“Thanks, Mum,” Wolf said, climbing onto the stool at the bar.
“You’re welcome,” she replied. “Wolf, I want to talk to you.”
“Um, okay. Did I do something wrong?” he asked.
“No, that’s not it. First, I’m sorry about the other morning when you asked about your father. I shouldn’t have been so short with you.”
Wolf looked at her. “It’s alright, mum,” he said, holding his sandwich with both hands.
“No, it’s not alright. It’s just that…well, Wolf, your father didn’t have a good childhood. His dad, your pop, was not always nice to him and he drank alcohol even more than your dad does,” she said, rubbing her right thumb back and forth across the fingers of her right hand. “Your father tries to watch how much he drinks, and because he feels so guilty and ashamed of how he acts, he tries to be extra nice when he’s sobered up. Am I making any sense? Are you understanding what I’m saying?”
Wolf bit his sandwich and chewed. “So, Pop was a bully,” he said, swallowing.
“Yes, he was. I don’t want to change your memories of your grandfather, but you should know that he wasn’t very nice to your father,” she said, momentarily sucking in her bottom lip. “And, with your dad, I’ve tried to get him to stop drinking but he just gets angrier. The best way for us to get through this is not to rock the boat and listen to him. Your dad always has to be right, so let’s not give him any reason to be upset,” she finished, taking a deep breath before exhaling.
“Okay, I’ll try,” Wolf said softly.
“Also, what happens in our family is private, Wolf. You shouldn’t be telling other people about our problems. What you need to do is stay focused on school, karate, and learn as much as you can so you can grow up to be a good man.”
Wolf didn’t say anything as he stared silently at his mother.
“We all go through hard times in our life, Wolf,” his mum continued. “Even when I was a little girl, things weren’t perfect in my house, but I kept my family’s problems private like I was told. I learned that sharing my issues only got me in trouble, so I expect the same from you. Now, how about some more milk?”
She turned her back to him as she opened the refrigerator door then poured him another glass of milk.
When he finished his lunch, Wolf said, “Thanks. I’m going to go play in my room.” As Wolf left the kitchen, his head hung low, Polly slipped her hand into his and they walked down the hallway to his bedroom. Wolf crawled up into his bunk and lay flat on his back, his hands behind his head, feeling relieved that Orville wasn’t home so he could be alone.
“It’s kind of sad that your grandfather was mean to your dad,” Polly said, laying on her back next to Wolf, her eyes aimed at the ceiling.
“Pop was always nice to me,” Wolf said. “I guess I should be glad that my dad’s only mean to me when he’s drunk…he’s actually nice to me sometimes, too, Polly,” he said convincingly.
“I know, I’ve seen it. I think what your mum was trying to say is that when your father isn’t drunk, he feels guilty for acting mean, and then he tries to be really nice to make up for it. Stupid way to say sorry if you ask me.”
“Yep. I’d rather have him not do bad things to me and then he wouldn’t have to be sorry,” Wolf stated.
“I agree, but he’s the only one that can decide what he’s going to do. My father used to say that on your path you have choices; you have the choice to start doing something, or the choice to stop doing something. Hopefully someday your dad will have the wisdom to stop drinking and stop taking his anger out on you,” she said. “Luckily for you, you can make your own choices in life.”
“Someday. I just have to survive this part of life first,” Wolf sighed.
Chapter Thirteen
Wolf had been told countless times he wasn’t allowed inside the aviary without one of his parents, yet he still sneaked in through the front door whenever they weren’t around.
Today when he arrived, ready to feed the birds, he was surprised to find a keylock had been put on the handle of the door. “Polly, did you know they did this?” he asked the ghost who hovered in the air next to him.
“I heard them talking the other morning in the kitchen,” she replied. “Your dad said he suspected you were sneaking in and didn’t want you inside anymore, but he didn’t say how he was going to keep you out. I guess this is how,” she said, pointing at the lock.
“There’s no way they’ll keep me out,” he mumbled. “Cecelia, where’s the key,” he whispered, pushing the tip of his nose through a hole in the checkerboard wire.
“Wolf,” the crimson rosella replied from her perch, “as much as I want you to come inside with us, you’re not supposed to be in here and you need to start listening. So, I’m sorry,” Cecelia sighed, “but I won’t tell you. It’s for your own good.”
“Cecelia, pllleeeaaassseee,” he moaned. “I belong here.”
“I want to help you, Wolf, I really do, but it’s not right for you to disobey your parents,” she said, lowering her head until the purple feathers below her beak touched her red chest.
Wolf opened the feeding window, dumped the seed on the tray, and slammed it shut, ruffling Cecelia’s feathers. “I’ll figure out how to get in. You just wait,” he grumbled. “No one can keep me out. And, Gary,” he continued, “you owe me. Dad would’ve killed you if I didn’t get you back in the aviary after you escaped. So, you should be the one to tell me where I can find the key.”
The galah, who was standing on the edge of the tray pecking at seeds, stopped what he was doing and looked at Wolf, his obsidian eyes void of light, before resuming eating, ignoring Wolf’s request.
“Ugh! I’ll find a way in myself,” Wolf said, walking briskly back towards the house, holding the empty can.
Wolf came up with his idea the next afternoon while watching his mum filling the can with birdseed.
“Mum, could you feed the birds today? My stomach feels funny like I’m gonna be sick.”
“What? You didn’t tell me you didn’t feel good.”
“It was, ah, sudden, like, just now,” Wolf lied.
“Well, go lay down in your bed until dinner.”
“Okay,” he sulked, walking away, pretending to go to his room.
As soon as his mum left the kitchen, he ran to the loungeroom window and pulled aside the edge of the curtain sheer, peering into the yard. As he watched his mother disappear behind the birdhouse, he saw Korey the koala sleeping in the tall gum tree beyond the backyard fence, all four of his legs dangling from the branch, and then he noticed his mum reemerging from behind the aviary. He watched her as she went to the front door of the birdhouse and opened the lock, giving Wolf the clue he needed to find the key.
The next afternoon, he stood near his mother at the counter as she poured the birdseed into the can then handed it to him. He felt confident he could search for the key without being seen as both his father and Orville hadn’t come home yet, and his mum was going to be in the kitchen preparing dinner.
“After I feed them, I’m going to play outside with Carla,” he told his mother, leaving through the kitchen door.
When he entered the yard, Carla ran up to him. “Hi!” Wolf heard the dog say excitedly.
“Hey, girl,” he replied.
She licked his hand then sauntered behind him as he walked to the birdhouse.
When he arrived at the aviary, he looked around and made sure no one was watching him. He set down the can and disappeared around the back as Carla sniffed the ground near the birdcage. He looked for the key on the ground and under rocks and then noticed an isolated tree stump reaching halfway up his shins. He forced it up on its edge and peered underneath, and on top of the dampened dirt and smashed leaves found the key. “Ah-ha!” he whispered, pinching it tightly in his fingers, “there you are.”
He went to the aviary door, turned the key in the padlock, and the U-shape clasp clicked open. Wolf removed the lock, put it in his pocket and wen
t inside.
“Wolf,” Cecelia said in a high-pitched voice, “this is a bad idea. What if you are caught? I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“G’day to you, too, Cecelia,” he replied with an exaggerated smile. “Relax. I won’t get caught. Plus, I brought you something,” he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out an apple slice from his lunch. He placed it on her birdhouse deck then added a small handful of seed from the can.
“Bless your cotton socks,” she said, her parrot beak curled at the corners.
Wolf loved to make Cecelia happy because she was his favorite. She was added to the aviary when he was four, and the first time he saw her, he told his mother that she was the most beautiful bird he had ever seen. His mum told him he could give the crimson rosella a name, and right away, he gave her the name Cecelia because he loved that name, although he never knew exactly why. He also asked his dad if they could build her a house, and he said yes, so together they built her a wooden birdhouse painted white with a yellow gabled roof and a circular door with a perch, and above the door, his father painted her name, Cecelia, in purple letters to match her tail feathers.
Today, while Cecelia stood on her perch, Wolf said to her, “You’re one of my best friends, and best friends help each other. Why didn’t you tell me where to find the key?”
“Wolf, I worry about you. Your parents hid the key for a reason, and I don’t want to see you get in trouble. I’m powerless to protect you, so please learn to behave.”
“No, I won’t! It’s stupid that I can’t be inside. I’m the only one who cares about all of you anyway,” he said, flinging the remaining seed all over the ground.
He left the aviary, locked the door, and returned the key to its hiding place under the stump, and for the next couple of weeks, continued to use the key to sneak inside and be with the birds.
However, one late afternoon when he went to grab the key, it was no longer underneath the stump. After searching under rocks and pieces of dead wood, he gave up and asked the birds for help. “Does anyone know where the key is?” he whispered.
“Young man, enough is enough!” Cecelia scolded.
The budgies stood side by side on a rope that spanned the length of the birdhouse, staring wide-eyed with their beaks tightly clamped. Gary the galah stood on the ground, his body tucked tightly into a corner, and screeched, “It’s useless. You might as well just give up.”
“Be quiet, Gary. There’s no way I’m giving up,” replied Wolf.
The biggest bird in the aviary, the red and green King Parrot, swayed on a swing, talking gibberish except for the occasional phrase like ‘piss off’ and ‘dropkick’, and the yellow canaries flew around sporadically, fluttering and chirping, while the lorikeets napped on a shelf anchored to the wire wall.
“Come on, guys,” Wolf moaned, “one of you tell me where it is.”
“Wolf, you can’t come in. Now, be a good boy. Empty the seed on the tray, then go and play,” Cecelia said, her tone motherly.
“Nope. Now, listen up!” Wolf announced. “I have something special for the bird who will tell me where I can find the key.”
All the birds except Cecelia and Gary perked up, elongating their necks as Wolf reached into his pant pocket and pulled something out. When Wolf opened his fist, on his palm he displayed five, plump green grapes.
“I’ll tell you!” screeched one of the lorikeets.
“Okay, now we’re getting somewhere. Larry, first tell me where the key is, and then these grapes are yours.”
The rainbow-coloured lorikeet jumped off the shelf and sprang across the floor. He put his claws in the squares of the wire wall and crawled upwards, pushing with his legs and using his red beak to pull himself up. When the bird was ear level with Wolf, he said melodiously, “It’s near the garden, under the blue pot,” motioning with his head in the direction of the key.
“Thank you, Larry,” Wolf said. “Here’s one grape to start, and I’ll give you the rest after I get the key.”
Larry opened his beak wide and Wolf put the grape into his mouth. The lorikeet closed his jaws, digging the sharp, yellow tip of his beak into the flesh of the grape, holding it steady as he crawled back down the wire wall.
Wolf left the aviary and went to the blue pot with white chrysanthemums outside of his mum’s veggie garden. Wolf noticed the Japanese man sitting in the garden watching him, an amused grin on his face, but Wolf ignored him as he tilted the flower pot on its edge and peered underneath, finding the silver key on top of the damp grass. Wolf picked up the key and went back to the birdhouse. He opened the lock, went inside, and walked to where Larry was standing, still clenching the grape with his beak. “Cheers, Larry,” Wolf said, dropping the remaining grapes at his feet. The other birds sighed, drooping their heads with envy. “Don’t worry,” Wolf said, “I have a few other treats.” He pulled a handful of blueberries from his other pant pocket and scattered them on the ground. All the birds hopped and chirped with excitement, nudging each other to get to the fruit. As the birds clambered, Wolf looked towards his house, and his smile melted away. In the loungeroom window stood his father, staring straight at him as he held the edge of the curtain sheer in his fingertips.
“What’s wrong?” Cecelia asked, noticing Wolf’s shoulders slumped.
“He saw me,” he replied, his voice barely audible. “I didn’t even hear his car pull into the driveway.”
“I’m sorry, Wolf, but you broke the rules. You made a choice.”
“I’d rather be dead,” he mumbled.
“Dear boy, don’t say that,” she cooed.
Wolf left the aviary, locking the door behind him. He dragged the toes of his shoes as he walked slowly towards the house then entered the kitchen, the key clenched tightly in his sweaty fist.
“I told you not to go inside the birdhouse,” his dad said coldly, now sitting at the breakfast bar, a glass of brandy on the countertop in front of him.
Wolf stood frozen in place, his head hanging and his eyes aimed at the ground.
“Give me the key,” his father instructed, holding out his hand.
Wolf shuffled forward and placed the key delicately in his father’s palm, smelling the alcohol on his breath. His dad curled his fingers around the key as his clenched hand shot upwards, his fist punching Wolf in the jaw. Even though his dad used only a fraction of his power, Wolf’s lightweight body lifted off of the linoleum and he stumbled backwards, swinging his arms as he tried to balance himself until finally, his momentum was halted when his body slammed into the cupboards.
“Stay out of my birdhouse!” his father roared before leaving the kitchen.
Wolf didn’t move. He touched his bottom jaw, noticing his chin beginning to swell, and tightened his eyes, trying to force back his welling tears.
Later that night, while Wolf was in his bed and Orville snored in the bunk below, Wolf could hear his father’s raised voice from his bedroom across the hall.
“He’s your fault, Lizzie, and he’s not going to continue to disobey me,” his dad said, his speech slowed by alcohol.
“George, please, he’s only a boy,” Wolf’s mother replied.
“Don’t ‘George, please’ me.”
Wolf heard a slap and a light whimper, followed by silence.
“You need to try to sleep, Wolf,” Polly whispered in his ear, pressing her thin body against his and running her fingers through his thick black hair. “There’s nothing you can do right now. Try to get some rest.”
Chapter Fourteen
It was lunchtime, and Wolf was hungry. His mum was cutting the front lawn, the mower mechanically grumbling as she guided it forward, so rather than bother her, Wolf went to the kitchen to make himself a sandwich. Even though he knew he wasn’t supposed to be making himself lunch without her approval, he was hungry, and he knew that Korey would be, too.
He dragged a chair from the dining table over to the counter and stood on it, gaining enough height to reach into the cupboard and grab
the bag of salt and vinegar chips. He lifted the bag high into the air before dropping it to the floor, causing the chips inside to burst into tiny pieces. He got off the chair and removed two pieces of white bread from the cellophane bag on the countertop as well as two slices of cheese from the Kraft blue box in the refrigerator. He placed the cheese slices on each piece of bread, then stuck his little hand deep into the chip bag and clutched a fistful of broken pieces, placing them on the cheese slices. When he concluded that he had piled on enough bits of broken chips, he put the two pieces of bread together, one on top of the other, and pushed down with his palms, completing the final step of his chip sandwich recipe.
Wolf looked out the kitchen window and saw Korey high up in a gum tree across the yard, sniffing at the air. Wolf opened the kitchen door and waved, and Korey waved limply before creeping down the trunk. Once on the ground, his furry grey body went on all fours and he crawled towards the house.
Ten minutes later, Korey arrived. His black, rubbery lips were bent upwards in a coy smile just above his fuzzy, white beard. He glanced at Wolf as he walked through the kitchen and straight into the loungeroom.
“Korey,” Wolf said, “you can sit in Dad’s recliner if you promise to be careful. I put your sandwich on the table next to his chair. Don’t poke any holes with your claws, and don’t make a mess.”
Wolf had met Korey for the first time when he was five years old. His mum had sent him outside to sit on the bench and eat his peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and while he ate, Korey approached him quietly from behind. When Wolf turned to see what was there, the animal was standing upright, looking like a short, fat bear with a bulbous, black leathery nose. Wolf wasn’t scared because he looked so cute, and also because he knew he was a koala. Wolf held out his sandwich and offered him a bite, and Korey looked at him with dark, cheerful eyes before crawling up onto the bench and plopping himself down so close to Wolf that their hips touched. Wolf gave him the sandwich, and the koala smiled, his lips stretched wide below his nose, and took a bite.
She Named Me Wolf Page 5