The Simple Gift (16 page)

A project

When Jessie was nine

she did a school project

on the Great Barrier Reef.

Together we hunted for books

on fish and sea life and the rainforests

and Jessie loved cutting the pictures

from magazines and pasting them

onto a huge cardboard sheet.

She wanted to learn to dive

among the fish in the warm

tropical waters thousands of miles away.

We kept cutting and pasting

and I promised her we'd go

and I promised her we'd swim together

and wave at the fish!

The Great Barrier Reef.

Queensland,

where they have work

for fruit pickers,

watermelons,

pineapples,

bananas.

I could do that.

I could hop the freights

all the way north

where it's warm.

I could stay for winter

and I could be sure

that Billy was looking after

everything I own,

for when I get back

from taking Jessie's

trip to the ocean.

Measure

Caitlin and I walked

through the house,

brushing the spiderwebs

from the doorways,

treading carefully,

quiet, like in a museum.

The furniture was old

but solid.

There was a television,

and a stereo

with lots of country records

stacked neatly beside.

The curtains

were beautiful,

white cotton with seashell patterns

in vivid blue,

and in the bedroom

the wardrobes were solid old timber,

empty,

the double bed was neatly made,

and the dresser was clear

of photos, or books, or anything personal.

The kitchen was huge

with a big fridge,

a double sink,

lots of bench space,

a place where someone

had en
joyed cooking.

Caitlin and I walked around

touching everything gent
ly

as though each object

was worth a fortune.

At the entrance

to the sma
ller bedroom

we found some pencil marks

on the wall,

we
leaned in to read them,

they were height markings

– Jessie 1.2.91

– Dad 1.2.91

– M
um 14.6.92

– Jessie 14.6.92

– Dad 1.2.93

– Jessie 1.2.93.

Under the last entry

for Je
ssie

in a child's printing

were the wo
rds

‘I've grown thirteen centimetres in two years,

lots
more than Dad!'

The swallows still

sang on the ve
randa,

as Caitlin and I

stood there

measuring a life.

Cleaning

I told Mum and Dad

the truth.

Well, some of it was true.

I told them

I'm helping a friend

clean their house

and that's why

I've got the mop,

yes, the hated mop,

and a bucket,

and lots of rags.

And I tell them

I'll be away all day

and I leave quickly

before they can ask me

what friend, and where?

I arrive at Billy's

and he's in the kitchen

scrubbing the floor.

He's already done the bathroom.

I vacuum the lounge

and the main bedroom –

it's only dust

that's gathered lonely in the corners

and on the curtains.

Billy and I work all morning.

We eat lunch under the fir trees

and look at the house.

We don't say much.

We lie on the blanket

and hold each other.

Billy has his arms around me

and his eyes turned

towards the white timber house.

Saturday dinner

I rang Mum on the mobile

and I told her I'd be late home.

I was having dinner at my friend's.

She started to ask who

and I switched the mobile off,

deliberately.

I'm having dinner at Billy's,

a dinner we will cook together,

and afterwards

we'll make love on the bed,

Billy's bed.

Then we'll get dressed

and Billy will walk home with me,

and I'll walk into Mum and Dad's questions,

and I'll answer them

truthfully.

It's time.

I love Billy, and I'm sure of him.

I want my parents to know.

In two weeks I'll be eighteen

and I want my parents to know

what I do,

what I plan to do.

I put the mobile down

on the kitchen bench

and I help Billy prepare

the Saturday dinner.

The best meal

It was the best meal

I've ever eaten.

Chicken curry,

with rice and cashew nuts

and pappadums.

It took Caitlin and me

all afternoon to prepare.

We kept stopping to put on

another of Old Bill's records.

We slow-danced around the lounge

to wailing country music,

laughing at our foolish steps

and holding each other

to stop from falling,

and Caitlin tries to lead

and I try to lead

and we both give up

and go back to the curry.

We each poured a beer

and sat at the dinner table

with a white tablecloth

and napkins

and proper cutlery and plates.

I raised my glass,

Caitlin did the same

and we both said,

‘To Old Bill',

and we drank

and we each ate two helpings

of curry and rice.

It was the best meal

I've ever eaten.

Value

Caitlin and I lay

in the huge bed

with the moon

a perfect light

and the trees

long fingers scratching

at the window.

I reached under the bed

and found what I'd hidden

earlier in the night.

I lifted the small case

and I opened the lid

to show Caitlin the

beautiful green emerald ring

I'd bought months earlier

because of the colour of her eyes

because I'd worked all week

in the cannery with my hands stained red

and because

I couldn't spend all that money

on food,

or beer,

or myself.

Midnight

Last night,

unable to sleep

in this quiet house

without the freight train whistles

and the diesel shunting back and forth,

I got dressed, closed the door gently,

and walked the streets,

and as the Town Hall clock

tolled midnight

I stood on the railway platform

looking across at the carriages,

my home for these past months.

I knew Old Bill was asleep

like most of Bendarat.

I made a silent vow

to visit my carriage,

once a week,

to sit and read, alone, on the leather seat,

with the sounds and smells

of the hobo life close by,

to never forget this home

by the railroad tracks.