by E. M. Reapy
He recalled with tears his recovery, the twelve steps, how he adapted his life. Hopper listened on, hooked on the stories of other people’s shite time of it.
Hopper told him about his life. He told him about Ger, about her and the baby. He didn’t say anything about the fizz.
‘Every mistake is a step of learning and growth,’ Norman said. ‘But the key to staying clean is to change your routine.’
Hopper sat and considered this. The quaking in his body was getting less violent. The bile in his chest seemed to be going back down. But now Hopper felt a disturbing sensation over him. He had a shower to wash away all the confessions that happened. They’d come from the inside of his mind to his mouth to the outside world, but clung onto him like smog. He was grimy with them.
In the shower, he scrubbed his skin with soap and with his nails to pry the feeling off him. The water burned.
‘Will ye leave me? Will ye go?’ he pleaded with the confessions.
He was whimpering.
Norman knocked on the door. ‘Are you okay in there, mate?’
Hopper was concentrating. He didn’t reply.
Norman joggled the door handle. It undid the lock. He opened up and Hopper looked over at him, naked and scratched, his hair plastered to his face with the water, steam fogging the room.
‘I can’t get them off me,’ Hopper said. ‘They won’t fuck off.’
★
Norman made a cup of chamomile tea for Hopper and put him in bed. He said that if Hopper was still feeling this way in the morning, they’d go to a doctor.
‘Do you think I’m mental?’ Hopper asked.
‘Not really, mate. I think you’re having a tough time and you’re a long way from home.’
Hopper looked down. ‘Don’t have a home back there.’
Norman’s face was sad.
‘I’ve no one who gives a shite about me, there or here.’
‘Well, you do now.’
Hopper examined Norman. His head had fine white hair covering a bald patch. He’d lines everywhere on his face and a second chin. His eyes were blue green, kind of like the ocean by the coast. He wondered how much money Norman had, maybe he should just ask him for a loan and get out. But he was afraid to be on his own.
‘I don’t want to talk about any of the confessions anymore,’ Hopper said. ‘They’re making me worse.’
‘It’s good to talk, mate.’
Hopper shook his head. ‘No, I’m done, I’m done with them back home. I’m here. I’ll get well. I won’t look for anything. Any trouble. How long does it take to go across that road you’re on about?’
‘Nullarbor?’
‘Yeah that one.’
‘Not too long.’
‘Can I come?’
Norman grinned and patted Hopper on the head. ‘Course you can, mate. It would be dull in the car without you.’
★
Before they left Ceduna, Norman pulled over at a cash machine. Hopper watched from the car but couldn’t guess what numbers Norman had just punched in. He did see though, Norman lifting his shirt to put the cash into a small leather purse that was strapped onto him.
When Norman walked back to the car, Hopper fiddled with the radio, pretending he’d been looking at that all along.
They left town and not long on the highway, a bunch of people were blocking the road up ahead. They were just hanging about. Aboriginal people.
‘Damn Blackfellas,’ Norman said.
‘Why are they there?’
‘No idea. Maybe it’s protected land or something. Did you see any signs?’
The only signs Hopper saw showed kangaroos, camels and wombats.
‘What are you going to do?’ he asked Norman.
‘I’m afraid this might be an ambush.’
Hopper looked at the crowd, seven people stood on the road in different places. They didn’t move much as the car drew closer.
‘I’ve heard stories of this,’ Norman said and sniffed. ‘They make you slow down and they kick you out of your car. Drive off.’
‘Really?’ Hopper said and smiled with surprise. It was a pretty good plan. ‘What if they’re just having a hang, chilling like?’
‘Why would they be on the road?’
‘Can’t be bothered moving? No cars passing. Haven’t seen five yet. They might be just having a play.’
Norman was inhaling deeply through his nose. He had one hand on the steering wheel and the other was over his heart.
The people weren’t moving off the road.
Hopper could see some of their dark faces, their sunlit hair, their shaggy clothes.
Norman’s breath was getting quicker.
‘Are you okay, Norman?’ Hopper asked. ‘It’ll be sound, just beep at them. They’re not going to want to get hit. No one wants to get hit by a car.’
The early afternoon sun was brilliant and Hopper didn’t know how they could stand the heat outside.
Norman was clutching his chest as he put his foot down on the accelerator. He went at rising speed towards the people, forcing them to run and dive towards the side of the road. They shouted at the car as it sped past. Norman didn’t slow down until they were pins in the rearview mirror.
Hopper was stunned. ‘Norman, they weren’t trying to do anything to us. They were just arsing around on the road.’
‘Can’t take risks with the natives. We’re on their land now.’
‘You nearly gave yourself a heart attack.’
Norman had his breathing back but his forehead was still sweating, despite the A/C blowing a chill air into the car.
‘You can’t take risks with the natives.’
★
Later on, Norman was in good spirits again. He had his annoying piano songs playing. He was wearing his cowboy hat and whistling. Hopper looked out at the dead stuff on the side of the road. Lots of kangaroos. He saw a camel being savagely picked apart by a bunch of eagles and wanted to take a picture of it on his phone but Norman was afraid of the eagles.
‘It sounds like an Aboriginal name, doesn’t it? Nullarbor,’ Norman said as they passed another sign with Nullarbor Plain and some info on it.
‘Does it?’
‘It’s not though,’ Norman paused. ‘It comes from the Latin, no trees.’
The clouds were unreal. They were like a low lying white blanket, with rips and holes of glowing blue sky underneath.
‘How am I even noticing this shit?’ Hopper said aloud.
‘What?’
‘I feel different, Norman. In my head. I do,’ he nodded as he spoke. The dark wasn’t around him anymore. The dread was only there in tiny scraps. Just before he dozed off maybe, or when his brain was thinking too much. The fizz was far away.
They drove on the National Highway until the border. The car was checked for fruit and vegetables which made Hopper laugh.
‘Bag of apples is worse than a bag of blow?’
The car was clean and they drove on to Mundrabilla, passed it, the road straight. The landscape never really changed but come sunset, the sky went like a rainbow.
Hopper was tripping looking at it. All the colours blending and dissolving into each other. Pinky-blues mashing reds and yellows. Injecting oranges and purples.
★
The roadhouse was small and the old woman with a moustache checking them in eyed them suspiciously. Hopper twitched under her gaze. Why was she fucking looking at them like that? She couldn’t have been a bikie? Or know that hostel owner back with the buckos? Or related to someone in Ireland that he’d done over?
‘You two boys staying in the same room?’ she asked.
Norman nodded.
‘There’s only doubles in them.’
‘Okay,’ he said. ‘We’ll take one.’
‘You two poofters?’
Hopper laughed. Norman fidgeted with the pen he was holding.
‘No,’ Hopper said.
‘He’s my son,’ Norman added.
She kept a hawk lo
ok on her as she checked both their faces. ‘Better not be a couple of poofters. This ain’t that type of establishment.’
Norman coughed.
‘D’ya want our fucking money or not?’ Hopper said. He snorted some air. She shouldn’t be giving shit to Norman.
‘Try find somewhere else to stay out here, boy,’ she said.
Norman put his arm out in front of Hopper. ‘Leave it,’ he said and turned to the woman. ‘He’s my son.’ He handed her his Eftpos card.
‘Don’t take card,’ she said.
Norman sighed.
‘Cash only.’ She pointed to a sign.
He muttered alright alright and lifted his shirt, pulling the small leather satchel downwards. He opened it and from the wad of notes, took three fifties out to pay the wagon of an auld one.
‘Have a nice stay,’ she said in a bitter voice as she pocketed the cash.
★
The bed was creaky in the small room. Hopper offered to sleep on the ground but Norman said nah, he was doing well in his recuperation, he should get a good night’s shut eye.
Hopper got into bed and Norman turned on the TV. They watched a couple of shows but Hopper could only zone in and out of them. His concentration was off. He wondered if he should stay on with Norman or start heading to Perth. But he was having a decent enough time since the crappy feelings stopped plaguing his head and body. Norman was paying for everything and he was a sound enough fella to talk to. He just went about his day, driving or walking around trying to find some breakfast and supplies, giving Hopper cans of cola or lemonade when he got back and then hitting out on the road again.
Sure why would he leave when he had a good thing here, Hopper lay back into his pillow and relaxed.
Norman smiled over at him. He smiled back.
★
The days and nights passed like this, driving from noon to the next roadhouse motel, having a bit of dinner and watching TV in the room. Every day Hopper was better. His bruises were faded. He liked getting up in the morning. He sat in the car and looked out at the view and most the time, he could switch his thoughts off and just be. Follow as the world went by. The burnt, deadness of it.
He saw some emus, snakes, lizards and dingoes on the road. Saw some colourful birds. Some vicious looking birds. And about a hundred thousand kangaroos. He pointed them out excitedly to Norman.
Norman asked Hopper if he’d like to drive for a while.
Hopper cleared his throat. ‘No.’
‘Doesn’t seem to be any police about, it won’t be a problem.’
‘Can’t drive ya see. Don’t know how.’
Norman looked surprised. ‘Do you want me to teach you?’
Ger had said the same thing once and they’d tried to drive a Punto, only a shite of a car, but Hopper couldn’t get the jist of it. He left it to Ger.
‘Maybe some other time,’ Hopper said. He’d fuck-all interest. If he was going to learn something in Australia, he’d love to be a vet or something with these mad animals here.
Hopper imagined himself having a wildlife sanctuary with crocodiles and cassowaries, Tasmanian devils and koala bears. Two green and red parrots living on his shoulder. He smirked at the idea. Bullshit really. He could just about read nevermind study to be anything.
‘Thickest man in First Year 3,’ Hopper said.
‘What?’
‘Teacher said that to me once. I wasn’t though.’
‘So you don’t want to drive? You know, the opportunities in Australia for lorry and machine drivers are bloody insane. Big big bucks.’
Hopper nodded but there were quicker ways to make big big bucks.
They finally got to a right place, a gold mine town called Norseman. Hopper was thrilled to see normal shops and businesses. Norman took the chance to replenish his funds and stopped again at a bank machine. After they checked into the motel, Hopper went with him to the supermarket. He picked up and put down loads of products. He got a whoosh off the lemons and limes, further down, the fish and raw meats, the fresh baguettes.
‘You’re really coming on,’ Norman said to him as he paid for his basket of groceries.
Hopper nodded. He was able to think clearly.
They went for a walk around town finding the things of interest from the visitor centre’s leaflets. Hopper got his clothes washed and dried in the laundry at the motel. They had a meal out in a pizzeria in the afternoon. Hopper refused the free beer with it.
It would be another few nights before they got to Kalgoorlie, where Norman was going to set up. Perth was only 595 kilometres away from there.
The end of the road with Norman made Hopper feel twitchy again.
‘D’ya reckon I could be your housemate in Kalgoorlie?’ Hopper said in a small voice.
Norman smiled wide. ‘Thought you’d never ask.’
★
Kalgoorlie was a big gold mining town with buildings that looked like saloons from old Western movies. There was a shitload of brothels and strip clubs. Even in the normal bars, skimpies served drink in their underwear until the tip jar was full, then they got topless for a while.
Hopper and Norman went for dinner on their first evening and Hopper had the thirst on him. Thirst for a drink and a girl. Fuck. He was in trouble here. The two went together. The desire was consuming him. It wasn’t seedy like a stripper’s haunt. It was lively. No security or bikies or creeps. It was men having a few jars after work and women having the craic with them.
But the noise in the bar…
The banter of the workers and the clink of glass to lip. Glass to counter. Glass to glass cheers. And the girls with racks spilling over their tops. Juicy, lickable flesh he wanted to paw and taste.
He’d need a drink first.
Change your routine. Change your routine.
‘I have to go,’ he said to Norman.
Hopper left.
The evening was hot and dry. He took a few deep breaths and wiped the sweat off his brow. He sat on the curb, thinking about it. Utter temptation. Utter utter temptation. And he’d resisted it. He’d never done that before.
The chances.
★
They lived in a small two-bedroom detached house in an estate on the outskirts of the town. It had cream carpets and a eucalyptus tree in the garden. The smell of it reminded Hopper of the baby’s first Christmas. He didn’t know what it was about but Hopper and herself, they got him small gifts. Hopper lit the Christmas candle she bought and it smelt like pine trees and eucalyptus. Norman’s garden.
She had the baby in a soft Santy outfit that morning. All red with white on the collar and down the middle. Had a hat and pointy soft black slippers on him. They took loads of photos on their phones. They went to church even. And the people in the church, they were looking at them and probably thinking they were a good family.
Hopper thought they were too.
She bought him a ring that year. He got her name tattooed on the inside of his arm. The whole way from wrist to elbow. Six hours of ink. He looked down at his arm, the tattoo covered over with a Chinese dragon. He tapped his head.
At Norman’s they had access to a swimming pool down the street. Hopper went swimming and sunbathing most days. Norman did his work on a computer in the house.
When Norman printed off the forms for Hopper to apply for his Australian driver’s licence, Hopper put them in the bin at the pool that afternoon.
★
After a month or so of living with Norman in Kal, they went out a dirt road to the Super Pit lookout. Norman thought once Hopper learned to drive, he could get his ticket for two thousand bucks and operate the machines in the mine for a living. All they did was go up and down at crawl speed, gathering and tipping.
Hopper kept complaining that the Aussies were too slow processing his form. He also complained how nobody had replied to his ad looking for work on Gumtree or responded when he sent his CV in. He hadn’t sent his CV to anyone.
‘You should give me a look at it, may
be it needs editing,’ Norman said and Hopper agreed with him but never did.
The Super Pit was deep and wide. It was a huge hole and Hopper stopped himself making a filthy joke because he couldn’t make the punchline work in his head.
The cliffs looked golden. Dust went into his mouth.
‘It’s kinda mad,’ Hopper said. ‘Gold’s just something out of the ground. Like soil. Or earthworms. Why is it so great?’
Norman said, ‘Well it’s rare. Money is paper. Gold is gold.’
‘Water’s better than gold,’ Hopper said and looked at the sovereign rings on his fingers. ‘Definitely.’
Norman stood staring for way too long. Hopper got anxious to leave.
On the way home from the mine, Hopper noticed a billboard. ‘KEEP AUSTRALIA AUSTRALIAN.’
‘Damn right,’ Norman said.
‘But you’re English,’ Hopper said.
‘We’re the same breed,’ he replied.
‘Does Australian not mean the Aborigines?’
‘No.’
‘But they are the Australians, aren’t they? The people that came from this land. Everyone else here may as well be on Working Holiday Visas.’
‘No. Australia was founded as a civilised nation by the British. The Aborigines are Aborigines. Different.’
‘I think your argument’s fucked, Norman. Wasn’t it set up as a convict colony by the British?’ Hopper said. ‘Ger told me that. They sent over the Irish cons and hopped them off the boat into the sharks if they died on the way. Though the rest of them must have been laughing when they got here. Imagine being sent to prison, but your prison is a country like this?’
Norman tutted and rolled his eyes.
‘You’ve this grudge against the Aborigines and it’s bullshit. Haven’t seen any of them go near you. You’re the one with the live-and-let-live speeches, how come you won’t give that to them too?’
Norman didn’t speak to Hopper for the rest of the day.
★
Norman kept rustling bags and kept talking about his recovery. He played the worst most shitest music in the car and the flat all the time, even though Hopper downloaded Van Morrison’s Moondance album for him to put on.