The Crush

by Scott Monk

  He’d never been in a prison before and wasn’t keen on returning. Everywhere he’d walked, he felt spied upon or cramped. Even the air seemed to be trapped inside. The quicker this meeting was over, the better.

  Finally, the guards reacted to a rap on the other side of a metal door. A giant latch was thrown and the door squealed open. Matt and those waiting around him strained to pick out faces as the inmates walked in. He thought they’d all look scraggy with beards and long hair. But they were clean cut, just as they had been the day they were incarcerated.

  The prisoners slid into chairs across from their visitors. Kisses were swift and impersonal. Hellos were stale and cool. Even in front of their families, they were afraid to show their emotions.

  The last inmate walked through the doors before the guards closed it. Matt scanned the line of faces, trying to match them with the one in the photograph that his grandmother had shown him. The guards solved the puzzle for him. They grabbed a man in tracksuit pants and a sleeveless T-shirt and pointed at Matt.

  A heavy breath hitched in the fifteen-year-old’s chest.

  It was his dad.

  A tall man, he had intense brown eyes, a goatee, dark hair streaked with premature grey and funny-shaped ears. His body had once been stocky and well-defined but his muscles were losing their hardness. His skin was pale from a lack of sun and his eyes were developing crow’s-feet, although he was thirty-two. Each step was slow and faltering, similar to those of a mule broken by the weight of its labours.

  The excitement of seeing his father for the first time overwhelmed Matt. He reached out to shake his hand and drag him forward for a hug. But his dad ignored him, flopped down in a seat and scouted the rest of the room. With bored annoyance, he snarled, ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Are you Leith Ryan?’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Son of Margaret Ryan?’

  ‘So what if I am?’

  Matt grinned crazily and felt tears behind his eyes. ‘You won’t believe this, but I’ve been waiting to meet you all my life!’

  His dad snorted, laughed to himself and shook his head. Leaning forward, he stared at Matt, finally acknowledging his existence. ‘Look, kid, I’ll save you a lot of bellyaching. You’re wasting your time. If you want to hear about my life story, then go to a second-hand bookshop. You’ll find it in the crime section for fifty cents. That part of my life is over, right? Look around you. Fat load of good it did me, huh? If you want to be the next Big Thing, go right ahead. I’ll see you in here in twelve months.’

  Matt sat, stunned.

  ‘Don’t you get it, kid? Get out of my face!’

  ‘I’m not—’

  ‘Go!’

  Dumbstruck, Matt sat there gasping. The guards stopped patrolling the room and exchanged glances among themselves. All eyes were on him.

  ‘Get out of here!’

  Slowly, Matt rose from his seat. This wasn’t meant to happen.

  ‘What’s going on here, Ryan?’ one of the guards said, towering above them.

  ‘Leave us alone, Lewis,’ his dad answered. ‘Me and the boy were just having a bit of fun.’

  ‘And I’ll get the goon squad onto you if you tell me how to do my job, got it?’

  His dad shut up and seethed.

  The guard hooked his hands under his belt and readjusted it. ‘Don’t get any ideas from this maggot, sonny,’ he warned Matt. ‘He’s just another forgotten headline at the end of the day.’

  The man walked away and Matt found himself half-frozen out of his seat.

  ‘Sit.’

  Matt stayed still.

  ‘Sit,’ his dad repeated. ‘I want to finally meet my son.’

  ‘But how’d you know—’

  ‘A hunch. Mum said she’d tracked you down. I knew she’d find you again. Where is the old lady anyway?’

  ‘Outside,’ Matt replied, even more confused. ‘She signed me in but didn’t want to come in herself. She said it would be better if we met alone.’

  His dad surveyed the mess hall and snorted. ‘If this is what you call alone.’

  Matt shifted in his seat. ‘Why did you tell me to leave just then?’

  ‘It was a test. A lot of losers show up here wanting to meet me. I wanted to see how you’d react if I gave you the cold shoulder. You passed though, eh? You didn’t start swearing and yelling and calling me a has-been. I figured ya must’ve been someone who really wanted to see me.’

  ‘You … You have groupies?’

  ‘Dozens. A lot of them write to me too. There’s a lot of mental cases in here, mate, but there’s an equal number of them outside too.’

  ‘Why do they want to see you?’

  His dad laughed sharply as if the question was ridiculous. ‘Don’tcha know?’

  ‘Know what?’

  ‘That I’m the famous Laughing Skull Bandit? The bank robber who had half Australia’s police force after him?’

  ‘You robbed banks!’

  ‘Yeah, heaps of them. You haven’t heard of me?’

  ‘No.’

  His dad gave an incredulous look. ‘What are they teaching you kids in school these days?’

  Matt didn’t know what to say. His dad was a bank robber? Wait until Chris found out.

  ‘Didn’t ya mum ever tell you about me?’

  Matt blushed. ‘No. She said you were dead.’

  ‘Dead?’ He laughed. ‘Well, that’s a new one. I know she wants me to be, but the Reaper hasn’t come for me yet. I bet she went berserk when you told her you were visiting me today.’

  ‘She doesn’t know yet.’

  ‘She what?’

  ‘I haven’t told her that I’ve found you.’

  His old man crowed and ran his hands through his hair. When he finished, he had an enormous grin. ‘Boy, is there going to be fireworks at your place soon.’

  ‘I can handle Mum.’

  ‘I hope you can because I never could.’

  His dad shook his head, still grinning. He glanced around at the other inmates then leaned forward over the table. ‘Enough of me. I want to know about you. What school do ya go to? What foods do ya like? What sports are ya into? What hot little numbers are ya scoring?’

  Matt blushed at that last question.

  ‘Um, well I go to Bankstown Central High. I like Chinese food. And I play footy.’

  ‘Footy?’ his old man piped up. ‘Which code?’

  ‘League.’

  ‘All right! A real man. Who do ya play for?’

  ‘School and for a side in the local Saturday comp.’

  ‘What position?’

  ‘Halfback.’

  ‘My old position! You any good?’

  Matt shrugged. ‘I do okay.’

  ‘None of this “okay” business. Tell me the truth. You any good?’

  ‘There’s talk a couple of Sydney clubs are interested in me.’

  ‘Get out of here.’

  Matt nodded. ‘They’ve watched me play too.’

  His dad nodded with pride. ‘Go, my boy. It’s about time one of us Ryans produced a champion, eh?’

  Ryan? The name sounded funny. But Matt guessed that was his name too.

  ‘So what team do ya follow?’

  ‘The Doggies.’

  ‘Those losers!’ his old man spluttered. ‘Why would you want to go for them? You should be a Dragons supporter, mate.’

  ‘What, and watch the Dogs flog them again like they did earlier in the year?’

  ‘Hey, that ref was a dud. He should be a screw, mate. Your guys got away with murder. But don’tcha worry. The next time the Dragons take on your mutts, we’ll see who’s best.’

  ‘Sure, sure.’

  They laughed together for the first time. It felt good.

  A squabble between an inmate and his lawyer started in the far corner. The guards took a while to calm it down before Matt and his dad turned back to each other.

  ‘So, how’s your mum anyway?’

  ‘Good, I guess.’

&n
bsp; ‘What’s that s’posed to mean?’

  ‘We aren’t talking much these days.’

  In fact, they weren’t talking at all. Since that night in the middle of the plaza, Matt had tried to avoid his mum. He’d leave before she came home from work and return when he knew she’d be asleep. She’d waited up for him one night and they’d had another row. He was hoping to crash at Chris’s place that night.

  ‘So what do I call you?’ Matt said, before his dad pushed him more about his mum.

  ‘Call me whatever you like: Leith, dad or even scumbag. But whatever you do, don’t call me the Laughing Skull Bandit.’

  ‘Dad’ll do,’ Matt said sheepishly.

  ‘I’d like that.’

  They both did.

  ‘Dad, can I ask you something?’

  ‘Yeah, anything.’

  ‘Can you tell me what happened fifteen years ago? You know, with you and mum.’

  The question caught his old man off-guard. The words rolled around in his mouth as he looked at the exits and fidgeted in his chair. Scratching his goatee, he was about to answer when the guards signalled time was up.

  ‘Maybe next visit,’ he answered.

  ‘Can’t you tell me now?’ Matt pushed, reckoning they had another minute or two before the guards dragged his dad away.

  ‘Nah, come and visit me again next week. I’ll tell ya what you want to know then. It takes a while.’

  Seeing his disappointment, his dad tried to get his attention again. ‘In the meantime, make sure you win over those talent scouts. The next time I see you, I want you to tell me they’ve asked you to play for their club, got it?’

  ‘Yeah, definitely.’

  Matt and his dad rose to their feet. They stared at each other and Matt felt a swell of emotion inside of him. Finally, the man he’d been searching for all his life was standing in front of him. It was still too hard to believe. Reaching forward, he attempted to hug his old man but his dad shied away. He coughed and glanced round him at the other inmates. Matt understood. It wasn’t the right thing to do in a place like this one. Emotions were left at the front gates. He’d be marked as a soft target if he showed any weakness. So Matt lowered his arms and stood firm, instead nodding to his father. His dad nodded back as he was marched away.

  A quick inside pass to the left and Matt ran in for his third try. The siren sounded and the Mongrels had won again. The guys belted out their victory song as Chris converted the final two points. Beaten, the Fairfield Marist College players sat, crouched or stood round the field, too stunned to move or feel. They’d lost—just. They’d played an honourable game and Matt couldn’t help but applaud their performance.

  ‘Hey, fellas!’ Matt called out to his teammates, clapping his hands above his head. The Mongrels did likewise as the Fairfield players headed off the ground. Although defeated, the Fairfield team returned the mark of respect.

  A roar echoed from the neighbouring footy field. Hundreds of Mother of Mercy College girls in green uniforms and Princes boys in grey slacks, pressed white shirts, ties and purple and gold blazers leapt into the air and shouted as their team scored another try.

  ‘So much for hoping they would lose,’ Grover said.

  ‘They go straight to the grand final now,’ Hazem added.

  ‘Look at that score, would you?’ Chris said.

  It was a massacre: 32–nil.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Matt said. ‘We proved they aren’t invincible. We’ll do it again.’

  He hoped his words sounded convincing. Every guy in his team knew Princes would be hungrier to win next time they met. They were a top team and top teams always rallied at the right time. But so were the Mongrels. Matt just hoped the guys wouldn’t feel beaten before they stepped onto the field.

  Grover saved the day. ‘Bring ’em on. I want to do some serious pounding.’

  Grins jumped to the Mongrels’ faces and they broke up laughing. That shattered the moment and everyone returned to a party mood. Chris suggested they celebrate their win by raiding the nearest pizza joint for some Hawaiian, meatlover’s and extra-spicy babes.

  Matt stood and watched the rest of the Princes game from a distance as his team made its way home. Chris joined him, carrying his school bag and boots.

  ‘You thinking what I’m thinking?’ Matt asked.

  ‘Yeah. What’s the phone number of that blonde over there?’

  Matt laughed and shoved his mate. ‘Man, you’re obsessed.’

  ‘Graduated my class with top honours.’

  ‘Pity you keep on flunking with the real thing.’

  It was Chris’s turn to push Matt away. ‘You can talk.’

  ‘So, what do you think? If we get into the grand final, can we beat them?’

  ‘I hope so. I’m sick of them paying us out because of where we live and what school we go to. I’m sick of them calling us ferals and driving their flashy cars past us like we’re supposed to worship them. I’m tired of them getting praised all the time when we know they’re shallow. We’re just as good as them. You hear me, rich boys!’ He yelled at the crowd but his words didn’t carry.

  ‘Hey, is that them?’ Matt said, nudging his mate.

  Chris twisted about and saw two men talking to their coach. The first, a squat man in his fifties with glasses and grey hair, was dressed in a blue and white windcheater. The second, a lanky Aboriginal man in his thirties, with cropped hair and a gap between his front two teeth, wore a black, gold and white jacket.

  ‘That’s them,’ Chris said. ‘The scouts. From the Doggies and the Tigers, by the looks of it.’

  ‘Who do you think they’re talking about?’

  ‘The ballboy. Who do you reckon?’

  Matt felt flustered. ‘Do you think I should go and introduce myself?’

  ‘Nah, if they want to know you, they’ll introduce themselves. And stop staring, would you. They might think you’re too eager.’

  ‘What should I do then?’

  ‘Find me a girl as good-looking as yours.’

  ‘Huh?’

  Matt followed Chris’s gaze. Sneaking towards them, Kelly was half-running, half-walking as she kept stealing glances over her shoulder. But her teachers and peers hadn’t spotted her. They were distracted by the dying minutes of the game. Matt felt feverish all of a sudden.

  ‘I’ll see you later at the Pizza Hut, stud,’ Chris said, slapping him on the shoulder. ‘That’s if you haven’t already had a few love bites by then.’ He laughed and left Matt feeling churned up and embarrassed.

  ‘Hey, Kelly, how’s it going?’ he asked, composing himself in time. No. Wait a minute. Was that grass in his hair? Get rid of it, dork.

  Kelly looked over her shoulder again, then whispered, ‘Great. You?’

  ‘We won.’

  ‘I know. I heard you singing.’

  He blushed and rubbed the back of his scalp. ‘Not a number one hit, huh?’

  ‘Only if every musician in the world retires.’ They grinned together before she asked him about the weekend. ‘How’d you go with your dad?’

  ‘Fantastic. Better than I expected. The guards were sadists but he was really cool. I’m definitely going to see him again.’

  ‘What’s he look like?’

  ‘Like me except taller and he has a goatee.’

  ‘That explains the bum fluff on your chin,’ she said, playfully stroking his dozen blond whiskers. Matt blushed a rich red. Her fingers were smooth.

  ‘So what’s he like? Is he normal?’

  ‘For a bank robber, yeah.’

  ‘He’s a bank robber!’

  ‘Uh-huh. A famous one. The Laughing Skull Bandit. I asked my teacher today and he said he remembered him. He used to go into banks wearing this skull mask. Apparently it had a big smile on it like it was laughing. Somebody even made a telemovie about him a couple of years ago.’

  ‘Is he …? Y’know …?’

  ‘No, he said that part of his life’s over. He really didn’t want to talk abou
t it.’

  ‘That’s good.’

  He nodded. ‘I don’t know how I would’ve felt if I’d found out he’d shot or killed someone.’

  A parent walked past and slapped Matt on the back. ‘Good game, son.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  He watched the man leave.

  ‘Have you told your mum yet?’ Kelly asked.

  ‘Nup. Things are pretty frosty between us. She wanted to know if I’d been in her room. I said no but she didn’t believe me. We got into a major fight again.’

  ‘Did you put the letters back in her drawer?’

  He nodded. ‘Though I reckon I should’ve left them on the kitchen table to see her reaction. I can’t live with her anymore knowing she’s lying to me every day.’

  A couple of swallows darted around the empty footy oval, swooping on jittery insects jumping between blades of grass. The distraction gave Matt a chance to change the subject. ‘How’s your arm?’ It wasn’t in a sling any more.

  ‘Healed, see? And I got my dad to fix the door so it won’t slam as hard next time.’

  Hey? What door?

  ‘I should be okay from now on. I won’t be as clumsy in future.’

  ‘Good,’ he answered, emptily. ‘So how’s everything between you and Aaron, anyway?’

  She glanced back at the match. ‘Fine. We’re just as strong as ever.’

  ‘Oh. That’s, er, good to hear.’

  ‘Are those the talent scouts?’ she asked, noticing the two men waving goodbye to Matt’s coach. They were both heading towards the Princes game.

  He said they were.

  ‘Then it’s true.’

  ‘What’s true?’

  ‘They’re here to talk to Aaron.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘My dad’s heard whispers that the Bulldogs are keen to see Aaron pull on a blue and white jersey next year.’

  ‘Are you kidding?’

  ‘No. His father’s been doing a lot of wheeling and dealing with the club. My dad’s convinced Aaron’s a dead cert.’

  Matt was stunned. ‘Are they … interested in anyone else?’