Huia Short Stories 11 (11 page)

‘It might be easier if you just take them off,' the tattooist says, his brown almond eyes on me.

‘Easier for who?' I bite.

He grins, lips pulling into a crooked smile that exposes the black smoke spot on his two front teeth. ‘You need to relax, kid. It'll hurt less if you relax.'

‘Kid?' I say, breathing sharply. ‘Who are you, my dad? You look twenty, dude. Twenty-two, tops.'

‘I'm actually twenty-eight,' he says with a shrug. ‘And married. With kids. So like, we have to get this started now.'

I look down, inspecting the outline on my left thigh. It's just like Matty's, only a fraction of the size. I can cover mine with a closed fist, but his would probably take both of my open hands. He says it'll be quicker than Matty's, an hour tops, but I don't think I can handle it. I won't handle it.

I shake my head quickly. ‘Matty, I–'

Matty's behind me all of a sudden; his right hand on my shoulder, his left going to my boxers so he can hold them up. ‘You'll be fine,' he says, squeezing my shoulder gently.

I can feel his thumb stroking my inner leg gently and I realise I have a whole other problem on my hands. What's worse: crying in front of a strange dude, or getting a boner in front of him?

I can't decide.

The tattooist makes his gun buzz a few times, getting my full attention again. ‘You're eighteen, right?'

‘Fifty bag says he is,' Matty tells him.

I shake my head quickly. ‘Sixteen,' I confess.

He puckers his lips, making a contemplative hum. My heart freezes, waiting for him to tell me to put my pants on and fuck off. It waits for his fatherly conscience to kick in and stop me doing something so fucking stupid.

The guy shrugs. ‘Close enough. Got my first when I was fifteen, so who am I to judge?'

My breath stutters when he starts his gun again, my eyes going to Matty above me.

‘You'll be fine,' Matty says, nodding.

‘I think– Holymotherfuck!' I yell when the needle finally hits my skin.

Matty and the guy both laugh.

Screaming. Morning, noon and night. It's just a constant stream of screams and cries and vomit-inducing smells that shouldn't exist. And I hate it because I never wanted this life. I never chose it. But this is the card I've been dealt, so now I have to suck it up and carry on. I have to smile even though I feel like I'm dying inside.

Noisy kids are everywhere, but there seems to be just as many parents lingering like they've got nothing better to do with their time. Stuck-up bitches who eyeball me every time I walk through the glass door. Their voices drop to a whisper when I approach the logbook, but I can still hear them. I always hear them.

‘This is the best day care around, how can she afford the fees?'

‘WINZ pay for it, of course. I bet they pay for her house, too.'

‘God, I wish my life was that easy.'

‘If you ask me they should stop throwing money at them. These kids spread their legs and we're left to foot the bill. It's basically a career choice now. Make a baby and the government will support you for eighteen years.'

‘Her parents are probably on the dole as well.'

‘Well, they have to learn it somewhere.'

I grit my teeth, left hand curling into a loose fist. Those dumb cunts don't know anything about me or my life, so who are they to judge? They can rant and rave all they like, but they're no different to the girls they're looking down on. So maybe they're not getting money from the government, whatever. In my opinion, shagging some ugly old dude for money doesn't make them any better.

I turn on the spot, looking in their direction.

They all look away, lips pressed tight.

I hear the familiar babble before I see her. Bright blue eyes and messy brunette hair, chubby pale cheeks and a warm smile I can't help but compare to the sun. And I know she's seen me when she throws her skinny arms up, opening and shutting her hands slowly.

I grin, stepping in her direction as she's carried in mine.

‘She's happy to see you,' the woman holding her says, smiling.

‘I'm happy to see
her
,' I reply honestly. I take the skinny monster from the round woman, holding her little body in front of mine. ‘Hey, little Monkey,' I whisper, nose touching hers. She giggles, tiny hands going to my face. ‘Let's get outta here.'

I notice the gossipy bitch mothers giving me the once over as I make my way towards the door, but I brush them off. I straighten my shoulders and march out of there like I'm God's gift to the world.

Not that I believe in any of that horseshit or anything. I mean honestly, if God really is floating around up there, he certainly isn't some invisible superstar saving the world. He's a bored sadist. He punishes good people because it turns him on. He's essentially one of the perverts we throw in prison, and yet, half the world falls to their knees for him.

Fucking idiots.

My evenings are always the same: home from kindy, snack, playtime, nap, dinner, bath, bottle, bedtime story, sleep. Mum claimed things would be different once teething started, but I've barely noticed. She screams just as loudly as she did before her little fangs cut through.

I stand in the middle of my small lounge when she's finally asleep, eyes taking in the destruction. Toys are scattered all over the floor, the baskets they belong in overturned and resting on the second-hand couch near the centre of the room. A dirty nappy is sitting on the coffee table beside a tattered travel magazine and a near-empty baby bottle. The milk in it is probably cold now. Cold and dripping all over the surface it's on. My eyes flicker to the desk resting beneath the room's only window, spotting the dusty textbooks and crumpled papers scattered across it.

I suck in a breath, eyes stinging in the corners.

I move for the tiny kitchen just a few metres away, trying not to think about the washing that's piled up in the bathroom, but when I see the sink full of dishes and the overflowing rubbish bag, I can't hold back any more. I press a hand to my tight chest, bottom lip trembling as tears finally fall. I sink to my knees and cry like I did the day I was presented with a stern-faced baby.

I never wanted this. I never ever wanted this.

I dig the heels of my hands into my eyes, trying to stop the tears falling. I breathe in deeply, let it back out again. I do it over and over.

‘I promise,' I mumble to myself.

I lift my head with another deep breath, exhaling sharply.

I get to my feet.

I twirl my long hair into a bun on the top of my head and get cracking. I wash the dishes and leave them to drip dry. I gather all the toys and clean the messy coffee table, disinfecting it when it's clear. I sort the dirty washing into two loads, putting the one with my hideous work clothes into the machine first.

It's after midnight when I finally go to my room, tired from cleaning and stinking of lavender-scented disinfectant and stale sweat. I don't bother changing into pyjamas or making my messy bed; I just kick my jeans off and fall onto my rumpled bedding. I sling an arm over my eyes and fall asleep with my left leg hanging over the edge of my mattress.

The sun wakes me. It shines through my open window, bright and demanding. I roll over to hide my face in a pillow, willing myself back to–

Fuck!

I scramble to my feet and throw my bedroom door open, heart pounding in my chest. I can't fucking believe I slept in. I
never
sleep in. Monkey is up by seven every single morning. She's always up before the sun is.

I freeze when I hear my name, hand on her doorknob, and I snap my head round to see a familiar face stood on the other side of the couch. Black hair and hazel eyes; skin half a shade darker than mine.

‘How did you get in?' I ask, eyes darting around the room quickly like I'll suddenly see the answer. I tug at the hem of my shirt, trying to cover myself a little more. ‘And where–'

‘I just put her down for a nap,' he says quickly, voice deep and scratchy from nicotine binges. ‘And I got the key from Mum. I thought–' He sighs. ‘Well, I just thought you'd like a sleep-in today. You know, because …' He looks away from me, eyes going to his feet, his odd socks.

Yeah, I know why.

Like I could possibly forget.

He clears his throat. ‘I thought that, like, I could watch little Aroha if you wanted some time to yourself.'

I look away from my brother swiftly, a lump in my throat. ‘I might have a shower,' I say, voice low. ‘Can you keep an ear out for Monkey.'

It's not a question, but he still says, ‘Okay.'

I turn the shower up as hot as I can stand, letting the scalding water melt the tension in my muscles. Or try to, anyway. I don't bother scrubbing my skin, just turn slowly.

A little bit of me wishes I could sleep today away.

Actually, most of me does. If things were different I'd close my bedroom curtains, crawl back into bed and… Well, I doubt I'd actually be able to sleep at all. In fact, if things were different I'd be rushing around with a grin on my face. I'd probably be drunk and wreaking havoc.

Not any more.

The small mirror above the bathroom sink is steam fogged. I wipe it clean, inspecting my reflection in the silvery glass. I take in my brown eyes and the heavy bags beneath them, my straight mouth and equally straight nose. My messy, shapeless eyebrows.

I look like shit. Complete fucking shit.

There's not really a nicer way to put it.

When I return to the lounge my little Monkey's awake, eyes wide and bright as she giggles at a face Eric's pulling. She's dressed, too. She's wearing a polka dot dress that's been puffed up with tulle, and the cutest headband I've ever seen.

‘Did you buy her that?' I ask, falling onto the couch beside my little brother.

‘Yep. Cost a shitload, too,' he says, passing the baby to me. ‘It was too cute to leave, though.'

I kiss Monkey's right cheek, making her giggle. ‘Good morning, sweetheart.'

She touches my face with a smile, blue eyes sparkling as always.

I take a deep breath.

‘She's so happy, sis,' Eric says, wiping a thin trail of drool from Monkey's chin. ‘You're doing such a great job. Raising her right.'

‘Am I?' I ask, passing her back to him. I tilt my head back, letting it rest against the top of the couch. There's a small mould patch on the ceiling above me. ‘Sometimes I think that …'

‘Think what?'

I shake my head. ‘Today's not the day,' I say. ‘Actually, no day's the day.'

Eric puts the baby on the floor in front of her toys, attention returning to me just after. ‘Come on, A. Tell me.' He raises the pitch of his voice, says, ‘Pretend I'm one of the girls.'

I snort, elbowing him in the ribs. ‘You're such a knob.'

He nudges me back. ‘Come on. You can tell me anything.'

My eyes go to the little girl stretched out on the floor, happily chewing on a stuffed dog. ‘It's just, it all gets too much sometimes, you know? Just with work and Monkey and … and those bitches at the day care. And it's like, sometimes I just think that life would be so much easier if I didn't have to–'

‘Take care of a baby.'

He says the words so I don't have to, but it doesn't make me feel any better for thinking them.

I shift on the spot, palms running over my knees. ‘I know it's wrong, but I can't help thinking it,' I say, voice lower than it was. ‘I had to quit Uni, and I never get to socialise or anything like that. And people are always looking down on me. They talk about me like I'm some dumb money-hungry skank.' I shake my head slowly. ‘I know I shouldn't care, but. Sometimes it just really hurts.'

He's quiet for a moment, nothing but Monkey's gibberish reaching my ears.

Eventually he says, ‘Have you ever thought to just tell people the truth? To tell them–'

‘No,' I say firmly, silencing him. I look at his tanned face. ‘It's none of their fucking business. No, definitely not.'

‘She'd want you to tell people, Aroha,' he says. ‘She wouldn't want you to feel like this. She'd want–' He pauses again. ‘Well, I know she'd want you to stick it to those arseholes. Give them the middle finger and all that. What you're doing is honourable. It really is, sis. It takes a strong person to put their dreams on hold and raise someone else's kid.'

I look away from my brother again, chest expanding at his praise. Familiar words that never meant all that much before.

‘You're a strong bitch, A. Only a dumbass would fuck with you.'

I reach down for Monkey when she grabs at my shins, trying to pull herself up. I stand her in my lap, hands resting on her little hips. She throws her arms up with a shrill squeal.

Maybe Eric's right. Maybe I should tell people the truth. I wonder what those stuck-up bitch mothers would say if I turned around and told them that Aroha isn't my baby, that she's not even related to me by blood. I wonder if their make-up caked faces would fall if I told them that my best friend haemorrhaged and bled out three days after giving birth to the most perfect little girl on planet Earth. In the universe, even. And I'd just love to see their horrified expressions when I told them to go fuck themselves and their elitist opinions.

I smile to myself, because Nina would destroy those women if she were here, blue eyes bulging out of her head. She'd be celebrating her twenty-first birthday by getting drunk and sexually harassing innocent guys who, truthfully, probably wouldn't object.

If Nina were here, Aroha would never have to wonder whether or not she's loved. She would push her daughter to be the very best she can be, regardless of what that is.

‘Promise me, A. If anything ever happens to me, you have to take care of mini you. You just have to. Don't let her go to strangers. Promise me.'

I nuzzle Monkey's neck, making her giggle hysterically.

I never break a promise.