Dear Miffy (5 page)

Dear Miff,

Geez, I've had it up to here, Miff. All the things they say to me, it's like they hate my guts, like they want to attack me. Insults, all the time insults. I mean, who the fuck do they think they are? Cindy, she's a girl here, she reckons they're doing it deliberately because they reckon I'm too passive or something. That ‘denial' stuff I was talking to you about one time.

Today this dickhead called Tom who works here told me how he reckons when I get the shits I lash out at the nearest target, doesn't matter who it is. He reckons it's really me I'm angry at. What a lot of bullshit. I don't know why I listened to him. Normally I never listen to these bastards. I write letters to you instead. I'd rather do that any day.

It's all because I cracked at this little kid this morning. Little shit. I was in the gym and thought I'd have a go for once, so I had this neck thing and I was pulling against it and I would have got it going, Miff, I swear I would, no worries, but this kid distracted me, started laughing, and I was so pissed off I slagged at him, like spat right in his face. Didn't mean nothing by it, just wanted to shut him up, make him think before he gets so fucking sarcastic next time. So now everyone here hates me. What do you reckon, new experience for me, hey?

I don't give a flying fuck; they hated me before this, anyway.

Actually what this Tom bloke really said was that I lash out at someone weaker. That's not a very nice thing to say, is it, Miff?

You know it's not true, don't you, Miff?

There was that time at school, though. You were pissed off at me that day. See, the thing was my dad had been visiting my uncle and aunt the night before and they'd been drinking all day and my dad was trying to pick me and I was just in a bad mood. I know I did the wrong thing, but. Some of those Year 7s but, they're too fucking cheeky for their own good. Some of them really ask for it. I wouldn't do it again though, Miff. You gotta believe that.

Anyway you were no angel yourself, Miff. Geez, you cracked me up with some of the shit you did. The big difference was you got away with it most of the time and I never did. They was always watching out for me. Like those keys of Mrs McVeigh's, I'd never have got away with them. Well, she'd never have given them to me in the first place. You had it so well worked out, but. She never suspected a thing. ‘Oh Mrs McVeigh, Mr Stadley said can he have a key for the costume cupboard please?'

You'd worked out she'd have to give you a master key because you'd heard Stadley say that he had the only key in the school for the costume cupboard. Then you have me on me bike waiting and on your way back from the hall you give me the key and I'm down to the hardware and back in fifteen minutes, then you're into Mrs McVeigh's cool as you like, cos I'm the one who's worked up the sweat. Then you take Stadley's keys back to him. ‘Oh, look Mr Stadley, I found them. Guess where they were?'

In your fucking pocket the whole time, that's where they were.

I reckon you'd be good at organising a bank job or something, Miff.

You could pull off anything. And I mean anything. I ought to know. That's a joke by the way, Miff, just thought I'd better say.

But hey, Miff, didn't we have a time with that master key? For two months we had ourselves a party with it. Be having one now if you hadn't lost the fucker. I still reckon Murphy pinched it. Only thing we didn't think to do was make another copy for ourselves. We were a bit dumb about that. I'm still spewing about it. We could have got Mrs McVeigh's again, but somehow we never got around to it.

‘Geez, we got into everything though, didn't we? The canteen, that was the best one. We were both so fucking stoned. We had the munchies bad. Had to get them corn chips, didn't we, Miff? Just had to have them corn chips. That big brown door with our names scratched into it. I cracked up when I saw them, in their little heart. I'd forgotten we'd done that. Between me cracking up and you getting the giggles and the door squeaking and grinding as it opened I don't know how we didn't get busted. But next thing we're in there with the door shut behind us. It was fucking dark and fucking scary but, geez, talk about a kid in a candy shop. We had ourselves an all right time. Those fucking Freddos, I must have eaten ten of the bastards. I've never been able to look at a Freddo again. But you pigged out on the Caramello Bears, remember that? God, it was a pisser. I fair dinkum thought I was going to chuck before I got out of there. And then I was shitting myself getting out because I didn't know if Hammond or Fishbum or the security guy or even Paspaley might have been waiting for us. You're sort of dropping into nothing coming out of a place like that, just hoping like hell they won't be standing in a line with their arms folded, a fucking reception committee. It was like bungy jumping would be, I reckon.

After that we went up on the hill and you wanted to have sex and I was rolling around the grass holding my guts in, going, ‘Oh God, why'd I eat all that shit?' Sex was the last thing I felt like.

That was the opposite of the way it was most of the time, hey?

The other good gag with the key was getting in the Admin office, especially Paspaley's office, and checking out all the school secrets. And the staffroom. I pigged out again, on Tim Tams this time. But the school secrets were pretty boring. We read our files—most of it just garbage about being on probation and dropping Indonesian and getting busted for wagging. There was that stuff from the psychologist, but—about how I'm a genius and fucking it up by being unmotivated or whatever they call it. I just laughed when I showed it to you but to tell you the truth, Miff, I felt a bit of a buzz when I read it. I mean, geez, I've always thought I was the big dummy, and when teachers went on about how ‘if you only settled down and did some serious work' I thought it was the same bullshit line they give every student.

Not that it made any difference, but fuck it, I'd rather be brainy than dumb.

Your file was really thin but there was one thing I hadn't known, that stuff about you hacking up your wrist last year. I was really shocked, Miff. Most of all I was shocked that you hadn't told me. I guess you giving me the file to read was your way of telling me. I know you were watching me when I did read it. I admit I blinked a few times. I'd always thought you were strong; maybe that was the first time I realised you weren't strong inside; it was all a bluff, an act.

Like I say, it was a shock. I looked at you differently after that.

Next time we made love I picked up your wrist and checked it out. Do you remember? I bet you do. That faint white line, I'd never noticed it before. It scared the shit out of me, that white line. I kissed it so you wouldn't see my lips trembling. I heard the loud ugly music that night for sure, Miff. I felt the dark angel right there above us.

He never went away though, did he, Miff? He was always there hovering over our heads. As long as we were together he was going to be there. He was just waiting for us cos he knew he was going to get us in the end, that bastard.

See you,

Tony

Dear Miff,

This is the first time I've written to you in the morning, Miff. It's about six o'clock and already there's a bit of movement at this station. Sure is a happening place. I couldn't sleep again last night, can't sleep now, won't sleep tonight, won't ever sleep again.

You know something, Miff, there was this family in Italy I think they were, and the whole family had insomnia, like none of them could sleep, and they passed it on from generation to generation, and Miff, you won't believe this, some of them died from it. Can you imagine that? Dying from not sleeping? Mate, that would be the worst thing. But all I can think of as I lie here awake is that family, and how you can die from that. Geez, it drives me crazy. I just get this feeling that I'm going to die as I'm bloody lying on this hard old bed. Weird, hey? Better not tell them here or you know where they'll send me.

I think what made me want to write to you is just that I'm missing you so much. It's bad this morning. Tell you the truth, Miff, I'm randy as hell, and writing this isn't helping any. God, I'd love to lie against you now and feel your warm naked skin, feel your firm-soft tits, put myself into you, feel your wetness, the most exciting feeling in the world, that wetness, Miff. Christ, how I loved that wetness. There'll never be a feeling to equal that in my life.

A lot of things about sex with you were good, Miff, but you know what I liked most? Don't laugh, but it was lying together afterwards stroking each other's back. Just that, that's all. God, I could have stayed there all day every day doing nothing else. I'd give anything to do that now, anything except my balls. Ha ha. (Joke.)

I'd had a bit of sex before I met you, Miff. Well, face it, we both had, but with the others it was just a quick poke. You were the first one I really, you know, took the trouble with; wanted to—I feel dumb saying this—wanted to, you know, please. Yeah, that was the difference. Is that what people mean when they talk about love? Fucked if I know.

My first time, you kept asking, trying to find out, but I wouldn't tell you. First time was when I was a little tacker, with a girl in Year 8. She was a bit of a goer, Stacey, you never met her, she lives in bloody New Zealand now, and she dragged me off to her bed one night at her birthday party when everyone else was watching a video (but they knew what we was doing) and she took my virginity. I still couldn't even shoot. But I liked it. I was nervous but. Next time was with Stacey again about six months later, bit different that time. I could come all right by then, and I sure got into it. We were at the beach and she was with this bloke who was about twenty-six or something fucking stupid, and he had this panel van and he was so pissed he went to sleep right on the beach—burnt so bad you could smell the fucking pork sizzling—and I thought this is my chance, and I got Stacey in the back of the van and had her bikini bottom down around her ankles before she knew what hit her. She was pretty pissed herself as a matter of fact. You're not too good on the grog at that age. I wasn't pissed, but. I'd stayed cold bloody sober cos I'd thought I might have a chance if I kept my eyes open.

Doing it with Stace wasn't much different to wanking, but, if you really want to know. Christ, she was a slut. Fourteen years old and a total write-off.

Then I had the hots for this chick in Year 10. I was in Year 8 still, would you believe. Bit of a laugh. But I thought she was the bloody pin-up of the century. She knew how I felt, too, but she just thought it was a big joke. It wasn't to me. I was deadly serious. Then one night at this party she was really pissed and we done it out the back on the grass. Wasn't that good, but. And afterwards she pretended she was too pissed to even remember, but she did, and I knew she did and she knew I knew she did, etc. etc. But she wouldn't have anything to do with me after that.

The others didn't amount to much. I had the hots for Emma for a while but she wouldn't let me touch her. I rooted Kylie to do her a favour, she was after me for months. Christ, she was ugly, but. Then we pulled a train on Sharon one night when we were off our faces. It took me about five minutes just to get it up.

I did it with Becky a few times. She was OK.

It was so different with you, Miff. You just wouldn't believe how different. I don't know why, except that you were so fucking beautiful, plus you were the only girl I ever met who could match it with me. By the time I figured out you weren't that tough it didn't seem to matter any more.

For a while I thought I'd met my match.

You wanted to have sex that afternoon at your house but I didn't. It was all too weird, me being there, and your mother and all them being downstairs. I couldn't get in the mood at all. I'd wanted to have it with you so badly and there you were handing it to me on a plate and I was knocking it back. Crazy. But it just didn't feel right.

When we did have it, it took me by surprise. I didn't think we'd have a chance that particular day. Normally on those fucking excursions they guard you like you're on day release from the slammer. Not far wrong, hey? School is like prison, if you ask me. But Mr Rossi, he's not a bad bloke, and all Art teachers are slack. It was a fucking slack excursion, I know that. That fucking gallery's so fucking boring. The only painting I liked was that big nude bitch on the end wall in the big hall and you wouldn't let me perv on her for long. Maybe it did get you a little bit excited though. Maybe you wanted to compete with her? Maybe you thought, ‘Huh, I've got more than that slut any day.' Huh Miff, what do you reckon? Am I on to it?

Anyway, whatever. I know it got me a bit fired up, that painting, and I started to hang out for some action. I was giving your ear an erotic experience and you were giggling and pushing me away. The only thing that stopped me going further was all the people around, and Mr Rossi. Like, he might be a good bloke, but if he finds two of his students having sex in the middle of an excursion he's not exactly going to give us a pat on the head and an
A
in Art.

So there we were, both wanting it, all fired up and nowhere to go, surrounded by sex but couldn't hardly touch each other. Till we got into that little room. It was all my idea and I'm proud of it. We went right past the door and then I dragged you back and said, ‘Let's check this out,' and you said, ‘Oh yeah, art by disabled lesbians, good one,' but I knew what I was after. We were in there about twenty minutes fartarsing around and in all that time no-one else came near the place, and finally I said to you, ‘I don't think too many people are interested in art by disabled lesbians,' and right away you knew it was serious and what I was getting at and then I grabbed you and away we went. I'd never done it with so many clothes on before; it was pretty funny when I think about it now, but we weren't laughing at the time.

Geez, we were lucky no-one came in, but. I can't believe we were that dumb.

Oh, but God, I loved it, Miff. I get a lump in my throat thinking about it now. And a lump in my pants, sure, but the look of you afterwards, as you pulled up your undies and gave me this kind of half-smiling half-serious look with your beautiful clear eyes, like you were saying, ‘Well, we've done it now. This is getting serious. We're in this for the long haul,' I loved you so much I wanted to pull you down on the floor and take all your clothes off and do it long and slow and forever.

Sex! It rules! Wish we could do it all day every day. Wouldn't get much else done, but.

Second time was at Donald's, the next Friday, when he had that party. That was good timing. We got there early, said hello to a few people, walked through the lounge room and the kitchen, went straight upstairs to his bedroom, locked the door and made love all night. A few people were pissed off with us that night! Especially Donald. I thought he was going to break his own door down at about three o'clock. Just shows, it pays to get to parties early.

Didn't help Donald, but. He got there before anyone else and ended up with nothing.

I didn't need grog or dope or no shit at all that night, Miff. You were the greatest drug ever invented. You were all I ever wanted. When I was with you the sun and moon and stars were in the fucking room, and heaven was in your mouth and your breasts and between your legs. Hell was a long long way away when you were there, Miff. The sun rose and set every time you breathed, and those dark wings and that bad music got pushed off into nowhere.

Funny, you know, I'm writing this surrounded by fucking chaos. Fucking chaos and darkness. The nurses have been in and out about sixteen times saying it's time to get up. They want to get me up and I've just been refusing the whole time. It's past eight o'clock. This is getting heavy, to tell you the truth. I might stop writing, I think, but I'm fucked if I'll get up. Why should I. What's to get up to? I feel like staying in bed all day so I'll stay in bed all day. Fuck the lot of them.

Bye, bye Miff,

Tony