Tuesday, 20 October 2009
Government Life
Friday, 16 October 2009
...
Wednesday, 14 October 2009
...
Tuesday, 29 September 2009
Broken...
“Becca,” said her friend Lanie, “why does he meet you here every day?”
Becca blushed, conscious of any difference to her school mates. Luke felt the comment even more than Becca, just as the girl intended.
“I don't know, he just does.”
Her other friend, Anna, took a turn to twist the knife a little, as teenage girls know best.
“Doesn't he have his own friends to hang out with?”
Luke could sense Becca turning to look at him as she answered. He could feel the sneer that had been growing more and more common on her face since she fell in with this group of girls.
“He used to,” she responded. “They all got themselves arrested to get away from him.”
Luke slammed the locker door and turned around to face her, angry. When he opened his mouth to talk back to her, however, her innocent face disarmed him. Instead of the preening teenager she was, he saw the little girl he remembered, the sweetness, and he saw suddenly that she had exactly the same eyes as Andy. He couldn’t fight against her. He turned and walked away instead.
When he got home, the letterbox was stuffed with letters. He removed them and shuffled through, relishing the task. It was usually the one chore that Becca could be trusted with and she took great pride in being the household postman. He wondered how she could be so different at home and at school. Luke jiggled the keys a little in the lock, making a mental note to fix it, and stepped into the house. He turned to close the door behind him, the juggling act of keys, letters and bag becoming too much and the letters tumbled to the floor. As he crouched to pick them up, a handwritten note caught his eye. It was addressed to the family. Without pausing for thought, Luke ripped the envelope open. He recognised the handwriting.
It was a brief note scribbled on a photo. Three lines that set his pulse racing.
Hi all. Everything fine. In touch. A.
Another message from Andy, the same words as the last but this time a different photo showing a deeply tanned hand against an indiscriminate background. Luke stood and walked to the kitchen, setting the other mail on the hall table before sitting down to study the letter before Becca arrived home. He didn’t have long.
Within minutes there was a noise at the door, the sound of opening and closing. Luke shoved the letter into the pocket of his school blazer. He got up without a word as she burst into the kitchen. He began to prepare their dinner while she studied him in silence for a moment. He had just taken the vegetables from the refrigerator when she finally spoke.
“Lukie, why didn't you wait for me?” she asked him, clearly aggrieved.
Luke didn’t turn away from the bench where he had begun to chop food.
“You're big enough to walk on your own now,” he finally said.
“But you always walk with me,” she protested. “What else have you got to do? Apart from following me around, I mean. In fact, what do you ever do, Lukie? Why don't you have a job yet?”
Luke snorted. The sting was taken out of her nastiness when there was nobody else there. At home, he could hold his own.
“Because of you, actually,” he bit back. “If you could tie your own shoelaces and remember your head without being constantly reminded, I'd go and get a job. But no, Baby Becca needs a babysitter, and we need someone who can actually manage to do some housework. So here I am. Nanny, chef and cleaner, all rolled into one helpful package.”
He had long been bitter about the way his family had assumed he would look after the house, look after Becca. Hannah had been allowed to go and get a job. Andy had worked. Why he had to stay as a housekeeper he couldn’t understand. The extra money would surely have been useful, once Andy’s wages had stopped coming in. He'd fought Hannah for the right to stay at school, but he'd conceded to himself long before that he wouldn't finish.
“I don't know why we don't just employ someone. Anna and Lanie do.”
That brought Luke’s preparations to a halt. He placed the knife on the chopping board and slowly turned around to study her.
“What?” she demanded, disconcerted by his staring.
“Bec, what rock do you live under?”
“What? All the girls at school have maids and cooks. Why can't we?”
“Because we're not rich, Rebecca. Why else do you think that you never saw Mum or Dad or why Hannah isn't here, why I'm leaving school? It takes more than Hannah can earn, just to keep us in food, clothes, power. The only reason we go to that damned school is because we were the token local paupers on scholarships. Didn't you ever notice?” Becca shook her head.
“Notice what?”
Luke stared at her a little longer, then sighed. “Just forget it Becca. Don't worry your pretty little head.” He turned back to the food and picked up his knife once again, unable to stop himself from shaking his head a little. The thought of the photo in his pocket gave him some pause, but he decided not to tell her about it. She would hardly care now, it seemed.
Sunday, 27 September 2009
Broken
“Come on, then,” Hannah finally said. “We’d better head home.”
Later that night, Luke spread his books on the table. Funeral or no funeral, he had exams to study for. With only months of schooling left, the pressure was on him to get good grades. Hannah was doing the housework for a change, drying the freshly washed dishes by the sink. As she set the last glass on its open shelf, she turned to look at Luke, taking in his concentration and the hand flying across the page as he took notes. She sighed.
“Lukie, I need to talk to you.”
He looked up from his studies and, when he saw her serious face, set down his pen. Hannah moved to the table and sat in their mother’s seat, next to him.
“Lukie, you need to get a job.”
Luke seemed dumbstruck, fumbling for words for a moment as he adjusted to the unexpected topic.
“But school, Becca, the housework - they take up all of my time. When am I supposed to work?”
Hannah hit the table. She’d been forced to shoulder more than she could contemplate since the accident. She needed to share the load, the grief.
“Dammit, Luke, we were barely keeping afloat when there were four of us working. How the hell do you think we're going to survive now Mum and Dad are gone too?”
“But you work for the government,” Luke said, still dumbfounded.
“Yes, I work for the government and it's killing me. I get paid next to nothing to do a horrible job that I can't believe I do.”
“Ssh. Someone will hear you.”
“Let them bloody hear me!” she yelled. “It's no secret that I hate what I do. I do it because I have to. You've already had more time at school than Andy or I had. It's time you left and got a job. And Becca can look after herself. We're going to lose the house, Luke.”
Luke was once again stunned into silence. He hadn’t thought about the house payments. It had come as a shock to him to learn that his parents owned only a tiny percentage of the family home. He’d always assumed that the reason they’d lived in such a dump for so long was that they couldn’t afford anything better. He never realised that it was because they couldn’t even afford what they had.
“But what can I do? I'm not qualified for anything.”
“We'll find you something, somehow. We've got no choice, have we, since our sainted brother ran off. Heard from him lately, have you?”
Luke paused, suddenly remembering the photo, still in his pocket from the night it had arrived. He had never gotten around to sharing it with any of them. The accident had happened that night.
“There was something in the mail the other day,” he said quietly. Hannah looked at him disbelievingly.
“What, a photo of Paris, was it? A letter from Rome? Tokyo? New York? Johannesburg? Where has he been all this time then?” Her voice was harsh and bitter. She had never spoken of Andy since he disappeared. Luke hadn’t understood before just how much she resented him for leaving. They’d always been close until then.
“It was just a photo of desert, and a foot in the bottom corner.”
Hannah sat down at the table in surprise. The news seemed to mean more to her than it did to Luke.
“Andy's in the desert?” she asked in a whisper. The anger was gone now, replaced by worry.
“Yeah, it looks that way. Why?” Luke couldn’t understand her sudden change in mood. She buried her head in her hands, looking much older than her twenty-two years. Suddenly Luke could see his mother sitting in that chair, in the same pose, the morning that they had realised Andy was gone. He hung his head to hide the sudden tears the memory evoked.
“Don't you know what's in the desert, Luke? That's where the camps are supposed to be. the camps for the Vanished. There's stories that there are other camps there too. Not run by governments.” Hannah’s voice sounded weary.
“You think he's –?” Luke trailed off, unable to voice what Andy might have become.
“Yeah, I think he is." They sat silently at the table for a few moments. Eventually, Hannah ran a hand through her hair and got up from her seat. "Go to bed, Lukie. You've still got to go to school tomorrow, whatever happens after that.”
She pushed her hair back from her face and offered him a half-hearted smile. Luke began to tidy his books. He piled them together and scooped them off the table as he pushed his chair back and turned to walk from the kitchen.
“And Lukie?” Luke stopped in the doorway and looked over his shoulder at his sister.
“Don't tell Becca. She's too little to know this.”
Monday, 9 March 2009
...
The school bell rang out the end of another day and Luke packed his books away. The walk to his locker for his school bag was a lonely one, jostled by others who were far more eager to get home than he was, escaping what they considered the grind of education for the freedom of the park, the shopping centre, anywhere that wasn't here. Luke was in no great hurry. Not that he enjoyed school more than they did, or disliked his time at home, more that he was never really in a hurry to get anywhere. There were things he liked about school and things he disliked about home. He dragged his feet where the other school boys ran.
Pete was waiting for him at his locker.
"Come on Lukie," laughed Pete. "you're always so slow. Hurry up and we might have time for some kick-to-kick before we have to get inside. What do you reckon?" Pete was football mad. He could happily fill a day kicking a football around a park, whether or not he had company. Luke was obliging enough not to mind it whenever Pete asked him to join in, so he picked up his pace a little as he pulled out whatever he'd need at home that night to finish his homework and put it into his bag.
'I've gotta go by the primary school for Becca, though,' he reminded his friend. Pete just smiled and nodded. He knew the routine as well as Luke did by now. They'd been walking home together since they were old enough to go without adults, and had stopped off to pick up Luke's little sister on their way since she'd started school.
'Bet you'll be glad when she starts here next year, huh,' offered Pete to break the silence. Luke simply grunted a reply that could have gone either way and kept walking at his normal steady pace. Pete was always running laps around him, trying to get him to walk faster, but nothing would disturb Luke in his rhythm. Pete decided that it was probably better not to interrupt him today. Something seemed to be on his mind; he was even quieter than normal. Idly wondering what it was, Pete tried to slow his own pace to match Luke's and made an extra effort to keep the impatience he was feeling from showing.
They walked through the streets in silence, neither of them taking in their surroundings. They'd been walking the same way for so many years now that they didn't even really need to look. Luke had tested it once, closing his eyes as he walked, and found that he could navigate as well from his memory of the road as he could from seeing what was going on around him. There were rarely any changes, and none that would interest the two school boys.
When they arrived at the primary school gate, Pete waited outside in the yard, taking a football out of his bag to keep himself occupied while Luke went inside for his sister. The teachers had started keeping the kids inside until someone came to collect them in the past year or so. It was easier, reflected Luke, when he'd just had to go to the big fort at the back of the school to find Becca, when he hadn't had to face up to her teachers before being able to take her home. It had all come out of some idiot taking a bus load of kids over the edge of a cliff; since then there'd been plenty of changes at the primary school. Not so many at his school, though. Most people seemed to figure that they could take care of themselves a bit more up there. Still, he was certain that he'd be picking Becca up just the same from the high school. He crossed the playground and entered the school building through the front door, memories of his own time at the school coming back to him as always.
That spot over there was where they used to play rounders at lunchtime. Their never-ending games of tag used that fire hydrant as a safe haven. He'd tripped and skinned his knee on that patch of bitumen. That was his music class room. There was the spot where he'd first been told that he didn't fit in. Over there was the spot where he'd had his first fight. That seat was where he'd been sent when he'd been hit with a stick in the playground. This was the corridor where he learned that it wasn't enough to have your parents spend everything they ever earned in trying to get their children a better education - and a better life - than they had had themselves. Here was the place that taught him you also needed money left over for other things. Only Pete had been on his side back then, on the same side of the growing divide between him and his class mates.
"Luke, hi,' said Becca's teacher as he came into the class room. There were about 10 eleven year olds left in the room. The other 12 or so had already been picked up by parents who didn't have to go to work or, far more likely at this school, their nannies.
'Hey Miss Jarvis.' She'd taught Luke when he was in Becca's grade and knew his situation better than most. She treated him as his sister's parent since she saw him more often than them, and knew that he was the one to make sure Becca got her homework done.
'How'd she go today?' he asked. This was a normal interchange between them, sharing the details of Becca's day.
'Good, as always,' laughed the teacher.
'Anything I need to know about?'
'She's got a project to do for next week, some maths for tomorrow and a story for Friday. Library tomorrow as well, so she needs to bring back any books she borrowed last time around. It should all be written in her planner, though, so if you look there you'll find out anything that I've forgotten. Oh, and there's an excursion in a couple of weeks.' Luke's face closed over. Excursions were a sore point in their family, and usually meant Luke missed a day of school since they could neither afford to sends Becca on the excursion, nor trust her to be home alone.
'It's a free one this time,' offered Miss Jarvis. 'Just a form to sign. It'll be good for her to go.' Luke blushed at her knowledge of their family situation. He hated having to admit that they couldn't have sent her any other way, hated the knowledge that someone else didn't even need to be told that, but knew it already.
'Where are they going?' asked Luke in an attempt to distract himself. He did have some genuine curiosity as well; free excursions were a rarity.
'It's a government rally, I think. I'm not certain. I was just given the forms and told that the kids could all come along. You know the sort of thing, though. Lots of kids waving flags as politicians talk over their heads to the cameras. The usual. But we will be getting back a bit later than normal. It's all on the form,' she finished, losing her concentration as two of her charges started to bicker loudly.
Luke took the moment while the teacher was settling the dispute to study his sister as she played. She still hadn't noticed him in the room, so involved was she in marshaling her group of classmates. He watched her carefully for a few moments, looking for the signs that he knew had to have been there for him at the same age, had he only been able to see them.
'Rebecca's a good kid, Luke,' Miss Jarvis said softly. He wondered where this was going. 'She's popular, bright. There's no need to worry about her.'
Her tone was gentle, and he wondered how she'd been able to tell what he was thinking. He was uncomfortable just thinking about it all, and tried to hurry his departure.
'Come on Becca, time to go.' She looked around in mid-command of whatever the complicated game was that they were playing, and her face fell at the sight of her brother. It made him wonder what she was thinking. Unlike the uncanny Miss Jarvis, he wasn't good at reading other people's thoughts. Or maybe it was that they were better at hiding theirs. Whatever the reason, he didn't like that his sister was disappointed to see him. Or that it happened most days when he came to get her. He sighed. 'Come on.'
'Just a few more minutes?' asked Becca hopefully. 'Please? And if Jamie's nanny gets here soon, can he come and play?'
Jamie was apparently the friend of the moment. They still seemed to change a lot. Luke guessed that he was the boy with the rampant ginger curls who was being bossed around the most - a sure sign that he was Becca's current favourite. Another sigh slipped from Luke, knowing that he was about to disappoint her again.
'Not tonight Becca. I've got a mountain of things to get through, and Pete's already waiting for us at the gate.'
Saturday, 7 March 2009
Breaking...
"Luke?" comes a tentative voice beside him. His eyes shift focus to find a vaguely familiar face peering up at him from behind a sheet of glossy red hair. He is startled to have someone who looked so well-maintained and expensive speak to him, and he mentally runs through a catalogue of Josie's friends to see if any fit her appearance. Coming up empty, he continues to stare at her blankly, waiting for an explanation.
"Don't you recognize me, Lukie?" she asks, plainly hurt. The affectionate version of his name triggers a sudden rush of memories and emotion.
"Becca!" He moves to hug his sister, but holds back, uncertain of the proprieties any more. She is clearly moving in circles far above his head, so much so that he wonders at her being in this neighbourhood. Besides, he remembers, they had not parted well when last they met. Becca had been too much a part of the system to meet with approval in the eyes of her brother. He had been less than flattering about both her causes and her actions. It had led to a split that he had always assumed would never be repaired.
Yet here she is, peering up at him with some kind of emotion working in her face and eyes full of tears at the sight of him.
"You've grown so much I hardly know you, Becca," he says by way of apology. It is true, even if it isn't the thought that is uppermost in his mind. The Becca he remembers is still a gangly teenager, not the woman in front of him. She still had braces, was still at school, even. The years have made her mature beyond her years in looks. Looking closer to trace the remains of his sister in the stranger's face, he sees that the glossy exterior masks a fatigue similar to his own. He wonders what has happened since he last saw her but doesn't dare ask. There are some questions that you don't ask anymore, not even to family.
"You haven't changed a bit, though," she tells him with a smile. "I'm glad, Lukie. I don't think I like the idea of not being able to recognize you, even if you are sleepwalking somewhere." There is a light, affected laugh at the end of the observation, but it sounds brittle. He can see that she is as uneasy, as unsettled, by the meeting as he is.
Someone bumps Luke as they head into the building and he comes to his senses a little with a sigh.
"I've got to go to work, Becca. I'll be late." He begins to move towards the door, but turns just as he reaches it. She is still watching him, a bright island in the see of grey he is so used to.
"Becca? Find me again. It's been good to see you." She smiles at him, radiant, a more grown up version of the little girl he remembers.
"You too, Lukie. Take care."