by Romy Ash
He walks back to the car.
No, I say, not like that. The feeling of the church has gone. There is dust stuck to my sweat. I walk out of the dark.
Inside Bert it smells of alcohol and cigarettes. In the front Loretta has a little bottle she takes a swig from.
What’s that?
It’s just so that I can sleep.
But it smells.
Shhh. Enough.
She takes another swig. Jordy is silent. I try snuggle into a corner but everything I touch feels hot and horrible. I can see a triangle of the sky. It’s so big and far away. It’s telling me I’m nothing. I close my eyes and count to one hundred. I don’t know when I fall asleep, maybe seventy-seven.
Loretta, Loretta, I say. She is curled up in a ball on the front seat. Her bare feet hanging off the edge. Loretta.
She wakes up and looks straight at me. She has creases from the pillow on her face. Her eyes look too blue.
What?
Nothing.
She puts her face back in the pillow. Fuck, she says, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
Are you okay? I say.
Yes.
Loretta.
Just give me a minute, okay. It’s too early, she says.
But it’s already hot, I say. Her empty bottle is on the ground. She burrows into the pillow and it feels like I wait there for a long time. I see the sweat begin to bead on her skin. Jordy is crouched outside in Bert’s shade. He draws lines in the dirt, then smooths them over, then draws them again.
Loretta, I say.
Okay, she says, okay.
She pushes the pillow over the seat. It plops onto the rubbish in the back. She gropes for her sunglasses with her chipped-nail-polish hands. The chips of polish are smaller now, just little spots in the centre of each nail. She finds the glasses, puts them on. She opens her door. Her bare feet on the dirt.
Hot enough? she says. Jesus.
She swings her legs back into Bert and turns the key in the ignition. He coughs into life, then out of life.
Fuck.
What’s wrong? Jordy says from his side of the car.
There’s nothing wrong, we’re just out of petrol. I think.
Are you serious?
Don’t take that tone with me, Jordy. I smile to hear Gran in her voice again, then it’s gone.
Why didn’t we get some before?
I thought we were going to make it.
You’re so dumb, says Jordy.
You’re so dumb, she says.
You’re dumb.
Is this what Gran taught you? To talk back?
No, it’s what you taught me, he says.
They stare at each other. I stare at them.
What are we going to do? I say.
We just got to wait, honey bunch.
My school bag is squashed up under Jordy’s seat. I pull it out. The zip makes that zip sound. I see my exercise books with my name written in my careful handwriting on the front. It still looks a bit wonky and some of the letters of my name are in capital letters that shouldn’t be. I wonder why I’ve never noticed that before. The blue lunch box is in there and when I pull it out it rattles. I open the lid and it’s the smell that comes first. It’s a banana that’s gone black and flat. I poke it with my finger and it’s like jelly. It makes me shudder. I throw my lunch box out onto the road. It looks strange out there.
What’s that smell? says Loretta.
Nothing, I say.
Look, there’s something coming. Look. Quick. Tom, get out there and hail them down.
Huh? I say.
Get out there on the road and hail them down.
We all get out of Bert. I imagine what we might look like to someone driving past. Jordy and me in our crumpled school uniforms, but they’re so dirty that I don’t reckon they look like uniforms anymore. Loretta’s got clothes she changes in and out of and back into again from her suitcase in the boot. She kind of looks clean, but her hair is tangled and wild. All of us have sunburn blooming on our arms and cheeks.
She says, They’ll stop for you, sweets, come on.
But why? I say.
It’s better if you do it.
She taps me on the back and gives me a smile that’s a present – there you go. The bulk of a truck on the horizon. It takes a while to get close. I walk out there to the middle of the road. On the white line because it feels like it’s cooler with my feet on the white. I can smell my lunch box. I wave my hands at the truck. It’s heading straight for me. I wave at it. I say to myself, Hello truck. Hello, hello, hello, hello, hello.
Loretta’s there beside me, and she pulls me from the road by my shirt.
You crazy thing, do you want to get run over? she says.
But you said to wave it down.
I know, but I didn’t say to get run over.
She leans down and kisses the top of my head and I pull away. It doesn’t matter, she says.
Way past us the truck stops. Wait here, she says, I’ll go talk to him. She adjusts her clothes and disappears into the heat haze.
She’s taking forever, I say.
What do you want me to do about it?
I don’t know. I’m bored.
He’s chewing a stick. He spits bits of twig out beside him. We’re both huddled in the shade of Bert, close to the dirt. I pick ants off my feet.
Jordy, do you remember from before?
Before what?
Before, when we were little. Do you remember Dad?
Who says we have the same dad?
He spits out the twig and the spit forms a perfect ball on the gravel.
I hate you, I say and get up, being sure to brush the dirt off my shorts onto him.
Well, I hate you, he says then laughs.
I start walking towards the semi-trailer. I can smell the road cooking, and wonder if I’m disappearing into the heat too. Then Jordy’ll be alone and crows can pick at his bones. I look back and Bert is a yellow smudge. The truck looms tall and clear. I see Loretta jump down from the cab. Against the truck she looks little as a girl. She swings a petrol can at the end of her arm. When she sees me she waves a little wave, like fancy meeting you here. We walk towards each other. I hear the truck start up. It drives away. She smells of petrol.
Gee, she says, I’m tired. It’s so hot.
Jordy was mean to me.
Really? That’s what big brothers are for, though, you know that, right?
No. He said we didn’t have the same dad.
Oh. She rolls her eyes and sighs. Sweetie, that’s just not true.
I look away and we walk together not talking, staring straight ahead.
But Loretta –
Tom, I’m way too hung-over for this conversation. He’s just trying to get to you. Don’t listen to him.
I see a kangaroo’s paw by the side of the road. It doesn’t have the rest of its body. It’s perfect, the pads of the paw face up, like it’s waiting for a high five. I want to put it on a string around my neck. Or just hold it in my hand for a moment. But Loretta’s already walking away, so I leave it, and now it looks like it’s waving goodbye. I trot to catch up. Loretta sighs. I can hear the petrol sloshing in the can.
What did the trucker say then?
Nothing.
But he gave us some petrol.
Yep, he sure did.
Was he fat?
Does it matter?
Do you reckon all truckers are fat?
She looks down at me and nods her head. Yeah. She shakes the can up and down. Yeah, she says.
So we can go now?
Ahuh.
I’m hot, says Jordy. He’s still down in the dirt. Loretta ignores him. I look at Jordy and think that we don’t look alike at all.
She unscrews the petrol cap and tries to pour a little of the petrol in, but most of it goes down the side.
Damn, says Loretta.
What? I say.
Nothing.
You need a funnel.
I know.
She
pops the boot. I look in and all her clothes are out of her bag. She digs deep in there but comes up with nothing.
I was just thinking one might appear, she says. She blows up at the hair stuck to her face, but it stays there, stubborn. She goes to just keep pouring petrol down the side of the car.
Wait, I say. Do we have scissors?
She shrugs, Yeah. She points to the glove box.
I find a shiny pair, hairdressing scissors. I grab an empty bottle from the rubbish tip in the back. They all make hollow sounds against each other. The one I got crackles when I stab and slice it all the way around. The top comes off with a raggedy edge.
Here, I say. Use this. I turn it upside down, twisting off the cap. Looks like a funnel.
Hell, who’s a real man, eh? She takes it from me, pours the petrol slowly. It works.
I saw it on the telly, I say. Jordy’s watching us from across the car. He gets in the front.
Done, she says.
She throws the petrol can in the boot, on top of all her clothes, and flings the funnel to the ground. Slams the boot. Jumps in the front.
Get in.
I look at the funnel. I hear Bert cough to life, smell fumes. Loretta revs him hard and whoops loudly.
Tom, come on.
I’ve forgotten to call shotgun again. I leave the funnel there, open the door and get in, telling myself to stop being such a pussy. It doesn’t matter, it’s just a bottle cut in half.
5
I wake up, and I’ve dribbled a large wet patch onto the pillow. Bert is parked at a rest stop with a toilet block that stands out like a baby’s tooth. Loretta and Jordy aren’t in the car or anywhere I can see. I throw the pillow across the seat and open the door, stumble out. My legs are asleep. I punch them, Come on, legs. I’ve got no idea how many days we’ve been driving.
Loretta, I say and hobble towards the toilets, Loretta? A semi goes past so loud it sucks my voice from the air. Loretta?
She comes out the ladies side of the block. What? What? she says. Can’t I get a moment’s peace?
She’s changed into a dress. It’s floral and floats around her as she walks. She combs her streaky hair back into a ponytail with her fingers, an elastic in her mouth, then ties it up on top of her head. She does a twirl and puts her arms out. She looks beautiful, like how I remember her from before we were at Gran and Pa’s the first time, when we lived in a house and Dad still lived with us.
When we left Dad, I remember being carried to the car – a different one to Bert – late at night. I must have been much smaller because I’d never let her carry me now. When I woke up again she was standing out by the road, surrounded by sugar cane, and she was howling and crying into the night. I could hear the sugar cane hushing her, the dry stalks rubbing against each other.
After that we lived in a little apartment where you could hear someone wee in the toilet from every room. And Loretta wore her dressing gown like a second skin for what seemed like years. But before that she would always wear summer dresses with bare legs and she would sing while she did the washing-up, and she would put too much dishwashing liquid in there and slap the suds together in her hands and the bubbles would go everywhere.
What do you think? she says. But I don’t say anything because I’m still thinking about everything, and how we came to be here by another road, without even the sugar cane to comfort us. She crunches on the gravel over to me. She crouches down and looks me in the eye.
Ya got pillow scars, she says and touches my cheek. Pretty tough.
Where’s Jordy?
She flicks her head to the toilet block and I leave her there in the gravel to go check.
There’s phone numbers and swear words written all over the bricks, a mirror that’s really just shiny metal and buckled. In the middle of the door there’s a round hole. I look through it. Jordy is sitting in there. Framed by the hole.
Whatcha doin? I say.
What do you reckon?
A poo?
Go away, you pervert. Bloody pervy perve. Get lost.
I am not a perve.
Piss off, perve.
I’m not a perve, Jordy, I’m not.
Well, go away then, you perve.
I’m not a perve.
I get out of there. Loretta has disappeared again. I walk slowly around the back of Bert and she’s down in its shadow. I get down there with her and it’s much cooler. We wait for ages for Jordy. We wait so long I need to do a wee and I go and piss in a crack right down into the centre of the earth.
When he comes out Loretta asks him, Mission accomplished? Like we’re all on this journey into outer space to fight aliens, and Jordy gives her a look, looks away.
Mission aborted, huh, she says.
We know we’re coming to a proper town ‘cos the radio works again. Loretta flicks it on and searches until she finds a song she likes – and sings it. Bert’s antenna is a coat hanger in the wonky shape of a heart.
I love driving, she says and winds her window all the way down, sticks her hand out, catches the wind in her palm. She’s singing and she goes to Jordy, Do you know this one?
He shakes his head. Come on, sing with me, she says and starts dancing in her seat. Sing it.
No, he says and I start to laugh.
She sings and her voice is sweet and clear. Her hair is blowing everywhere. Dancing.
I see Jordy has to look away ‘cos he can’t stop a smile creeping to the corners of his lips but Loretta’s seen. She smiles too. You know, I’ve been singing in a band.
Really? When? I say. I lean right over the seat to have a proper look at her – like she could be different with this new information. What did you sing?
Oh, you know, songs. She sticks her tongue out at me.
I laugh. No, really?
Rock and roll, guitars and stuff.
Did you play guitar?
Nup, I just sang.
Can you sing one of the songs?
No, she squeals and giggles. Too embarrassing.
Please.
No, absolutely not.
Please.
No. I’ll sing this one, though. She leans and turns the radio up. Her skin looks golden in the sun. She sings really loud. I look at Jordy and when he sees me looking he starts to laugh. I laugh then and I can’t stop. I laugh until it hurts and she’s still singing but softer now, under her breath.
There is a town and we drive straight up its guts. It has a McDonald’s but Loretta won’t stop.
We’re getting closer, she says. It’ll ruin everything if we stop now.
And that town is gone as quick as it came. There is dirt and paddocks, but there’re trees now, even though it’s still dry. Then without warning things change and it’s greener and there are birds.
There’re signs towards a city but Loretta doesn’t follow them. We skirt around the city, and for a while there are houses close together, made of bricks, with letterboxes. What’s weird is that they seem strange, when they’re the most normal things.
Oh my god, Loretta says.
What? I say, and look around for what’s getting us. But nothing is getting us, she’s excited, not frightened. Then I see it, an ocean that’s a whole new one from Gran and Pa’s ocean.
She stops the car and I fling forward. My stomach jumps. The seatbelt catches me, choking hard against my neck.
The ocean, she squeals.
I adjust the seatbelt and start to laugh because I can’t help it. She drives into a carpark that’s right on the beach. The salt in the air smells nice.
Holy shit, look at that, she says. She jumps out of the car giggling and leans over the wooden railing. The wind blows her dress up. Come on. Let’s go for a swim. Do you wanna? She turns back to look at us and a couple with a dog walk past. The man leans down and whispers something in the woman’s ear and she looks at Loretta and laughs. Jordy shrinks down in his seat. The man links his hand with the woman’s. Their dog pulls them forward by the lead.
We don’t have any sw
immers, I say from inside the car.
Don’t be silly, that doesn’t matter, you can swim in your shorts. I get out of the car to stop her yelling across the carpark. But they’re my school shorts.
So? I’ll go in my underwear, fair’s fair. She’s already walking down to the beach, slipping off her shoes at the soft sand and leaving her clothes in a little pile at the seaweed line.
Jordy gets out of the car.
It’s hot, he says and walks onto the beach, ducking under the railing.
Yeah, I say. I follow him. I pull my shirt off and it feels like I’ve been skinned. Our three pairs of shoes are together on the sand. Jordy’s and my school shoes look bulky as blocks.
Loretta walks into the surf, she looks back at us, and the wind blows her hair in front of her face. She’s wearing baggy undies and a bra that looks grey. Her feet are in the water. Come on, she yells, it’s beautiful.
Jordy laughs with the sun in his eyes. We walk to the edge. There’s seaweed that’s like beads on a plastic necklace. I notice a new tattoo at the small of Loretta’s back. Jordy walks into the waves and dives under the first one that comes. Loretta’s still near the edge jumping over each little wave and gasping as she gets deeper, the waves taking her breath away. The water is cool and foamy over my feet. I look back and check on our stuff, and I can see the nose of Bert from here.
Come on. We’ll dive under the next one, alright, she says to me. When she grabs my hand hers is wet. She pulls me in. It’s deeper for me. A wave comes, and she jumps over it.
The next one, she says laughing. The next one comes.
No, the next one. This one for sure, okay? Ready? She holds my hand tight and we dive under together. In the cold I can still feel the warmth of her hand in mine. I keep my eyes closed tight. There is a safe place where the wave isn’t even touching us. It’s silent and the moment seems to last forever. She pulls me up and I take a breath. I wipe my eyes and look at her. Her hair is dark and slicked and her eyes look too big. There’s shiny teeth in her grin.
How about that, she says. The next wave slaps us both in the chest.
She sits on her dress, still in her undies, on the sand. She lights a cigarette and takes a deep drag. Jordy’s down by the water.
This is the life, eh. She ruffles my hair.
What’s this mean, I say and touch the new tattoo. She jumps.
Nothing.