The Boy from the Mish

by Gary Lonesborough

  Mum’s quiet for a moment before she lets out a sigh. ‘People stopped wanting my paintings,’ she says.

  ‘What you mean? Rich white people love to put Aboriginal art on their walls, don’t they?’

  She giggles. ‘They like to put the good ones on their walls.’

  ‘I always thought yours were pretty good,’ I say.

  Mum’s gone quiet, though. Maybe I’ve embarrassed her. So I just lean back on the steel bench. I lean there for so long, close my eyes.

  I wake when I hear keys jingling in the hallway. A policeman is walking into the holding room. He’s large and round and he wears a filthy moustache. He unlocks my door and Detective Beazley arrives behind him. She waves me over to the tall desk.

  ‘Mister Barley, we are releasing you on bail. You’ll have to go to children’s court on the fifteenth, all right? You’ll need to be there by nine A.M.’

  I just nod, because I want nothing more than to get the fuck out of here. She hands me and Mum some paperwork and escorts us out the front of the police station. We cross the road and climb into Aunty Pam’s station wagon. My eyes struggle to stay open as we drive back to the Mish.

  ‘You get straight in the shower when we get back,’ Mum says.

  I’ve never wanted a shower more. I try to read the papers I hold in my hand, but it’s too dark and my eyes are too tired. My mind drifts, hoping Tomas will be on my bed when I get back. I begin wondering what it would be like to come home from work or something and fall into Tomas’ arms, as if he was my wife. Maybe he could be my husband one day.

  Aunty Pam’s awake to meet us when we get home. All the boys are snoring like they don’t have a care in the world, or any idea I was just locked up.

  ‘You all right, bub?’ she smiles. Her eyes are red and struggling to stay open, just as mine are.

  ‘He’s fine,’ Mum interrupts. ‘Go shower and get some sleep.’

  I don’t fuck around. I go straight to the shower and then fall onto my bed, but all the tiredness in my body dissolves away because Tomas still isn’t back.

  I can’t just lie here. I make my way back downstairs and outside, where the pavement is cold on my bare feet. I leave the front door slightly open, step across the stepping-stones, and lean against the front gate. The bus is coming again – I hear its engine and then its lights shine through the street.

  The bus passes by my house and comes to a halt at the community centre. I look to the people coming off the bus. They are Mish residents, but no Tomas. He’s not there.

  I walk back to the door and sit down on the step as the bus roars past me. A party is blaring somewhere down the road and I wonder if Tomas is there, or if I missed him getting off the bus somehow. I picture Abby’s hands clawing at his back. I picture him kissing her neck, and her pulling him against her.

  I’ve sobered up, and I think I feel a hangover starting while I’m still awake. The dark sky is turning blue, and orange light is growing behind the mountains. I don’t know how long I’ve been just sitting here, but I’m feeling sick. I go back inside and back to my room. I surrender myself to my bed. Then, the front door creaks open. The floorboards creak on the staircase. My door opens and Tomas staggers inside. His face is red in the dawn light, and his hair is all messy.

  ‘Where’d you go?’ I ask.

  ‘I was just with Owen and Abby in town. We got a ride back to her place and had a couple of drinks. I passed out on her couch somehow.’

  ‘You didn’t sleep with her?’

  ‘No,’ he smiles.

  I get out of bed and move towards Tomas. His eyes are so tired they look like they can hardly stay open. He tilts his head to the side, watching me, and my heart is starting to race. I take a step closer to him, but he stays where he is. I step closer and closer, and then I’m in front of him and can smell the grog on his breath.

  I move my hand to his and take it. I feel his palm and rub my thumb on the back of his hand. Then I put my lips to his and we kiss. His lips are dry, but I don’t care. I stretch my arms around his back and pull him against me. We kiss hard, and I feel a rush of adrenalin racing through my body.

  ‘Changed your mind?’ he teases.

  ‘I need to know if this is really me,’ I whisper. ‘But no one can know. All right?’ I’m out of breath, but so is Tomas.

  He kisses me again and we fall onto his mattress. I pull off his shirt and hold his body close. I feel his skin on mine and it is so hot between us. I get on top of him and we kiss harder.

  He’s such a good kisser, I think, as his lips massage mine. We cuddle each other on his mattress. His cheek is bruised. I brush it with my thumb, as lightly as I can, and he smiles when I do it. Then I brush his hair behind his ear and tuck it there. I trace the tips of my fingers along his collarbone, then over his shoulders and down his arm. He forces back a giggle.

  ‘Does that tickle?’ I ask, keeping my voice to a whisper.

  ‘Yeah. But it’s a good tickle.’

  I kiss his shoulder, his neck and then I find his lips again. They are tired kisses now. He rests his head on my arm, like he’s using it as a pillow. His closed eyes are putting me to sleep, but I want to stay awake, so I can watch him dream. He’s so fucking cute.

  15

  There’s a bang at the door. I wake next to Tomas and leap from his mattress.

  ‘Youse gonna get up or what?’ Mum shouts from the other side.

  ‘Yeah, be down soon,’ I say. I feel like I’ve just had a heart attack.

  Tomas is chuckling to himself, watching me there at the door in panic mode.

  ‘Stop laughin’,’ I say, but he doesn’t stop.

  Tomas pulls his blanket over his face while I get dressed and head downstairs, where cooked bacon and eggs are waiting for us at the kitchen table. Tomas comes downstairs after me and sits in the chair next to me. He sits so close that I feel the hairs of his leg tickling mine.

  ‘How was your night?’ Aunty Pam asks him.

  ‘Good,’ Tomas replies. ‘Better than Jackson’s.’

  Henry rushes into the kitchen with Bobby chasing behind him, trying to shoot him with nerf-gun bullets. I just can’t wait to get out of the house and give this whole boy thing a try.

  After a shower, I ready two towels in my backpack, put on my singlet and football shorts. Tomas waits on the couch, washed and dressed in his own singlet and football shorts. I kiss Mum and Aunty Pam on the cheek and lead Tomas out into the backyard, around Mum and Aunty Pam’s big covered canvas to the wooden shed. The sting of the sun is strong. I notice Tomas brushing his hair down, probably hoping it will protect his face from the sun.

  I wheel my old pushbike out of the shed. Attached to its rear is a small carriage with little black wheels. I grab the bike pump and fill the flat tyres with air.

  ‘For real?’ Tomas asks, while I inspect the back carriage.

  ‘It’s too hot to walk. Don’t worry, you’ll fit in the back,’ I smile.

  With Tomas helping me, we wheel the pushbike out of the backyard, following the grass round the side of the house to the road.

  ‘Jump in,’ I say as I ready myself on the bike seat. Tomas climbs into the back carriage, planting his arse on the small seat, which he complains is tight around his cheeks. His legs dangle over the sides and I can’t help but laugh at the sight. I pull my phone out of my pocket and take a snapshot of him sitting in the carriage as he erects his middle finger.

  We ride down the main street of the Mish, full speed. I kind of feel like a little kid again – free of concern, excited. I can’t even remember the last time I rode this bike. The wind blows my hair back as we take the bumpy dirt track that leads around and then down the mountain. I look back to see Tomas sticking his tongue out of his mouth like a dog, his feet dangling in the air. I’ve almost forgotten I was sitting in a holding cell at the police station in the early hours of the morning. I’ve almost forgotten I have to go to court in two weeks.

  We ride down the winding track around the mounta
in, picking up speed. The carriage rocks behind me but I brake to meet every turn. On the dirt road at the bottom we pass a trio of utes, each of them honking at us and leaving us a cloud of dust to ride through. We pass the farmlands, go over the narrow river bridge, come onto the road and stop at the public toilets by the footy fields. The toilet block walls are chipped and vandalised with graffiti.

  ‘That one’s mine,’ I say, pointing to a small spray on the brick wall. It’s a purple J with a circle sprayed around it. ‘Did it when I was twelve.’

  I walk into the toilets and take a piss, splashing my face with some cool water on the way out. Tomas looks out to the footy fields. All the rides are gone now, and so is the stage. A few men dressed in high-vis walk around collecting rubbish.

  I kick up the bike-stand and wheel the bike across the road, with Tomas close behind me.

  ‘You know, Tommy,’ I say, mimicking a university professor, ‘back in the olden days, we would’ve needed a pass to come into town.’

  ‘A pass?’

  ‘Yeah. Uncle Charlie reckons if you were Aboriginal, you needed to get special permission to come into town, and you had to have a good reason.’

  We duck under the small white fence and start walking across the footy fields towards the trees on the other side.

  ‘Do you play footy here?’ Tomas asks. I find my eyes persist in wandering to his football shorts.

  ‘Here? Nah, not anymore. I played for a team in the Knockout a couple of years ago, though.’

  ‘You played in the Knockout?’

  ‘Yeah. They go hard there. Hardest games I ever played.’

  I climb onto the pushbike and ride ahead, Tomas chasing behind me. We make it to the bushes and towering willow trees at the other side of the field and a cooling shade falls over us.

  ‘What position did you play?’ Tomas asks me as I jump off the bike.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I said what position did you play? In the Knockout?’

  ‘What?’ I repeat, turning to him with a cheeky smile.

  ‘Whatever. Forget it,’ he sighs.

  I chuckle to myself. ‘I played fullback.’

  ‘Don’t you have to be fast to play fullback?’

  ‘Fast?’ I’m insulted. ‘They called me black lightning!’

  Tomas burst into laughter. Then he starts to increase his walking speed, glancing back as he passes me.

  I see what he’s doing.

  ‘Come on, then,’ he says.

  I push the bike along faster. Tomas begins to sprint along the tree line.

  ‘Oi!’ I shout and drop the pushbike, chasing after him. I run as fast as I can, and I know Tomas is doing the same as my legs burn beneath me. Our bare feet beat down on the grass. I’m gaining on him. I push myself harder, faster. He reaches a telephone pole ahead and slows himself down. I jet past him as soon as he slows his pace. When I come to a stop he’s laughing to himself.

  ‘Not fair! You got a head start!’ I shout.

  ‘Bruh,’ he smiles, head back, chin out, ‘you just got smoked.’

  I grab Tomas in a headlock and we laugh together, trying to catch our breath. Releasing my hold, I rest my hand on his shoulder. I want to just leave it there, because I like the feeling of his warm skin under my palm. Tomas is quick to plant a kiss on my cheek. Just a peck.

  ‘Careful,’ I tease, looking around for witnesses.

  Tomas raises his eyebrows then slowly starts backing away from me, back towards the pushbike we’ve left behind. He runs for it, and I chase him. By the time we reach the bike, we’re both puffing again, and Tomas just smiles at me, the cutest smile.

  I pick up the bike and we continue along the tree line until the field turns into the outskirts of the racecourse. We follow the bushes and find the new dirt walking track carved out of the bushland just a year ago. Woodchips line the sides of the track, and bamboo grows to serenade the pathway. The trees stand tall around us, arching over our heads, the branches on one side of the path meeting the branches on the other side like they’re kissing.

  As we walk deeper into the bushland, the sound of flowing water starts up, then grows louder. The river appears and we walk onto the rocky sand. I rest the pushbike against a tree trunk. Tomas steps into the river. It’s still shallow, reaching to the top of his knees at its deepest point.

  ‘There’s usually nothing in here at summer,’ I say, pointing to the water.

  I follow Tomas into the river. The water brushes against our legs, moves between us, flowing fast. I place my hand on Tomas’ cheek, lean in to kiss his lips, but he pulls his head back.

  ‘I forgot to brush my teeth,’ he says, blushing.

  ‘I don’t care.’

  I lean in again and kiss him. It is a long, hard kiss. There is a smacking between our mouths when he pulls his lips away. I look around to make sure we’re alone, but there’s no one else here as far as I can see in either direction.

  I walk through the water and step onto the sand on the other side. The trees stretch out to shade the water in parts. Constant mounds of sand throughout the river seem to break the water apart and send the flow in different directions before it meets further along and becomes one again.

  ‘My Nan was born at this river,’ I say. I sit down on the sand, feet in the water.

  ‘Really?’ Tomas sits down beside me.

  ‘Yeah, after her family were brought here from down south. They got kicked off the Mish for a while by the manager, so they lived on the river with some of the other mob here. Her mum wasn’t allowed to give birth at the hospital, so she gave birth here. After Nan was born, they let her family back on the Mish and she grew up there, learning about god and how to clean floors and shit.’

  ‘She must’ve been a pretty strong woman,’ Tomas says.

  ‘Yeah. Maybe your superhero got born at the river too.’

  ‘Yeah. Maybe.’

  The sun peeks through the treetops and warms our backs. We grow quiet for a moment, but the trees sing us a song as the branches brush against each other, high up. I rest my knee against Tomas’, and he rests his knee against mine. The breeze rolls through the air and there’s a cold touch to it as it rolls across the backs of our necks.

  ‘Do you remember the first time you saw me?’ Tomas asks.

  ‘Yeah,’ I chuckle. ‘You were carrying the bags like Aunty Pam’s little slave and the boys told me you just got out of juvie.’

  ‘I thought you hated me, the way you looked at me.’

  I chuckle again. ‘Hate you? No. I was just thinking.’

  ‘What were you thinking?’

  ‘A few things . . . Mostly how cute you were,’ I smile.

  I worry he might notice the growing blush on my cheeks, but I think he’s blushing too.

  ‘You think I’m cute, huh?’ Tomas teases.

  ‘Don’t push it,’ I say.

  I edge my face to his. The tip of my nose touches the tip of his. He moves in to kiss me, but I pull away and jump up, step into the water.

  ‘Oh, so that’s how you’re gonna be?’

  I splash him. He tries to dodge the splash, but I get him. He stands and tackles me into the water. My head goes under and he’s on top of me. I grasp his biceps, feel his strength bearing down on me. He lifts me up and brings my head out of the water. I pull him down with me and we sit there, water to our chins. The river flows against Tomas’ back and pushes him against me downstream. He grabs onto my shoulders and pulls himself onto my lap. He wraps his legs around me. His arms tighten around my back. I kiss him, our faces wet, water dripping from our hair.

  After what feels like hours, Tomas climbs out of the water and onto the bank. I follow him. We hang our wet singlets on a tree branch that extends into the sunlight, then we lay the towels on the sand and rest on our backs.

  ‘What did you think the first time you saw me?’ I ask. ‘Apart from that I hated you.’

  ‘I thought you looked like an arsehole.’

  His observation make
s me laugh.

  ‘Aunty Pam told me about ya, about how you’re this talented painter and all like your mum, but I just thought you looked like an arsehole.’

  ‘Jeez. Thanks,’ I chuckle.

  ‘But you looked a bit mysterious.’

  ‘Mysterious?’

  ‘He was a mysterious black, standing there bushy-haired,’ he whispers, like he’s telling a ghost story.

  ‘And?’

  ‘I dunno,’ he giggles. ‘There was just something about you.’

  I roll onto my side and face him. He peeks through his eyelids and those brown eyes of his look up at me.

  ‘That night you came back home late – I think Aunty Kris said you went to the races – you took off your clothes in front of me,’ he says. ‘I was pretty high, but I think that was when I knew.’

  ‘Knew what?’ I ask.

  ‘That I had the hots for you.’

  Tomas smiles, closing his eyes again and blushing like a tomato that’s just ripened to its full potential. I lie back on my towel. The trees continue singing above us. The flies land on my stomach but I just brush them away.

  ‘What was it about me?’ I ask as I brush away another fly. ‘What could possibly be so special about me?’

  ‘I dunno. I think it was your eyes. They were so blue.’

  ‘Just my eyes?’ I sigh, exaggerating my disappointment in his answer.

  ‘They add to the mystery of you,’ he says in his storyteller voice, and it almost sounds like he is telling me he loves me. ‘But I did like your arse as well,’ he giggles. ‘I mean, I still do.’

  I look to the sky. The treetops dominate, but there are specks of blue throughout the waving leaves and branches. I close my eyes again and I am so relaxed. I hear Tomas roll onto his side, and steady my breathing as he grazes the unbroken water droplets resting on the hairs of my chest with the tip of his finger. He presses down on them and rubs the water into my skin.

  ‘What did you do? To get into juvie?’ I ask.

  ‘I was just being an idiot,’ Tomas says. ‘Stole a car with a couple of mates and copped a chase.’

  ‘Copped a chase?’

  ‘The coppers were chasing us.’