‘Maybe you should go home.’
‘Home is a big word, Mark.’
‘Yeah, I know.’
‘Maybe I could give the best blow jobs in Cootamundra?’
They both laughed at that. Hard sad laughter that made the stomach tense and took your breath away.
‘I’ll see what I can do,’ said Mark when they were quiet again. ‘What time do you have to go?’
‘I should go to the station at about six. I don’t want to miss the train.’
‘Okay.’ Mark nodded and then he left. Tina had no reason to believe he would come back but there was nothing wrong with an hour’s worth of hope. There was nothing else she could do anyway. She handed the problem up to the universe.
Show me what you got universe. I’m waiting.
It was a dangerous way of thinking. People liked to be in control. Tina liked to be in control. If you handed something up to the universe you had to let go. Tina knew how hard she was hanging on to everything. Before Lockie she had held on tight to her pain and her loss and her isolation. Now she had to hold on to her responsibility for a child that wasn’t hers.
Somewhere inside her she held tight and she stood still. If she moved just a little everything would unravel. But sometimes she was just so weary. She liked that word—weary. It described the exhaustion of body and mind perfectly.
She had been a good student. Straight As, even when Tim was at the end. The books were somewhere to go. She could control the work. She could mould it and shape it and make it turn out exactly the way she wanted it to. Shame about the rest of her life.
Tina lay back down in the dark room and stared into the smooth blackness. Mark didn’t think she was coming back. He imagined a different life for her. Sometimes Tina did the same thing. She would close her eyes and see herself at university being clever and witty. She would see herself in a power suit telling everyone else what to think and what to do. It was possible. Anything was possible when her eyes were closed. But when she opened her eyes even getting through the day was like trying to shift a mountain. Now the mountain had shifted her.
Half an hour later Mark was back. He emptied his pockets onto the floor. Five one-dollar coins fell out. Two dollars and seventy cents short, but she wouldn’t tell him.
‘Where did you get that?’
‘Does it matter?’
‘Nah. Thanks, mate. I really mean that. Thank you.’
Mark gave her a smile. He was proud of himself. He had done what he’d said he would do. The boy behind the mask peeped out for a moment and made Tina feel incredibly sad.
She wondered if anyone had ever told him they were proud of him in his whole life. Kids shouldn’t have to be scared of the ones who were supposed to love them. It wasn’t fair but then Tina knew better than anyone: fuck-all was fair.
‘You’re a good guy, Mark. You know that, don’t you?’
‘You’re a good girl, too, Tina. You’re more than good, you’re . . . you’re . . . I don’t know. There’s something in your eyes. You look like you’re always thinking. You’re not like the rest of us. None of us would have given a shit about that kid.’
‘You’re just kids yourselves. We’re all just kids really. I don’t know why but I can’t let him down.’
Mark scratched at his skin. It was nearly time for another hit. Tina savoured the last glimpse of the real Mark before something else took over.
‘The needles are what stop you thinking, Mark. You know that, don’t you?’
‘Fuck, Tina, I stopped thinking long before I took my first hit. Thinking puts you somewhere you don’t want to be.’
‘Maybe—but maybe it also helps you figure things out.’
‘There’s nothing to figure out, Teen. Not for me anyway. I’m so beyond fucked.’
‘You could do something else, you know. Change your life. There are people who can help.’ Tina said the words but they didn’t mean anything. Change for Mark was almost impossible. His only relief would be death. Like Ruby. Tina felt her eyes grow hot as she thought of Ruby in her red high heels. Ruby was never going to change.
‘There are all those numbers on the walls where you get yourself sorted. There are clinics and people who really want to help. You’re so young, Mark; maybe you should give them a call. They could help you.’
‘Yeah, but first they want to climb up inside your head and get you to explain why you want to suck men’s cocks for a living and stick needles in your arms.’
‘You don’t have to tell them.’
‘Fuck, no; I don’t have to tell anyone.’
‘You could tell me if you wanted to.’
Mark gave Tina a long look. ‘This kid’s making you soft, Tina. You’d better get him home as soon as you can.’ He stood up. ‘I’ve got to get something to eat. Do you want anything?’
‘Nah thanks, I’m good.’
‘Okay, I’ll see you.’
‘Okay,’ said Tina, and Mark left.
And that was it. No big goodbye, no emotional scene. Nothing. Every time they left the unit it could be the last time they saw each other. Why make a big deal now?
They had known each other for almost two years but they didn’t really know each other at all. Mark didn’t know about Tim or about what her life had been like before the divorce, and Tina had no idea what Mark was running from. Their friendship had formed over a mutual acceptance of their pasts being separate worlds. She couldn’t imagine taking down the wall she had built around the subject of Tim. At least, not when it came to Mark.
Lockie was a different story. Each time she looked at him she saw Tim. Little boys were all the same. Little boys who were suffering were all the same. Lockie was making chinks in the wall. No matter how hard she tried to stop it happening, he was making small holes and letting the light through.
Tim and Lockie might have been friends. She could see them up in the tree house at the back of the garden. The wood was shonky and there were nails sticking out all over the place but Tim had loved the tree house. They would have been friends. They could have been pirates and cowboys together. They could have played video games and irritated her with calls for juice and biscuits. Tim was gone and he would never play anything again. Lockie was still here, but some part of Lockie was gone as well. Tina could see it when she looked at him and he was focused somewhere else. Part of Lockie was gone too. Where did all the missing bits of suffering children go? It was a sad thought.
She thought about the money instead. She nearly had enough to get herself and Lockie on that train. Mark was a good friend for helping. Mark had been her friend and Ruby had been her friend.
She would never see Mark again because he was right. Even though she had not thought about it at all, had not even considered her next move, Tina knew she wasn’t coming back to the Cross. She just wasn’t.
She was still short of what she needed but she set the alarm on her phone and slept for an hour. She would just have to hope it worked out.
Lockie was hard to wake up but Tina promised him that he could have two sandwiches when they were on the train. He stood up and held on to himself until they got to the train station. The toilets were filthy but at least they flushed. Tina didn’t make Lockie brush his teeth again. Hopefully he would be home in a few hours and it wouldn’t be her problem anymore. Right now, money was her problem. She was two dollars and seventy cents short.
She stood in the line at the ticket counter and tried to think of a solution but her mind went blank. All she could do was watch the early morning movements of the city.
The night people, people like her, had melted back into their hiding places. Now the city was ruled by the day people. The sun was only just beginning to light up the world but already there were busy bees everywhere. Buzz, buzz, buzz out of my way, I have a life to live. I am important. I am someone special. People need me. The world needs me. Buzz, buzz, buzz. The people who had somewhere to go and something to do took brisk steps through the station. They walked with their elbows out, making sure no one got in their way. They were all talking into their phones, even at such an early hour. Making plans and exchanging ideas.
Tina had always laughed at the ‘yuppie wankers’ with Ruby, but she would have given anything to be dressed in a suit, swinging a briefcase and watching a scruffy young girl holding a little boy’s hand, instead of being that young girl.
The fat man wasn’t in the ticket booth. Instead he’d been replaced by a blonde girl who still looked young enough to be enjoying her job because every morning she managed to convince herself that a better job and a better life was just around the corner.
‘Two tickets to Cootamundra, please,’ she said to the woman. ‘One adult and one child.’
‘You’ll have to change trains at Central,’ said the woman, tap-tapping on her computer.
‘Okay.’
‘Return?’
Tina breathed in and out slowly. ‘No,’ she said softly. ‘One way.’
‘That’ll be sixty-four dollars and sixty-nine cents,’ said the woman with a smile. She had simply assumed Tina was Lockie’s mother or older sister or whatever. Lockie hung onto Tina’s arm and stared at nothing.
‘Early for you to be up, isn’t it?’ said the woman, giving her blonde hair a flick and grinning at Lockie.
Lockie stared at his feet. Tina deposited all the cash on the counter, hoping, praying that the discrepancy of two dollars and seventy cents would somehow be missed. Though she’d been blank while waiting in the queue, now her mind went into overdrive with the story she would tell. She would cry a little and say she had to get home to her sick husband or mother or father. Or she could say that Lockie was sick and needed to be home for his medication. Or she could be aggressive and tell the woman the money was there. There were a lot of people in the queue. What would it take for the woman to just accept the loss?
I’m leaving this in your hands, universe. Sorry I’ve done that so much lately.
‘You’re short two dollars sixty-nine cents, luv.’
‘Oh,’ said Tina. Her mind blanked out again and all the stories she could have told refused to be put into words. She began scrabbling through her bag. ‘I don’t . . . I may have lost . . . I think . . .’
‘For fuck’s sake,’ said a man standing behind her.
He was decked out in a fancy suit and holding a small laptop. His mobile phone was plugged into his ear.
Tina turned to look at him and then turned away. He had probably been talking into the phone. Behind her the line grew longer. She could hear the impatient shuffling and throat clearings of people who were being held up by someone else’s stupidity. Buzz, buzz, buzz.
She continued to search her backpack, hoping to discover the change hiding somewhere. Hoping that the long line would force the woman to just push her through. But the woman seemed content to wait. She chewed her gum and twirled her hair.
Tina’s cheeks were burning. She thought she had lost the art of being humiliated. She had sunk so low over the last two years that this moment should not have flustered her. Instead she felt naked in front of all the proper people.
‘Hurry the fuck up,’ said the man, and now Tina knew he was talking to her. She knew she looked like someone you could be rude to. Someone you could take liberties with.
‘Perhaps I should serve someone else while you look,’ said the woman.
Tina met her eyes. Kind eyes, but there was no way she could overlook the money. Tina started to pull her money back off the counter.
‘Here,’ said the man behind her, thrusting a five-dollar bill at the woman. Tina moved aside, thinking that he was buying his own ticket. ‘Here, take the money out of this. Give her the tickets.’
The woman behind the counter took the money and tap-tapped on her computer. She handed Tina the tickets.
‘I . . . thank you . . . thank you so much,’ said Tina to the man. To her horror tears welled up in her eyes.
‘Yeah, whatever,’ said the man and he pushed forward to the counter. He bought his ticket and disappeared into the crowd. Five dollars was the price of a latte in the city. It was nothing to the man.
Whoever said money can’t buy happiness?
Tina was left holding two dollars and thirty cents. He hadn’t wanted his change. It was just bits of nothing to him. Something to pull down the pockets on his suit pants. The man had no idea what he had done and it struck Tina that through all the misery and shit there were some people who handed out bits of hope. Mostly without realising it.
‘Come on, Lockie,’ she said with a smile. ‘Let’s see what we can get for breakfast.’ She added silently,
Thanks universe. I won’t ask again, I promise.
The doughnut shop had a special on. Two cinnamon doughnuts and a cup of coffee or tea for two dollars.
‘Can I just get four doughnuts for two dollars?’ asked Tina. It never hurt to ask.
The woman behind the counter focused her tired eyes on Tina while she worked it out in her head.
‘Yeah, yeah,’ shouted a man who was sitting at one of the tables reading a paper. ‘Give her last night’s doughnuts.’
He had looked Tina and Lockie over quickly and seen they would accept what others wouldn’t.
Tina acted like she hadn’t heard the man but she smiled at the woman. She nudged Lockie and he looked up at the woman as well. Tina could see her taking in his big eyes and angled face.
‘Yeah, sure,’ she sighed. ‘Do youse want a drink as well?’
‘Um, I’ve only got two dollars and thirty cents.’
The woman shook her head. Tina could see she had been on one side of this conversation a thousand times.
Tina dropped her eyes. She hated this feeling. She wished she could tell the woman that her life hadn’t always been governed by this desperation. Once she had been a nice girl from the suburbs whose mother dropped her at the shops with friends and simply handed her twenty dollars for lunch. Once she had bought new clothes and seen the dentist every six months. Once she had thought that anyone living on the streets was obviously not trying hard enough. But once was a long time ago and the energy to try sometimes just ran out.
‘It’s okay,’ said the woman, ‘don’t cry. I’ll give youse some hot chocolate.’
Tina hadn’t realised she was crying but she wiped her cheek and found it wet. ‘Thanks,’ she said. She lifted her head and met the woman’s gaze. ‘Thank you very much.’