Care Factor Zero (11 page)

‘Nah, not me. Another chick with a bad attitude, man.’

Kaz glanced at her watch. ‘It’s nearly four and I have to get back to the office. Do you want to come with me?’

‘Do I have a choice?’

Kaz looked puzzled. ‘Of course you have a
choice. You can do what you like.’

‘I thought you might get me there then call the cops.’

Kaz smiled. ‘If I called the cops every time some young person in trouble or with a warrant out on them cruised in I’d have no young people and I’d be out of a job.’

Larceny sighed. She was so tired. Life seemed to consist of a few warm baths, some food, then rain, cold and loneliness. She knew that she couldn’t keep running forever. But when she did stop and try to get it together, something always stuffed it up. Other people, other kids, being in the wrong place at the wrong time. And the voices. She wondered in a moment of mad panic if she shot herself in the head, shot
them
, would they still keep taunting her even after she was dead?

‘Coming?’ Kaz was putting on her coat.

‘Yeah. Right. Why not?’

Kaz shared an office across from The Pot Room with several other youth workers. It was a typical youth worker office, old furniture and desks, a couple of sagging sofas, a Cafe Bar at one end with a sign “Sorry. Out of Hot Choc”, scraggy carpeting that had seen better days, and posters all over the walls saying
“If it’s not on, it’s not on”, “Kids’ Assist”, “Magical Medicos — a free clinic for young people”, “Eat Healthy, Live to be Wealthy” and “Quit! While you’re Ahead!”. There were the usual pamphlets about youth services — accommodation, jobs, health clinics, legal services, studying out of school, adventure camps, hobbies …

‘Have you ever wondered why kids are on the street when there’s all this lovely stuff to do?’ said Larceny with mock innocence.

One of the youth workers, an earnest-looking young guy who looked like he’d be more at home driving the community bus or shooting hoops, pressed his lips together. Kaz just laughed.

‘You know as well as I do, Larce, that we keep getting it wrong. But what else are we s’posed to do with not enough money, not enough time and not enough cooperation from parents, teachers, traders and the law?’

There was a babble of voices from an adjoining room.

‘Peer Ed,’ said Kaz, raising her eyes to the roof. ‘You want to sit in for a while? I’ve got some serious paper work to do and phone calls to make.’

Larceny sighed. Peer Ed sounded boringly
educational. She hovered uncertainly near the doorway, unsure of whether to join the group or split. Five guys including Joey, the skinny kid in the too-big checked shirt and three girls were arguing the point with each other and one of the leaders.

‘We wanna do the horse-riding, Lisa,’ yelled Joey.

‘If you choose horse-riding and dolphin-watching I should be able to organise it fairly quickly,’ the leader said, raising her voice above the racket. She was a large girl with short dark hair, wearing what looked like a grey blanket tied with a piece of woven leather round her middle. ‘If you want to run a dance party, someone has to organise the venue, the band, the caterer and the tickets.’

Larceny had heard it all before. The leaders would let the kids think that they were running the thing, but would have their own adult agendas. The kids would be made to do the organising, supposedly to teach them responsibility and decision-making. It was crap. This leader wanted horses and dolphins: she was going to lay the call and make it too hard for them to do a dance party.

‘Go for the dance party,’ Larceny said loudly from the doorway,

‘Who are
you
?’

‘Who cares? I’m saying the dance party.’ She pointed at the youth worker. ‘Make her work for her money!’

She decided to bail out. This wasn’t her scene at all. She sauntered through the office towards the door. Kaz saw her, put down the phone and grabbed up her coat from the back of her chair.

‘Let’s go.’

‘I thought you had to make phone calls and do paper work.’

‘I can do the calls later on the mobile and the paper work can wait. Time to go home.’

‘But —’

‘You do want to go home, don’t you?’

Home. It was so long ago that Larceny had a real home that for a moment she panicked. Home. Four walls that were not barred or guarded. Shit. Could she cope?

Kaz lived in a tiny house in a side lane. It was old and pre-loved with a tangle of rose bushes crowding for space along the front fence and a sagging front verandah that needed some serious repair work. Kaz unlocked the door and they went in. It was like a little granny cottage with a passage straight down the middle and rooms to either side.

‘I hope you like cats,’ she said, as a grey Persian-cross stalked majestically up to Larceny and started winding himself around her legs.

‘I love cats. And dogs.’

‘Good. This is Sir Tom. And you have to meet Rueben the Rotty,’ Kaz said, leading the way down a short passage to the back door, opening it, and letting in this huge slobbering rottweiler.

‘Won’t he eat the cat?’

‘No. They were brought up together. Fur brothers. Now, I’ll show you your bedroom.’

It was a tiny room at the back of the house with a single bed, wardrobe, chest of drawers and a wooden chair with spindly legs. The bed was covered in a bright blue doona, with pink and green scatter cushions thrown haphazardly across it. There were posters of silverchair on the wall. A bunch of roses in a chipped blue jar sat on the chest of drawers, sweetening the air with strong perfume. On a wooden chair was a pile of clothing, and shoes, socks and tights littered the floor. It looked and smelt like a happy, lived-in and loved room.

‘Diana’s usually in here, but she’s away at a conference,’ said Kaz, kicking the assortment of footwear and tights under the bed and tossing the clothes in a jumbled heap in a drawer.

‘I thought youth workers weren’t allowed to take in kids,’ said Larceny.

‘It’s not policy but it’s not encouraged either. Anyway, I do as I like. Sometimes I take in young people when they need a place for a night or two. Do you want to do some washing?’

Larceny frowned. She
had
a plastic bag. Now
where — Lynx’s place. It seemed like years ago.

‘No.’

‘Okay. Come in the kitchen and I’ll cook up something. I don’t suppose you are a Cordon Bleu chef in disguise by any chance? I
hate
cooking.’

‘I’m okay at fettucine.’

‘Great. Do what you will with fettucine, and I’ll do a salad.’

Larceny felt peaceful for the first time in ages as she boiled the pasta, fried bacon pieces and diced onion, and grated some cheese for her masterpiece. There was something soothing about cooking. Kaz didn’t chatter; silently she went about washing lettuce leaves and slicing up tomato, cucumber and capsicum. It was a companionable silence, not an awkward, uneasy one. The kitchen was small but had a cheerful air about it. Some copper pans hung above the stove and there were some big pottery jars on a shelf. Other glass jars held various herbs and spices. Red tea towels were draped over a railing and two brightly patterned aprons hung on a hook. It was a comfortably cluttered mixture of old and new.

‘It’s ready,’ said Larceny, pouring the cheese sauce over the steaming fettucine she’d drained in a colander and put onto two warmed china plates.

‘Want to eat in front of the tv? Hang on, I’ll have to put Sir Tom and Rueben out or they’ll practically climb down your throat for the food.’

The animals were put outside and they carried their plates of fettucine, cutlery and the bowl of salad into the lounge room.

‘Oh! Cooool!’ said Larceny.

A whole sideboard was devoted to crystals and rocks of all shapes and sizes. There were jars of feathers everywhere, dream catchers hanging from the ceiling and posters of wolves on the walls.

‘What’s with the wolves?’

‘They’re my guardians,’ said Kaz.

Larceny wasn’t sure whether she was joking or not.

‘I’m sort of into oneness,’ explained Kaz, dumping the bowl of salad on the coffee table, sinking into a fat leather armchair and indicating that Larceny should sit in the other armchair.

‘Huh?’

‘We’re all one and the same.’

‘Yeah, right. I really feel like I’m a lump of pink crystal or a feather or a wolf!’

‘Maybe one day you will if you’re lucky.’

Was Kaz joking or not? It was hard to tell. Maybe she was nuts. Nah, youth workers weren’t nuts,
they were screened before they were trained and let loose on the general public. Balancing her plate on her knees, Larceny twirled some fettucine on her fork.

‘You wouldn’t want to be in oneness with
me
,’ she said. ‘I’m mad!’

‘Yeah? Who says?’

‘A million social workers, shrinks, doctors, teachers and cops, that’s who.’

‘Why should they think you’re mad?’

‘I hear voices. I want to kill people,’ said Larceny, keeping her eyes on her plate. She was too scared to see Kaz’s reaction, too scared to be rejected, ejected out of this nice warm house with the friendly vibes.

‘Is that what happened in Burgermania?’

‘It was this bloody Salvo,’ said Larceny, feeling her anger begin to rise at the thought of Kevin telling her she should give God a chance. ‘He said I was one of God’s children. What’s God ever done for me?’

‘How are you feeling right now?’

‘Angry!’

Larceny put down her plate. She waited for the grey mists to come swirling, cowering back against the dark forces that took over her mind, the voices
that took over her will. Nothing happened. She blinked.

‘No voices!’ she said in awe. ‘It must be this room.’

‘Or maybe the sedatives they gave you last night have calmed you down,’ said Kaz. ‘Maybe it’d be a good idea to stay on them until you work through your anger and learn to manage negative feelings in a better way.’

‘And maybe you should shut up with the psych shit!’

‘You’re right. Sorry.’ Kaz helped herself to the salad. ‘Want some?’

‘In a minute. How did you know I was given sedatives last night?’

‘I do have certain responsibilities in my job, Larce. The cops were searching for you all over the city.’

‘There’s a warrant out?’ Larceny tensed.

‘No. They were worried about your safety. So were the hospital staff.’

‘Oh,
sure
. There’s all these loonies out of their heads wandering round the streets because the government’s shut down a heap of mental homes and psych wards, and they’re worrying about
me
. Forget it. They couldn’t give a shit about
my
safety. Anyway, you can tell them all from me that they don’t have to worry. I can look after myself. I don’t need
their help and I don’t need
your
help!’

She jumped up, flinging her arms about in her agitation. One hand caught on a dream catcher and the feathers went whirling round and round like a spinning top.

‘It’s okay,’ said Kaz. ‘I’m not going to help you. I’m eating your fettucine and letting you sleep in Diana’s bed, that’s all.’

Larceny sat back on the sofa, looking suspicious.

‘Who’s this Diana?’

‘My friend.’

‘Are you a lezzo?’

‘No. I don’t give myself a brand name like a box of soap power.’

‘But do you sleep with her?’

‘No. I
live
with her.’

‘Do you sleep with anyone, then?’

‘Yes, myself and about half a million stuffed teddies and gorillas.’

‘You don’t sleep with guys?’

‘I’m not in any sort of sexual relationship at the moment,’ said Kaz. ‘I’m too bloody tired from sorting out the sexual confusions of the rest of the population to be even vaguely interested.’

‘Well, say you had really bad sex with a guy — no a
couple of guys — and then, say, you had good sex with a girl, does that mean you’re gay? A lezzo?’

‘No, it just means you had bad sex with two guys and good sex with a girl.’

‘You need to speak to Comma,’ said Larceny with satisfaction. ‘The stupid slag’s being taken for a ride in more ways than one.’

‘But on the other hand, she
could
be a lesbian,’ said Kaz.

‘How’s she s’posed to know, then?’

‘It’d feel right.’

‘That’s crazy. How can you know what’s right unless you do it, and then if it’s wrong you’ll feel lousy for the rest of your life?’ yelled Larceny.

‘If you make a mistake, it doesn’t mean you have to feel guilty for the rest of your life. Mistakes are part of learning about life, and different people learn different things in different ways. But guilt and shame are such negative emotions. Do you know that there’s two kinds of shame, Larceny? There’s healthy shame — like your conscience that tells you that you’ve done something wrong, something unlawful. And then there’s toxic shame. That’s all your childhood crap you’ve had dumped on you by your parents or step-parents or foster parents or
teachers or whoever. But you can’t blame them — because they had stuff dumped on them by their parents, and
their
parents, and so on down the line back to Adam and Eve.’

‘Not that religious Adam and Eve thing again,’ snorted Larceny. ‘I’ve sat through a million sermons on the Garden of Eden and the Tree of Life. It was a real stupid set-up. If it hadn’t been Eve who ate the apple it would’ve been someone else. Some dumb chick would’ve had a bite of that apple eventually, or some even dumber guy. The sins of the fathers and all that —’

‘The point is that this toxic shame is poisonous stuff. It eats into you and destroys you so much that you begin to believe you’re a worthless mistake. And it destroys any chance of having a decent, honest relationship with another person. We’ve all got some toxic shame, but some people have got more than others. We all have to learn to deal with it in order to feel happy.’

‘Yeah? This is just religious crap.’

‘No, Larce, it’s life!’

Larceny screwed up her face in concentration. This toxic shame idea. It made sense. She’d felt worthless for as long as she could remember.

‘I’ve got a high IQ,’ she blurted out.

‘Are you pleased about that?’

Kaz was clever. She hadn’t asked who said, why Larce had been tested, how the tests were done, where, when and what for. She’d sort of turned it round.

‘I dunno. Hasn’t done me much good except get me into trouble.’

‘But you seem pleased to tell me that you’ve got a high IQ.’

‘It’s the
only
thing I’ve got,’ said Larceny simply. Then to her astonishment she found herself pouring out her life story: it usually had to be prised out of her, and then she only ever revealed the bits she wanted to share. Kaz sat and listened. She was a very unusual person. Most adults immediately tried to tell you what to do, when to do, and how to do it. Kaz didn’t interrupt at all: she just listened. Eventually Larceny ran out of words. She felt drained, like someone had pulled the plug and let her life go seeping through the carpet.

‘Want some coffee?’

Larceny nodded, too worn out to speak. Kaz went into the kitchen. While she was rattling cups, Larceny could hear her talking to her animals as she fed them.
Then Reuben and Sir Tom came marching in with Kaz, both looking indignant. They’d been out in the cold for hours. They stretched side by side near the fire and fell asleep as Kaz put down two mugs.

‘Milk, no sugar.’

‘How did you remember?’

‘I always remember the important things in life, and milk-, no-sugar equals Larceny!’

‘Yeah. This toxic waste stuff …’

‘Toxic shame.’

‘If you think you’ve got it, how do you get rid of it?’

‘Well, the most important thing is to realise you’ve got it and it’s not your fault. Then you probably need some sort of counselling to help you deal with it.’

‘No way. No counselling! All that’s ever done is stuff me up completely, made me feel worse.’

‘The techniques are improving all the time. It depends who’s doing the counselling, of course.’

‘
No
!’

‘There’s some books and video tapes by an American guy called John Bradshaw. If you read the books they’ll help you understand yourself and help you get rid of toxic shame.’

‘Have you got rid of
yours
?’

‘I’m working on it, Larce, I’m working on it.’

Kaz yawned. ‘I’m afraid I’m going to have to call it a night, Larce. It’s nearly twelve and I have to be up by seven. I’ve put on your electric blanket, and the bathroom’s just across from your room if you want a shower. Sleep tight.’

It was years since anyone had said “Sleep tight”. One of the foster mums; she couldn’t remember which one. Her life was a mish-mash of different family values, sayings, customs and habits.

‘Yeah. ‘Night.’

Larceny went into the bathroom and washed her face and hands. She stripped off her clothes and rinsed out her underwear so it’d be dry in the morning. If it wasn’t she could run the hair dryer over it, an old trick she’d learnt on the streets when she’d dried her undies under the hand dryers in public toilets.

Looking round, Larceny decided it was the most unusual bathroom she’d ever seen. Someone (probably Kaz) had stuck up all these postcards, stickers, articles torn from magazines, and photocopied poems and sayings. All were positive. “Trust in yourself”, “Today is the first day of the rest of your life”, “Smile and be happy”. None of them seemed
religious: no mention of God. Larceny came to the conclusion that Kaz was running her own religion with her crystal collection and her visually positive bathroom.

Her bed was lovely, warm and cosy, the mattress slightly saggy so that it folded round her like a cocoon. She should’ve been dog-tired but amazingly she was wide awake. She went over in her mind what Kaz had said. Toxic shame? She could invent a whole list of toxics. Toxic love. Toxic hate. Toxic greed. Toxic envy. Toxic lust. Toxic power. Could you have toxic guilt and anger?

Kaz didn’t seem like a religious freak. Apart from crystals, feathers and wolves she seemed cool. Maybe she’d let her stay for a while. It would be nice to have a safe place without someone trying to unscramble her head. Maybe Kaz
had
been trying to unscramble her head, but at least it wasn’t intrusive. Or uncomfortable. Or threatening. She fell asleep to the comfortable tick tock of Diana’s alarm clock near the bed, her first naturally deep and peaceful sleep for a long time.

‘Wake up. Breakfast’s ready.’