Joyous and Moonbeam (8 page)

Go back, you say, mister, go back. Yes, it is truesome that Joyous has never been having of too many friends because of not understanding always which is a hard bit and mainly because of trust and not many people do offer or just plain give. Mamma is often saying that trust is a turnabout thing and not always being given but easily offered if only you are taking the time and effort please, Joyous, it's what I want. So this is why I did trust Moonbeam when she first was coming into the working shop and did be sitting alongside me and sewing with her long white fingers on the pin-cushions because she did have
the dandiful way of looking and listening, the gentle way of trust like Sasha when I am holding out the reward biscuits. Except Moonbeam's eyes are more darker and staying there on my face like a bird's, the ones in the park that are sitting on the bench with crusts and being a good friend, so Joyous did know then how beneficial she would be.

Also because Moonbeam didn't be doing like the others, Sammy-K and the cruel boys from school and Troy Smee and Matthew Berrings and the Crew-cut Kid and others I have been meeting in different places and moments of time. She didn't be saying, Joyous is stupid, Joyous is a Retard and a Mong Spazzo, Joyous is a Dumb-dick, which are not words I want to use but that is what comes from their mouths so it is a righteous story. Those are the sayings of people without trust and using words that are sometimes fast and hurtful, sometimes wet and ploppy. But Moonbeam was straightaway kindness and she was calling me Joyous in the truesome manner which is my proud tribute name of my dadda's honkingly good philosophy or she was calling me big guy which is in fact, being 190 centimetres in tallness and 108 kilograms on Mamma's special scales and also a man. Or she was calling me legend which is a word about a hero and greatness because I did find it in Mamma's book of pages and some legends are Don Bradman for the cricket and Phar Lap
for the race. So I did be knowing from the very beginning that Moonbeam was the googlish offerer of trust not like so many others. So when she was saying my name Joyous meaning Joyous Bowen, first and only precious son of Thomas and Margaret Bowen now Margaret Kray, it was like the warm wave washing inside of me and it did give my big guy legend heart lots of oompapa and being cool.

So that is the reasoning why Joyous was wriggling to go when Moonbeam said we could take a blue bus to the country to see Mamma's farming house and maybe the church where she did be meeting Thomas Bowen. And not to leave Mamma whom Joyous does love more than trees or ducks or Sasha or even the bright stars in winter, but to see the farming house and maybe the church because I am liking of churches for their quiet-time and pretty colourful windows and places to be sitting in peace and I am liking of farms for their kingdom trees and duck family, and because Mamma is wanting Joyous to be a man with having some independence.

But also, mister, because Joyous could be seeing that Moonbeam was in long sadness with wet eyes and she was telling of bad chats in the house her home and escaping for travel so this was when I did decide to be a good friend. Because Joyous is understanding of good friends being beneficial like Mrs Swain in the special room and Mr and Mrs Ickiewicz until the cigarettes to sell to snotty
kids and one other person and that was being my friend Roscoe who Joyous did know from his first days in the working shop a long time before now.

Yes, I do recall Roscoe well who was not a speaking man on account of his sore mouth and muscles not working after the disease since being a child but, mister, Roscoe was a kindness like Moonbeam and he would be nodding when he did see Joyous and making pleasure noises like the gar-gar and boh-boh which was his manner of being dandiful.

So Roscoe and Joyous did become honkingly good friends and doing stuff together like the TV at lunchtimes and some painting of walls with Joyous being the handsman and Roscoe being the boss-man and later he did be sitting with all ears and more nodding while Joyous was telling stories about Mamma and Thomas Bowen which was googlish. Some days if the sunshine was being out, Mr Santorini would be saying, Joyous, why don't you take Roscoe for a walk out the back and I was doing like he said in the old yard with plenty of room and smooth pathways for Roscoe's wheelchair and we were two best mateys working things around which was like my dadda said to be.

So Joyous was very sadly when Roscoe left for other places in hospital but Mr Santorini did be helping by saying, You were a good fellow, Joyous, being his special
friend, so I was understanding of being a trusting friend and beneficial no matter what. When Joyous did receive the letter from Mrs O. Hamilton who was being Roscoe's mamma, it was feeling funny because she was saying,
Dear Mister Bowen, thank you for being my son's friend. Mr Santorini told me how nice you were to him and I am certain that you made his brief time on God's earth all the better, so thank you, once again
. Then Mr Santorini did be explaining to Joyous about Roscoe passing to heaven and I did feel some crying about Roscoe but Mamma said to be a brave hero-man, he is happy now, his pain is over so that is what I was doing and still today, although thinking about Roscoe from time to time and hoping he is googlish in heaven with the gar-gar and boh-boh.

So that is why I am deciding to go with Moonbeam to Kinsville because she was needing the good friend and this was chosen to be Joyous. And please, mister, no more talking for now because you are saying again about Sammy-K and it is enough to be making Joyous having the tightness feeling sick on the insides. It was always being a hard piece to be working things around a little with Sammy-K and his angered hands and the smell after drinking like fruit left outside in the bins of the corner shop and gone brown and rotten with flies buzzing. But it was more harder and not to be understanding in that rainy afternoon of change when Joyous was coming back from
the park and did be seeing Sammy-K down at the bottom and then be seeing Mamma at the top with white face and hurting eyes.

And I do recall Sammy-K was to be looking like Roscoe but without the nodding or good sounds, no gar-gar and boh-boh, and Joyous was feeling a funny feeling all through my body in that moment. But not to be thinking of it, never since, and that's the plain and simple kookity end of that.

Joyous.

Moonbeam!

Hi.

You are being back at the park, favoured of all places of Joyous on a Tuesday day!

Sure am, big guy. How are you?

Joyous is to be fit and fiddling.

Good to hear. No Sasha?

Sasha is nearly better not quite. She will be bounciful soon.

Well, that's great. Things are going along okay for you, aren't they?

Yes, things are going along okay for me aren't they. But Moonbeam –

Mm?

You are having the reddish eyes of tiredness.

Yeah, well, no surprises there. Bad night. I ended up going out and … anyway. A story for another day. I'm glad you're here, Joy-ous. Thought I might've been too early.

Joyous is early to bed and being early to rise.

And healthy, weal–. Healthy and wise, anyway. Look, I can't stay long but –

Moonbeam, I am liking of your new back-packer.

Yeah. It's my father's. I borrowed it. I've only got my schoolbag and this was – I needed something with a bit of size. Got some clothes and things. Sleeping bag, couple of books. They weigh it down but, hey, a girl needs her books.

Why is Moonbeam …?

Joyous, I'm going – I'm travelling. That's why I'm here. I wanted to say goodbye.

Goodbye?

Yeah.

But why is Moonbeam going I'm travelling?

Oh, you know. Gotta get away for a while. Things
are … it's … I mean, nothing's changed. Nothing. It's getting worse, actually. Particularly last night.

Does Moonbeam want to be telling Joyous about the last night, her best friend?

Best friend. Jeez, you are, aren't you? Fancy that, big guy –

Legend.

Okay, legend! And best friend. Wow. Bracks would be –

Joyous will be missing Moonbeam on the going I'm travelling.

Yeah. Yeah, I'll miss you too. Seriously. It's just that … okay, this is what happened. Last night we sat down together, me, Mum and Dad, first time in ages and I thought, hey, maybe this is it. Starting over. But it wasn't, not at all.

Mm.

Joyous, they're getting divorced. My bloody parents are getting divorced.

What is …?

Splitting up. End of the marriage, forever. End of everything, legally, emotionally, whatever. See you later.

See you later, alligator. In a while, crocodile.

Yeah. It was awful. They looked so defeated. Even her. I mean, normally she's certain about everything – I'm right, you're wrong, end of story. But last night was
silence followed by bombshell followed by more silence. Hea-vy. And the clichés. They had them all, had them down pat. One after the other, cross them off.
We still love you, Ashleigh. We'll always love you, no matter what. We'll make sure it's as painless as possible. Time with both of us. We may no longer be husband and wife but we can still be friends
.

Friends are being dandiful –

What a crock! As if that's going to happen. All that stuff, those promises, will be straight down the gurgler as soon as there's the slightest disagreement, which there will be, because that's how it is, how it's always been, ever since – anyway. Sorry. I don't need to burden you with all that. I just wanted to let you know that I'll be gone. Travelling. For a while.

Where is Moonbeam going I'm travelling towards?

Not sure. Anywhere, as long as it's away from here. There's a northbound bus at nine thirty. I'll start with that. Been saving some money so …

Joyous is liking of the buses. Blue ones are bestest, with the sun shining into the windows to make rainbows and clean seats with no bad writing or rip-tears.

Oh, Joyous. Hopefully mine will be blue, just for you.

A bus to the northbound.

Yeah. Hey, maybe I'll see your farm. The bus goes that way, I think. Goes inland a bit, stops at all the little towns. Maybe I'll see the farm and the church.

The farm and the church?

Yeah. Kinsville – was that it? I'm sure the bus goes there.

Moonbeam will be seeing Mamma's farm?

Maybe.

A bus to the country northbound to see Mamma's farm. At Kinsville, with the duck family?

Like I said, maybe. Hey, you'd love that, wouldn't you, big guy?

Joyous would so much be loving the bus and the farm and the river and the ducks on that day to be dandiful! You would.

You would.

Mm.

Hey, Joyous, I'm thinking – I mean, it's not that far, not really. You could always come for a look, I suppose, just for an hour or two then –

And Mamma's church where she did be meeting Thomas Bowen!

Yeah. Guess so. If it's still –

With birds of prettiness and grass and Joyous is walking between the trees with cool shadows and the brown leaves tickling in his toes!

Sounds good, doesn't it? Joyous, the thing is, please understand, you'll have to come back today, no questions. You'll be coming back but I'll be staying longer …

Joyous is being understanding and of the no questions.
Oh yes, indeedy-do!

Cool.

Moonbeam?

Mm?

Lollipopsicle?

Oh, ta. Lemon, please.

Lemon is special and beneficial, for going travelling on a bus to the northbound to be seeing Mamma's farm.

Perfect. So … I'd love you to come with me, of course I would, but as long as we're clear, you'll have to get the afternoon bus back on your own. Okay? On your own, while I … work things around a little.

Like my Dadda Thomas Bowen did write, honkingly so.

That's it. You definitely want to come, big guy? You okay with this?

Yes, Moonbeam, it is an okayness and beneficial. A blue bus to the northbound to see Mamma's farm and the ducks and the church of meeting.

Well, it's quarter-to. I guess we should get going.

Yes, Moonbeam. Cool.

It's funny how, just when you thought it was gone for good, happiness can touch you in odd places and moments.

On the bus I looked across, saw him sitting up, excited like a little kid as he stared out the window. And it made me happy. As if, before that, I'd been drowning, not knowing which way was up, not knowing where to swim, then I saw Joyous and my head broke the surface and I breathed. I survived.

He couldn't believe we were sitting on the back seat. Bad boys, he kept saying. Only for bad boys. Nah, I told
him. Cool kids sit up the back. And there's no one on this planet cooler than us, legend.

I think he liked that.

Check that experience against the night before. It was a wipe-out. I should've known something was wrong when they came to my room together and gabbled on about dinner, sitting down, having a family discussion. Should've known but of course you hang on to every last scrap of hope. We're hard-wired to do that, we humans. The parachute is in shreds, you're falling hard but the whole time your head is thinking about the last shiny, fluttery piece that might actually save your life.

Didn't take long for that particular delusion to get whacked into reality. Two mouthfuls of Perfect Bean Salad combined with Perfect Pork Cutlet then she makes The Announcement – and that peed me off big-time, the way that it was such an Announcement, like they'd written the script together, rehearsed it, set the scene, prepared for the performance.

Ashleigh, I'm very sorry to have to tell you this, but your father and I have decided to get a divorce.

As if that wasn't bad enough, once she'd finished, he weighed in with this classic: It's okay, chicken, it's for the best.

Chicken? Best? And you are – who? Oh, that's right. My ex-father. I think.

They went back and forth then. It was like a tennis match between two boring baseliners. Serve: lots of reasons. Return: grown apart. Forehand: different priorities. Backhand: different interests. Lob: new directions. Smash: out of love.

That last one really got to me. How do you become out of love? Unless maybe – maybe you were never there in the first place.

Uh-oh, there you go. Welcome to the thought that continues to hammer giant holes into every single part of me. What if my parents never actually loved each other? What if I was the product of nothing more than biology?

It adds up. They were never in love. Crap-crap-crapola, this is unnerving. Like I don't belong. Just a bunch of atoms, formed by accident.

Those nuns who visit our school every term drone on about the lack of basic human rights in Asia or Africa – food, water, shelter. Being born from love, I'd slot that one into the list as a basic human right. No matter where you live.

Take Joyous. Disabled, dodgiest existence imaginable, the big guy's got nothing – except love. He genuinely loves his mother and by the sound of it, she loves him back. Whereas my parents … never in love. Meaning that Jamie was – what? A mistake, like me? Or worse, some kind of stupid, too-late attempt to make their marriage real?

Anyway, after ten minutes of tennis I left the table, got the back-pack out of Dad's wardrobe, stuffed in a few things of my own, walked back out and said, I'm going. They were still sitting there. Hadn't moved, hadn't touched the Perfect Pork. The whole thing was like a painting, the kind you glance at before moving away to find something better.

She said, Ashleigh. Nice, she knows my name.

He said nothing. I didn't bother taking a key.

Wandered around the burbs for a while, ended up at Kadie's. Rote response. I used to go there a lot when we were younger and friendship was less complicated. It's different now which is inevitable, I suppose. I asked if I could maybe stay the night but her Mum said it wasn't ‘convenient'. They were having ‘family time'. Me too, I told her. That's why I'm here. She held onto the front door like it was going somewhere and said in this deeper, I'm-the-adult-here voice, Go home, Ashleigh. Just … go home. I walked away and then I heard Kadie say, Careful, Mum, she might burn down the house. So I turned and called her things and Kadie yelled back, Why don't you stay with Bracks? You two make a great couple! Then the door was shut and it was dark again, just me and the street and someone's whinging cat.

For years, Kadie McIntosh was what I always thought a friend should be – someone to hang out with, share jokes,
talk about stuff, other girls, fat girls, ugly girls, girls who hadn't had a boyfriend, girls below us, all that mush. Not anymore, and I'm glad. I don't want friends like her.

I got to the main road and caught a bus into town. Usually I like the city at night. There's a kind of weightlessness, and the energy of all the lights and sounds sweeps you along like you're caught in an ocean current. But this time, it seemed that I was still and everything else was moving around me, rather than with me. It was weird and a bit scary but at least it was anonymous. No one spoke to me or seemed to notice me. Thought I was just another wayward kid, I suppose, staring blankly into the shop windows and grimy alleys.

Somehow, around midnight, I ended up at school, which means I must've crossed the river via one of the footbridges, gone along the main boardwalk, past the cliffs then up the hill. I don't remember doing any of this but that's where I found myself.

Schools at night are spooky because they're deserted, but they're also sort of comforting because the shapes and places are familiar. You hear things too, things you don't normally hear, like wind wrapping around the eaves and claws scraping when birds land on the guttering. If the wind stops and the birds settle, you can even hear the sound of your own heart, knocking away like a madman.

I sat on a bench beneath a huge tree. It was the same
bench we sat on throughout the second half of grade eight. Six of us squeezed into a huddle – Kadie, Sog, Ally, Gem, Jules and me – sharing sausage rolls and fruit poppers. Besties-4-ever. If they'd tattooed it onto our wrists, we wouldn't have minded. It would always be that way, wouldn't it? We whispered to each other in our dreams – us versus the world, us winning The Fight because we had each other. We had each other, what more could we need?

Lots. Oh shit, lots and lots.

I must've dozed because I remember being woken up by a noise and feeling that immediate rise of nausea when the unknown is about to reveal itself. I heard the noise again – metallic, or an animal clearing its throat. This time it was closer, directly above me, so I looked up and the moonlight drew me to a small possum with marbles for eyes and cute gold speckles in his tail. We watched each other for a moment and I wanted to reach up and maybe stroke his back but he clambered to a higher branch and used it to swing across to another tree, before disappearing. I could hear him rustle around and that was nice. By the time he'd gone, I figured that I should probably do the same.

Food, water, shelter. Forget about love. There's an old boatshed down by the river. It used to belong to the school rowing team until they got upgraded to a Colorbond monstrosity. Last year, usually after Wednesday maths,
Kadie, Sog and I would sneak down to the boatshed, bust in through the back door – the lock was off its screws so you could jiggle it open – and share ciggies. Kadie's mum used to buy them in cartons so it was easy for Kadie to take a packet without her mum knowing. The taste was gross but we didn't care. We'd puff away in the boatshed, doing way-cool poses and laughing at Sog going blue while she tried to perfect the drawback. One afternoon Sog skipped maths and turned up at the shed with a half-full cask of wine that she'd conned out of her brother in return for not telling on him for taking their parents' Merc for a spin. That was my first experience of drinking, and being drunk. I ended up staying at Kadie's, eating heaps of hot chips with gravy then throwing up all over her favourite doona-cover, which pissed her off big-time because she had to wash it herself without her mother finding out.

Maybe that was the signal. Beginning of the end.

Anyway, the night of The Announcement, that's where I slept, inside the old boatshed. I put on some extra clothes, curled up on the boards and used his back-pack as a pillow. The morning light was white and sharp and it stung my eyes. I was stiff and cold so I left the boatshed and walked back along the river, watching the rowers and getting passed by fitness-freaks jogging or cycling or weaving about on rollerblades. It was near eight o'clock when I returned to the city, bought a can of Coke, an
apple turnover and some sandwiches from this hole-in-the-wall bakery, went up to the Transit Centre info-board to check out bus timetables then headed off to the park to see Joyous and say goodbye. It was clear and windy, a Tuesday, so I knew he'd be there eventually.