by Criss Copp
The problem is I seem to have developed a bit of a hair trigger.
When I remember what the counsellor said about this whole ‘incident’; like my parents’ death was an occurrence slotted under number 387 in the ‘Incidence and Occurrences Book of Ways to Die’; ...being an act of God, and it was nobody’s fault, I just about tear my face off! When I think of the insurance assessor telling my grandparents, in front of me, that it was an act of God... I want to run someone through with a blunt object. When I then think about the funeral, and several people assuring me that it was their time to go, because God called them home... I am bordering on a psychotic breakdown!
My parents weren’t even religious! I don’t have an opinion on religion really; but as for God, if I see that arsehole any time soon, I’m gonna fucking take him on! I’m going to rip his throat out and scream down into his lungs to give me back my fucking parents! At these times I scream in a rage at the sky and my whole body goes extremely tense and rigid. I’ve also been known to kick, punch and slap at things.
Worse still is how I feel in an everyday sense, like I can’t seem to gravitate beyond the base level of dismal. I feel alone, so alone; despite sleeping on Graeme’s couch; which is a seriously fucked up situation, because Scott has no idea about the ‘sort of’ relationship that I had been in with his boyfriend for the last ten months, and is being all nice to me. If anything, I’ve informed Graeme that this friendly sex thing we had going on is over. He’s okay with that; he’ll probably find someone else sometime soon, but at least I can step back and just be friends without adding any more guilt to the piling heap over here.
“What is going on?” I ask Francis; a nurse I’ve been bonding with over the last couple of days.
“Your Grandparents were in an hour ago, and they were talking to Silas about your parents’ funeral. Silas was okay at first apparently, but then he just snapped... went completely off at them! He hasn’t been very cooperative since, and he’s basically had to be seen by the mental health team... and sedated!” She says softly.
“You’re kidding me; is this protocol?” I ask.
“I’ve not had to deal with it before, but Sheryl says it is!” She states, referring to the NUM.
“Why do my grandparents insist on discussing this shit with him? I know they think that he needs to deal with it and move on with life, but they’ve got it all wrong! He needs to see someone professional about all this... I need to see someone professional about this shit!” I reason, shaking and becoming emotional. I pull myself together internally and then I sigh and droop. Francis gives me a warm welcomed rub on the back.
Before thinking too much about it all, I think that perhaps I can help. So, I stand straight and start to talk to Francis about the situation; beginning by outlining Silas’ background.
“You know he’s diagnosed as ADHD.” I say, thinking he can be a bit over the top at times. “And last year, the child psych said he probably has ODD as well!” I add.
“Oppositional defiant disorder?” She asks.
“Yeah... but the school counsellor is basically wanting to add Conduct Disorder to the mess as well.” I explain. “Oh, and he’s got depression too!” I say, thinking of the diagnosis given by the paediatrician four years ago.
“Shit honey... that’s a whole lot of labels right there!” She points out.
“Yep,” I nod. “But I can help calm him down you know; I helped a lot when he tried to suicide when he was between the ages of 6 and 8.” I explain.
“What? What do you mean suicide?” She looks appalled.
“It will be in his files!” I offer, “But when he was 6, he wanted to die; so he got naked, and hopped into a huge suitcase, which he had stored under his bed. I remember it was like a forty degree day, and it was scorching since we didn’t have air-con; and he did the bag up from the inside. It was lucky that I had seen him go into his room and close the door, otherwise we wouldn’t have found him in time.” I explain, nodding my head and sighing. “Dad found him, all limp and lifeless with just a tenuously beating heart. He was under surveillance for three days and in hospital for five.” I say.
“Why does a 6 year old kid try to kill himself?” she asks in shock.
“He just said he didn’t want us to find him until he was a skeleton. That was the beginning of all the therapy and doctors. It was the beginning of me wanting to be a nurse too.” I say smiling weakly. She nods but her face is shocked.
“There were other times though?” she asks.
“Yep,” I nod. We’re standing at the nurses’ station, and I have noticed that a couple of other nurses are listening in to the conversation. “He tried to drown himself when he was 7, by dragging a heavy rock from the garden inside and placing it on his chest in the bath. The splashing brought him undone.” I sigh. “The last time was when he was a day short of turning 8. He jumped off our roof. He overshot the fall to the concrete, and landed on a bush. Still, we have a two story house, so essentially, he was three stories up. He should’ve succeeded, but instead, he only broke his arm. He’s been on Sertraline for depression since then.” I explain, using the generic name for his meds.
“And he has the Dex instead of the Ritalin for his ADHD doesn’t he!” she mentions, nodding her head in thought.
“Yep... he’s a junky; gotta get his amphetamines.” I try to make light of it all. She smiles bleakly and places her hand on my arm.
“Hang in there kiddo; there’s a light at the end of this tunnel, even if you can’t see it yet.”
“I hope so Francis... I can’t see very well at the moment; I need some light!” I reply morosely.
“I’ll go and see if you can visit yet.” She says, wandering down to his room that has a security guard standing at the door.
In a few minutes, she comes out the door and motions me with her arm. When I get there, she whispers fiercely in my ear.
“You owe me Tayte... I pulled strings for you that your body can’t cash!” She smiles conspiratorially.
I beam at her with a smile that’s totally fake... I’m hollow inside!
Lately I’ve become an academy award winning actress; I pretend I’m okay; and everyone around me believes it!
***
I’m sitting in the recliner chair next to Silas’ bed, and reading a bike magazine... I ride a black Kawasaki Ninja 250. I like riding bikes. They’re cheap to run and zippy as hell through the traffic. I also like to speed past grandmas that drive like snails, without having to wait for a break in the bloody oncoming traffic. I want to upgrade once I get off my P-plates, to a 650. But I love my bike; it’s mine and it’s in my name!
Silas is playing Playstation on some Starlight Foundation game console, and we’re just hanging, waiting for the lunch tray to be collected. He’s going home in two days.
Two people knock on the door and enter.
The first is a man in grey trousers and a light blue polo shirt. He’s gotta be about 35 and rather uneventful looking... blue eyes, a bit of scruff on his face and a crew cut. Body is fairly average, he’s nowhere near as tall as me; probably around five eight.
The woman is mousy and small too. She’s dark hair and eyes, light skin and wearing a dress suit; but I can see she has a bit of the bulldog in her; she’s got fight in her, despite the mousy appearance. She’ll be pushing 50.
They’re looking directly at Silas, who’s been so prodded and poked and looked at by complete strangers, that he doesn’t even notice them anymore.
“Can I help you?” I ask.
“And you are?” she asks... Excuse me? Didn’t I just kind of imply that first?
“Silas’ sister, Jade!” I answer.
“Oh... we didn’t realise you were here.” She apologises; kind of.
“So can I ask who you are?” I reply, standing to give myself height advantage.
The man leans across the bed with his hand outstretched, “I’m Phil, and this is Robin. We work for the Department of Community Services.” He says smiling.<
br />
I almost drop his hand like he’s a disease.
“DOCs? Why are you here?” I ask guardedly.
“We were informed by your grandparents this morning that they no longer believe that they can take care of Silas, so we’re here to have a chat with him.” She explains.
“What? What do you mean? They didn’t say anything to me!” I argue; beginning to get flustered. “And what about Silas... should he have someone here to help him be interviewed by you? I mean... I’m guessing you’re interviewing him!” I accuse.
“Yes... we will be having a talk with Silas. We’ve got a lot to do to get him made comfortable in two days time.” The woman says.
“He’ll come to live with me!” I blurt out. I don’t really think about what I am saying, but he’s family; we’re family, and that’s what family do! Don’t they?
“How old are you and where do you live?” Phil asks, pulling out a notepad and leaning on the little table. The movement makes Silas gingerly sit up and take notice. He starts watching what’s going on.
“I’m 19, and I’m crashing at a friend’s place at the moment, because I normally live on campus, and we have to vacate during the holidays.” I explain.
“Hmmm... and what sort of finances have you got access to in order to support a child?” he asks, writing furiously.
“I... have a little money, but I can always go and get some government support. I was working at a pub on Darby Street, but I was going home for a bit and...” I trail off. They’re looking at me like I wasn’t cut out for this. And as I’m talking, it has become increasingly clear that they might be right.
“I’ll make any changes you suggest to keep my brother with me.” I advise stoically.
The woman sighs... Rhonda was it?
“You would need to find accommodation that is suitable for Silas, and you’d have to organise forms and payments from Social Security; you’d also have to consider changing your university to part-time and find more work; and after that, we can talk. Until all those things can be done, you’ll need to allow us to make alternative arrangements.” She says.
“I want to live with Jade.” Silas states.
“Could we talk to your brother for a bit?” Phil asks, not unkindly. I leave the room in a stupor... Can this situation get any worse?
***
Yes... yes it can!
“Gran, what do you mean you can’t do it?” I ask angrily down the phone.
“He’s a lot of hard work Jade. He gets into trouble all the time at school, and we’re getting too old to run after little children.” She says; it sounds like whinging to me. Besides, Silas isn’t a little child, he’s nearly a teenager.
“I’ll help wherever I can!” I lament.
“And you’ll always be welcome dear... it’s just Silas... well, he’s so hard!” she explains.
It dawns on me; they don’t want Silas, because of all his shit! I can kind of understand, but he’s their flesh and blood!
“But this is family!” I complain.
“We aren’t equipped to deal with him honey!” She replies.
“Can’t you just take him till I get sorted out, and then I promise, I’ll take him to live with me!” I plead.
“I’m sorry sweetheart, we just can’t do it!” She refuses.
I feel like a lump of coal has been placed in my chest, in the space that my heart used to be. So without further thought, I hang up and scream at the wall in front of me.
I’m on my own. I have no support, and nobody seems to care that both Silas and I are suffering too. We have only each other left, and even the mother of my own mother can’t see past her grief and pain to understand that her own flesh and blood are having to do what she should be doing.
I understand that my Gran thinks that children shouldn’t die before their parents and that it makes her grief more; but come on, I disagree. I don’t think there is a sliding scale of pain experienced here.
Silas is 12, and only has us left... he’s lost everything he should have in order to grow; and now he’s also being abandoned by two people meant to be in his corner.
I’m 19, and I’ve just committed myself to getting my shit together to raise a child, through the most difficult years of a kid’s life; and I don’t have any skills or knowledge on how to do it!
But he’s my brother... he’s my flesh and blood; and if my grandparents can’t see their responsibilities right in front of their eyes; I will! I’m not blind; I’ll take him on, and I’ll give him everything I can, because that’s what family do, it’s what they should do, and it’s what I will do!
Silas is my responsibility, and I’ll make every effort, because I’m the only one he has left... and I love him!
***
“Hello?” I gush; I’ve been waiting for this call for hours. I woke at the crack of dawn so I wouldn’t miss him calling me. It’s now 9:00 am, and I start work at 10:00am, to cater for all the lonely Christmas crowd.
“Merry Christmas.” Silas says flatly over the phone. It’s a private number, and I’m not allowed to have it. I have been making requests all week to have Silas with me, but the family he is with wouldn’t allow it. Apparently, they couldn’t make it into Newcastle from Maitland, it’s about a 30 minute drive; and I wasn’t allowed to take Silas on my bike; especially since I’m not allowed to double on my Ps anyway.
I did request that I be allowed to visit, but that got thrown back in my face in seconds.
I haven’t seen him since he left the hospital, twelve days ago.
I’m spending Christmas alone, in a flat in Broadmeadow, which I moved into on the 18th. There are two rooms, a kitchen and a lounge. There is also a bathroom, which is the size of a small ensuite. I’ve used up every cent I had to not only pay the bond and two weeks rent for this roach infested sweatbox; but to buy second hand furniture, kitchen goods, and dining items... like plates, forks and cups. I had thought on going to Armidale and getting our stuff when I had some more money, and Silas to help me, but this place is disgusting; I don’t want nice stuff here.
I’ve gone back to work and I’m taking everything that Warren can throw at me, which right now is every day, since they still won’t let me have my brother.
I feel like I’ve done something wrong. I feel like they look at me like I abused him... like he’s so fucked up in the head because of me. I can only imagine what that family think, with all of Silas’ drugs and counselling; and his battle wounds from the car and tree. Apparently they don’t get told why he’s in care. They probably think that our parents are in gaol, that we are despicable and easy to despise people; I wish I had some say in all this. I wish they’d hurry this God damn process up!
Silas doesn’t like it where he is, and his anger towards me is apparent, because he’s constantly asking me angrily why I’m not coming for him. I tell him the truth, but I’m just another adult telling him shit... and he’s scared, sad and... fuck... he’s really sad!
When he hangs up, I scream at my ceiling and bash my fists into the wall.
Damn... I’ve made a hole in the thin board. I’ll have to patch it up now, before Phil and her come to inspect this rat hole!
“Fuck it!” I shout to nothing; “I’m going to work early!”
Chapter Two: The First Year
...January...
“No, no, no, no! This won’t do! He can’t live here!” Roxanne, or whatever her name is, starts grumbling.
I’ve patched the hole in the wall and cleaned the place till it’s sparkling more than it had previously... okay, it’s not sparkling; but despite the wet carpet smell, I did manage to get rid of the mould. But it is what it is, and I agree that it’s shit. Especially given that it’s a sweltering 38 degree day, after a week of rain.
“It’s what I could afford!” I sheepishly explain, when all I really want to do is to grab her stomach, push my hands inside and rip out her intestines; she’s just a mega bitch!
“Okay... it is bad... but maybe we can do somethin
g.” Phil insists; trying to repair my damaged family. He’s the good cop. He’s always trying to be nice.
“What can be done about this hovel Phil? It’s almost a condemned building!” Rosanna... Rhonda... whatever... she complains.
“Who did you rent through?” Phil asks me.
“RentMax.” I reply.
“Okay... he has rentals all over the greater Newcastle area... We can transfer this bond across if I talk to him and explain... we’ll look at getting you a better apartment. Silas needs to be settled with you before school starts if this is going to work!” he states, smiling.
She just walks outside with a grunt to go and have a ciggie. I’m wondering how the smoke would look, seeping out from her slit throat; gurgling up through all that blood and sinew.
I still haven’t seen Silas... it’s been over a month.
***
“We’re wasting time... we have other clients to see Phil.” Robin protests ... yep, her name is Robin. Phil reminded me; and I remembered just in time that it’s illegal to slit a social worker’s throat; even if they do qualify for the biggest bitch of the year award. So, no... I didn’t get to see smoke drift through her sliced and diced throat.
We’ve been to the offices of RentMax and Phil has personally spoken to the property manager; out of my hearing, and somehow, I’ve been let out of my lease; as long as I take on one of the three other properties the same owner has. The only one that bad cop Robin will allow me to even look at is double the price of my previous apartment; at $300 per week, it is located in East Hamilton.
I’m getting out of the back seat of their vehicle, while looking at the property. It’s a big improvement on the apartment; for starters, it’s a free standing house; a very skinny free standing house, certainly! But nonetheless, it’s a house. With a yard, and a shed.