Civilisation.
Out here there is nothing but the long, red road.
My sister Lillian comes and goes. She’s only vaguely interested in Jake, the guy driving; wait till later, when I have at him. Then she’ll spark up. Now, she doesn’t realise he’s actually pretty attractive underneath those dusty clothes.
And he’s quiet, which is good.
He met me in Katherine, straight off the Darwin bus, greeting me like an old friend. I wasn’t sure yet where he stood on the community itself. I was there to shut it down, “in a peaceful and quiet manner,” I’d been told. “No fuss.” This was the project that would set me ahead, put me high up on the ‘must promote’ list. I wanted to get it right.
Would he try to convince me otherwise? I didn’t mind him trying but it wouldn’t get him anywhere.
Lillian whispered, “Do we like him?” and I laughed, then coughed to cover it up.
I wondered if he could smell her and thought it was me, so I pulled out some ylang ylang hand cream to mask it.
My sister Lilian has a smell about her now. Roses gone brown on the edges, or a glass of wine left out overnight. It gets stronger when she thinks I’m heading for trouble. She’s addicted to trouble. She always was an addict although it looked like I was. She loved my failures, fed off them like a hungry man sucks up spaghetti.
Every time she found me asleep in the gutter, every time she washed my face, every time she scared off another shit boyfriend; that’s the stuff that made her feel good.
We were always better when there was a third. Someone we could both focus on. Otherwise it was like two relentless beams of light directed at each other.
If she had a boyfriend, or I did, we’d freak them out with our intensity. If we both had one at the same time it was okay but that somehow rarely happened.
When we were kids it was the same with best friends. We’d become obsessed with them, buying them presents, making them things, always wanting to be with them until they tired of us and walked away.
Addictive personalities, even then.
Growing up I always knew how much better she was. She got the good marks at school; she had all the future.
After she died things changed for me. Did she have to die for that to happen? That’s what my biographer will ask.
I changed. I was lucky enough not to have a record, and my parents put me through Uni as a mature-age student, in some ways pretending Lillian never existed, that I had always been the good daughter, not her. That I was 18 and nothing bad ever happened.
~~~
I took a large sip of water.
“So you work in Canberra?” Jake asked. “That must suck.”
“I like it, actually. Get to be in the heart of things. In the middle of reality.”
He snorted at that. “Not much reality down there. Man-made lakes, pollies, fake people.”
I crossed my legs so my skirt hitched mid-thigh. Faced my knees towards him. “The only thing I’ve ever had to fake is an orgasm. And that wasn’t my fault.”
He laughed and looked sidelong.
“Eyes on the road,” I said. “Don’t want to kill anyone.”
Lillian snuck her hand into mine. She doesn’t like it when I talk about death.
The sex stuff? She loves that.
I don’t recommend holding your sister’s hand while she dies. It’s like opening up a gate, like an electrical gate is opened by the touching of the hand and the ghost gets through.
It’s true. Every ghost that hangs around is here because some idiot held their hand and opened the gate.
This is my gate theory.
I watched her life shut down. She seemed to blur, and I thought it was because I was crying and my eyesight wasn’t sharp, but then it came into focus and she seemed to hover above herself until she disappeared.
It was hard to get warm after that. Even on a sunny day I felt chilled, as if someone stood over me, blocking the light. I ignored it; pretended she wasn’t there for a long time.
Until.
Until I met Giles. The first man who was sadder than me, had a worse life, who hated himself more. Our seduction was comparing awful behaviour, “I drowned my own dog,” was his, and he said, “And I think I’m a father but I’m not sure and don’t care, and I drink a bottle of vodka a night and have no family to speak of and no friends.”
I told him about Lillian, how she’d be alive today if it wasn’t for me, a great artist or actress or some kind of famous thing. I said I didn’t mean for it to happen and yet it had.
And then we made love. He hadn’t done it before, not properly. “I don’t deserve this,” he kept saying.
“No, you don’t,” I said, but I didn’t deserve happiness either.
He stopped partway through, looked over his shoulder. “How did you manage that? Lick my feet when your mouth is way up here?”
But it was her, my sister, squatting naked on the end of my bed, her tongue lolled out, her flaps swollen and red like tongues as well, all glistening.
Later, he curled into a ball as if I’d beaten him.
“Sad man,” Lillian whispered. She was with me, now, and I heard her. “Sad, sad, sad man.”
She’s sitting in the back seat, legs spread. She won’t stop fiddling with herself.
~~~
“We can have a break here if you like. Well, we better.”
It was a small hotel. Flies everywhere. Men on the verandah, leaning over it, staring.
“I can drive for a while,” I said.
“Sure. I still need to…”
He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be formal with me. Court shoes, neat skirt, silk blouse. Hair in bun. I looked official.
“This the Government lady?” one of them asked. “Gonna shut the abos down?”
Jake nodded.
“Only trouble is they come into Durram Downs,” another man said. “Become our problem, don’t they? All right for you, getting them off your backs.”
“Beer?” Jake said.
My sister nodded. Floating around the men, sniffing at them. She loves a worker. Loves the rough trade.
“I really don’t want a beer. Maybe when we get there.”
“Just leave the bastards be,” one man said. “They’ll be dead before long and no one will have to worry about them.”
I wasn’t going to argue with an idiot.
We didn’t speak much. I concentrated on the road. On keeping to a reasonable speed (although Jake told me no one gave a shit about the limit out here) and avoiding the animals that seemed to be using the highway like we did.
~~~
As we approached Durrum Downs I said, “Are they all going to have an opinion for me here?”
“‘Fraid so. It affects all of us.”
“So, what? You think we should leave them alone?”
“Some people think so.”
“But they’re killing themselves. It’s not like they’re happy and healthy.”
I’d been sent here because there had been “a rash of deaths”. A rash of suicides, as if the deaths were a nuisance, an itch, and all that’s needed is the application of ointment and the skin will be smooth again.
~~~
There were two hotels in the town and I’d chosen the right one; it had an automatic door and air conditioning. The other one was at the end of town, near the small doctor’s office. I hate the smell of anything medical.
Not your fault, people said, but everyone knew it was. I couldn’t get myself to the clinic so Lillian showed up and took me, forcing me into the shower, making me wear her kind of clothes.
That’s all I wear, these days. Am I stepping in for her? Living the life she should have led?
Maybe.
But it’s better than the shit life I was living for myself.
Not your fault that whoever it was (they never did find out) was refused service at the clinic and came out wild, really wild. Banged into us both but I kept my footing. She didn’t and into the path of the
car.
I never let go her hand.
The hotel room was fine. Small, and decorated in nasty mustard colours, but it was clean, at least. The air conditioner didn’t work but the fan did.
~~~
There are homeless people in Canberra but I rarely see them. They’ve got their spots; between pillars, in the alleyways, and I don’t go there.
Here, though…
We walked out to find food, and we had to step over them. I tripped over one, who grunted, and then my eyes came into focus and I could see them all.
“So many people on the streets,” I said as we entered the town’s only restaurant. “Chinese and Australian,” it was called.
“Them?” Jake said. “Yeah, well. They don’t like living in houses.”
I watched them through a split in the dirty curtains. Like ghosts; most people looked through them.
We drank beer because it was so hot and the wine list was Red or White. I drank a lot. Thirsty. When I burped, and he laughed, not at me, but affectionately, I knew I’d sleep with him.
I’d probably known from the moment I saw him, actually. Known that I’d do it, but that laugh confirmed that he would.
At the hotel, I did the fumble with the key thing. It wasn’t fake; my sister was so excited she grabbed at my fingers, wanting to hurry me up, and it didn’t help.
We had a six pack of beer and I had a balcony, so we sat out there, slapping insects, sharing stories. He went into the bathroom. My sister followed him. I heard a shout, so he’d seen her.
“Jeez. It feels as if there’s a hole in the wall and someone’s staring in,” he said.
He shuddered.
“We better turn the lights off, then,” I said, and I led him inside.
Jake proved to be slightly more interesting than I thought he would. Bigger dick, for one thing. And while he professed to a warm heart, he didn’t mind a bit of pain.
~~~
The ceiling fan provided little relief. It was too hot with two of us in the bed, so he went to his room, kissing me quite lovingly.
“We’ll head out early,” he said. “Before it gets really hot.”
~~~
A short drive the next morning. I’d ducked out first thing and bought him a small gift; just a beer glass, but I thought it was a nice gesture. He looked a bit stunned. He’d get used to it. I tended to give my people lots of gifts.
“Just warning you, the place is a shit hole.”
“That’s why we’re shutting it down,” I said. “Makes sense.”
“Only problem is they all end up in town where no one wants them.”
“Programs will be set up. Extra teachers. That kind of thing. Much better for them.”
He didn’t answer. Was he thinking of all of those people on the streets? I’d heard a child crying in the night, but sometimes Lillian cried like that so it didn’t bother me.
I had less sympathy than other people because yeah, it’s hard to get out of the gutter but it’s not impossible.
I did it.
He pulled up at what was once the police station. The cops were the last to go.
The silence was enormous. No wind, no movement. The most incredible stillness. I felt set in resin, or made of glass. I felt as if a single step would crack the whole place open.
“Where is everyone?”
“Only ten of them left. The rest have seen sense and headed out. When the grocery store shut, most of them got it.”
We walked to a large house up on stilts. It was brightly painted and someone had once cared about the garden because it was laid out neatly with pebble paths and a bird bath.
“They all shifted in here when the shop owner moved out. He was the only one of them who had any money. Shoulda seen what he charged for a beer.”
“Did you come out here often?”
“Nah. Helped transport a few of them. Helped move the merchandise.”
“Drink it, you mean.”
He smiled. “You can talk,” he said, and he grabbed me there, on the street, and kissed me hard and deep. I heard my sister roar and if there had been some place not full of flies, I might have.
Later. Save it for later.
We walked up the stairs. The stillness hadn’t changed but I could hear a low murmuring.
He put his hand up to knock but I pushed the door open. They didn’t own this place, they were squatters. You don’t knock on the door for the benefit of squatters.
It was dark inside the house, well-shuttered against the heat. The fans were still, power long since shut down. We passed through the small entrance and into the room where they all sat.
What struck me first was how tired they all looked. I’d seen that weariness; hospital staff in the drug zone, into their thirtieth hour of a shift. Pure exhaustion and hopelessness.
“G’day,” Jake said. “This is Emma Macquarie. She’s gonna talk to you about moving.”
They all tucked themselves in, pulled away from me.
“You might want to shut up, mate. Not helping,” I said, but I winked and showed him the tip of my tongue so he knew I still loved him.
“Who’s boss here?”
An elderly woman stood up. She was as tired as the rest of them, but her shoulders were straight and she walked right up to me, standing a metre or two away, looking into my eyes.
“No bosses here,” she said.
“This one knows the country, though,” one of the men said, making a gesture as if pointing with his lips at the old woman.
“You’ve got good family. Good people. Anywhere you live will be home. We’ll make sure you stay together.”
Yeah, we’d try. But seriously? Looking at the disparate ages? It probably wouldn’t happen. They’d get used to it.
“This is our place. Always has been. You take us from here you cut off our breathing.” And she sucked in a couple of hard lungsful of air to demonstrate.
I didn’t believe that bullshit.
“All the buildings will fall down and no one will fix them.”
“We can fix them,” one of the men said quietly. “We fix things fine.”
“And we can live outside in that guy,” the grandmother said. She pointed out of the window. A giant baobab tree stood there, its limbs reaching out ten metres or so, its trunk almost as wide. It gaped open, looking like a brown vagina. I whispered this to Jake.
“Seriously? Don’t you think so?” and that actually shocked him.
We went out into the backyard. There were fewer flies there, but a lot of canvases sitting out in the dust. “Part of the art,” one of the men said.
To humour them I stepped inside the tree.
It was beautifully cool, but claustrophobic. There was a young boy resting there, on bright blankets. No pillow.
“He’s pretty sick,” the grandmother said. “Hot as.”
“Where’s the doctor?” and I’d fallen into the trap because no doctor came out here.
“We need doctors,” they said, but I said, this is why you need to move. You know? It’s not a human right to have medical care no matter where you live.
Heat radiated off the boy and I didn’t want to go near him.
“Hold his hand,” Jake said. “Show some compassion. Pretend you care.”
For that shit I would fuck him again, later. Fuck him up, leave him so filled with self-loathing he’d never go at me again.
But I held the kid’s hand. It was dry. Gritty.
“He really does need a hospital,” I said. “If you lived close to the city we could facilitate that.” It seemed astonishing how much they didn’t get it. “We can take him now, if you like. We can fit about five of you in. Get your stuff later.”
I counted in my head, thinking two minutes more holding the kid’s hand would be enough. But my sister climbed onto the bed and squatted over his chest, looking into his eyes.
“He’s about to go,” she said. “Hold on tight.”
I dropped his hand. Gate Theory. But the fuckwit picked i
t up. My idiot companion.
That boy was the first ghost in town.
His mother lay beside him in that massive tree trunk, weeping. The grandmother stroked her hair, murmuring beautiful words I could not understand but wish I’d heard myself, at least once.
Jake said, “We should leave them for today. We’ll come back for them tomorrow.”
~~~
I drove myself the next morning, not wanting his influence. There was noise in the back; calling, and wailing, and shouts.
The boy’s mother had fashioned a noose, which she tied around the baobab tree. Her son floated close by, nodding, squeezing himself, as if excited, as if anticipating her arrival in his world with great delight.
“He loves you,” I said.
I looked at Lillian. Her mouth was a tiny ‘ooh’, waiting to see what I’d do. This was my choice. A first for me for in a long time. Choosing as me. Not as Lillian.
The grandmother said, “What are you doing? You should stop her. She won’t listen to us. Get your police friends in.”
One of the men laughed. “Yeah so she can die in a cell.”
They agreed.
“I’m not going to do anything,” I said. “Can you see him? Your boy?”
They all nodded.
“I can see my sister as well,” and I told them about her, the comfort she gave me. How happy she was; how the world to her was always happy, and she was never hungry and felt no sadness.
“Would we stay here?” the grandmother asked. “Would we stay here, in this place?” She tapped her chest to mean the land.
“I’m not sure. My sister comes with me everywhere. But our place is here,” and I tapped my heart, too. “We have no other place.”
She nodded.
That sense of peace and quiet hung over all of us.
“I can leave you to it, or I can stay,” I said, knowing I would need to hold the hand of the last of them, at least.”
“Please. Stay.” The grandma kissed me.
One by one they went, holding hands. My sister did her best to welcome them. No one can shift you now, she said. This is your place.
The last man left alive was packed, ready to go. As if he could take it with him.
The Gate Theory Page 10