Authors: R.J. Lewis
“I don’t know,” I shrugged, feeling suddenly ashamed. I’d never had a friend over before.
He looked around some more. “My mom puts pictures up and cleans every day,” he said. “Must be cool that your parents don’t care about being clean.”
No, they didn’t. I looked at our bare and dirty walls. Not one photo was up, and I couldn’t recall the last time my own mother cleaned.
“What does your room look like? Can I see?”
“No,” I quickly replied. If he thought the living room was bad, I didn’t want him to see my room. All I had was a tiny dresser, a mattress on the floor, and two old dolls I’d been given at a charity Christmas event at school a couple years ago. He could see my reluctance and didn’t press me about it.
He tucked his chin length sandy hair behind his ear and said, “It was weird you weren’t at school today. I felt like I didn’t have a shadow.”
“I’ll be at school tomorrow.”
“Good, because I’m going to beat Max up and I’m going to need you there.”
“What for?”
“For support!” he said irritably at my question, as if that was so obvious.
I didn’t want to let him down, so I said, “Okay, I’ll be there.”
“And tell your parents to stop cutting your hair.” He eyed my boy-like do before turning to make his way out. “You look like a boy.”
I nodded. “Okay, Jaxon.” They still cut my hair. It kept the lice away, they said. Only it didn’t. But to their credit it made it easier for me to clean on my own.
Jaxon lived down the street from me, and he was in the same kind of old townhouse as me. He had a cheery mom, but I never saw his father when I went around there. I remember thinking that was very odd. When his mother had seen me waiting for him to come out and play one Saturday afternoon, her eyes had widened in dismay.
“Come here, child.” She beckoned me inside the house.
She had long sandy hair, like Jaxon, and even his blue eyes, but that was where the similarities ended. She didn’t have his nose or the shape of his face, and his height certainly wasn’t from her gene pool judging by her small frame. I remembered thinking she was very pretty, and very young looking. As I entered the house, I looked about it with great fascination. There were photos of Jaxon of all ages on every wall, and when I felt carpet below my feet, I rushed to take my dirty shoes off.
“Don’t worry about that, darlin’,” she told me. “I can just vacuum that up.”
The house, small like mine, felt homely. She had nice furniture. And there were toys everywhere. And her house smelled of chicken roast wafting from the kitchen causing my stomach to grumble.
“Would you like to eat, darlin’?” she asked me after hearing the tiny stomach of mine roar in aching hunger.
I smiled timidly and nodded.
“You’re a shy little thing, aren’t you?”
She led me to the kitchen and had me sitting down on a dining table chair while she opened the oven and removed a large pan of sizzling roast chicken on top. I gazed at her movements – so graceful and calm, not tripping over her feet or slouching when she stood. She was even more perfect than the teachers at school.
“Jax!” she called.
I could tell Jaxon had come out of the shower because his hair was dripping when he walked into the kitchen wearing jeans and a black sweater.
“What do I tell you about drying your hair,” his mom scolded him. She grabbed a nearby tea towel and hauled him to her. “Bend your neck down so I can dry you off!”
“Mom!” he growled in anger.
“Don’t ‘Mom’ me,” she warned.
I watched with even more fascination at her drying his hair. I idly wished my own mother would do the same…
“Not in front of my friend,” he pleaded.
“Your friend is going to join us for dinner, unless she has somewhere to be.” She stopped and looked at me expectantly.
I shook my head. “No, ma’am.”
“’Ma’am?’” She laughed loudly. “I’m not a granny. Call me Lucinda. What might your name be?”
“Sara Nolan,” I said, feeling the heat in my cheeks at her adult eyes on me.
“Sara? Isn’t that a lovely name?”
I smiled and covered my hand over my mouth, looking awkwardly down at my feet. I wasn’t used to compliments and I didn’t know how to act when receiving them.
“Are your parents at home, Sara?”
“Yes… Lucinda.”
“And they don’t mind you being out of the house for dinner?”
“No, ma… Lucinda.”
She frowned at this and then released Jaxon from her grip. My stomach rumbled again and all I could think about was food. Lucinda ordered Jaxon to sit down beside me while she served the food up. I could barely register his presence or think straight – my mind was on the delicious smell that sent hunger pains to my stomach. I hadn’t eaten that day, and this was going to be far more delicious than two minute noodles.
Lucinda had her eye on me throughout. She set the food down and watched me devour every morsel on my plate. Then she offered me more, which I gladly obliged. I don’t even remember the look on their faces as they watched me – I was too enamoured in my kingly meal to care.
She didn’t ask me any questions, and the momentary awkward discomfort I felt at being around an adult washed away quickly by her warm eyes. She smiled widely at me, revealing her crooked front tooth, and filled up my glass of water every time I gulped it down.
“You can come by anytime, Sara,” she said to me before I left that day. “Actually, why don’t you come by again tomorrow? I’ll be making lasagne. Have you ever had lasagne?”
“No,” I said with a shake of my head.
There was a sad smile on her face. “Well, I’m sure you’ll love it.”
And I did. I came by that evening for dinner, and was invited again. And again. By the end of the week of eating fine meals at Lucinda’s house, my stomach had swollen with content. It also helped she gave me bags of chips and chocolate bars to last me throughout the upcoming weeks. I had to hide them under my mattress when I got home in fear of my parents snatching them away from me.
My parents were non-existent in my life; never noticed when I was there or not, and only left the house once a week to hit the bottle shop for alcohol, and then the goodwill shops for canned food and noodles. It was good to be away from the latter gunk, and the stash they’d left for me to eat on my own was piling by the week.
They were negligent of me; even I knew that at eight years old, but I’d always been too independent to care.
At school, people in uniform would come by and warn us of careless parents/guardians. We were told to step forward if we had any personal problems at home, but… I never did. I was scared of what that meant. Would I be taken away? If I was taken away, would I be happy where I went? And if I went somewhere else, would I ever see Jaxon and Lucinda again? And, most horribly, if they did nothing, what would my parents do to me when they found out I said something?
There were risks either way. Staying meant being subjected every now and then to alcoholic rants where I’d hear the same slurred speech if I was present in the room: “Look at her there, that thing. She ruined our lives, eh Joanne? Stripped my place as a Jackal. Look at that thing there, staring at us like we’re fucking dogs. What you looking at, you little thing?”
“Oh, leave her alone, Norman,” Mom would slur back. “She’s just a little thing…”
“She ruined us, that little thing,” my father responded, staring cruelly at me. “She took away everything…”
I didn’t know what I took away, but I rushed to my room to hide from their cruel eyes before any more could be said.
I didn’t understand why my presence created such fury, and I was left unwanted and confused every time. Nights that my father brought me up usually resulted in very angry fights with Mom. She’d defend me (though do nothing to prevent the verbal abuse), he would get angry at her disagreeing to his opinion, and before I knew it, bottles were smashed, the sound of fists against flesh were heard, and whimpers and cries from my mother followed. I’d keep the light off in my room, cuddled into my mattress on the floor as I attempted vainly to seek warmth from my thin blanket while I closed my eyes tightly and covered my ears. Those were nights that had me shaking in fear, lost in the terror of not knowing if his attention would divert to me.
Sometimes I’d hear him stomp to his room and stop midway there to stand outside of mine. I could see the shadows of his feet from the small slit under the door. I could hear his breathing, slow and deep, unlike my battering heart that had me hearing my own pulse through my ears. When he left to his room, sometimes it would take me hours to relax, and other times I realized I’d peed my pants and was too scared to move.
Jaxon and Lucinda became my solace, and if Jaxon was busy playing with his own friends, I was in Lucinda’s welcoming home following her around like a bad smell. She worked as a mobile beautician. Sometimes she went to her customers, and sometimes they would come to her. She frequently let me sit next to her while she did a customer’s nails, eyelashes or make up. She even dyed hair.
I didn’t get bored of it either, and it was mostly because of the gossip between the regulars and Lucinda that had me most intrigued. I heard the most bizarre things – things I didn’t even understand at such a young age, but I loved knowing what was happening in Gosnells, mostly because I had never actually gone to places around town. She told me once, before a customer arrived, “Sara, what you hear and say stays among us girls. Understand? Never mention this to another living soul, darlin’.” I nodded immediately to which she smiled at me and pinched my cheeks in adoration. Her caring touch always left a warm feeling in my chest.
“Apparently Doug was caught with Cynthia Jones,” said a regular by the name of Fiona one time. I’d never seen someone so orange in my life. “Betty slashed his tires before realizing she drove the car more than him.” She laughed hysterically at this while I wondered why the woman would slash tires.
“Betty’s a lost cause,” Lucinda muttered as she applied decorative to Fiona’s freshly done acrylics. “As if that woman hasn’t stuck her tongue in another man’s throat! The day she’s faithful will be the day I join a nunnery.”
Other things were said. Apparently a Mr Hatchet borrowed money from a Mr Gregory and never repaid him, so Mr Gregory, in a fit of rage, kicked down Mr Hatchet’s two thousand dollar custom made mailbox from Peru.
“As if I’d get a mailbox that cost that much!” Fiona roared in laughter.
Then a Gina Harding was pregnant again with baby number four to baby daddy number three but was still sleeping with baby daddy number two.
“What a cum bucket!” Fiona said. I idly wondered what that was.
Then a Jimmy Dunlop was sent back to prison for attempting to rob the convenience store on Albany road and accidentally locked himself inside.
“Double crossed the Black-backed Jackal bikie gang, that idiot. They caught it on the surveillance camera too. Dumbass crawled under the security window someone accidentally left unlocked and closed it up once he got in! He had to wait on the ground beside the register until morning. Hahahaha…”
They weren’t mindful of my presence and many graphic stories followed. I learned about the birds and the bees prematurely in Lucinda’s make shift beauty room. With an orange woman. I went to sleep that night with strange images in my mind, wondering how on earth
that
could fit in
there
…