Skink
by
Michael Gliksman
Copyright 2012 Michael Gliksman
Smashwords Edition
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Driven by hunger, stronger than life
Set sail for the unknown shore
Brave is the child who risks to trust
When experience cries out, no more!
****
For Daniel, and the others who risked to trust.
****
Table of Contents
The best advice given to this writer was to write what you know. I hope I’ve stayed true to the characters and events I had come to know.
Without the encouragement, support and critical feedback of my partner Eve and son Jonathan, I might not have completed this work. I could not have withstood the emotional turmoil alone. It’s not easy giving flesh to shadows, voice to echoes.
I thank those courageous children who risked to trust when experience cried out no more. I am still, these many years later, humbled by your trust, encouraged by your optimism, enlightened by your hope.
This story is for you. Keep growing, as you have helped me do.
****
My first school was a fun place but I didn’t think that at first. Big, old buildings. Windows too high up to see out. Lots of new people I didn’t know. Lots of adults I didn’t know. No Mum or Dad.
What if I get hurt or someone hurt me? Who’d cuddle me and kiss it better? Not the school principal, I bet. She looked like the last thing she’d kissed was a bear. Some of the fur stuck to her lip. Looked at us like we were something smelly on the bottom of her shoe.
Never said hi to you, how’re you going or anything. Never remembered your name. And then I had to go the next day! Nobody told me I had to go more than once.
But I went yesterday, I learned lots and lots. There’s no more to learn. The teacher said so. She said I don’t have to come back. They don’t feed you and there are snakes in the playground. Honest! Why do I have to go again?
Free entertainment at the school gates. My poor mum. The look on her face. That’s what made me stop yelling and go quietly to my doom. What a martyr.
But finger painting, being read stories (who were Dick and Jane?), singing and playing wasn’t so bad. But that was kindy. When I became one of the big boys in year 1, I started to learn things. Reading, writing, counting n' stuff.
Learning songs. I love you, you love me, Barney gave me HIV, with a hug and a kiss and a little bit more, Barney is a scaly whore. Don't know what it meant but it sure got a laugh from the really big kids in years 3 and 4.
Run, shout, skip, jump. Climb up walls, look at skinks, throw a ball, wrestle with friends. Up the steps, kick off shoes and in the front door. Another school day ended.
I love school, love my room, love my toys, love Mum and Dad. Love the fridge. Got an ice cream? Yea. That one please. Run out the back, play play play. Hit a ball whack whack whack. Pat my dog, get licked back.
It’s summer. Go for a swim with my mates. The deep end. Afraid of nothing, that’s us.
We learned to swim at school lessons down at the Boy Charlton Pool. Wasn’t easy, going in the deep end for the first time. A kid could drown.
First one across gets an ice cream my teacher said. I’d drown for that! I flew in like I’d been shot from a cannon. What worked in shallow water worked in the deep. Who’d have thought it?
“Hey mum, know what I learned at school today?
Aren’t my drawings great? Two and two is four. Know what? Two times two is four too! Isn’t it great? The teacher gave me a hand stamp. Yea, a star! A B C D E F G, tell me what you think of me!”
“Leave yer ma alone, can’t yer see she’s tired” my Nan says.
My Nan. Mum’s mum. Forgot she’d be here. When she's had 'me medicine' - that's what she calls the booze, look out!
“Trying to make yer mum feel bad are yer?”
"No Nan."
“Doncha know yer mum can’t read? Course yer do."
And you’re pissed again. Like I don't know. I count them. I can count yes, I’m five and I CAN COUNT! Seven bottles. Empty. Four more, full.
Sometimes I wish Mum’d throw her out but she doesn’t.
"She's my mother Daniel. You wouldn't throw me out if I had no place to go, would you?"
Then I feel really bad but I'm not the only one thinking it. Sometimes after Mum and Dad have been fighting, Dad goes away for a bit. I wish Dad were back.
“Think yer better than yer mum, don’t yer? Yer just like yer no-good father."
Mum please stop her. Don’t let her talk about Dad again. After a while she’ll go to sleep. Please let it be soon.
Mum hears what’s going on and comes in from the kitchen. “Stop it mum” my Mum says. But too late.
My legs are working hard as they can. I fly out the door, onto the footpath and away. Tears burn on my face. Can’t let anyone see me like this.
Into the park and under the slippery dip. My head hurts. Why can’t I stop crying? They’re only words, I tell myself.
Got to get her voice out of my head. Stop cryin’, you little shit.
Can’t stop. I hate her. I hate my mum, hate nan, hate school hate dad hate you. Hate me me ME. Got to stop it hurting, stop her voice stop it stop it STOP IT!
My ears ring as the sky turned pink. Tears run into my mouth. Not just salt. Blood, sweat, tears. Night comes early.
Face up, on my back. Floating. Above the grass, out of the park, towards my home. Warm soothing sounds, strong arms. Icarus and Daedalus.
“My daughter saw him under the slippery dip. Done himself a fair bit of damage. Probably looks worse than it is. You know the saying, a little blood goes a long way. Might need stitches though. He might be concussed, he’s not making much sense right now. You should take him to see a doctor Mrs Travers”.
I recognised the voices, the strong arms that carried me. My Mum and Mr Wales, one of our neighbours.
He's no-good. He can read too.
****
“Dontcha like the way the sand scrunches through your feet? Dontcha, Dad”?
“Yes Daniel, it’s nice”.
“Dontcha like the way the water glitters Dad”?
“Sure do Daniel”.
“Last one in is a rotten egg Dad”!
He can't resist that one. We’re off and racing. I beat my Dad in again! I swear, I think he lets me win sometimes. I’m fast, though.
Dad’s a real good bodysurfer and he’s teaching me. He says because I’m a strong swimmer, I’m ready to learn. Small but perfectly formed, he said.
Sometimes, when there's no rip, Dad lets me swim out really far and catch the bigger waves with him. Then I felt really big and grown up. I could tell my Dad was proud of me.
When I was little, I used to have to hang on to him in deeper water and I couldn’t catch the biggest waves. But Dad showed me how to float and tread water without getting tired, how to dive under waves that had already broken, how to put myself at the right spot to catch a breaking wave, and how to tell the right moment to swim up to speed to catch that wave.
He was proud of me. He told me so. That made me feel real good. Back then when I was seven.
I was so happy he’d decided to come back. He said he wouldn’t while Nan was still there. But he did.
She wouldn’t leave. Mum wouldn't make her and wouldn’t let Dad.
Today we’re at our favourite beach, Tamarama. My Dad says it can be a dangerous beach, because of rips. He says it’s only dangerous if you can’t read the beach.
I thought he was teasing me at first. You can’t read a beach Dad! No letters.
But he’s taught me how to see a rip, how far it goes out, what to do if you’re caught in it. I’m only seven but I know these things. Thanks, Dad.
I know how to use the rip to get out to where the waves are breaking too. It sure cuts out a lot of swimming. You can also dive off the rocks that poke right out from the north headland. It’s a narrow beach with long headlands. That’s what makes the waves so good but the rips so strong.
Dad says I’m still too small to go in off the rocks, so after we’ve caught a few waves together, he parks me on our towels on the hot sand to dry off and goes out off the rocks for the really big waves. In a couple of years, maybe, I’ll be able to go out with him.
“I’m proud of you, son”.
That makes me feel real good.
I toast myself slowly in the sun. I’m a redhead with lots of freckles. I burn easy. Well that’s what my Dad says.
I think he’s just a weirdo sadist who likes to put sticky sunscreen stuff on me and see me get coated in sand like a big crumbed cutlet.
My dad’s got dark hair and brown eyes but mine are blue. No sunscreen for him. And he never burns. Never. It’s not fair!
But boy, can he swim. There he is, diving in off the rocks, taking big, strong strokes out to the waves. He rides them all the way into the beach, again, again and again. I can’t wait to join him. One day, maybe, I'll be as good as him!
“I love you Dad”. The sun makes me squint.
“I love you too, son. What brought that on”?
“Can I have an ice cream”?
“When we go. We’d better go soon, before you turn into a lobster”.
“I’m doing good at school, aren’t I dad”?
“Yes Daniel. Your Mum and I are really pleased”.
“Dad, did you know Mum can’t read or write”.
“Yes Daniel. I do know that”.
“You can read and write, can’t you”?
“I’d be pretty hopeless at my job if I couldn’t. There’s not too many jobs for a librarian who can’t”.
“I can read and write. Not as good as you but”.
Maybe now’s the right time?
“Dad...?”.
“What is it Daniel”?
“Is there something wrong with Mum? She’s not a retard, is she?"
“Daniel”!
“Um. Sorry Dad. I don’t think she is but why can’t she? Read and write, I mean. Is something wrong with her”?
“No Daniel, there’s nothing wrong with her. When I first met your mum, she was a cleaner at the college where I was studying. I was living away from home for the first time, lonely as hell. She was the kindest, sweetest person you could ever hope to meet. I’d never have got through college without her.
No, there’s nothing wrong with her at all. She just never got the chance to learn Daniel. Her family were poor, really poor. When her Dad died, she wasn’t much older than you. She was the oldest girl and there were three younger ones. Your uncle and aunts. Your Nan needed your Mum to help her look after them. Even though she was only eight her mother kept her at home to look after the younger ones.
They lived way out in the country. Your Mum never had time for schoolwork. She forgot what little she'd learned, I guess”.
“Why doesn’t she learn now? You could teach her”.
“It's not so easy when you’re older. Your Mum doesn’t think she can learn now. She won’t try. It’s one of those things we talk about a lot but I can’t persuade her. Someday, maybe”.
Talk about it? Shout, more like. I hear them fighting at night when they think I’m sleeping. And that’s not all they shout about.
“Daaad....?”.
“Yes Daniel”?
“Do you like Nan”?
“She’s your mother’s mother, so I..”.
“I don't. She’s mean”.
“Don’t talk like that Daniel”.
“She’s a bitch”.
“Daniel”!
“She says awful things about you”.
“Daniel”?
“I’m glad you’re back home Dad. I was sad when you went away”.
“I’m sorry Daniel, I had to go away for a while...”.
“I wish SHE’D gone, not you. The old bag”.
“Daniel, I’ve warned you once already”.
“Why’d you have to leave instead of her? Why don’t you make her go? Why won’t Mum let you?”
"You're not old enough to understand."
"You're old. You don't understand either, do you?"
“I think that’s quite enough Daniel”.
“Yea, I s’pose”. I know when to shut up. When I’ve pushed about as far as I can go.
I’ll be a good boy and shut up and not annoy him too much. I don’t want to make Dad want to leave again.
“Don’t be too hard on your Nan. She didn’t have an easy time of it either when she was a kid. Back then, kids often had to leave school early and she had to go to work as a servant in a big house when she was only fourteen”.
“Is that why she hates us”?
“Oh Daniel. She doesn’t hate you. Anyway, I think it’s about time for that ice cream, eh”?
“Yeah Dad”.
Life can be good. I wish days like this could last forever. Me and dad together. Catching the waves. Beating the rips.
A little way up the beach is a kiosk. They sell all sorts of important stuff. Chips, pies, cola, ice-cream, chocolate. The five essential food groups.
Dad buys me my favourite ice cream, a Magnummmmm. Chocolate everywhere. Yummmmm.
“Good to see some of that getting into your mouth”.
Nice one, Dad.
We walk up from the beach to the bus stop. No car, can’t afford one yet, so Mum and Dad say. Still, on a hot day like today there’s nowhere to park near the beach anyway, so it doesn’t matter.
It’s about twenty minutes home by bus and it’s hot. Hotter in the bus, even with the windows open. Hot and sweaty enough so the dried salt starts to itch and sting. And I’m starting to feel sunburnt again!
It always happens when I manage to squirm enough so that dad can’t cover me with sunscreen. It’s only later that I find out where and how much he missed. I must have squirmed a lot today.
Only one bathroom and Dad’s first in the shower. But I’m too itchy to wait so I get in with him, like I did when I was a little kid. I’ve grown so much I now come up to his belly button.
Time to watch a bit of TV after the shower. The afternoon cartoons are on and Mum and Dad have gone out to do a bit of shopping. I hate shopping, so the lounge is the place for me, even if Nan’s there too. At least she’s not drunk today.
“Whatcher watching, Daniel”?
“Just some cartoons Nan”.
“Not any of them horrible ones like the Stimpsons? You know I don’t like bad language, boy”.
“No Nan”.
“You’re burnt”.
No shit Sherlock.
“What did you say, boy”?
Did I say it out loud? Can she read thoughts? Wouldn’t put it past her.
“Nothing Nan”.
“Didn’t that no hoper father of yours put some sunburn cream on you”?
You wouldn’t dare talk about him like that to his face. “He did, Nan. He did put sunscreen on me. The sun was too strong. Anyway, he was really careful when he washed me in the shower so it wouldn’t hurt me.”
“He washed you”?
“Yes, Nan”.
“He was in the shower with you”?
A ringing sound. Alarm bells?
Something’s wrong. I can hear it in her voice. When she’s drunk or angry, her voice sounds the same. But she’s not drunk.
What’s she angry about? What have I done now?
“Daniel. Was he in the shower with you?”
“Answer me!”
“Yes, Nan, but…”.
“Did he touch you Daniel? Where did he touch you? Did he hurt you”?
Wetness on my face. Blurry vision. Crying and can’t stop.
“I knew it! The poofter pederfile bastard”!
Stop it Nan, stop it. I can’t say it. Too much crying and my throat’s sore. Got to get away. Her words hurt more than the Chinese burns we give each other at school. More than a punch in a real fight.
Out the door and down to the park. Hide under the slippery dip and cry myself dry. What did she mean ‘did he touch you’? Of course he touched me. How could he wash me without touching me? Was he supposed to wish me clean?
Why does she hate him so much? I can read and write, like him. I like stories and books, like him. I want to be just like him.
Making your Mum feel bad. Conan the librarian. Bitch!
Why did I say anything to her? She always twists it. Now I’ve gotten Dad in trouble and I don’t even know what about. But it was something I said. I know that much.
****
They were from the Department. They were here to help. They said so.
The way they dressed, neat hair, neat clothes, lips the same colour. Faces that’d crack if they smiled.
Here about me. I just KNEW it.
Under my bed when the hardfaces appeared. No one could get me here, no matter what I'd done. I'd wait them out.
Funny what you can find under a bed. Long lost socks and undies. An old homework book I’d tossed there last year.
My Gameboy! I wondered where that had got to.
Fluff. Lots of that. A real fluff mine here.
Pity there’s no money in fluff mining. Under my bed and in my bellybutton would be the world’s richest fluff mines, I reckon.
I could mine fluff and sell it and buy a big house for Mum and Dad and me. No Nan. A dog and two cats. TVs in every room. A car.
No Hardfaces’d dare bother us then. They don’t bother rich people.
Under my bed’s the best place for dreams. My own safe place, kind space, when Mum and Dad’s fighting. Seems to be happening lots now.
My own fort. Safe port. They won’t find me here.
I’ve even left my bedroom door open so they won’t think I’m in here hiding. Who hides in a room with an open door?
I can hear their voices getting closer as they climb the stairs to my room. Can’t make out the words but I can hear Mum’s worried. Nan’s voice is like nails on a chalkboard. Like always.
Two women’s voices I don’t recognise. Rat a tat tat. Machine guns, clattering about their business.
No Dad. He’s still at work. I wish he were here. Maybe I wouldn’t want to hide then. Maybe.
They came almost straight after I got home from school. If they’d come a bit later, Dad would be here and they could talk with him too. Then they’d know there was nothing to worry about. How stupid are they not to know he’s still at work when I get home from school?
Nan’s at the door now. I can see her knotty ankles. Blue veins like fat overfed worms, popping out everywhere. Not nice.
“Daniel” she calls out, sweet as can be. “Daniel honey, there are some ladies here to see you.”
Now I know I’m in trouble.
“That’s funny. I could have sworn he was up here”.
“He is Mum. He’ll be under the bed, where he always is when he thinks he’s in trouble”.
Holy crap! How’d Mum know that? What else does she know that I think’s a secret?
Smart though, to pretend she didn’t know. All she has to do when I’m in trouble is have a cup of tea in the kitchen and wait till I get bored fluff mining. She knows where I am. Mothers can be so sneaky sometimes.
“Come on out Daniel, you’re not fooling anyone” she says. “No one’s going to hurt you. These ladies just want to talk with you”.
Traitor!
“Come on out Daniel. Now! Or you’ll be in trouble when your father comes home!” Mum adds.
“All right Mum, I’m coming”. Talking can’t hurt. I’ll tell them nothing happened and she’ll be sweet. That’s one of Dad’s sayings I do understand.
I grab the underside of the bed rail and pull myself out. My Game Boy’s in my shirt pocket. Wonder if the batteries still work?
“This is Mzzz Rae and this is Mzzz Williams. They’re welfare workers who want to….” Mum doesn’t get the chance to finish before Mzzz (what are they, members of the mosquito force?) Hardface #1 cuts right across her, as if she weren’t there.
“Hello Daniel. I’m Chris and this is Alex. Your grandmother told us what’s happened to you. You don’t need to be afraid or ashamed Daniel. We know it’s not your fault”.
“What’s not my fault?”
Hardface #2 thinks it’s her turn now. “Sometimes bad men, bad daddies, do things that are wrong. It’s our job to find out exactly what happened so we can make sure you’re safe.
We can stop your daddy ever hurting you again but to do that, you need to tell us everything that’s happened and what he did to you. We’re here to help you, Daniel”.
“You listen to these nice ladies Daniel and tell them everything” Nan chimes in helpfully. “You tell them what happened to you in the shower."
So that's what this is about. Stranger danger.
"Nothing happened. I had a shower with my Dad. Now I'm clean. You leave my Dad alone” I say to no-one in particular. Sob really, because by this time my face was pretty wet and my nose uncontrollably runny.
Mum’s started to cry too “I don’t believe Jack would do anything to hurt Daniel.”
My fault. If I hadn’t talked to Nan in the first place, none of this would be happening. Why does Nan hate Dad so much? Why won’t those women listen to me?
I bolt back upstairs and under my bed. No one comes after me this time. I hear them talking, for hours it seems. Sometimes voices raised. Sometimes quiet sobbing. Mum, I think.
I try to fix my Game Boy. It's no good. Maybe fresh batteries will get it working.
After a while, I hear the door opening and people leaving.
My Mum’s voice saying goodbye to Nan too. “I think its best you not be here when he gets home”.
Great!
The vacuum starts up and thrashes about downstairs for a bit but after about half an hour, cooking smells climb upstairs. Pretty soon Mum does too, with a plate of hot food and a glass of milk. I poke my head out from under the bed but don’t come further.
“I thought you might be hungry” she says, putting the plate and glass down on my desk while wiping her eyes. Red, wet eyes. Like mine.
“Maybe later we’ll talk, okay”?
Talk? Why? No one listens.
For a long while I lay there. The sound of the vacuum cleaner covered the house again.
When my Mum’s upset, she cleans. Floors sparkle, carpets squeak and furniture gleams.
The vacuum cleaner flailed around trying to suck up the lint from the never-ending fluff mine located in my belly button, until Dad’s voice called “I’m home”. I’d have rushed to meet him and jump in his arms for a hug and we’d have a wrestle on the couch, watch TV and have milk and biscuits together, while I told him all about school that day. Instead, I stayed under the bed.
Talking turns slowly to shouting and then crying. Dad shouting and Mum crying.
“They said WHAT? I did what to him? What does he say”?
I can’t make out my Mum’s answer.
Curiosity drives me out from under the bed and onto the landing halfway down the stairs. Now I can hear clearly.
“If you don’t move out, tonight they said, at least until they finish investigating, they’re going to take Daniel and put him where he’ll be safe…”
“He’s safe here. In his own home. With us. You know that. Your mother’s behind this. I’ll go and I won’t be back until she’s gone for good.”
And before I can move and hide, Dad’s up the stairs, nearly tripping over me on the landing. For a moment we look at each other. His mouth opens to say something, then shuts in silence. He looks right through me like I’m not there and walks on up the stairs.
My feet can’t move and my eyes won’t cry. After a little while, Dad comes past me again, with a small bag packed. This time he doesn’t stop or even slow down as he heads to the front door, where Mum’s waiting.
“Jack, I don’t want you to go. Daniel doesn’t want you to go. When they’ve finished, come back”.
“Not while I’m not trusted. Not while she’s here. You’ll have to make a choice”. And with that, just like that, he’s gone.
My feet find wings and I’m down the stairs and out the door after him, in less time than it takes to tell.
In the dark, lit by a street lamp, I see Dad walking towards the train station. I run to him and catch hold of a coat sleeve. He keeps on walking, like I’m not there.
“Dad” I’m crying. “Dad. Don’t go, please don’t go”!
“It’s a bit late for that, isn’t it”? He spits it out. He’s never talked to me like that before.
“I don’t want you to go. Please don’t go. Pleeease” I yell, hysterical now.
“Maybe you should have thought of that before you opened your big mouth”!
I gasp. I think I’m going to throw up.
Dad stops. Tears well in his eyes too. “I’m sorry Daniel, you didn’t deserve that. I’ve got to go, no choice. But I’ll be back real soon. You’ll see”.
He pulls my hand gently from his coat sleeve, kisses my cheek and holds my hands between his. He kneels so my face is level with his.
“I need you to look after your Mum while I’m away. Go back without me. I’ll be home again before you know it”.
Then he stood and walked away. Out of my life. For all I knew, forever.