought the doctor was a legend and they watched his every move with fascination.

  ‘So tell me about your party, Deeks.’

  Deeks was making embarrassing whimpering noises. ‘Well,’ he began, with his eye on the syringe, ‘it’s a special party ’cause Roothsta lives in Wellington and he never comes home ’cause he’s got this girl up the duff—’

  ‘What the hell?’ Elliot began.

  ‘We call him Rooting Rooster,’ Mike chipped in.

  ‘Hold him still,’ the doctor said, interrupting, and he began filling the back of Deeks’ hand with anaesthetic. ‘Keep telling me, Deeks, I’m listening.’

  ‘Not that story, Deeks. He makes things up,’ Elliot told the doctor.

  ‘I don’t! Lena’s pregnant and Roothsta doesn’t want a baby so we’re — ow!’

  ‘You’re what? Keep telling me.’ He fired more and more anaesthetic under Deek’s skin and it was coming up white and puffy.

  ‘So Roothsta snuck up in the van because itsh my birthday and we’re having a quiet party so his parentsht don’ know he’s home,’ Deeks said in a tiny voice. ‘Or Lena. We mushn’t tell Lena he’s home.’ Deeks lifted his head and said ‘Ssshh’ to Ratty and Mike.

  Mike went ‘Sssshhh’ back at Deeks.

  ‘When is the secret out?’ The doctor finally finished numbing Deeks’ hand and he put the used needle into a container. Deeks didn’t answer straightaway because he was yawning. The doctor asked him again.

  ‘When it’s born and Roothsta will look and shee if he’s the father or not.’ He put his head back on the pillow. ‘Is it done now?’

  ‘Not quite. I’m going to sew up the jagged edges. What did you fall on?’

  ‘Lawnmower.’ He gave another whimper. ‘Will it hurt?’

  ‘No, just a bit of tugging.’

  ‘I hate tugging.’

  ‘You’ll cope.’

  ‘Go to sleep, Deeks.’ Elliot turned to the doctor. ‘He always goes to sleep when he’s pissed.’

  Ratty pulled his seat right up beside the doctor. ‘Is that like, real sewing thread?’

  ‘This stuff’s dissolvable so he doesn’t have to get the stitches taken out.’

  ‘I want to be a doctor. How long does it take?’ Elliot could see the pupils in Ratty’s eyes spinning, and he noticed the doctor looking at them too.

  ‘This is my first year out. I trained in England and I’ve come here on an intern exchange.’ He put his hand over Ratty’s wrist and said, ‘Just taking your pulse.’ He looked at his watch for a minute and everyone watched Ratty as if he was a ticking bomb. ‘Whatever you took, it’s not doing your heart any favours,’ he said. Then he bent his head over Deeks’ hand again after giving Elliot a nod to hold him still.

  ‘Whash intin?’ Deeks asked.

  ‘Intern? Training,’ the doctor answered.

  Deeks gave a cry of despair.

  Elliot said, ‘Shut up, Deeks. Get a grip.’

  ‘You wouldn’t like it if it happened to you,’ but Deeks was losing steam. He shut his eyes.

  ‘Hmmm. He is going to sleep, isn’t he?’ The doctor watched Deeks for a moment and soon the room was full of the slow whistle of Deeks’ breath.

  The sewing took a long time and the doctor interspersed some of the stitches with plasters. The cut had zigzagged across the back of Deeks’ hand and travelled up his arm.

  Mike went off to find the cat and Ratty went off for water but never returned, leaving just the doctor and Elliot in the room with Deeks. They chatted about everything and nothing. Elliot told the doctor about Arnie’s tricky hips.

  ‘I’m done here,’ the doctor said at last. They both looked at Deeks, who was deeply asleep now. ‘He’s going to be difficult to move.’ The doctor washed his hands and sat at his desk. ‘Let me write this up and then we’ll talk about what to do with him.’

  He wrote on a prescription pad for a while and then he worked on his computer. ‘I’m going to give him some pain relief for first thing tomorrow and he needs to take this antibiotic for a week. It might be a good idea if you ask him when he last had a tetanus shot.’ The doctor looked at Deeks for a while and said, ‘Can you stay with him tonight? Make sure he doesn’t vomit and choke.’

  Elliot assured the doctor he’d take care of him. Eventually the doctor opened the top drawer of his desk and pulled out a folder. ‘Come and look at this.’

  Elliot went and peered over his shoulder. He handed Elliot a photo of a little blonde girl who was staring through a paper buttercup and waving a wand. ‘That’s Daisy, my daughter.’

  ‘Oh, cute.’ Elliot glanced down at him. ‘I thought you were just a bit older than me.’

  ‘I’m twenty-five. She’s eight. You do the maths.’

  Elliot was doing it anyway. ‘You were seventeen?’

  ‘Yeah.’ He plucked the photo from Elliot’s fingers and stared at it. ‘We were kids at school and then we were parents.’ The doctor leaned back against the wall. ‘I’m supposed to be out here for a year, but I won’t stick it. I miss that little girl every day.’ He slipped the photo back in the
folder. ‘I can’t say I miss her mother, but,’ he gave a shrug, ‘she’s doing a good job with Daisy.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘I know you didn’t want your mate jabbering on like that but what’s ahead may not be so terrible for you.’

  ‘I don’t want a kid.’

  ‘It sounds as if you’re getting one.’

  ‘I don’t know if it’s mine.’

  ‘You need good people on your side to sort this out. What about your parents? Would they help?’

  ‘Yeah, but they’re gunna be gutted. You can’t imagine.’

  ‘I can actually.’

  ‘I already stuffed up once.’ Elliot spread his hands. ‘Now they’ll be finished with me.’

  ‘They’ll cope; they’ll be disappointed at first.’ The doctor put the folder back in the drawer and picked up the prescriptions and handed them to Elliot. ‘You could ring Pregnancy Help. But you don’t need to hide — you haven’t committed a crime.’ He stood up and stretched. ‘I need to keep going; there’s more people to see, but take these as well and use them in future.’ He handed Elliot a box of condoms.

  Elliot got up early the next morning and went to the pharmacy to sort Deeks’ prescriptions. He took the pills into him with a big greasy breakfast.

  ‘Oh my god.’ Deeks stared at his bandaged hand with bewilderment and then panic. ‘I’ve forgotten what happened. How bad is it?’

  ‘Nothing. Superficial, the doctor said.’

  ‘But wasn’t he really young? I thought he was on his learner’s.’

  ‘Deeks, the doctor was legit and he was brilliant. Here’s your breakfast, here’s your pills. Your hand is fine. I’m off. Your old man will be back tonight; I’ve cleaned up a bit, but you better sort the garage.’

  ‘Rooster.’

  ‘I’ve gotta go.’ Elliot went to the kitchen where he finished off the sausages and eggs still in the pan.

  ‘Rooster.’ Deeks hobbled out to the kitchen with his tray.

  ‘It’s not your leg; it’s your hand. Harden up.’

  ‘Oh, don’t be like that. Why are you so mad?’

  ‘Why’d you tell the doctor all that stuff about Lena? You need to shut your mouth or everyone’ll know.’

  ‘What? Everyone knows already. It’s only old people who don’t.’

  ‘Everyone?’

  ‘Seriously, Rooster.’

  ‘What’s Rick saying?’

  ‘Rick hates you.’

  Elliot grunted as if Deeks had punched his stomach. He turned away to search for the van keys. ‘I’m off. See you whenever.’

  ‘Good luck,’ Deeks said.

  ‘Cheers.’

  Elliot figured he had around twelve weeks before having to front up. It was going to be a long game of cricket but he was up for it. He kept questions and people out wide. He blocked Arnie’s offers of help and ignored his parents’ suggestions he come home for a weekend. He let jokes and comments sail past him and instead kept his eye firmly on Zeya.

  Zeya played her own game and developed an elaborate text code that meant she could meet Elliot without her father knowing. Sunday afternoons in the city belonged to them but only Elliot knew there was a finish line in sight.

  ‘Hello again,’ Zeya said, one cold Sunday in July. She dumped her backpack of textbooks onto the floor of their special teahouse, and unwound her scarf.

  ‘I’ve been here a while so this brew is nearly perfect,’ Elliot said. He lifted the lid on the clay pot and a pungent smoky aroma wafted up.

  Zeya laughed. ‘Ah, yes. You’re so multicultural.’

  ‘Just bicultural, but it’s an improvement on the ignoramus you met in the beginning.’ Zeya covered his hand with hers and held it for a while. She was too quiet. ‘Everything okay?’

  ‘Father watched me leave today. He just stood at the gate and didn’t speak; I think he doubts my study programme.’

  Elliot felt a stab of alarm. He could imagine Mr Rashim’s dark stare, like an ominous rain cloud over a picnic. ‘What can we do? Should I come and talk to him?’

  ‘Your talking to him would see me on the next flight to Burma.’

  ‘Would he make you live there?’

  ‘No, but he’d find me a husband.’

  ‘Oh, shit. That’s barbaric.’

  ‘I wouldn’t know any different if I lived there. It’s just that I get to see other options.’ She leaned forward and ran her fingers over Elliot’s neck. ‘What am I risking so much for? You don’t tell me things.’

  Elliot leaned his head to the side and trapped her hand. ‘Because I don’t come out of stories about me in a very good light, Zeya.’

  ‘That’s no reason to avoid telling me. How did you get this tattoo? Why did you get it?’

  Elliot let her hand go and filled their teacups. ‘Alright. The story.’

  ‘No; the truth.’

  Elliot laughed in a nervous way. ‘I think that’s what I meant. I met a girl called Lena when I was helping with the sound and lights at a battle of the bands sort of thing.’

  ‘This Lena is a musician?’

  ‘Not your sort of musician, Zeya. She’s a punk rocker and she screams more than sings.’

  ‘And you liked this?’

  ‘No. I liked that she spoke to me and wanted me to fix her amplifier. I liked the way people were wary of her and I thought it made me more interesting if I hung out with her.’

  Elliot remembered his mother’s shocked face the first time she’d met Lena. It was as if Elliot had stepped in dog crap and brought it into the kitchen for everyone to admire. ‘My dad laughed when he saw her dressed in hard-out punk gear, thinking she was going to a fancy-dress party, and my brother despised me for associating with her and called me a puppet.’

  ‘Were you?’

  ‘Yup.’ Elliot nodded slowly. ‘A total puppet. I argued with my parents and left home to stay at her place. We had the place to ourselves because her mother was finding herself in India and her father had a new family in Hong Kong. Lena lived with her Aunt Katie but she was hardly ever there.

  ‘She poured me rum and cokes, which I’d never had before, but I drank them. Lots of them. She put on her punk music and danced and I kept drinking until I thought I could dance too.’ Elliot waved his hand dismissively. ‘You get the picture; things just got worse.’

  ‘Tell me exactly.’

  Elliot thought about the way Lena had kissed him and climbed onto his lap and how much he’d loved that. He couldn’t bear to say that stuff to Zeya, so he told her about the way she drew on his neck. ‘I should’ve guessed,’ Elliot said softly. ‘If someone’s drawing in black felt pen on your neck, well, I should’ve figured what was coming next.

  ‘My mother sent me a text and Lena replied saying “Piss off”. We never spoke like that in my house.’ Elliot rubbed his neck as he remembered. ‘She said my parents were narrow and bourgeois and that I should break free. I thought she was right.’

  Zeya didn’t interrupt, so Elliot carried on. ‘She photographed me for her school project — said she could make me cool. I wanted to be cool. I wanted to be part of something big and worldwide like her punk movement.’

  Elliot wrapped his hand around his teacup and squeezed it for a moment as if he could shatter the china. ‘She drew the anarchy symbol on a piece of paper — the big black A inside the O and asked if I liked it. Of course I said yes. “Come on then,” she said. She hauled me off the floor and I remember the room spinning. “Sean’s really fussy about hygiene, so you don’t need to worry.” I didn’t even know who Sean was. If I’d wanted a tattoo I wouldn’t have gone to some loser just mucking around in his garage.’

  Elliot could see Zeya was listening carefully. She sat still and alert, her eyes narrowed as she stared at his face. ‘Sean’s garage was all set up with an old dental chair and big lights. I was pleased to sit down and have a drink of water because I’d chucked up on the way there. I can remember Sean said, “Hey, is this guy okay? He has to sign consent, you know,�
�� and Lena said, “You’re okay, aren’t you?”

  ‘I wanted to please her so I took the pen and signed as if it was a test.’ Elliot stared over Zeya’s shoulder and shook his head. ‘So dumb. I passed out as soon as he began and gave her some great photo opportunities for her project.’

  Zeya threaded her fingers through Elliot’s. She didn’t say anything for a while and Elliot sat quietly beside her. After a bit, she said, ‘There’s more, I think?’

  ‘Yup. Way more, but you’re going to be in big trouble if you’re late.’

  ‘I’ll risk it.’

  So Elliot told Zeya about the New Year’s party, Lena’s pregnancy, his father’s speech and the way his life was on hold as he waited. Zeya listened intently and when he’d finished she still didn’t say anything. ‘Come on, Zeya,’ Elliot said. ‘Hit me with it — what are you thinking?’

  ‘I’m not sure. It’s a lot to take in.’

  ‘You’re upset?’

  ‘I’m sad for you. You’ve carried a big weight. Let’s talk next Sunday; now I must run.’ She stood up and kissed him on his cheek. ‘You’ll sleep a bit easier tonight as there’s no pillow so soft as a clear conscience.’

  Elliot watched her run off, her backpack bumping behind her. He wanted to run and jump and do a somersault. Even if the truth drove Zeya away, there was something freeing about ending his lies to her. He thought he probably would sleep easier.

  Zeya didn’t text that week, or the next. Elliot checked his phone constantly and he even took the battery out in case something had gone wrong with it. Eventually he bailed up Dorice when he and Arnie called in for their smoko.

  ‘Dorice, I don’t suppose you’ve, umm, well I was wondering; it’s just a thought of course, but it occurred to me—’

  Arnie looked up in bewilderment from the scone he was buttering. ‘You okay? Is it the English language you’ve forgotten?’

  ‘I wanted to ask Dorice something,’ Elliot said.

  ‘Well, you’re not getting very far.’

  ‘Have you seen Zeya?’ Elliot asked.

  This time it was Dorice who looked confused. ‘No dear, of course not. How could I? She’s in Myanmar.’