The Simple Gift (12 page)

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Authors: Steven Herrick

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Sometimes

before my McDonald's shift,

I pack my bag

with food – 

bread, cheese,

some fruit – 

for Billy.

Enough for Billy

but not enough

for my parents

to get suspicious.

At first

Billy said, ‘No, no way',

but I reminded him

of our house,

‘the richest house in Bendarat',

he'd said.

He took the food,

promising to share it

with Old Bill.

Billy, dancing

I spent $5 on candles,

two dozen candles
,

and I worked all day

looking for tins

and scraps of metal

and discarded old mugs
,

anything to stand a candle in.

As evening comes

I light
each candle

let the wax drop onto the tin

and stand the candle

firm in its wax,

and soon enough

I have twenty-four candles

b
urning in my carriage

and each throws a dancing shadow

on
the walls

and the windows covered

with cardboard.

I shake
my sleeping bag

and spread it neatly

across t
he bench seat

and I sweep the floor

and push my bag

under the seat

and I wait for Caitlin

t
o walk into

the brilliant soft l
ight

of twenty-four candles

dancing for her.

Heaven

It was like stepping

into heaven,

all that light,

with Billy smiling

on the seat,

proud of what he'd created.

As I stepped

into the carriage

I closed the door

to everything,

and I went to Billy

as if we'd been

doing this for years

and the candles

burned long and gentle

as we lay together

for hours.

What can I say?

It was like stepping

into heaven,

no less than perfect.

The clink of the bottles

I saw Billy

kissing his girl Caitlin

on the train tracks

as they walked off.

Billy returned an hour later

and came to my carriage.

We sat opposite, talking.

I heard the bottles clink

in his bag

and said,

‘Come on then,

let's have them'.

But when he brought out

the ginger beer

I swore

and laughed

and swore some more,

but really

you've got to admire the kid.

So I drank the stuff

and we sat up late

talking

and I slept

better than I had in a long time

so maybe

just maybe

I'll work on less beer

for a while.

For the kid's sake.

Old Bill and this town

I wake early,

I eat properly,

for breakfast at least,

and I've taken to walking

every day.

I go to the river with Billy

and we swim and wash,

or sometimes

I walk the streets

looking at the houses

and the corner shops

and the parks with trees

and fountains,

and young couples kissing,

and old men reading newspapers,

and ladies walking dogs,

and sometimes

these people nod and say hello

as though I'm one of them

and not an old drunk.

I nod back,

even talk about the weather on occasions,

and I walk back to my carriage

planning

where I'll go tomorrow,

where I'll walk in my town

where I'll go to stop

thinking about the drink.

Nothing's easy

‘Nothing's easy.'

That's what Billy said

when I told him about my walks

and how I pass a pub

and my hands start shaking

and it would only take

a few steps

to be at the bar

ordering a pint …

And the young kid,

sharp as a tack,

says,

‘Don't walk near a pub then'.

We looked at each other

and I said,

‘Nothing's easy'.

Closing in

Bloody cops.

I hate to lie.

I hate it,

but with two of them

on Main Street

asking me questions,

questions I couldn't answer

honestly,

I made up what I could.

I said I was passing through,

I was staying with a friend,

I'd been working at the cannery

and now I was heading west.

I said I was eighteen,

old enough to look after myself.

They didn't believe a word,

I could tell,

but I hadn't done anything wrong,

and the older cop,

he was smart,

he knew what to do.

He gave me a card,

Department of Community Services

Welfare Of
ficer: Brent Stevens.

He said he'd meet me

at the office tomorrow

at four o'clock

and if I didn't show

well, fine, I'd moved on,

but if he saw me

in town again

and I hadn't shown,

he'd ask more questions,

and this time

he'd want some answers.

Bloody cops.

Bloody welfare.

I walked home

to the Bendarat Hilton

and I lay in bed

with the old carriage walls

closing in.

Old Bill's long walk

Today

I walked past

Jessie's old school.

It's had a paint job,

and they've built a new library.

It was lunchtime

and the children were outside.

The big kids were

playing cricket on the oval.

The young children

played in the sandpit.

A few girls were sitting

and talking under a tree.

As I walked by

one of the girls

started to climb the tree.

I was about to say something

when a young teacher

came over:

‘Sarah, no climbing trees'.

The teacher smiled at me

and walked back to

the shade of the school veranda.

I could feel my hands

shaking

as I walked back to town.

I walked the long way,

careful not to go past a pub.

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