Ten
I’VE BEEN WORKING at McDonald’s for the last few weeks now.
Because it’s on Parramatta Road, it always seems to be packed with people.
Whoever thought of building it there was smart because not only is it situated on the route into the city, it’s also close to Sydney University and the hospitals in Misseden Road. That also means that it’s the hangout for every hood in the inner west and inner city. Just walking into the place through the parking lot is a nightmare. Nobody hangs out inside except for the families. All the teenagers are out in the parking lot competing for who can play the loudest music or rev their car the most.
Yesterday made me realize that it mightn’t be exactly what I want at the moment, but I don’t want to admit that to Mama because we’re not talking.
I’ll be the first to admit that I overreacted the other night. But fighting and yelling and screaming feels healthy, and apologizing and being humble feels embarrassing. I’ve tried to apologize during the week, but the words haven’t come out. I know I shouldn’t have said what I did. My life isn’t as bad as I make out and sometimes I think it’s all in my head, but I can’t help it. I’m beginning to realize that I can be a little selfish and I’m trying to find the words to apologize to Mama and to understand Nonna just a little bit more.
Anyway, yesterday at McDonald’s, Anna and I were serving and we had the whole of hood city in there, including Jacob Coote, Anton Valavic and a bunch of their noisy friends. I ignore Jacob Coote when I see him. I’m not sure why. It’s not as if I dislike him or anything. I think I ignore him because if I look at him I might find that he’s looking at me and I’m not sure where that would lead us.
At about ten-thirty a group of loud-mouthed creeps came in and I recognized their leader as a boy who used to live next door to us. I think I’ve mentioned Greg Sims before. He was the one who called me a bastard when I was ten.
He’s a bully like you would never believe. I once saw him hit someone from behind with a brick, and he was only a kid at the time.
Greg Sims, I think, will end up in jail and if not in jail he’ll end up dying in some pitiful alley from an overdose. I thought that the moment I first saw him and I still feel that now.
Mama and I called our time of living next door to the Simses the “horror years.” Mr. Sims would get drunk constantly and yell out suggestive things to my mother. I remember the nights we’d lock the doors, petrified that he’d come bursting in. Sometimes we’d wake up in the morning and there would be beer cans all over our backyard. Screaming and yelling could be heard coming from their house at any given time. Once Mama called the police in the middle of the night because she could hear loud crying. The next day Mr. Sims dragged the whole family over and they all told us to mind our own business. Another time he was so drunk that he backed his car into our fence. We called the police again and he had his license suspended and he ended up losing his job because he was a driver for a delivery company.
Things became very hostile after that. Greg Sims kept on calling me names and because I was just beginning to understand what they all meant, I’d cry every time. So knowing it would make me cry, he’d go on and on.
Nonna kept on saying that if we had a man around the house it wouldn’t be happening and that would really rile Mama and they’d end up fighting. I was absolutely relieved when we moved to Glebe.
I could tell that Greg Sims knew who I was. He gave it away by the look in his eyes. The worst eyes you could possibly ever look into. All bloodshot and so cold. I think that when the light goes off in your eyes, then there is no hope for you.
“Hi, Josie,” he said in a singsong voice, leaning on the counter an inch away from my face.
I stepped back because his bad breath mingled with the smell of alcohol made me want to puke.
“Josie and I are old friends,” he explained to his friends, inching closer to me.
He burped loudly and I could see Anna’s horrified glance in my direction, as well as looks of distaste on the faces of the people waiting to be served.
“What would you like to eat?” I asked angrily.
“Not quite sure yet.”
I looked past him to the people waiting behind, but he stepped directly in my path and gave me no choice but to wait for him to decide. I knew that he wouldn’t pay for the food after I put it on the tray. Anna went to call the trainee manager, but Greg Sims looked straight through him as if to ask what he was going to do about it, and at that moment I thanked God that cops are fanatical about McDonald’s.
“That’ll be nine dollars and thirty cents,” I said, loud enough for the cops who’d just walked in to hear. Greg Sims and his friends looked around before they reluctantly gave me the money, and my big mistake was grinning in victory. Because it didn’t end there.
Anna and I were on the late shift, which meant we had to scrub the place from top to toe, but we got paid double time for it.
Anna’s car was parked at the back of the building, facing the fence rather than Parramatta Road. When we reached it we found Greg Sims and friends sitting on it, drinking and carrying on, and when they spotted us, I knew there was no turning back.
“Just get in the car and ignore them,” I whispered to Anna, who looked pretty scared.
“We’re going to get raped,” she said breathlessly.
“Oh, look who it is. What are you going to do without the pigs around to help you now, Josie?” Greg Sims snarled, jumping off the fence.
Anna fumbled with the keys and one of the guys grabbed them off her, as well as her McDonald’s hat, which he perched on his head and danced around with.
“Let me introduce you, guys,” Sims went on, leaning forward to grab my glasses, “to the kid who thought she was God’s gift to the world.”
“Give her back the keys,” I said in a wobbly voice.
“Or what?” he mocked, looking me up and down.
I looked down. Anywhere but at him, but he grabbed my face and made me look straight at him.
“How about a quickie in the back, Josie,” he whispered.
“Her father could put you away for the rest of your life,” Anna yelled hysterically.
Remember how I mentioned that Anna when peaceful is a calming influence? Well, a hysterical Anna is what nightmares are made of.
The guy who’d taken Anna’s keys feigned terror and grabbed her around the waist.
“Don’t touch her,” I yelled, pulling free of Greg Sims to stand next to her.
“Come on, Josie,” Greg Sims continued in a repulsive voice. “Let’s take turns in the back. I know you’re dying to. It’s in your blood, you know.”
I spat at him. Something I had never done in my whole life, but at that moment I hated him so much that spitting was the least of offenses. He grabbed me by the front of the uniform and slobbered all over my mouth and I could hear Anna scream and pull me away while the bile rose in my throat.
Before I knew what was happening he was pulled away from me and I wondered for a second where Anna had got such strength from. But it wasn’t Anna who was bashing Greg Sims’s face on the ground.
It was Jacob Coote.
Being an eyewitness to violence is a truly horrible experience. It’s not like the movies, where everything seems so gallant and romantic. It’s savage and bloody and I cried because I felt that I would never see anything so ugly again.
“Stop it, Jacob,” I sobbed, grabbing his arm while the rest of the guys were threatening each other over my head.
I saw blood on his fists and on Greg Sims’s face but still he didn’t stop until I grabbed his arm again and pulled him away.
“Just stop, Jacob.”
He looked at me, heaving with fury, and stood up slowly. “She’s a slut,”
Greg Sims yelled savagely, getting up. “Like her mother. Bet she’d let anyone fuck her.”
I hit him with everything I had as fast as I could and as much as I could.
Because he hadn’t regained his balance yet, he seemed to topple, but I kept on hitting him. I’m not sure what possessed me. I remember once reading that there is a killer in all of us. If I’d had a gun, I know I would have killed him.
Jacob grabbed me away and pushed me toward Anna, who was clutching Anton Valavic’s arm for dear life.
“You ever touch her again or even talk to her, I’ll come after you,” he said quietly, but in a tone so icy it shook me.
The hoods left after that. Slithered away like snakes, more like it.
Anna picked up her keys with shaking hands and dropped them three times before Jacob picked them up for her.
“Take her home, Anton. I’ll take Josephine. They might follow them,”
Jacob said finally, walking me away from the others.
I didn’t argue. Not because I saw him as my protector or anything like that. I think, deep down, I just wanted to be with him.
“Get on the bike,” he snapped.
“Don’t yell at me.”
“You’re stupid,” he yelled.
“Don’t call me stupid,” I cried back.
“What was all that about? You tell me?” he kept up in the same tone.
He put the helmet on my head and I got on behind him as he started the bike. I cried all the way home. Howled. Sobbed. Whatever you want to call it. Because a bunch of filthy junkies had said horrible things about my mother, who I had treated so badly.
Jacob stopped the bike where he had the last time and we sat there for a while before he looked back at me and took off my helmet.
“Are you going to tell me what happened back there?” he asked gruffly.
“I spat at him.”
“What?” he spluttered. “Do you know what used to happen to me when I spat at people? My mother gave me a fat lip. Is that how your mother brought you up?”
“Don’t you say anything bad about my mother,” I yelled, getting off the bike quickly. “She’s a good mother.”
He sat there for a while watching me before he sighed and got off.
“Here’s a hanky. Your nose is running.”
I ignored him and wiped my nose with my sleeve pathetically.
“Classy.”
“Go away,” I mumbled.
He lifted up my face and handed me the hanky.
“I hope you haven’t blown your nose on this,” I said, embarrassed.
“My mother always taught me to walk out of the house with a clean hankie.”
“Well, your mother must have been quite a lady.”
“She was,” he said softly.
I looked up at him for a while and he shrugged.
“Listen . . . you wanna go out?”
“Me?” I asked, shocked. “I thought I wouldn’t be your type.”
“Well, I would have thought that you’d think someone who spits at people and punches them in parking lots and wipes her nose with her sleeve and so on and so forth would be just my type,” he said sarcastically.
“I broke a girl’s nose with a science book as well,” I added quickly.
He looked like he was trying to hide a grin and shook his head.
“Not as meek as I thought.”
“You’d have to meet my mother,” I said, surprising myself that I would even contemplate it.
“No way, mate,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t meet mothers.”
“Well, you can’t go out with me if you don’t meet my mother,” I said angrily.
“Well, good. I won’t go out with you. It was a stupid suggestion anyway.”
He got onto the motorbike and slammed the helmet on his head.
“I probably would never be allowed out with you anyway,” I continued to yell.
“Oh, does Mummy only let you out with bores like Barton?” he sneered sarcastically.
“So all well-mannered boys are bores now, right?”
“I’m not meeting your mother, so that’s that. I suppose you’ll expect marriage next? I heard all you ethnic girls get married young.”
“You’re nothing but an ignorant Australian,” I said angrily, walking away.
“And what are you?”
“I certainly don’t go around generalizing. Good-bye, Jacob.”
“Okay, okay, I’ll meet her,” he said.
“Well, I probably won’t be able to go out anyway,” I argued.
I could just imagine the look on my mother’s face if she saw Jacob Coote and his friends hanging out in parking lots, draped all over their bikes; the boys wearing T-shirts that read “Put something between your legs, buy a bike,” and the girls wearing clothing that my mother believes should only be worn in aerobics classes. I looked down at my McDonald’s uniform, which was so far removed from his heavy-metal T-shirt.
“Go to hell, Alibrandi. I don’t need this shit.”
He stepped on the pedal of his bike and started it up, but as he rode past me I yelled out his name.
“Okay, I’ll ask.”
“Don’t do me any favors.”
“Listen, you don’t understand a lot of things about the way I was brought up,” I tried to explain.
“I’ll be here seven-thirty Saturday night. We’ll see a movie,” he sighed.
“If you can’t make it I’m in the book. Only Coote in Redfern.”
He rode away as I yelled, “Try to wear a tie.” Somehow, whether he heard it or not, I knew he wouldn’t.
