Borderland, p.6
Borderland, page 6
1. She is like a sister.
2. She knows everything about me.
3. She is really hot.
4. She is really experienced, like sexually.
5. She is a proper blackfella.
6. She is the funniest person I know.
Cons of telling Jenny the truth.
1. She prefers pizza over Chinese, which is just wrong.
2. She is like a sister.
3. She knows everything about me.
4. She won’t want a virgin like me.
5. Sometimes she makes me feel like a fraud, like I’m not black enough.
I recited the list a bunch of times and laughed. God, what was I doing? Lists about Jenny? It seemed so shallow. She was one of my favourite people, and surely you couldn’t define someone by some list? She was special to me in a way that I only wished I could communicate to her.
I had to admit it to myself: I liked Jenny. I hoped it all worked out. Finishing off the last draws of the cigarette, I let myself daydream.
I thought of a possible life and potential happiness with Jenny. I would act, she would dance, we would be cultured and cultural. She could teach me how to be a blackfella and I could. . .I could – what exactly was I bringing to the table except my awkward virginity? Anyway, people would know us and respect us in the community, and we would have just enough money, but not too much to change us. I wondered again and again if we would kiss.
Walking home, the bright headlights from a passing car blinded me and in the flash I recalled the pale skin of the beast and those sharp menacing teeth. I stopped, stamped my foot against the footpath, and told myself in calm, even, logical terms that I was now medicated, and it was best to bury the memory of those terrible fantasies.
9
Things were difficult at APAC in the lead up to our departure for Gambari. The teachers didn’t know, and there was no way I was going to tell them in case things got even worse.
After I’d gotten the gig instead of him, Rick turned the acting students against me. His brittle ego couldn’t handle the fact that a novice, one with a missing tooth no less, had beaten him.
The incidents started off as childish, like being the last person to get a partner in improv class, or finding stink beetles in my lunch box. I was able to shrug it off at first, but things got progressively worse.
I started finding coconuts with my name scribbled on them in dark permanent marker. They’d appear in the bathroom, the rec room, the dance studios, even in my bag. Students would snigger when they knew I had seen one. Some students would even hide behind corners in the adjacent bathroom stalls waiting for me to see the coconuts. They wanted to witness the moment of recognition, followed by my anger, and as time went on, my resignation.
It escalated to the point of someone smashing a coconut all over my locker, gym gear, and books. I picked dried pulp off my stuff for days. I was close to knocking Rick on his arse.
Each coconut reminded me that I had no community, language, or tradition.
The upside was that Jenny pranked Rick in retaliation for how much of a tool he was being towards me. One afternoon she made him a coffee mixed with a big dose of laxatives she had nicked from her Mum’s medicine cabinet. It was the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. Rick spent the entire afternoon stuck to the toilet. He ended up missing an acting assessment, which I got a high distinction for. F you PRick.
I really enjoyed the acting classes and sometimes daydreamed about being on stage. Maybe that was another reason why Rick annoyed me so much. He’d been there and wasn’t shy talking about it.
Jenny was super excited about the trip to Gambari and we spent most of our time away from school talking about it and preparing. She’d packed and repacked her luggage heaps of times, attempting to pull together the perfect assortment of clothes and accessories. She also consulted her oracle cards a lot, questioning the future and musing about spiritual connections she would make in the desert.
I was pretty excited myself, especially because we were flying – which was a first for me – it gave the trip an edge.
I went back to Dr Clark and told her about the incident on the phone. She was concerned about the hallucinations and upped my meds. I was diligent with my pills. I didn’t tell her about being bullied at school, though. I knew that was real – everyone had seen the coconuts. The dread had stopped, and I hadn’t had a proper anxiety attack since the fight near the train station. Most importantly, the beast had left me alone. I was happy to forget.
10
The morning of the flight was stiflingly hot, and together with the anxiety of last-minute packing, my left eye twitched and I couldn’t settle. I had to meet the crew at the airport at eleven am sharp. I checked my bag. I’d packed a mottled yellow shirt that Mum picked up from the op shop – the closest thing she could find to safari type gear – as well as a second-hand pair of Blundstone boots and some brown jeans. I searched for toiletries, and then finally the script.
I made a cuppa and found Mum sitting on the front verandah. The humidity clung to us. We sat for a while, sipping the piping hot tea despite the heat. A soft breeze came in off the ocean, kilometres away, and I relaxed. Mum pointed to the flame tree in the front yard, where dots of bright red were budding on the branches. The colour was made bolder by the grass, overgrown from the relentless rain of the last few days.
‘Ready for your big trip?’ she asked.
‘Ready as I’ll ever be.’
‘You’ll be a new man when you come back, I reckon.’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘You’ll be deep in the Country. Songlines are strong out there. Might even find yourself a girl and have black babies,’ she said, and laughed.
I wondered if she knew about my feelings for Jenny? Probably. Mum had a way of seeing straight through me.
‘I doubt that,’ I said, and laughed with her. ‘It’ll be nice to see some desert though. I’ve never been.’
‘Well, look after yourself. You’ll be right though. Nan will be watching you.’
‘You reckon? Her Country was out west?’
‘Somewhere out there,’ she said, and waved her hand and went back to her tea, blowing steam off the top of her mug. ‘She was taken and moved to Mornington Island, but she went out west again at some point. She met your poppy out there.’
‘You don’t remember him, right?’
‘No, he died when I was a baby.’
‘You never told me what happened to him.’
‘Your nan didn’t know the full story, but she said when we ended up in Cherbourg he was working as a police officer. A strong lawman. Back then the government never paid us properly and the rations they gave us were never enough, so your poppy would head out and get food from the bush near the mission. He went out one day and came back charged up and angry that they didn’t give us a pass to leave for Brisbane to see his brother. They threw him in jail and he died in there.’
I looked at her, and felt an emptiness. I searched her face. Her dark eyes, which took in everything and gave so little away, her curly hair and brown skin that I inherited, her small jawline that could easily burst into a smile. There was no sign of sadness, just resigned strength.
‘Did they find out what happened to him in jail?’ I asked.
‘No bub, there’s no record of it. That was a very different time,’ she said, and patted Jiffy. The heat was getting to Jiffy too and she was panting.
To be reminded of the past – a past that Mum had protected me from – made me nervous. Maybe her work as a nurse healed the hurt. She never spoke of her childhood, or about Pop and Nan, unless I asked at the right time. Usually times like this, on the verandah, with birdsong cutting through the noisy traffic on our busy street. These times were infrequent; with the long hours she worked and the very few days off she had. The past was something she was happy to forget about, or at least keep tight and forbidden. It was something for me to slowly unravel.
We sat in silence, finishing off our tea. ‘I better ring a cab, Mum.’
‘Oh, my boy. Make sure you take care of yourself.’
Mum bent over to pick Jiffy up, but stayed hunched over. I thought maybe she was checking the dog for ticks, but I noticed her eyes were shut.
‘You ok, Mum?’ I felt tense.
‘Yeah bub,’ she said, keeping her eyes closed. ‘Just feeling a bit light-headed.’ She rested for a moment before picking herself up slowly and placing Jiffy on her lap. ‘Time flies,’ she said, looking back at the flame tree. The colour returned to her face and I relaxed again. She’ll be right. ‘It feels like only yesterday you were a tiny bub. I’m so proud of you. You know that? How about we head up the coast for a couple of nights when you get back? What do you reckon?’ she asked, smiling.
‘Sounds awesome Mum, can’t wait. My shout, too’
‘You’re growing up so quick,’ she said, and pinched my cheek.
11
On the way to the airport, I stared aimlessly out of the cab window as we passed townhouses, budget hotels and car lots. I was happy about leaving Brisbane for a few days. I needed to get away. Best of all, I was leaving college behind: its white walls and huddles, and the ‘coconut’ taunts.
I met the crew in a small transit lounge in a different part of the airport, away from the commercial flights.
I saw Jenny first. She wore a head scarf with an Indigenous design, keeping her wild hair in place. She’d dyed her hair from black to a sunnier brown and the lighter colour made her face seem even warmer. She wore trendy short overalls and she looked way too cool to be hanging with me. She was nervous though. I could tell from the incessant tapping of her finger against her leg. I went straight over to her and gave her arm a squeeze. We were finally leaving. We smiled at each other and sussed out the others.
There were four of us. Tabitha wore a cap – her blonde ponytail stuck through the hole in the back – loose-fitting clothes, and sandals on her feet. She was certainly travelling light, with only the one scraped and dented suitcase with metal corners. Now we were away from the studio and the stress of the audition, I saw her in a different light. There was a hint of excitement in those big blue eyes as she looked out over the tarmac. She seemed in her element, which made her infinitely more attractive. The kind of attractive that draws you in but pushes you away at the same time. Jenny mouthed the word ‘hot’ when she caught me checking her out. I felt my face redden in embarrassment.
Mick, the cameraman, on the other hand, couldn’t keep his eyes off Jenny. And it wasn’t like he was just looking at her then shying away, he was really putting his stare out there. It was full on. Jenny either didn’t seem to notice, or she didn’t mind the attention. I wasn’t sure which. Mick, who didn’t look that much older than us, wore shorts and thongs and had pale freckled skin, frizzy red hair, brown eyes and had a nose that arched upwards, making him look unimpressed with everything. A large dragon tattoo covered his left arm, and the inside of each of his wrists were tattooed with one half of the Aboriginal flag. He seemed pretty happy about the whole deal. I could tell because he used the word ‘stoked’ a lot.
Once the introductions were over, Tabitha told us there would normally be a sound person and someone for lighting, but the budget was small and we had to make do.
We sat down on dirty plastic chairs in the lounge next to the tarmac and waited for the pilot. Outside, in the brilliant light, myna birds chased a magpie. The sight of the magpie brought on that familiar tightening of my chest, but the feeling went as quickly as it came. It was hot and humid inside, although a couple of ceiling fans tried to counter the heat.
Tucked away in a corner, a table sported free percolated coffee. I made myself one and sat back down, my eyes drawn to Tabitha. She cussed under her breath as she typed into her phone, countering the relentless pinging coming from it. She stopped typing suddenly, raised her eyes to the ceiling, and talked to herself. The only word I caught was ‘promotion’ before she focused back on her phone. The pinging eventually stopped.
She shook off her agitation and stood up. ‘Alright everyone, listen up. We’re landing near Gambari at a gas mine. A guide will pick us up and drive us to a prepared campsite. I know we’re all keen, but the plane is running late, and I don’t think we’ll have the light or energy to do any shooting today. Tomorrow we’ll begin at first light. Sound good?’
We nodded, then silence crept over the room while we waited. About an hour later, a small propeller-driven plane blurted around the corner, stopping in front of us. The smell of petrol wafted into the lounge and we made our way outside.
The pilot waved as he disembarked and grinned while walking towards us with a coffee in hand. He wore a smart pilot’s uniform, and had wavy brown hair and an epic sunglass tan. ‘Good morning – or should I say afternoon. I’m Phil and this is your carriage.’ He pointed to the plane. ‘We’ll have to do a quick stop on the way to refuel, but we should have you there by about 5 pm at the latest.’
I started to sweat as the sun bore down and the excitement of finally leaving swept over me.
The plane fit nine people. As we were only four, I had two seats at the back to myself. Jenny took the window seat in front of me, and Mick slid into the seat next to her, rather than taking the single on the other side of the plane. As he sat down, Jenny looked back at me, smirked, and wiggled her eyebrows. The engines started up and we taxied to a runway. Phil looked back at us, gave a thumbs up, and flashed a grin before we started moving. The grass and tarmac rushed past as we took off. My body was driven into the seat as we climbed.
Brisbane flattened out beneath us as we continued our ascent. I couldn’t take my eyes off the view. It was a strange sensation to have lost contact with the earth. I watched as the suburbs became mountains and lush green fields, and eventually, desert and dust.
An hour or so into the flight, Tabitha took the foil off a platter of bite-sized sandwiches and placed it on a ledge behind the pilots’ seats. I squeezed my way up the front and loaded a plate with too much food. After eating, I settled back into my chair, content. Jenny and Mick shared a plate and seemed to be getting on like a house on fire. I felt a pang of jealousy watching them, so I closed my eyes.
The plane dropped suddenly and with it my stomach. I felt a sharp pain accompanied by a vision of pale skin as my head hit the window. I saw Mick joking and waving his arms around, getting a laugh from Jenny. Tabitha, on the other hand, looked shaken. Her face was bright red and her eyes darted about, searching for something. Once the plane steadied, she seemed to settle. She smoothed her hair and picked up her cap, which had fallen between a couple of seats.
Phil turned around and motioned for us to put on the headphones. ‘Sorry about that,’ he said, through a crackly line. ‘It looks like we’re heading into turbulence. Please sit down and put your belts on. I don’t want you banging yourselves up back there.’
I was fumbling with the seatbelt as the plane dropped again.
A vision of the beast came. I could see it on a desert plain.
The aircraft began to shake violently and I took off the headphones and massaged my temples. My head was throbbing and the vision came again.
The beast was howling at a large full moon and the light cast a bright sheen on its pale body. It focused its black eyes on me, raised its muzzle and sent a piercing howl towards the stars. It began running towards me, shaking its head and growling as it gained speed. My body shook and I heard the roaring of the plane as it jolted. Still the beast rushed towards me. The growls became louder as it charged. It was almost on me, its black eyes piercing, its jaw wide and eager for blood. I tensed as the plane dipped and juddered. I raised my hands just as the beast was about to strike.
Then, calm.
The dog-man was startled, and a bright red light shone from behind my shoulder, gaining intensity. I could hear someone rushing up behind me, muttering. The beast reeled and bolted across the moonlit desert.
I breathed heavily, put the headphones back on and the plane steadied.
‘We’ll head to this airfield to refuel,’ Phil said through the crackling line.
Jenny gave me a look, frowning and concerned, but the others seemed oblivious to my distress.
The plane bumped through the descent. I felt sick. When we touched down and Phil opened the door, I was the first out. There was a playground in a park directly next to a shop, which I guessed doubled as the airport. I ran over to it and was sick next to the seesaw.
Jenny came over with Mick in tow. ‘Jono, you alright? That spew looked nasty,’ she said.
‘Yeah, feeling a bit better now. Must’ve eaten too much on the plane. And with the turbulence,’ I gestured vaguely. ‘Well, you were there.’
‘I have some ginger tablets in my bag. I’ll grab them for you.’
‘Thanks,’ I said, and Jenny moved off.
‘That was a rough ride,’ said Mick. ‘Stoked to be on land again. It was like a rollercoaster up there for a while.’
We watched Jenny walk back to the plane. ‘So, what’s the deal with you and your friend?’ he asked.
‘Jenny? We go to performing arts school together.’
‘Cool. Is she your girlfriend?’
I stared at him, and burped up a little vomit before replying. ‘No, just really good friends,’ I said, then turned and chucked up again.
‘Cool, cool. Well, you feel better.’ Mick went to find a bathroom.
I finished up, wiped my mouth on my sleeve, and went into the shop to get something fizzy to drink. I thought sugar might smooth out the ruffled feeling I had. With a bottle of lemonade in hand, I walked out and saw Tabitha being sick into a bin close by. I approached her and she stared up at me. The whites of her eyes were crisscrossed with red lines. She was sweating profusely. Her face told me to leave her alone, she turned away sharply and retched again.
I went back to the playground and sat on the swing. The sun was blazing. It was dry and dusty, not a scrap of grass on the ground. I was amazed by the few gum trees that had leaves on them, considering the climate. They gave the line of shade I was under. Sitting on the swing, I drank and watched the wind lift dust off the ground. The lemonade made me feel better, although my heart still pounded.
