Next week won’t be any better. Her phone bill is due. She could hold off another week but it would just be delaying the inevitable. She can survive a little longer. She can always sneak into the seniors’ centre and steal a couple of pieces of fruit to hold off the scurvy for another week.
Every day begins the same. She wakes, later than she should. Turning her alarm off and sleeping for at least two more hours. Or she lies in bed, trying not to think. Eventually she pulls herself out of bed. She doesn’t make it, leaving a mess of cover and sheets waiting for her to return.
She showers if it’s a good day. If there’s no one in the bathroom. If there’s any hot water left. If she can be bothered.
It’s almost lunchtime by the time she leaves the house she shares with five other people. She heads to the bus stop where she waits however long it takes before a bus arrives. She never checks the timetable. There’s no point, she’ll have to wait anyway.
The bus comes when it comes. She holds her breath and prays there’s enough money on her Opal card to make the journey. If she does, she heads towards the local library. If she doesn’t, she goes back to bed.
She stands beside a café letting the smell of coffee wash over her. She used to buy one coffee every day but she stopped when she decided. Now she just lets herself enjoy the smell whenever she can. She misses it, but it will be worth it. Soon.
At the library she gets a computer for an hour. She does the required number of job applications. No more, no less. She used to try harder. She used to care. But she knows now that nothing will come from her efforts so she only does the bare minimum. She uses the rest of her time to read BuzzFeed articles that don’t make any sense because she hasn’t seen a movie in six months.
Facebook is useless, her friends have stopped talking to her since she stopped going out with them. She didn’t mean to upset them. She had to. She needed the money. That $40 a fortnight now lives in the same box with her coffee money. The box is almost full. It will be worth it.
Her time at the computer over, she picks up a book, something pink and fluffy about a career woman who gives up her job for love. She hates it and she loves it and she hates that she loves it.
If it’s a Monday she heads straight from the library to an ATM. She gets out $60 and hides it in her bra. She is grateful for her room but she knows better than to put money in her wallet, anyone could find it there.
The bus comes. She makes the same prayer she made at the start of the day. If there isn’t enough money she will have no choice but to use some of the money in her bra to top up her card. That would be unfortunate, especially when she’s so close.
Back in her room she pulls off her too-tight jeans as soon as her door is closed, rubbing the dents they leave in her skin. Her bed is exactly as she left it. A mess of sheets that haven’t been washed in longer than is healthy. She’ll wash them soon, she promises herself.
She pulls the money from her bra and pulls the box from under her bed. She doesn’t open it at first, always afraid of what she will find inside. It’s Pandora’s box. All hope is inside.
Counting the money is strange. She’s never had this much money in her hand. She probably shouldn’t have it now. But she worked for it. She saved for it. She sacrificed for it. She deserved it.
It’s so close. She knows how much she needs. It’s written on a piece of paper in the box but she doesn’t need to look at it. She’s memorised the sum like her life depends on it, and in a way it does. This is all she has left. She has given up the little she did have so she could do this and she’s almost there.
She puts the box back under the bed, pulls on some trackies and heads out to make another packet of two-minute noodles. Another day down. Another day gone. Another day closer to freedom.
The next day passes the same. And the day after that. And the day after that. The day after that she has to top up her Opal card but she has enough, she finds enough. She puts off paying her phone bill, but it’s enough. She’s almost there.
Her tongue is burned from chemicals. She’s not sure she can taste anything anymore. She’s forgotten what coffee tastes like, she’s sure it was good though. It was probably good. It must have been good, she wasted too much money.
The weekend blurs into the week. Days don’t mean anything when you don’t have anywhere to be. She doesn’t mind because she knows where she’s going. She has a plan and she almost has the money to make her escape.
Monday is a day she remembers. She always makes a note of Mondays. Especially every second Monday, because that is the day she needs to make sure she gets paid. She needs to make sure she has the money to survive and she needs to make sure she has the money to save for her moment. Her moment is soon.
On Monday she wakes up and only stays in bed for half the time she usually does. When she gets up she pulls the doona cover up in a kind of half attempt to make the bed. She’s feeling good.
The bus comes soon after she arrives at the bus stop, it’s like she planned it. She didn’t but it appears that way to the world and that’s almost the same thing.
There are no free computers at the library but she’s not bothered, she doesn’t mind waiting today. On any other day she might have given up and gone home but today she wants to get this done. She doesn’t want to come back here until she absolutely has to.
When she finally gets a computer she uses the whole hour for applications. No BuzzFeed. No Facebook. Just work. It feels good. Not the actual application process, that’s as disheartening as ever, but the fact is that she’s done everything she needs to for the whole week. She’s ready for tomorrow. She’s ready for everything.
She smiles at the ATM as she stuffs the cash into her bra. Someone sits next to her on the bus but she doesn’t care. Nothing can touch her anymore. She has made it. She doesn’t even get into bed until after she has her dinner. It’s a good day.
That night the two-minute noodles taste better than they ever have. Better than when she was a kid and they still held a kind of naughty novelty in their horribleness.
The next morning she wakes before her alarm, but she hadn’t slept much anyway so it doesn’t count. She lies in bed for a while but she doesn’t try to keep her mind blank. She has a lot to think about now. She hadn’t wanted to think about it before because she didn’t dare to dream and be let down. But now the time has come, the fantasy is within her grasp.
She makes sure to shower, pulling on her cleanest pair of jeans and a top she deems respectable. She vaguely remembers what time the bus came yesterday and does her best to arrive before it. She doesn’t freak out when she misses it because it doesn’t matter. There will be another bus in an hour, she’s waited this long she can wait a little more.
The shops seem enticing in a way they never have before as she wanders through the crowds, a clear goal in mind. People seem happier, nicer, maybe they know she’s one of them today. If only for today.
She takes her time although she’s in a hurry. She doesn’t want anyone to know how desperate she is. She has to act cool. This is just another day. Any other day. She’s holding her bag like it’s a lost limb, she can’t lose it.
The store isn’t as busy as she imagined, but it seems busier than it should be on a Tuesday morning. Maybe it’s always this busy, she doesn’t know. She hasn’t paid much attention recently.
She keeps her head up as she walks past the computers and the white goods, straight to the far back corner. That’s where she needs to be. That’s where it is. That’s where her dreams are. All she has to do is take them.
It’s awkward. She has to stand there for a long time before anyone even looks in her direction. She’s not wandering around, she’s not browsing. She knows exactly what she wants so she plants her feet firmly in front of it and waits. A couple of men stop to talk to her, but they always leave before she can tell them what she wants.
She’s used to it by now. Being dismissed. Even before she got to this point no one really took her seriously. She doesn�
�t have the face for it. That’s just life.
Eventually the store is quiet and the men who work there have no choice but to approach her. She smiles sweetly, ignoring the feeling of spite and hatred that bubbles underneath. It doesn’t matter what these people think of her, she’s almost there.
She has a list, she wrote it down. She blocks out everything he’s saying and waits her turn. After what feels like an age she is allowed to speak. So she does.
Quiet, nervous, a little bit sweaty she lists everything she needs. The man looks surprised, or maybe she’s projecting. It doesn’t matter. He tries to convince her that he is right, that she should change her mind but she knows her limit, knows exactly how much money she has and how much money she needs, so she repeats her original request, a little more confidently this time.
$699.
Plus
$97.
That leaves $204. She smiles to herself. She can get a lot with $204. That should keep her going for a while. At least until she can save up enough to pay a monthly subscription fee without worrying.
When she pulls out the cash they look concerned, but they don’t say anything. They just make the sale and she hands over $800. She gets $4 change, which she pockets, thinking she might splurge on a coffee in celebration of this momentous occasion.
Forty minutes. That’s how long she has to wait before she can pick up her purchases. It will take her about fifteen minutes to run back to the supermarket and pick up a trolley. That leaves her twenty-five minutes to look around. She tries to pick up as much variety as possible but she’s fairly sure she fails.
She ends up five minutes late. But she has a trolley, and a bag filled with dreams. She’s ready for her rewards.
There’s judgement in their eyes as they load the box into the trolley but she doesn’t care. She ignores the stares and she walks. She walks with her head held high. She has done it. She has achieved the dream. This is everything she has been working towards.
The taxi driver is rude, maybe he knows she’s not going to tip him. It’s not that she doesn’t want to, although considering his attitude she’s not sure he deserves it, it’s just that she has a budget. That budget includes a taxi ride home because she would not be able to carry it on the bus. But she doesn’t have any room for movement. She’ll be lucky if the trip comes in under budget anyway.
He doesn’t help her get the box out, but she doesn’t complain. Somehow she manages to carry it from the sidewalk to the house. It’s like when those mothers can lift cars to save their newborns. She feels like she is a new mother and the giant box in her arms is her baby.
Her room seems smaller because the box is so big. She doesn’t care, though, because the room doesn’t matter anymore, not now that she can see outside it.
It’s not all that complicated to set up. Or maybe she’s still got some of that newborn mother’s adrenaline pumping through her veins. She remembers the day she discovered the little socket in her wall. She had been so happy, it had been the beginning of her dream, it had been the day she found hope again.
All plugged in, she takes a moment to look at what she has achieved. She went from having nothing to having everything. She knows that it might seem silly, she knows that most people won’t understand. She doesn’t even have a computer, she doesn’t have a car. But she needs this. She needs it like she needs the two-minute noodles she’ll be eating this evening.
Finally she pushes that beautiful red button and watches the screen flicker to life in front of her. She can see everything, a whole world in a forty-inch flat screen and Keeping Up with the Kardashians is on. Everything is going to be okay.
About the author
Yvonne Popplewell is a student at the University of Sydney, and her story ‘The Flat Screen’ is her first piece of published fiction. She has a wide range of influences but her all-time favourite author is Jane Austen. She has written on popular culture for a number of blogs. Currently she is completing a Masters in Media Practice and working on her first novel. She lives in Copacabana, not the one in Rio, with a life-size cardboard cut-out of One Direction.
About the Brotherhood of St Laurence
The Brotherhood of St Laurence is a not-for-profit organisation that works in communities across Australia to alleviate and prevent poverty. To meet the great social and economic challenges that persistent poverty presents to our otherwise prosperous nation, we aim to demonstrate how to defeat disadvantage through high quality research, services and policy development.
Further, the Brotherhood aims to have a national voice on issues that affect the most disadvantaged among us. Underpinning all our work is the aim to ensure that people who are facing disadvantage are able to speak for themselves and contribute to framing solutions, whether it is rolling out a program in an urban or remote community, undertaking a national campaign using social media tools, or establishing a short story competition.
We aim not only to develop services that help individuals and families break the cycle of poverty so they can build better lives, but also develop understanding and knowledge of the causes and consequences of poverty and how to prevent it through research, community engagement and learning from the care services we conduct. We use the knowledge and insights gained to create innovative policies and programs to implement and to share with other organisations and with governments.
We also contribute to policy and service development and delivery that will strengthen communities, particularly those on the outskirts of major cities and in country areas, most at risk of poverty and disadvantage.
Our work has a particular focus on people at greatest risk at four life transition stages that are critical to wellbeing. In the first stage, the early years of childhood, our services and research aim at early prevention of problems, supporting parents to give their children the best start in life, and helping them establish strong connections outside the home that help their children to thrive.
The second is the transition from school to work and further education. Our programs equip young people from disadvantaged backgrounds, at school and after, with the knowledge, skills, confidence and networks they need to successfully make the transition from school to the workplace and productive, satisfying adulthoods.
Thirdly, we focus on the shifts in and out of work during the adult years, in an economy where the content of work is rapidly changing. Workers made redundant in declining industries, those who have been out of the workforce due to illness or caring responsibilities, and jobseekers who have simply been out of work for some time need help to build a pathway into the industries that are expanding.
The fourth life stage is the years of retirement, where our work is guided by the approach of building on each individual’s strengths so they can live the best life possible. Services are provided which help older people, many of whom have experienced a lifetime of disadvantage, to be involved with their community and enjoy security, comfort and choice.
All the work undertaken by the Brotherhood of St Laurence is driven by the firm belief that wherever we come from, whoever we are, we all share a powerful common humanity that knits us together as people, neighbours and communities. This is at the heart of the common good the Brotherhood of St Laurence pursues.
Help create lasting change
Please join with the Brotherhood of St Laurence to help develop a fair and compassionate society in which everyone has a sense of belonging and hope.
You can assist by making a financial gift, donating your time or goods or by shopping at any of our stores, including at our online book shop.
Please call us on 03 9483 1301 or contact us via bsl.org.au/act
Royalties from the sale of this book will be donated to The Brotherhood of St Laurence Hope Prize
HOPE: AN ANTHOLOGY
First published in Australia in 2016 by
Simon & Schuster (Australia) Pty Limited
Suite 19A, Level 1, Building C, 450 Miller Street, Cammeray, NSW 2062
www.SimonandS
chuster.com.au
A CBS Company
Sydney New York London Toronto New Delhi
Visit our website at www.simonandschuster.com.au
© Foreword Quentin Bryce 2016
© Introduction Tony Nicholson 2016
© Individual stories Catherine Moffat, Eloise Young, Katherine Hayes, Eleanor George, Laura McPhee-Browne, Marlish Glorie, David Porter, Heidi Catherine, Christine Fontana, Yvonne Popplewell 2016
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission of the publisher.
National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication entry
Title:
Hope anthology/Catherine Moffat, Eloise Young, Katherine Hayes, Eleanor George, Laura McPhee-Browne, Marlish Glorie, David Porter, Heidi Catherine, Christine Fontana, Yvonne Popplewell.
ISBN:
9781925533163 (paperback)
9781925533170 (ebooks)
Subjects:
Short stories, Australian.
Other Creators/Contributors:
Moffat, Catherine, author; Young, Eloise, author; Hayes, Katherine, author; George, Eleanor, author; McPhee-Browne, Laura, author; Glorie, Marlish, author; Porter, David, author; Catherine, Heidi, author; Fontana, Christine, author; Popplewell, Yvonne, author.
Dewey Number: A823.408
Cover design: Christabella Designs
Cover image: 2jenn/Shutterstock
Typeset by Midland Typesetters, Australia
Hope: An Anthology Page 10