Dear Miffy (6 page)

Dear Miff,

Geez, am I ever in the doghouse here. They've all got the shits with me now—even Tracy, who's the nicest one of the lot. She's not a full nurse, she's a SEN, but I like her the best. She was in here a minute ago giving me the big lecture. ‘Your attitude's so negative, Tony. Everyone wants to help you but you're not giving them a chance.'

Well, what I reckon is, what's to be positive above? Why shouldn't I be fucking negative? Who wouldn't be? I didn't want this. Just because I fucked up, now I'm being punished. What I can't get my head around is how long it's for. And even Tracy doesn't have the least idea, not the least faint glimmering of the slightest tiny idea, what it's like, how it feels, what I think about it all.

‘Denial' they reckon. Too fucking right I'm in denial, and I'm planning to stay that way, believe me.

And in the meantime I'm getting treated like shit. All these privileges withdrawn. Privileges, that's a joke. Being allowed to breathe around here, that's a privilege.

So now I'm not allowed to watch TV or play the computers or get stuff from the canteen. I just get people to buy stuff for me, but, so that's no problem. And there's not many other privileges they can take off me. Like phone calls. I don't get any, do I, so that's easy.

Well, up their bums, I say. I don't have to do what they say. I never did what anyone said before I come in here so I don't see why I should start now.

Wonder where you are, Miff, and what you're doing tonight. Wonder if you're thinking about me. I still can't believe what happened, the way it worked out. I guess that's what they mean by denial. It's a bit of a mess, isn't it? I never thought it'd go this way. Lucky we can't see the future, hey? Guess it'd have been better if we never got involved with each other in the first place. I don't like thinking about that, but.

Maybe when you're as much in love as we were it can't never last, Miff. Maybe the only ones that last are the ones that aren't that serious, you know, the ones that are just mucking around. The ones that are only out for a good time, like I was before I met you. Maybe when you're our age you aren't meant to get serious.

We thought what we had was so strong we could beat everyone. Your parents, my uncle and aunt, the teachers, everyone. We thought we could take on the world.

I wish you'd never kept getting me to come to your place, but. It might have been different if I hadn't started going there so regular. I don't know why I did go. It was easy, I guess, and better than my uncle and aunt's. And I was sort of fascinated by how rich you were. For a long time I never felt comfortable there, but it got easier, until I got to really like being in your room. Never liked the rest of the house, but. Although if none of your family was there it wasn't too bad.

When they were home they treated me like such a piece of shit. I don't think you realised how bad it was, cos you didn't want to know about it, and they kind of did it behind your back. After a while I sussed that you hated me talking about it, so I used to shut up. But it cut me deep, Miff, you better believe it, when your brother looked at me with his weak soft eyes like a fucking guinea pig and said shit like, ‘Don't you have a home of your own to go to?' like it was a joke, cos I was there so much for a while, only it wasn't no fucking joke.

And your sister, one day she said to me, ‘Why do you say “youse” all the time, Tony? Don't you know how terrible it sounds and how people judge you by it?'

And all I could think of to say was, ‘Well, Miff doesn't judge me by it,' and she just rolled her eyes like, ‘Miffy, don't talk to me about Miffy.'

Fucking bitch. They were all the same. Your mother. Did you notice the way she never looked at me when she was talking to me? Her eyes were always off-centre, looking over my shoulder. Like I was some bit of dog shit that she'd stepped in when some fucking mongrel had an accident on the carpet.

Not that any dog would dare lay a shit in your house.

Those rich houses, the worst thing that goes wrong in them is when the fucking clock is a minute slow. Then it's like, ‘Oh my God, throw it away, get another one.' It's like the leaves know not to fall on your tennis court, the grass knows not to grow above a certain height. No-one pisses in your pool. Houses like yours, they're like churches. No-one acts real bad, no-one goes wild in them.

That's why I never made love to you too often there. Not that I couldn't get it up or anything dumb like that: just that I didn't feel like it. Not until that day. For the first time I felt OK there that day. The sun was shining, the birds were singing . . . No, serious, do you remember? We'd had all that rain? Geez, it rained for a month, it felt like. My bedroom was leaking in about sixteen places: it had fucking mildew up the walls. And this is the house you were so red-hot keen to visit. I had buckets and saucepans and shit all over the place, then my aunt'd want to cook something so she'd come in and take a couple of the saucepans. And the next thing I'd be up to me ankles in water.

But at last the rain stopped and it was all beautiful and stuff, and I felt so good, so high, like I was a kite with the sky opening up, parting in front of me, and I was going into it till I was out of sight. Unreal. It's weird how the weather does that to you, changes your mood.

So I didn't feel all sick and nervous going to your place, like I normally would. I just about danced down the bloody street.

It's strange, because you know how I said before about the movies where the sky gets darker and the dark angel's beating his wings and it means something bad's coming? Wouldn't you think I would have felt those wings, Miff? Wouldn't you think we both would have felt them wings? But I didn't. I don't know if you did; maybe: you did seem a bit strange, and you didn't say too much, but I never asked you about that. Didn't get a chance.

And it was so good when we found that no-one was home. It seemed like everything was going perfect, nothing could possibly go wrong. We went upstairs. I couldn't wait. I was all over you and you were all over me. Clothes were flying like they was autumn leaves and there was a willy-willy in the room. Then we was rolling on the bed, going for it, full on. I couldn't stop myself, I come all over you in about a minute and a half, sorry about that, but I did better the second time, hey? And the third. Am I showing off now? Sorry. Again.

Then there was that nice part that I said about before: just you and me lying there, nothing on, your hands down my back, so warm, touching and stroking and petting me, and me doing the same to you. Pretty good, hey? I could have stayed like that forever.

We must have been lying there, I don't know how long, could have been a week, I was that spaced out. The room was warm: like, being upstairs it got warmer than downstairs, and being a hot day, it was so good in there. Then it all changed. So sudden. We never heard nothing, never had no warning, nothing. One minute perfect, the next minute totally and utterly fucked. Well, they say you never see the one that gets you. First thing I knew was this cold blast on my bum, and your hand against me got so cold all of a sudden. It stopped stroking me and stuck there like a little block of ice. I knew something was wrong, something was terribly wrong, and I didn't dare turn or look around. I guess I was a bit frozen myself. Then your mother let rip with this hell of a scream. I jumped up, I didn't know what to do or where to go, I was just running around in circles grabbing for me clothes and trying to find stuff and shaking like crazy. I didn't mean to hit her, Miff, it was just the way she was screaming, I couldn't stand it, then what she said, she shouldn't have said that, about me being filth and all, she didn't have the right to say that. I mean it's not like any of it was my fault, you were just as much to blame. Christ, I can't believe how much everything changed in one moment. She was lying on the floor with blood coming out of her nose and you were standing there in the nude with your hands up to your face staring at her. You didn't seem to see me at all. It was like I didn't exist any more for you. I tried to tell you it was an accident, that I didn't mean it, and then I tried to help your mum, and I was starting to realise it was, like, serious, she was hurt pretty bad, but then you started screaming at me too, like I was a monster or something, and I couldn't stand it, I just had to get out of there. It sounded like your mother's voice all over again. I was running down the stairs with only half me clothes on, them screams following me all the way down the stairs, all the way down the street, everywhere I went. Didn't matter how fast I ran or how far, them screams just wouldn't get out of me ears. I can still hear them now, you know, Miff, still hear them fucking screams.

T.

Dear Miff,

The weirdest thing ever happened today. I had a visitor. And you want to know who? You'll never guess in a million and one years. Fucking Hammond! Fucking Hammond! See, told you you'd never guess. I couldn't believe it when he walked in. What's he want with me? Buggered if I know. When they told me I had a visitor I was hoping it might be me dad, to tell you the truth. Some hope. It was pretty bloody weird when I realised who it was. Not much of a conversation but I don't know what he expected. I'm not too interested in footy or cricket or school, especially now that I can't do none of that stuff. He raved on for about ten minutes about how the footy team was runners-up and stuff, but then he sort of realised I didn't give a shit.

Anyway, at least he went to the trouble. It's a fair way out, this place, but I guess he'd have a car, him being a teacher and all. I didn't ask how he got here. I didn't talk too much. Couldn't think of nothing to say. He soon ran out of stuff, too. Not much anyone can say about what's happened. This place gets people a bit, when they first see it—I know it freaked me out when they brought me in. All these fucking specimens, like a fucking zoo. Some of them are all right when you get to know them, but. Some of them aren't.

So anyway, there we were, sitting around like old buddies, chewing the fat. Bit different to being in his office, hey? First time I've talked to him that I wasn't in trouble. Hey, did you know he's got kids? Poor little buggers, imagine being his kids. I don't know, he's probably not that bad as a dad, he'd be good for helping with your homework, anyway. He told me about all these kids at school, like Nick, reckons he's got a job at Food Plus, doing all right. Georgie's moved to Queensland, he reckons. Sal, Salvatore, I forgot to ask about him. Dino, he didn't know much about him, still at school, nothing much different there. That'd be Dino, nothing'll ever change with him, I reckon.

Course the one person we didn't talk about was you. That was half the trouble: there was that many things we couldn't talk about, there was fuck all left to say.

I was glad when he got up to go. I don't want no-one feeling sorry for me, I don't want no charity. Most times I just reckon I'll wait till I get out of here then I'll go catch that fucking train and do it properly. I won't fuck up again.

So anyway, he want and I don't think he'll be back for a while. I didn't exactly give him that good a time. I reckon he'll find better ways to spend his weekends from now on. I wonder what he does do in his spare time? Probably reads Maths books, or tortures budgies or something.

No, I shouldn't bag him, at least he took the fucking trouble to come here. No-one else has bothered.

Wonder if he will come back? Be a hundred to one, I reckon. He's probably driving home right now thinking, What a waste of fucking time that was. I could have stayed home and watched TV. Except he wouldn't swear, being a teacher.

No, just kidding, I know teachers swear. But I don't think he would, somehow. He's not the swearing type.

I still can't get over him coming here, but. I mean Hammond, God, no bastard gave me a harder time than he did and there wasn't no bastard I gave a harder time to than him. Tell you what, if he was in a place like this I wouldn't have visited him. I would have fucking celebrated. Bit sick, hey? But then I always was a sick bugger.

I did make a bit of an effort in gym today though, Miff. You would have been proud of me. Fucking Len just about fell over. Just as long as he doesn't think I'm going to make a habit of it.

See ya,

Tony

Dear Miff,

You know what these cunts want now? They want to send me to a fucking psych unit. Good one. Real good one. That's all I need: to be told I'm psycho. They're fucking psycho themselves, if you ask me. Half the fucking staff are weird. I mean who'd want to work in a fucking dump like this, anyway? You'd have to be sick in the head, hanging around all day with fucking retards like us. Fucking bastards, fuck them all, I hate the lot of them, I won't talk to them and they reckon it's because I'm psycho. Well, it's not. It's because they're fucking retards themselves. And now I hate them even more. That's the last time I make any effort, the last time I try in gym or do any fucking thing for them. I mean, geez, Miff, last week fucking Dillon said he'd heard I was improving, and now this. There's no way I'm going there, no fucking way. I don't care what they do, they can't make me, I'll fucking yell the fucking place down. That's the trouble with being this way, you've got no fucking control. But I swear, even if they fucking drag me there I'll make their lives so fucking miserable that they'll have me back here before they've even changed the sheets on my fucking bed. I absolutely totally swear that on the fucking Bible or any other fucking book you want to name, that is the truth, so help me God. I know what it'll be like, all these fucking crazies out of their trees, hanging off the ceiling telling you they're Elvis Presley or something. I'm not psycho, Miff, I swear. I know I'm not. I don't belong in a place like that. I am not not not not not going there. I can't Miff, I'd die in a place like that. I'd just lie right down and die.

Oh God, Miff, I can't believe how I've messed up: how much I've totally fucked up my life. I mean, geez, Miff, look at me, I'm only fucking sixteen and already my life is totally wrecked. How could I have made such a mess of everything, Miff? I didn't mean to. I didn't mean any of this, it just happened, I don't know how. I still don't know how I got it so wrong. I'm sorry about your mum, Miff. I didn't want to hurt her, I never wanted to hurt anyone, I've got this terrible temper, you know that. I was just born with it, I guess. It's got me in so much trouble. I wish I could cut it out and throw it away, like, amputate it. These fucking counsellors here, they go on and on about all the things you can do in the future, and I don't even listen. I don't give a flying fuck. I don't want any of them, I just want things to be back the way they were. I want to be lying with you on your bed again, with your body all hot under me and your tits pressing into me. Like I said before, I'll probably never have sex with anyone again, and without sex I reckon there's no fucking life anyway. And in a psych ward, what's going to happen? Like I know I'm not psycho now, but who knows? After a week in there I'll be dribbling down my chin and having some nurse feeding me with a spoon and me not knowing whether I'm the Pope or Captain Caveman or Flipper the fucking dolphin. And I'm not fucking joking, Miff. I wish I could joke about it but how can you joke about something like this? As if everything else that's happened to me isn't enough, now they have to go and add this to the list. It's too much, Miff, it's just too fucking much. If they were setting out to break me, and that's what I reckon sometimes, then they've just about done it now. They can go home tonight feeling proud, like they've achieved something. ‘How was your day, dear?' ‘Good thank you, darling. We finally did it today; we finally destroyed that little bastard Tony. It's taken us a long time but we've done it at last. God, it was good, we actually had him crying and begging, it was fair up him I reckon: he's been asking for it long enough. But we sure got him a good one. Ha ha ha. Get us a beer will you, love.'

The whole world's against you, Miff, against everyone, I mean, that's what I've learned. Your life's a solo run, and even the crowd that's cheering want you to fall over. They love you when you win but they love it even better when you lose. I used to think I'd be a winner one day, Miff, but now I know I'm the biggest loser ever. I've set new records for losing. I'm such a loser I'm a winner—the world champion at losing. Joke, hey? Shit, that's two jokes in one letter. Funny how when I'm crying is when I start making jokes. Maybe I am fucking sick. Better quit before I make another joke. Three in one letter might be a bit much even for you. And if these cunts find out about them they'll have me in that psych unit for sure.

Tony