Songs that sound like blood, page 1
First published 2016, reprinted 2016 x 2
Magabala Books Aboriginal Corporation, Broome, Western Australia
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Magabala Books receives financial assistance from the Commonwealth Government through the Australia Council, its arts advisory body. The State of Western Australia has made an investment in this project through the Department of Culture and the Arts in association with Lotterywest. Magabala Books would like to acknowledge the generous support of the Shire of Broome,Western Australia.
Copyright © Jared Thomas 2016
The author has asserted his moral rights.
Dedication excerpt as published in Resist! Christian Dissent for the 21st Century, Michael G. Long ed. (Orbis Books, 2008)
All rights reserved. Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of private study, research, criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright Act, no part of this publication may be reproduced by any process whatsoever without the written permission of the publisher.
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Typeset by Post Pre-press Group, Brisbane
For Ruth
I believe the world is beautiful
and that poetry, like bread, is for everyone.
excerpt from ‘ Like You‘ by Roque Dalton
(translated from Spanish by Jack Hirschman)
1
Hanging Dad’s washing on the line straight after school on a Friday was the last thing I wanted to be doing. At least I was listening to Vance Joy and could smell the basil Dad was growing or I might have set his jocks on fire. Drives me crazy how he just leaves his things in the washing machine like that.
I lifted his khaki work shirt out of the basket and was about to peg it when I spotted a pair of knickers. And they weren’t mine. I don’t wear those skimpy-arse lacy things. I looked around for a stick and picked them up with that. I was going to hang them up to shame him, but then thought better of it.
I walked over to the bin with the knickers hanging off the end of a stick when I looked up to see Aunty Linny waving to me over the side gate. I didn’t know whether to try and explain or chuck those knickers in a bush. Next thing I knew, them knickers were scrunched up in my hand and sliding into my pocket.
‘Help me open this gate, would ya?’ Aunty Linny said.
‘Hi Rox,’ said my little cousin Trav. Then he raced past me, handballing his football to himself.
Aunty Linny walked toward the back door weighed down with shopping bags. ‘Too hot to keep ’em in the car,’ she said.
‘Want a hand?’
She dumped the bags down on the path and shot straight to the good chair on the back porch.‘Is the kettle hot, bub?’
I walked out the back door holding the cuppas and almost spilled them when I saw the football slip off the side of Trav’s boot and head towards Dad’s tomatoes. ‘Hey, watch yourself. Uncle Maxie will flog you if you bugger them things up.’
‘He’s got no respect that boy. Just like his father he is,’ Aunty Linny said, rolling her eyes as she took the cuppa tea.
‘How is Uncle Johnny?’ I risked asking.
‘Don’t start me talking,’ Aunty Linny said, but I knew she was already off. I would have already made a million dollars out of her if I was a psychologist.
‘You know he texted me to say he bought Trav a motorbike? Didn’t even ask me. Nuh-uh, nothing. Big shot he is. Now what am I going to buy the young fella for Christmas?’
‘Plenty room over the bush there to ride it,’ I said, nodding in the direction Uncle Johnny was living, out near the salt lake.
‘Nah, he’ll just make him ride it around his yard,’ she said, making circles with her free hand. ‘Johnny is good at going round in circles. Bike will never see mud. Never!’
‘Yeah, but he might just . . .’
‘Don’t “yeah but” me, Roxy May Redding! That fella always trying to outdo me.’
‘But it’s been over a year now and at least he’s there for Trav.’
‘There for Trav? Jingies. Big noter, playing footy, out there on the mines, god knows what he gets up to with them big-time women in Moomba. Him posing up with that girl at NAIDOC ball on social media. Shame, Roxy May. Picture tells a thousand stories and don’t let no one tell you any different.’
‘He send you a birthday present the other week?’ I asked, knowing that he would’ve.
‘Foot massager. Stinking prick should’ve been kissing the skin between my toes when he had the chance.’
I heard the front door open and Dad walking through the house.
‘Get me another cuppa, bruth,’ Aunty Linny called out. Dad came out the back veranda with fresh cuppas and a glass of water.
‘How ya going, bruth?’
‘Every day you’re alive is a good day,’ he said, as usual, before chuckling.
‘How was it, Dad?’ I asked, looking at the cut grass and weed splattered across his pants.
‘Hey, Trav,’ he said. ‘You wanna be able to bend it like Beckham, kicking that ball around my garden. You mess anything up, I’ll boot your murntu all the way to the MCG.’ Then he turned to me. ‘I just love working with all those plants. I ain’t got a bad word to say about ’em and they haven’t got a bad word about me.’
‘What did you get up to last night?’ I asked.
‘As soon as you took off to Helen’s, it was just me and a cuppa and Johnny Cash.’
‘That’s the way, bruth,’ Aunty Linny smiled.
‘That’s good then,’ I said. I was tempted to pull the knickers out and wave them in front of his face. Wouldn’t be the first time I’d seen a black man turn red.
‘So, you fellas playing at the club tonight or what?’ asked Aunty Linny.
‘Tomorrow night,’ I said, wishing Dad and I were already on stage belting out a few tunes, knowing what was coming.
‘So you can look after Trav for a couple of hours tonight then, Roxy?’
‘Was thinking about hanging out at Helen’s.’
‘I’m only going to go see Jen for an hour.’
Dad leaned forward on his chair. ‘Might be best bub, mate is coming round to watch the footy and have a beer,’ he said, giving me this look over the top of his cuppa.
That either meant that Uncle Johnny was on his way and I needed to get Aunty Linny the hell out of there, or Dad was having a night in with soggy-knickers. Whatever, I was out of here.
2
‘There’s food in the fridge and I reckon I’ll be back from Jen’s before Trav is asleep anyway,’Aunty Linny said, opening the door to her place.
‘I gotta get to Helen’s before it’s too late.’
Aunty Linny rolled her eyes like I was being a nanna but I knew to be suss.Why was she wearing her boots and nice top just to see Jen?
‘I’ll flick you some bunda on payday,’ she said, like that would make a difference. She was always promising me money for looking after Trav, but it rarely came.
Aunty Linny sprayed some perfume on and kissed Trav. ‘I’ll be back in a couple of hours,’ she said. ‘Remember, girl, I used to look after you all the time. And it’s probably not long before I’m looking after your kids.That’s how it works.’
I waited to hear the car pull out of the driveway and went see what to cook for dinner. Trav was watching Spiderman and I was happy that he was sitting still.
There wasn’t much on the go. White bread, noodles, Weet-Bix and a few cans of spaghetti. Not much more in the fridge, just the basics. I could do scrambled eggs. There were a couple of pizzas in the freezer. I figured they at least had a few vegies on them.
I’d just slid the pizza into the oven when Trav screamed.
I ran to see what was going on. Trav was hiding behind the couch. ‘Scared the shit out of me, Rox!’
I almost laughed but instead said, ‘You shouldn’t be talking like that.’
‘Mum says it.’
‘I’m turning it off. Go play basketball or something.’
‘Can we jump on the tramp?’Trav asked.
‘I’m getting a feed ready. But I don’t care what you do as long as there’s no fire, petrol and jumping off stuff. And no swearing.’
Trav made his way out to the backyard and I made a cuppa and sat down to text Helen.
Found sum wmns knickers in the washing
??
If I knew I would’ve told you
Ok, when you coming round?
When L comes home
Tomorrow
She be home soon
See u in morning
Call after the footy
Night Rox x
I was kinda happy sitting down eating pizza and watching the footy with Trav. He was old enough to get into it and finals were always deadly. We didn’t care who won as long as the Aboriginal fellas played well and Buddy Franklin was on fire. I love Buddy. Tall, black, handsome Buddy, just like Uncle Johnny. Probably why Aunty Linny can’t stand him.
The game was so good that it was easy to forget about Aunty Linny being late. Trav was snuggling into me. That didn’t happen much these days. He was snoozing by the time it got to the after-game commentary so I led him into his room to get his PJs on and get him to bed.
I lay back down on the couch and tried calling Aunty Linny. The phone rang out the first time. I tried again less than a minute later and her phone was turned off.
‘C’mon Aunty Linny,’ I thought. ‘I just wanna get to Helen’s, why do you need to make me look s
I dialled Helen.
‘She’s not home is she?’ Helen asked as soon as she answered.
‘Nah. Sorry.’
‘It’s not your fault.’
‘I can’t leave Trav.’
‘Yeah I know. Better just get some sleep.’
‘I guess. See you in the morning.’
‘See ya then.’
I was hoping Aunty Linny would walk through the door and that I could still go out. I was alert to every car that drove past and the lights they threw against the lounge room wall.
When I finally gave in and got to sleep, an ambulance siren woke me up. The room was pitch black and I went to check on Trav. He was fine. I looked in Aunty Linny’s room. She wasn’t there. It frightened the shit out of me. I lay awake worrying about Aunty Linny. It seemed to take ages until I finally drifted off.
I woke up to the sound of Trav turning on the television. He plonked himself on the couch and shoved me. ‘What’s for breakfast?’
I felt like shit. ‘What time is it?’ I asked, reaching for my phone. ‘Is Mum home?’ I asked him.
He shook his head. ‘What’s for breakfast, Rox?’
I tried calling her. No answer. ‘Bugger!’
I got Trav breakfast and then went to have a shower.
Feeling wild, I thought that if she’s not home in ten minutes I’d leave Trav here.
I pulled my shoes on as Trav cracked up watching Rasta Mouse. Then I said, ‘That’s it, Trav, get some clothes on, get the footy and let’s go and have a kick over at the school.’
‘I’m really sorry bub,’ Aunty Linny said from the sofa when Trav and I walked in the door. Mascara had run down her face, her skin was grey and her face was all scrunched up from where it had been pressed on the cushion. I could tell that just talking was causing her pain.
‘Trav, can you go out the back and pick me a bag of lemons for Uncle Maxie?’ I asked.
‘But I’m starving.’
‘We’ll go to Nanna’s for lunch soon,’ Auntie Linny said. ‘Just go do it, hey?’
When I knew Trav couldn’t hear I said, ‘Only a couple of weeks ago you said you wouldn’t do it again.’
‘Yeah, but last night was different.Wasn’t like I was at the pub. I was at Jen’s.’
‘You could have just come home from Jen’s when you said you would, too.’
‘Well, Grace came round. Girl I used to go to school with. She’s back from Alice Springs for a visit.’
‘You could have told her you needed to get home to your son.’
‘You’re so perfect, Roxy. You wouldn’t know what it’s like. Give me a break.’
Don’t get me wrong, I love Trav like the stars above but I’d had enough. I should have said bye to him, but I just walked out the door and started walking home. At least Dad and Nanna and Poppa hadn’t found out what Aunty Linny was up to.
3
As soon as we walked into the club with our guitars, I scoured the bar to see if I could work out who soggy-knickers was. If it was someone who was serious about Dad, surely she’d come and check him out.
By the time I was singing the second song of the set, it felt like the last twenty-four hours had never happened. Dad taught me how to sing Stevie Wonder’s ‘Living for the City’ when I was five and by the time I was seven I must have sung it a thousand times. I belted it out at three cousins’ birthday parties, the Lightning Netball presentation, and two NAIDOC balls. And then I was off. Playing guitar and singing like there was no tomorrow and performing between sets for Dad’s band, The Real Discoverers. Then Dad and I started a duo. Fewer band members, more money. And we needed it too, ’cause although Dad loved being a gardener at the Arid Lands Gardens, it didn’t pay well.
Aunty Linny reckons that if I stopped singing, my blood would dry up. I don’t know about that, but I do want to be the best, like Beyoncé.
I looked at our audience, locals eating counter meals, waiting to see if they’d won the social club jackpot. Some days I hated alcohol, but when my feet hit the thick carpets of the club, and even though I could smell the stale beer, the world kind of felt okay.
A few old couples came to see us every time we played which was one of the reasons we played songs from the eighties. It was different in Dad’s band though. We played a mix of the old and new then.
I knew it was soggy-knickers as soon as she walked in. She wasn’t what I was expecting though. She was with an older Aboriginal woman who looked real flash. Soggy-knickers was half Dad’s age. She was wearing red ankle boots, light blue skinny jeans, a black top and a trucker’s jacket. She had a mop of red curls. She was gorgeous. I watched a black man turn red.
I knew that Dad must have kind of seen a woman here and there since Mum left, but I’d never seen him with one.
After the first set, I went to the bar to get us a drink and Dad made a beeline for the redhead. Yep, she was definitely soggy-knickers. Their eyes were just fixed on each other. He was smiling, god he was smiling.They hugged.
I walked over to them and Dad said, ‘Rox, this is Angie.’
Angie’s friend’s name was Mel. They kind of stood there talking about nothing really but Dad was smiling, and Angie and her friend were smiling. And I was just thinking, how do I stop calling her soggy-knickers? It was gross. I mean she must have been in her twenties – like, half Dad’s age. And she wasn’t like the women in this town. She was flash, man. Stylish as. What did she see in Dad?
Then they started talking about gardening. Full-on stuff about soil acidity, rainfall and pruning methods. I didn’t know how to enter this conversation. Their language was laced with magic that made them both ripe.
I turned to Mel. ‘You’re not from here ’ey?’
‘I’m from Sydney. I’ve been living here for about six months.’
‘Is Angie a gardener or something?’
‘No, we’re both lawyers.’
‘Soggy-knickers is a lawyer?’ Oh no, I couldn’t believe I said that. I felt like hiding beneath one of the tables.
‘Excuse me?’ Mel asked.
‘Soooo, ummm neat that you’re lawyers.’
‘At Aboriginal Legal Rights. You must be almost finished school, hey Roxy? What do you want to do when you leave?’
‘I’m kind of doing it,’ I said, nodding to the stage.
‘You fellas are good, but it would be hard making a living out of music in this town.Where are you going to go?’
I hated that question. More than anything I wanted to learn to play better, to get big gigs, to push it as far as I could. But how was I going to make that happen?
‘Come on, Dad.We better get on with it.’
When we got onstage, Dad asked, ‘Can you start the set with something by the Stones? Um . . . “Beast of Burden”.’
‘No,’ I said.
‘Why not? You love that song.’
I wasn’t going to sing some soppy song for Dad’s woman.
‘“Wild Horses” then?’ he asked.
‘“Beast of Burden”, but you sing,’ I told him. ‘Wild Horses’ was my song. Dad sang it to me all the time.
So Dad started singing and you should have seen Angie – it was like she had diamonds in her eyes.
When we finished the set, instead of packing up straight away like he usually did, Dad said, ‘Let’s have some food with Angie and Mel first, hey?’
‘Nah, I’m right,’ I told him, and started unplugging my gear.
‘Come on.’ He motioned for me to come with him.
I just kept winding up the lead. When I’d finished, I went to put his guitar in its case.
‘What are you doing, bub?’
‘Packing. Because you’re going to have a feed with Angie and Mel.’
‘Here, let me take it,’ he said. Probably didn’t want Angie and Mel to watch his daughter pack up for him.
‘So what’re you going to do?’ he asked.
‘I’ll catch a cab to Helen’s.’
‘Are you staying there?’
‘Yep,’ I said, and the sparkle in Dad’s eye was plain to see.
4
‘Where are your parents?’ I asked Helen as she zipped up her hoodie.
‘At a party.’
‘Is Elsie with them?’
‘She’s sleeping over her friend’s.’
