Lost & Found (15 page)

The thought occurs to her like a kick in the stomach:
Will I go to the same heaven as my dad?
And then, more panicked now,
Which heaven did he go to?
She never thought to ask.

There are no cars whooshing past, or planes whizzing, or birds singing, just the leaves on the trees sliding over one another, like the sound of someone wiping their feet on a welcome mat. It is the most perfect sound, a sound that is barely a sound at all, a Just Enough Sound so that she knows she is still here.

And then she sees it. First right, on the corner.

She kneels beside the grave, carefully placing the flowers in front of it. The red stones make imprints on her knees. Millie licks her fingers and rubs the red dirt out from the indentations on the gravestone.

Errol
, Millie says. His name is sunken on there, like it’s breathing him in.

The start date and the end date are always the important bits on the gravestones, written in big letters. The dash in between is always so small you can barely see it. Surely the dash
should be big and bright and amazing, or not, depending on how you had lived. Surely the dash should show how this Dead Thing had lived.

Did Errol ever know that his life would be just a dash on a gravestone? That everything he did and all the food he ate and the car trips he took and the kisses he gave would all end up as a line on a rock? In a park with a whole lot of strangers?

Millie lies down flat on her back, the top of her head touching the base of the gravestone. She spreads her body out as far as it will go, reaching her arms out wide, stretching out her fingers so that they’re as far away from one another as possible.

She looks up at the night sky through the break in the trees and can only think of one word, so she says it out loud.

Dad?

And suddenly she’s certain she’s the smallest thing that’s ever been made, smaller than even the bits of gravel in her back, or the ants that crawl around her feet, because the world is so big, full of trees and stars and dying, and she thinks maybe a dash is most exactly what she is.

W
hen her dad was in the hospital, the words
Dad, are you becoming a Dead Thing?
wouldn’t come out.

9
:06
P
.
M
.
: Sits in a foreign chair in a foreign room in a foreign house drinking tea out of a foreign cup at a foreign time slot, and tries not to think about it.
What’s wrong with your hands?
Agatha yells at The Typist. The Typist puts his tea down on the coffee table and hides his hands under his armpits.
Nothing
, he says.
Why do they twitch like that?
she says.
They’re not twitching
, he says.
They look like they’re twitching
, she says.
They’re not twitching
, he repeats.
They’re typing
.
Typing?
she says.
Typing
, he confirms.
Why are they doing that?
she says. He shrugs.
You don’t want to tell me?
she says.
Not really
, he says.

9:11:
This tea is terrible!
she whispers loudly to him.

9:13:
What’s that?
he says. Her Age Book sticks out of the top of her handbag.
Your diary?
She pushes it back inside her handbag and zips it up.
What’s what?
she says.
The thing you just put in your handbag
, he says.
I didn’t put anything in my handbag
, she says.
Yes, you did
, he says.
No, I didn’t
, she says.

9:16:
Your wife?
Agatha says.
Passed
, he says.
Ron, too
, she says.
Heart attack outside the pet shop. You?
He sits on his hands.
Cancer
, he says. Agatha nods.

9:17:
Why did you bother me at my house?
she says.
Maybe you’re in love with me?
she adds.
I’m not in love with you
, The Typist says.
That’s what someone who was in love with me would say!
Agatha says.
I don’t even know you
, he says.
No
, she says.
You don’t.

9:18: But what she wanted to say was,
Why did you stop coming to my house?

9:20: The Typist falls asleep, his head leaning back on the couch, his mouth wide open, snoring.

9:22:
They shall grow not old
, she whispers,
as we who are left grow old.

9:23: Agatha Pantha allows herself to feel lonely.

S
ometime between night and morning, Karl makes his way down the hallway to use the restroom, but stops when he overhears Stella talking in the kitchen.

Yeah
, she’s saying.
An abandoned child, yeah.

Karl leans his back into the wall next to the kitchen doorway. The light from the kitchen stretches out across the hallway like the entrance to another, better world.

Don’t know a whole lot
, she continues.
Her mum’s skipped town. Her dad’s no longer with us. Some old folks are helping her out.
She pauses.
Yeah, look, I dunno. The woman’s completely berko. The bloke’s not much better. They’re just . . . old, I guess.

Karl presses his fingers together.

Great
, she says.
Yeah. I’ll bring ’em in tomorrow. And Bert
, she hesitates.
Sorry to be ringin’ so early. Just couldn’t sleep with the thought of it all
. She pauses again.
You’re a good enough sort, Bert. Ta-ta.

Karl’s guts churn. He hears the sound of the phone being placed back in its cradle. The light clicks off and the other, better world disappears. Karl flattens himself against the wall, sucks in a breath, and shuts his eyes as hard as he can, with the logic of a child:
If I can’t see you, you can’t see me
.

When Karl opens his eyes, he can just make out Stella, at the end of the hallway, turning into her bedroom. He walks into the kitchen and stares at the phone. Stella’s keys are on the kitchen table, lying there, cool, metallic, like an exotic insect.

He sneaks into Agatha’s room.
Agatha
, he whispers as loudly as he dares, trying to shake her gently awake. Her snores are relentless.
Agatha
, he says again, a little louder.

What is it?
she says, sitting up, pulling the blanket up under her chin.
Who are you? What do you want from me?
She gropes at her bedside table for her glasses.

Shh
, Karl says, handing the glasses to her.
Please, Agatha
.

She puts on the glasses and stares at him.
Typist! You’re not getting in here with me! I’ll give you that news! It’s 4:46
A
.
M
.
! This is when I sleep!

Karl sits on the edge of her bed. He feels the warmth under his legs.
We need to go, Agatha. We need to go now
.

But when they turn on the light in Millie’s room, she’s gone.

Karl slings Manny under his arm and Agatha grabs Millie’s backpack and they leave Stella’s house as quietly as the
floorboards allow them. Manny’s leg sticks out the top of Millie’s backpack, the plastic toes bouncing up and down behind Agatha’s head. Karl leans Manny up against Stella’s bus and puts a hand on Manny’s shoulder.
Keep watch, Manny
, he says gravely.

He’s plastic, Typist
, Agatha hisses, and slides the backpack next to Manny.

Together, Karl and Agatha make their way down the street, calling for Millie, looking under cars, in front yards, and up trees.

They walk past the cemetery and hear voices. On the other side of the cemetery, with the help of some intermittent streetlights, Karl sees three men stumbling their way drunkenly toward them. The men laugh and swear. One of them attempts to climb a tree, another pees straight up into the air, the third throws a bottle against a gravestone. It smashes and the noise carries in the still night. Dogs in neighboring houses start to bark.

Oh no
, Karl says.

What?
Agatha says.

Karl points.

Oh no
, Agatha says.

And there’s Millie, not far from the drunken men, seated on the ground with her back against a gravestone.

They’re headed straight for her
, Karl says, leaning through the black iron bars of the gate.

I can’t go in there
, Agatha says quickly.
I don’t . . .
She stops.
All those dead people
, she says quietly.
You can’t make me.

The drunks spot Millie.
Hey
, they say, and then,
Whaddya doin’ out here in the dark? You’re just a kid, aren’t ya?
Millie stands, Karl’s stomach lurches, another bottle crashes loudly, and Millie tries to walk away from them, but they surround her. And then,
You reckon you’re Dora the Explorer or some shit?

Agatha puts her hand in Karl’s.

And it does something. Sends an electric current up his arm. His brain kick-starts as if it’s been in a long slumber. Sleeping Beauty. Or whatever the man version of that is. There’s got to be one, but he can’t think straight. He’s too busy thinking about her hand. Sticky with sweat, and rough. His hand feels soft in hers.

What ya doin’ out here all by yerself, Dora?

Agatha squeezes Karl’s hand.

Karl looks at her in his peripheral vision. That electric current. He turns to her.
We’re taking the bus
, he whispers.

What do you mean, we’re taking it?
Agatha whispers back.

I mean
, he says, handing her Stella’s keys.
Start the bus. We’re stealing it
. And he thinks he sees Agatha smile. Or maybe it’s a twitch. He’s not sure.

I don’t—
she starts to say, but Karl’s already running, although it’s more like a shuffle. The drunks wave their beers in the air at Millie.
Want summa me jungle juice, Dora?
one of them says, and Millie looks petrified. Karl doesn’t know what
he’s going to do when he gets there, he thinks,
EvieEvieEvie
, she would know what to do, but he just has to get there, because Millie’s just a child, she’s justachild.
Hey
, he says as he approaches them, but they don’t hear him, so he yells it,
Hey!
They all turn and Millie runs to him and hugs him around the legs. He puts a hand on her head and stands in front of her, shielding her from the men.
Hey
, he says again, quieter, steadying himself on his feet.

They could all be the same person, these three men. Blue jeans, work boots, hair spiked up at such odd angles that it surely can’t be deliberate. As if they’ve hair-sprayed it in a wind tunnel. Their eyes follow Karl with a vagueness, like Karl is invisible and they’re looking in the general direction of his voice. One wears a blue trucker’s hat with a surf label on it, another has a T-shirt with
Breast Police
scrawled across it, the third wears a long-sleeved flannelette shirt.
It’s Dora’s grandpa!
Blue Hat says, and pushes Karl, and Karl says,
I don’t want any trouble
, and Breast Police says,
Haven’t you heard, you old fuck? This is the Kal Cemetery Creche
. Karl starts backing away, holding his hands up in the air like he’s seen people do in the movies, and Blue Hat says,
We’re just givin’ Dora her milk, then we’re gonna put her to bed
, and pushes Karl again, and Karl stumbles, and Karl says,
Do what you like to me, just don’t hurt the little girl, she’s just a child, just let her go
. They’re red-eyed and swaying and surrounding them from every angle. They stink of alcohol and they don’t care, Karl can see that clearly, they don’t
care about themselves or their lives and this makes them dangerous, and Karl says,
Go, Millie, go
, but she doesn’t, she puts her hand in his and buries her face into his leg, and he closes his eyes and thinks,
Well, this is it
.

But then. A voice.
Too drunk!
Agatha appears behind the men and swings Manny’s leg around as a weapon. She hits Flannelette square on the back of the head and he falls to the ground, hitting a gravestone on the way down. He is knocked clean out. She swings the leg wildly at the other two.

Hey
, Blue Hat says.

Whoa, lady
, Breast Police slurs.
We’re just—
he looks like he’s made of jelly as he falls into a tree trunk and hugs it, pushing his face into the bark—
having some fun
.

Yeah?
Agatha says.
Yeah? Doesn’t look like fun to me!
She swings at Blue Hat and misses.

Blue Hat puts his hands behind his head and twirls his crotch around and around in a circle.
You want summa this?
he says.
You just gotta ask, sweet cheeks
.

Agatha walks toward him and kicks him as hard as she can in the shins.
Hey
, he says, grabbing at his leg, hopping a few steps and then falling in the dust.

Trousers too tight!
She swings Manny’s leg at Breast Police and just misses a kneecap.
Not enough teeth!
Another swing that almost hits an elbow.
Bleak futures!

You’re crazy, lady
, Blue Hat says. Agatha stands over him and kicks him again, in the bum this time.
Stop doing that
, he says,
and stretches for her ankle, but misses and face-plants onto the ground.

Agatha stands on both of his hands.
I—
she says as he tries to wriggle free—
am not—
he lifts his head and tries to spit at her—
crazy!
She kicks dirt in his face.

C’mon, mate
, Blue Hat slurs, crawling away from Agatha and trying to stand.
This is bullshit.

Yeah
, Breast Police agrees.
This is bullshit.

I’ll be writing to your mothers!
Agatha says.

Whatdij ya say about me ma?
Blue Hat says.

Mate, c’mon
, Breast Police says.

Nah, nah
, Blue Hat says.
Look, lady. We’re gonna go get Nunnas and Scob and Fleety and we’re gonna come back, and we’re gonna finish this
. He points an unsteady finger at Agatha. And then vomits on his shirt.
Shit
, he says.
Shit
.

Don’t worry, mate
, Breast Police says.

But this isn’t my shirt, man.

Don’t worry. It’ll come right out.

They sling their arms around each other’s shoulders like old lovers and hobble off toward the exit, traversing the cemetery from side to side as if it’s a ski hill, singing half sentences from a football theme song as they do so.
Up, up, to win the premiership flag.

Millie wraps her arms around Agatha’s waist. Agatha pats her awkwardly on the head. Karl wants to hug Agatha too, to rest his chin on her head and say,
Thank you
, to put a hand on
Millie’s head and say,
You’re okay
, but he doesn’t. What would Branson Spike do? Instead he says,
You two get to the bus. You’ll be safe there
. He feels strong and in charge all of a sudden.
I’ll cover our tracks
. He nods in the direction of Flannelette.

Agatha looks at him skeptically.
Well, don’t plonk about for too long. You heard them. Flooty and Nunchuck and Scab are on their way.

One minute
, Karl says.

As Agatha and Millie wander out of the cemetery, Karl pulls out the marker he stole from the nursing home. He kneels down next to the gravestone, rolls up Flannelette’s sleeve, and writes on his forearm,
Karl The Touch Typist Wuz ’Ere
. He pulls back, looks at his handiwork, and grins hugely. The sweat on Flannelette’s forearm makes the ink run and the words look like the title of a horror movie.

Karl glances toward the road. It’s starting to get light. They need to get going. He reaches into Flannelette’s pockets and pulls out a wallet. Opens it up. He feels a buzz in his body, like this is the Karl he’s been working toward his entire life.

He thinks,
I am Karl the Touch Typist, Present Tense
.

The sun is coming up. Karl feels invincible. He has made decisions, protected women—granted, with some help from said women—defaced public property, stolen money, resisted arrest. He can’t stop smiling as he fusses over Manny in the front seat
of the bus, buckling him in. Millie sits next to Manny, nursing his unattached leg.

You did a good job guarding the bus, Manny
, Karl says, patting him on the head.