Read Online Through the Cracks by Honey Brown - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Honey Brown
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his gaze up Adam’s body.
‘How long you been sleeping rough?’
When Adam didn’t answer, Scotty took another bite and turned away.
‘You can have an apple,’ he said over his shoulder, his mouth full, ‘and you can turn the TV on, but that’s it.’
Scotty went out through the kitchen. There was the rattle of keys being taken from the board of hooks and the click of thongs, the squeak and slam of the back door. Adam listened to him walking away. It was amazing how much he could hear. He pulled up the bedsheet curtain. The window was wide open. Warm air floated in. Adam walked tenderly on his sore feet into the kitchen. He hadn’t noticed the tall red toolbox by the fridge before. It was on wheels. Each drawer had a lock. Adam took an apple and sat at the kitchen table. He thought about Monty and Jerry, tried to picture their new home in the daytime. Adam touched his fingers to his lips as he chewed. Green apples were so tart they made his eyes water.
Adam compared the situation now to that of being in the backroom. Aside from the sights, sounds, smells and colours, things weren’t so different. He couldn’t get up and leave. He had nowhere to go. He couldn’t guess what was going to happen next. All he had was the chair under him, the table surface, the lino against his feet, his body and his thoughts. There was safety and familiarity in that. Comfort in that. At most, Adam could give a little something of himself over to the inanimate things. He touched and rubbed the table edge, grazed his knuckles on the clean, shiny surface, brushed the pad of his thumb on the discoloured foam poking through a split in the cushioned seat. It felt good doing that. Even if he was only trusting
things
, not people or situations. It was better that than trusting nothing. Adam was able to sink into the realness of his nail scratching the brown apple stalk. It became everything for a moment. Uncomplicated. A world of sorts. Where very little happened and there were so few elements that it was impossible to get hurt. No matter where he was, in the backroom or outside of it, he could focus in and settle down, concentrate on small things, block out the rest. Until everything was simple and it all made perfect sense.
Scotty came back with a meat pie in a white paper bag. He made Adam a glass of orange cordial. The drink and pie were new to Adam. He could tell Scotty realised this. The man’s frown deepened. He was over at the sink and kept glancing across. The phone rang. Scotty dried his hands and answered it. He leaned against the wall.
‘Oh yeah. I know. Oh right. Okay. Oh yeah. Not like that one we saw the other day? Nah. Yeah. Gotta tighten them bolts after a bit. I reckon too.’
There was a knock at the door. Scotty clicked his fingers and pointed down the hallway.
Fuck off
, he mouthed.
Adam took what remained of his pie and went down to wait in the bathroom. He sat on the edge of the bath. The spider hadn’t moved. Adam finished the pie and placed the white paper bag on the ground. He rubbed his tongue along his teeth, eyed the toothbrush and toothpaste on the shelf. In the kitchen Scotty was talking to a woman. She had a husky, laughing voice. Adam wiped the flaky bits of pastry off his face. The back door banged shut. It was quiet.
Adam stayed in the bathroom. He sat against the wall, knees up, facing the bath. He thought of ways to save the spider without touching it. He used the white paper bag to sweep the spider up the side of the bath. He sat back down and watched it crawl off behind a piece of lifted and rotted skirting board.
B illy came back dressed in a new set of clothes, tight black shorts and a white tank top with a wide blue stripe across the chest. The sneakers he had on were the same as before. Adam didn’t mean to, but he stared. It was as though Billy wasn’t the same boy who’d walked into Adam’s father’s lounge room. He wasn’t that much taller than Adam. The bristles on the sides of
‘How long you been sleeping rough?’
When Adam didn’t answer, Scotty took another bite and turned away.
‘You can have an apple,’ he said over his shoulder, his mouth full, ‘and you can turn the TV on, but that’s it.’
Scotty went out through the kitchen. There was the rattle of keys being taken from the board of hooks and the click of thongs, the squeak and slam of the back door. Adam listened to him walking away. It was amazing how much he could hear. He pulled up the bedsheet curtain. The window was wide open. Warm air floated in. Adam walked tenderly on his sore feet into the kitchen. He hadn’t noticed the tall red toolbox by the fridge before. It was on wheels. Each drawer had a lock. Adam took an apple and sat at the kitchen table. He thought about Monty and Jerry, tried to picture their new home in the daytime. Adam touched his fingers to his lips as he chewed. Green apples were so tart they made his eyes water.
Adam compared the situation now to that of being in the backroom. Aside from the sights, sounds, smells and colours, things weren’t so different. He couldn’t get up and leave. He had nowhere to go. He couldn’t guess what was going to happen next. All he had was the chair under him, the table surface, the lino against his feet, his body and his thoughts. There was safety and familiarity in that. Comfort in that. At most, Adam could give a little something of himself over to the inanimate things. He touched and rubbed the table edge, grazed his knuckles on the clean, shiny surface, brushed the pad of his thumb on the discoloured foam poking through a split in the cushioned seat. It felt good doing that. Even if he was only trusting
things
, not people or situations. It was better that than trusting nothing. Adam was able to sink into the realness of his nail scratching the brown apple stalk. It became everything for a moment. Uncomplicated. A world of sorts. Where very little happened and there were so few elements that it was impossible to get hurt. No matter where he was, in the backroom or outside of it, he could focus in and settle down, concentrate on small things, block out the rest. Until everything was simple and it all made perfect sense.
Scotty came back with a meat pie in a white paper bag. He made Adam a glass of orange cordial. The drink and pie were new to Adam. He could tell Scotty realised this. The man’s frown deepened. He was over at the sink and kept glancing across. The phone rang. Scotty dried his hands and answered it. He leaned against the wall.
‘Oh yeah. I know. Oh right. Okay. Oh yeah. Not like that one we saw the other day? Nah. Yeah. Gotta tighten them bolts after a bit. I reckon too.’
There was a knock at the door. Scotty clicked his fingers and pointed down the hallway.
Fuck off
, he mouthed.
Adam took what remained of his pie and went down to wait in the bathroom. He sat on the edge of the bath. The spider hadn’t moved. Adam finished the pie and placed the white paper bag on the ground. He rubbed his tongue along his teeth, eyed the toothbrush and toothpaste on the shelf. In the kitchen Scotty was talking to a woman. She had a husky, laughing voice. Adam wiped the flaky bits of pastry off his face. The back door banged shut. It was quiet.
Adam stayed in the bathroom. He sat against the wall, knees up, facing the bath. He thought of ways to save the spider without touching it. He used the white paper bag to sweep the spider up the side of the bath. He sat back down and watched it crawl off behind a piece of lifted and rotted skirting board.
B illy came back dressed in a new set of clothes, tight black shorts and a white tank top with a wide blue stripe across the chest. The sneakers he had on were the same as before. Adam didn’t mean to, but he stared. It was as though Billy wasn’t the same boy who’d walked into Adam’s father’s lounge room. He wasn’t that much taller than Adam. The bristles on the sides of
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