Floundering Read online

  Sorry, I say to it. Sorry.

  Jordy says, Are you retarded?

  But I ignore him. I wait there for ages, for the crab to come out and change into a proper shell. Of course it doesn’t.

  I open the door to the caravan and Loretta is still there on the bed, curled up in a ball.

  I’m hungry, I say loudly. She doesn’t answer. I’m hungry, Loretta. Mum, I say.

  She sits up and gives me a look from beneath her messy hair. She inches over to the edge of the bed, You want to go to town? she says. We’ll go to town. She stands up, smoothing her T-shirt. She pours herself a big glass of water and I watch it go down her throat as she drinks. The container is nearly empty. Come on, she says, grabbing the keys from the bench. Jordy is sitting outside.

  We’re going to town, she says.

  Can I stay here? says Jordy.

  No, says Loretta, you can’t stay here.

  What are we gunna get? I say.

  Whatever you want.

  Why can’t I stay? says Jordy.

  ’Cos, you can’t. End of discussion.

  Shotgun, I say and jump to Bert’s front door grinning, but Jordy ignores me. He goes to the back door of Bert, pops it open and slumps into the back seat. He digs a space for his feet in among the rubbish.

  Let’s go, eh, says Loretta and she leans over the gearstick and opens my door from the inside. I get in. The seat cover feels rough. I grip the armrest as Loretta drives too fast out of there. I turn around and can’t see the caravan disappearing for the dust. Jordy’s head is hanging to his chest.

  Jordy, I go.

  What? he says but doesn’t look me in the eye.

  Nothing.

  Sitting in the front, it’s like the road is too close, coming up to meet me.

  Our trolley is yellow with Black and Gold. We line up behind two surfers with wide shoulders and no shirts. Loretta jiggles on the spot.

  Mum, Jordy says and she spins around.

  What? she says too quiet.

  Nothing, he says too loud and smirks.

  The men look around at us. Their hips jut out over the tops of their shorts. They have a line of hair to their bellybuttons. They look Loretta up and down. The lady at the counter beeps their big bag of chips and lemonades through. I look at my feet, ashamed, but I don’t know why.

  Six-ninety, the lady says to them. How are you? she says to us.

  Fine, says Loretta. Wait for me outside, she says to me and Jordy. Jordy pushes past me, and I squeeze past Loretta.

  Outside I see the men in a panel van. They’ve got their arms hanging out the windows. Time goes so slow that every second stretches long into the afternoon, long enough to reach the slit of the horizon. One of them takes a drag on his cigarette and flicks it, still lit, towards us.

  Come on, says Jordy.

  What? I go.

  He walks away, out of the carpark and up the wide empty street.

  Hey, hey, I say. He ignores me and I can see the points of his shoulder blades sticking out his back through the singlet.

  What? You don’t have to come, he says.

  Hey, wait up, I say.

  Just shut up for once.

  We walk past the fish and chip shop. My mouth waters from the smell of salt and vinegar. Jordy’s walking to the highway, which is just the main street of the town. It runs all the way out of it, north. Jordy kicks a bottle cap along the pavement as he walks. It makes a tinkly sound. I run up in front of him and kick the cap before he gets to it.

  Oi, he says, and trots after me.

  It’s weird how the town just finishes, I say, stopping.

  He walks in front again, without checking to see if I’m following. He’s left the bottle cap. I stoop down and get it, put it in my pocket. I flick it around and around in there, feeling the smooth top, the plastic inside and the sharp ridges with my fingertips.

  Jordy keeps walking. There are shacks but their windows are half smashed out or so dirty they’re black. I can hear a truck and, looking up, I see it’s huge, rising up out of the hazy line between sky and road. It takes ages to get to us. Then, as it passes, the wind is so strong it pulls my hair and shirt, and tries hard to suck me in towards it.

  Jordy, I say to his back, how long do you reckon it takes between when you see a car and when it gets to us?

  I don’t know.

  But what do you reckon?

  He turns around. I nearly bump into him. He puts his hand up in front of his forehead and makes the shape of an L – loser.

  Maybe we should go back to town, I say. He turns around and keeps walking the way we’ve been going.

  Jordy, do you reckon our dad’s on a prawn trawler?

  No, he says. I don’t reckon our dad’s on a prawn trawler.

  He could be, though, don’t you reckon?

  I told you, how do you know my dad is your dad?

  I take a deep breath, throw away the bottle cap and keep walking.

  Hey, he says, hey, Tom. He touches my shoulder and I shrug him off.

  Get lost, I say. I can hear his footsteps behind me. I look back and I see the smudge of a yellow car coming. It’s Loretta, I say.

  He turns around and grabs me, pulls me towards one of the falling-down houses. His fingers dig into my arm.

  Stop it, I say. Stop it.

  Come on.

  Jordy, it’s her.

  Come on.

  You’re hurting me.

  He pulls me around the back of the house, through the open door. My heart beats right into the roof of my mouth. It stinks bad of cat piss in here. The floorboards creak. I feel ready to fall through them. There’s newspaper in the corner of the room and the place is dirty as, but there’s an old hat still hooked on the wall, like the owners just stepped out the door, like they’ll be back.

  I hear a car pull into the driveway. We’re at the window. Shit, says Jordy.

  But it’s Loretta, I say.

  I know it’s Loretta, you retard, he says. This close I can see the flecks of colour in his eyes.

  I am not a retard, I say.

  Shh, he says.

  Guys, this is no fun, she says from outside.

  He sighs, gets up, and I follow him out onto the veranda. The wooden boards sag onto a garden made of weeds. Loretta is out there, sitting on the old orange and green swing set. Her bum squished into the kid-sized swing.

  Hey, she says.

  We don’t say anything. I step down to the ground. I kick into the dirt and just under the surface is the leg of a plastic doll and faded blocks of Lego. The earth gives them up for me.

  You two wanna give me a heart attack? she says and jumps off the swing. She walks back to Bert and we follow her. The car is full of shopping bags. Jordy gets in the front and slams the door shut.

  Hey, I had shotgun, I say.

  He ignores me and Loretta. Sits there in silence. I get in the back and try slam the door harder than him. Loretta accelerates away. I look back at the house. The black windows are like gaps between teeth.

  Bert’s engine tick ticks. We all sit in the car too long, looking at the caravan until Jordy opens his door, gets out and walks down to the toilet. I look across to Loretta and she tucks her hair behind her ears. The hair falls out and she tucks it back again. When she looks up there’s surprise in her eyes. It’s like she has forgotten I’m there.

  Hey, she says.

  Hey, I say.

  We get out of Bert. I let my hand run along the dirty metal, leave a long stripe on him. Loretta stands outside the caravan and lights a cigarette. She’s fidgeting. She blows smoke and doesn’t sit down.

  I open Bert’s back door and get a bag of shopping out. It’s heavy, the plastic cuts into my hand. I carry it to the door of the caravan and nudge my way past Loretta. I push against the door with my shoulder in the way I’ve figured out will open it. Inside it’s hot. I chuck the bag on the table and cans roll out of it.

  I go get a water from the container and it’s nearly empty, right down to
the bit that’s kind of brown. The other container is empty too. I sip it and it’s hot, but I still drink it in one long gulp. I wipe my sweat off onto my shirt and leave my glass with all the other dirty ones at the sink. I stumble down the metal steps, out.

  There’s a woman in bike pants and a Winners are Grinners T-shirt out there. She’s got a little girl on her hip. She stands just outside the square of shade. I jump to see a stranger there. I stand still as a statue. Look at Loretta out of the corner of my eye.

  Hi, says the lady.

  Loretta says, Hi, from behind her hair.

  I saw the sign, she says, the other day. You still doing that, cutting hair?

  Yeah. No, says Loretta.

  ’Cos, she says, adjusting the girl on her hip, my hair is just hopeless. She puts her hand up and scrunches her fingers into it. I don’t get a chance to go to the hairdresser, you know, she says. Not with this little fella.

  The little girl puts her thumb in her mouth. The woman smiles a smile that makes her look pretty. Loretta flicks her fringe out of her eyes and for a second she looks just like Jordy. The smiling lady looks at me.

  What’s your name? she says to me.

  Tom, I say.

  That’s a cooool name, she says.

  I laugh, try to stop my grin.

  This is Jenny, she says. The little girl hides her face in her mum’s shirt. Where are you guys from? she says.

  East, says Loretta.

  Oh yeah, she says, I’ve never been over that way. Is it nice?

  Yeah, says Loretta, it’s nice.

  The ocean’s a different colour, I say.

  Really? the lady says. Isn’t that something.

  Loretta comes closer to me, puts her hand on my shoulder. It ain’t that different, she says.

  Yes, it is, I say.

  New Year’s tomorrow, the lady says.

  Is it? says Loretta.

  Yeah, says the lady. It’s easy to lose track of the days, isn’t it?

  I guess so, says Loretta.

  The lady adjusts the little girl on her hip and after a long stretch of silence says, So you’re not cutting hair?

  Nah, says Loretta.

  Okay, she says, see ya then.

  She walks away and I can hear the little girl giggling. The lady swings her around and onto the other hip. Loretta takes her hand from my shoulder.

  Loretta, the water’s nearly empty.

  What? she says.

  We forgot about getting water.

  Just be quiet, she says. Just be quiet for one minute, okay. She slumps down into a chair and flicks her cigarette lighter on and off in her hand. Lights another cigarette and ignores me.

  I leave her there, walk down to the toilet. I can hear the corrugated iron door clang, clang again. In the morning the tin clicks and ticks as it heats up. It’s surrounded by a big, dirty, sandy circle. I look in through a nail hole in the iron and see Jordy brushing flies from his face. He wobbles on the drop-toilet seat. There’s a can of sawdust next to him and a toilet roll on a wire but it looks like nothing is coming. Jordy stands up, closes the lid of the toilet – it’s the top of a can of paint – pulls up his shorts. He don’t need the toilet paper ‘cos he ain’t done nothing. I don’t make a move, just stand quiet beside the dunny. The door clangs open.

  Hey, he says, what are you doing?

  Nothing.

  You spying on me again?

  No.

  You are.

  I am not.

  You’re a bloody pervert.

  I am not.

  Say, I’m a pervert.

  No.

  Well, you are. He walks back towards the caravan.

  Jordy, let’s go to the beach.

  He looks me over, then keeps walking back to the caravan.

  Maybe you’ll never poo again, I say.

  He turns, walks back, punches me hard in the arm.

  Shut. Up. he says. A punch for each word.

  Loretta’s not outside. I trail behind Jordy. He goes inside the caravan. I can feel the heat from the sun on the awning. I hear the crying then, a soft mewling like a kitten makes. I can’t see through the screen, it’s black. I open it and Jordy’s standing there. He looks too big for the space. Loretta’s at the table crying, our blankets at her feet. For a moment, because it’s so hot and dry, the strangest thing is just that her face is wet.

  part two

  10

  The sound comes into my sleep as part of a dream. When I realise I’m awake I can’t remember the dream, just the sound of Bert’s engine vibrating through it. The sound of the engine is real, though. I can hear Bert outside, the sounds he makes before he’s ready to drive. Closer is the sound of Jordy’s breaths. I can tell by their length that he’s still deep asleep. Opening my eyes I see his arm caught under him. It’ll be dead. Pins and needles.

  I wipe sweat off my face and peel myself from the seat. Loretta’s not in her bed. I am much too slow with sleep. She’s in Bert. Bare feet on the sandy floor. I hear Bert leaving too early, before his engine is warm, like she can sense I’m awake. I open the screen door and there’s only dust already. I start counting to one hundred. If she comes back by the time I reach one hundred it will be okay. I can still hear the rumble of Bert on the corrugations. I reach one hundred. I hold my breath. The morning is clear. The sky is blue. Here it’s always blue and bigger than I thought possible. I realise I have been gripping the door. I unclaw my hand from it. Along my palm is a deep red stripe. I try bring the blood back in there.

  Jordy, Jordy, I say. I rub the sand from my feet. It makes a rough shushing sound. Jordy. I can’t hear Bert anymore. Jordy. Not even the low growl the cars make when they’re still ages away down the road.

  Yeah, he says, mumbling into his pillow. He’s too sleepy to be mean. He shifts himself and releases his arm. I watch him clenching and unclenching his fist.

  I think Loretta’s gone, I say. He’s very still. He sits up, moves over to the edge of the seat. I can see the outline of his singlet tan, and there’s a shaft of sunlight that slashes across his chest.

  Really? he says. Rubs his eyes, gouging the sleep out of them.

  I wait for him to yell at me, ‘cos I reckon that’s probably what’s going to happen next. I try get every bit of sand from my foot, but when it’s clean I have to rest it on the floor and I feel the thousands of grits there, back again already.

  He shakes his head like he’s shaking a dream from it. Is she gone to get water? he says.

  I look over at the big plastic containers, still on the bench and hollow. Nup, I say.

  He gets up and takes a cup from the sink and fills it with water. He has to lean the container right over.

  Can I have one? I say.

  Get it yourself, he says and gulps his water down. Some trickles down his chin and onto his chest. I push past him, find the least dirty cup and hold the container in my arms. It’s so light I can only get one cup out of it.

  Okay, he says to himself.

  There is a line of ants coming from the roof of the caravan, from the window that pops like a tank’s opening. A black line of them, as if drawn there with a lead pencil. I open the cupboard, start pulling things out. A can opener, an old aerosol that looks like it’s made of rust, a blunt knife that I test on my thumb. There are used plastic plates together in the sink, the colour of a dirty rainbow.

  What are you doing? he says.

  I don’t know, I say. I don’t know what I’m doing. Hang my arms to my sides, lick my chapped lips and look to the ceiling like there is an answer there. Jordy pushes past me and out the screen door. The door screams its scream. I follow him out.

  What should we do, I say.

  Nothing, we’re not going to do nothing, Jordy says.

  So you reckon she’ll be back?

  Yeah, he says but he don’t look anywhere near my eyes when he says it.

  I’m bored.

  So. What.

  The heat is crouched down around us. I look over at Ne
v’s van, but I can’t see no one there.

  Maybe he’ll take us again, I say and motion to the van across the road.

  No, says Jordy loudly.

  But he took us last time.

  No, says Jordy. Just shut up. Let me think.

  I’m hungry.

  Well, have something to eat then, he says sarcastically, rolling his words at me. I hear a magpie warbling in the distance, singing as if through water. I go into the caravan, there’s Weetbix. There’s no bowls in the cupboards, though. In the sink I find one that doesn’t look too bad and wipe it out with a dirty tea towel. I sprinkle powdered milk and fine white sugar until I can’t see the Weetbix anymore. I hold the water container high and drip the last drips of water over the bowl. The drips make damp spots. I go back outside and sit on the steps, swat the flies from me. Spoon the dry cereal into my mouth. It takes me a really long time to chew and swallow. The sugar crunches and encases my mouth.

  We’ll just wait for her, he says.

  Okay, I say and suck on the sugar.

  She’ll be back. He gets up and walks down the path towards the toilet, his head down against the light.

  Good luck, I say. He gives me the finger without turning around and a laugh escapes my sugar mouth. Then I remember Loretta and there’s worry inside me, vibrating. I look over at Nev’s caravan. It looks like a face with two blank window eyes and a door mouth. The grass sways in the breeze.

  I walk across the road. Step over the border of rocks, pause to see if anything bad happens. I can’t see anyone down the road, left or right. I step up Nev’s front path to the door. I stand on my tiptoes and try and look in the window.

  Oi, he says.

  I swing around, trip and scrape my arm on the tinny windowsill.

  Hello, I say. He’s got a rod in his hand, it bounces over his head, moving even though he is still. I smell rotten prawns.

  What’d I tell ya? he says. Stay away. His face is brown, shiny and weathered like them washed-up coconuts covered in husk. Get out of my yard, get, he says.