Christos Tsiolkas - Barracuda

‘What was she like, Mum?’

He didn’t think she would answer. Time passed as though his mother had disappeared deep inside herself, had forgotten he was there.

‘Frightened,’ she finally said. ‘She was scared, always scared. She was always running after us, telling us to be quiet, to not upset the old man. She didn’t have any courage.’ Her tone was matter-of-fact. He was taken aback by how unaffected she sounded. ‘She was a scared mother hen, that’s my image of her. I never saw her smile at home, only when we were witnessing. She used to love that, getting up on Sunday mornings, putting on our witnessing clothes, taking me along to speak for her. That’s the only time I saw her happy.’

Dan wanted more. None of this filled in the gaps, added blood and life and motion to the meat and bone and skin lying on that hospital bed.

‘You know,’ he ventured, ‘maybe she was braver than you think. She migrated, didn’t she? I mean, you know, she took that risk.’

His mother had started shaking her head before he’d even finished. ‘No, Danny. Not even then. Her brother, my theo Arthur, sponsored her to come out. They had no money to marry her off in Greece so he brought her out here. Even that wasn’t a choice.’

Her voice became animated. ‘It’s that passivity I can’t stand — it was her passivity that made me angrier at her than I ever was with Dad. Fuck!’

Her outburst startled Dan.

‘Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. It was a wasted life, Danny. She just wasted her life in fear.’

Forgive her, thought Dan, just go to her bed tomorrow and whisper it to her. He imagined forgiveness was like flying, that it made you soar. He imagined that it looked like an eagle, a silver bolt in the sky, that it was pure light.

‘Mate, I’ve made a decision.’

‘You’re drunk,’ he reminded her. ‘You might not be in the best state for decisions.’

But his mother dismissed him with a wave of her hand. ‘No, I’m bloody well not. Listen. We’re going to head off tomorrow, go back to Melbourne. And I’m going to drop you off at home — I really want to see your place, baby, it’s not right that I don’t know your place.’ She was slurring her words but her tone was calm, measured. ‘And then I’m going to go home, to be with your dad and with Theo. And after I tell them both how much I love them I am going to take my box of music and drive up the coast to see my daughter. I shouldn’t be here, Danny, I should be with Regan, I should find out how she is, what she needs to say to me — the good and the bad. I don’t know what she wants, what she wants to do with her life. I don’t know who she is. I should know that, I should, I should.’

What do I want to do with my life? He had been fleeing from that question. He hadn’t gone up north, he hadn’t left Melbourne, but he’d been running from that question nonetheless. What could he do? What was he good for?

He took his mother’s hand. ‘Sounds like a fucking good plan.’

His mother was looking over his shoulder; she slipped her hand out of his and waved.

Dennis was standing by the entrance. Dan had imagined he’d be in his usual Acca Dacca t-shirt, trackpants and sneakers. But his cousin was wearing an ironed black shirt, dark jeans and shiny black loafers.

Dennis smiled at them both and sat next to Dan.

‘My shout,’ said Dan’s mother. ‘What are you having, Dennis?’

‘A pot of beer.’

Dan stopped himself from translating. His mother would work it out.

‘How’d you get here?’

‘My mum dropped me off.’

Dan’s mother put her hands to her mouth. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Dennis, she wouldn’t like you coming to a pub.’

‘It’s OK, Thea Stephanie, I wanted to come, I told her I wanted to come.’

Dan’s mother had only one more drink before he told her they were going to drive her home. Everything was dark at Joanna and Spiro’s, everyone was asleep.

‘I’ll take Dennis home,’ Dan told his mother. ‘I won’t be long.’

In the car he turned to his cousin. ‘Let’s go back to West Beach — you wanna do that?’

Dennis nodded enthusiastically. Then, just as Dan was about to turn on the ignition, his cousin said, ‘Tell me something. Do you prefer Danny or Dan?’

‘Dan.’

Dennis asking that question made him seem less like family and more like a friend.

At West Beach, the waves thundered, the moon had disappeared behind dense cloud; the sea was all black and grey heaving shadow. They sat side by side, listening to the boom of the surf.

‘I miss girls,’ Dennis said suddenly, the words tumbling out to the rhythm of the waves crashing on the sand. ‘It’s been so long, so long since I had a fuck. I miss girls. I miss their kisses, their tits, the taste of their pussies.’ Dennis was looking up at the dome of the nocturnal sky, his thoughts seemingly far away, but Dan could sense the closeness between them; the communication felt like the warmest touch. ‘Do you know what I mean?’

And Dan, thinking his heart would stop, announced to the ocean the way that Dennis called to the sky: ‘Yeah, mate, I do know. It’s been too long since I had a fuck too. But I miss guys, Dennis, I miss their balls, I miss their arms around me, I miss the feel of their cocks pressing against mine.’

Even with the pounding of the sea, all was silence. They sat side by side, watching the surf recede and return.

‘Come on,’ said Dennis. ‘Let’s go for a swim.’

Dan didn’t tell him that he couldn’t, that he wouldn’t swim. ‘No, I’ll watch you,’ and he watched Dennis strip to his jocks and go splashing into the waves.

When Dennis came back up the beach, he used his singlet to dry his legs.

‘Come on,’ said Dan, ‘let’s get going.’

Dennis was looking up at the stars, shaking his head. ‘I know a place in Richmond, I reckon it’s still there. Mostly girls but I hear they’ve always got a couple of guys working there if you’re into that.’

And then Dennis was looking straight at him, his eyes gleaming, a sardonic trembling on his lips. Dan, uncomprehending, stared back.

‘Get up, you dumb poofter. We’re going to get laid.’

As Dan dropped Dennis at home, he said quietly, ‘Mate, I have to go home. We’re heading back to Melbourne in the morning.’

Dennis made no answer. But before getting out he leaned over and embraced Dan, folding him in tight, squeezing him. It was a forceful hold; it was all the words they needed. When they finally pulled apart, Dan’s face was damp with his cousin’s sweat.

Dan and his mother stopped at the hospital before they headed home. The Samoan nurse was there. Dan noticed the tag on her uniform: her name was Naomi. She was washing his grandmother’s arms.

‘Can I do that?’

Naomi gave him the sponge. Dan took the old woman’s hand, hardly believing how light it was, like holding a twig that had fallen from a tree. Carefully he washed her right arm, cleaning around her armpits and shoulders; he squeezed the sponge, and returned to gently wiping his grandmother’s neck.

‘He’s got good hands,’ the nurse said to Dan’s mother, who was weeping. Dan squeezed the sponge again over the kidney dish and looked expectantly at Naomi.

‘It’s OK, honey,’ she said softly, taking the sponge. ‘I can do the rest.’