Every two seconds - Page 3
From Griffith REVIEW Edition 13: The Next Big Thing
© Copyright Griffith University & the author.
Written by Christine Fontana
"TELL ME AGAIN HOW YOU LET THE PEOPLE OUT," I ask her, and Beth tells me the fence, and she tells me it fell, and I'm saying "... and the people got out?" and she's saying "yes", and I'm saying "... and that was Akhmed?" and she's saying "yes yes yes". I'm like "nnnyn" then, and my feet are stamping and my hands they start to clap, and the snort through my nostrils is sharp and fast and the fast train rushes by us and it's all whoosh and cold air. My body sways so I lift my face up to the slipstream and I'm smiling and I'm smiling while Beth holds me back with her hand on my arm.
MUM, SHE SAYS NO AND I SAY TAKE ME TOO, because the refugees are hungry and Beth is going to help the hungry people. I say me too, maybe I wanna help but I don't really, no, because I don't like people much.
It's when I meet Akhmed and I don't look him in the eye, but Beth says "Akhmed, this is Davey", and Akhmed has hair on his arms, long black hair that's comb-stroked and soft and his hands are rubber knuckled and leather and skin, and he makes me think of the orangutans and maybe that's why she helps him. And my feet they keep moving and sometimes I talk but this time I'm quiet.
Because I went there to the zoo and Julia said "Do I have to take him?", she said "You know what's gonna happen", and Mum said "Well you can't leave him here," and Julia had a boy and they wanted to hold hands so we went and the orangutans were in small cement cages and I said "What does it say?" and she read the sign and told me it said "Please give money", and I put fifty cents in the slot but the orangutans their hands were all leather and creases and holding on to the bars and I was like "nnnnn" and Julia said "for fuck's sake" and that's when I had to leave.
NOBODY'S ASKING ABOUT THE LEGS SO I TELL THEM "Men do it this way", but as I say it I know that I'm wrong because the train dragged her down like a grinder, like someone was turning the handle, like when mum lets me help, and she died from the toes upwards and it wasn't quick and her lip has a cut like the train slapped her about and she didn't want anything left but here she is and the casket is all the way open and that's why nobody's asking: "Is her other breast even there?"
AND AKHMED'S GONE AND I SAY: "THEY TOOK HIM AWAY?" And Beth's hands are still and I say "Tell me again about the refugees" and she says "Not today, Davey". Her hands, they're still like they're sleepy, like it's too, too hard to move, and my breathing it's soft and I'm rocking a bit and the fast train goes whoosh and we sway and I'm smiling but Beth she just hugs herself and says "Davey, let's go home".
Nobody's mentioning that she has no legs and I wonder if there was a baby being born without legs and now they have hers. And maybe somebody was dying from smoking and they're like coughing up blood, they're like "hrrgh hrrrrrgh" and it's like somebody died somebody was born, and then it's his turn to die but then suddenly Beth takes his place, he can breathe and his family are like: "what?"
And somebody died and somebody was born and if animals were counted like people we'd have to say it too fast and somebody died and somebody died and we just couldn't keep up. I'm thinking and thinking and it's so quiet so I say it now that somebody dies, I say it aloud, and Julia lets out a sudden sob, and Beth's legs are not even there, and that's why I'm asking: "Do you think she still has a vagina?"
And sometimes I'm quiet and sometimes I talk and nobody's asking any questions, like why isn't Akhmed here? So that's why my fingers are flicking and I'm asking: "Do you think it got ripped off?" Then Julia runs out of the room to be sick, and that's when I have to leave.
WHERE I GO IS TO THE STATION, which takes me two minutes to walk. And somebody died. And somebody was born.
"I wanna go to Sydney," I say, "it's nine stops to Sydney", and the man tells me that I have to have a ticket. His hands are buckled and pink and there's black under his nails. He's saying "You have to have a ticket" and I'm like "nnnnyn", I'm like nine stops to Sydney, but he doesn't listen so my feet they keep moving, and the other guy says: "Leave him be."
He says: "He comes here all the time."
"He just wants to watch the train," the man says, and they close the window and I can see their hands and it's like they're waiting for me to go away.
"It's nine stops to Sydney," I say, "and that's Albury and Benalla and Wagga, and that's 1,423 minutes which is 85,380 seconds which is divided by two, equals 42,690 people died, 42,690 people were born."
"Stand behind the white line," Beth told me, and I'm thinking about the orangutans and how maybe they're still there in their little cement cages and I say "sorry Beth", and I say "sorry" to the orangutans, and the hair on Akhmed's arms was long and Beth couldn't let the people out and when she chose a train it wasn't fast enough. I wonder did she cry on the platform or did she just run or did she just walk in and step in front, and I can hear the whistle blowing and the wind, it's starting to pick up.
The 3.45, it's fast, and all I have to do is get on the train and the man he calls out: "HEY!"
But it's 3.45 and the white line is there and I close my eyes, because. And that's why we have to start the story at the end, because somebody died and somebody died, and maybe my two seconds are over. ♦