chopsticks in their hair, and Japanese men with really weird haircuts. When I’m in a certain mood, I like to flick through the pictures until I feel nice and bored and ready to sleep.
A Woman Strolling. Woman Holding a Comb. Surimono: Stretching Cloth. Young Woman with a Caged Monkey.
That one makes me look more closely. Animals in cages make me sad, even though the monkey is in a wooden cage, not a cruel metal cage. He’s reached out with one arm and grabbed the edge of the lady’s kimono, and she’s looking down at him. You can’t tell from her expression whether she thinks the monkey is being cute, or whether she’s annoyed that he’s got hold of her dress. I wonder if it’s her pet monkey, and whether she takes him out of his cage and plays with him when she’s not so dressed up.
This book isn’t working anymore. I’m getting interested in the pictures.
I turn off the light and try to sleep, even though Bindi and Cinnamon are still making noise in their rooms. I can’t stop thinking about those ethnic boys we saw at Hungry Jack’s. It’s because they make me think of something else, something I don’t want to think about.
I push it back for a while, trying to hear what Bindi and Cinnamon are up to, trying to think about the Japanese pictures. I finally give up, and the memory rises to the surface.
‘Can’t stand dealing with foreigners,’ says Ernie. I’m lying on the floor. I was colouring in my new colouring books, but now I’m just lying on my stomach, half-asleep. Reggie is asleep in front of the fire, as close as he can get without being burned. Daddy keeps having to pull him back so he doesn’t catch on fire, but Reggie’s fur is so hot to the touch that Daddy has to put on gloves each time he does it. Then Ernie laughs at Daddy. Then Daddy says ‘STAY!’ to Reggie. Then Reggie inches back toward the fire a little bit at a time when Daddy isn’t looking, then Daddy has to put his gloves on and do the whole thing over, and Ernie laughs at Daddy again.
Ernie spits into the fire and there’s a hiss. ‘Send ’em all back where they come from, as far as I’m concerned.’
Reggie creeps a couple of inches toward the fire. ‘Reggie!’ Daddy says sharply. Reggie pretends not to hear, settles his head on his front paws, and closes his eyes.
‘That is one spoiled dog,’ says Ernie. ‘One boot up the arse would teach him to do as he’s told.’
‘He’s not a working dog, he’s a pet,’ says Daddy. ‘It doesn’t hurt to spoil a pet.’ Daddy picks me up and sits me on his lap. I’m tired so I rest my head on his chest. He’s wearing a flannie. There’s something in the pocket that presses against my cheek.
Daddy ruffles my hair. ‘Two things it doesn’t hurt to spoil: your pet dog, and your daughter. With a son, you’ve got to make him into a man. But a daughter, you can spoil her and there’s no harm done.’
I’m tired because we just got back from Coffs. Daddy bought me two My Little Ponys, one pink and one purple.
Chapter 14
Karen is up early the next morning, probably for a doctor’s appointment. I hear her whining when Lyyssa wakes her, then I hear her clomping to the bathroom, then I hear the front door bang shut and a car drive off. I don’t know where she’s going or care whether she comes back.
I didn’t sleep well last night. I dreamt of monkeys in cages, of me standing on a table at Hungry Jack’s singing while Cinnamon and Bindi jeered and ethnic boys yelled Hose her down, hose her down.
My eyelids feel gummy. I don’t want to get up. I try to go back to sleep, but I just lie awake, miserable, and remember something else I don’t want to know.
The man in the flannelette shirt is cutting something into pieces on the kitchen table, which is why I can’t sit there to colour in my colouring books. There’s another man watching, and two yellow-haired women talking to each other and not paying any attention. I’m in the lounge room sitting on
A Woman Strolling. Woman Holding a Comb. Surimono: Stretching Cloth. Young Woman with a Caged Monkey.
That one makes me look more closely. Animals in cages make me sad, even though the monkey is in a wooden cage, not a cruel metal cage. He’s reached out with one arm and grabbed the edge of the lady’s kimono, and she’s looking down at him. You can’t tell from her expression whether she thinks the monkey is being cute, or whether she’s annoyed that he’s got hold of her dress. I wonder if it’s her pet monkey, and whether she takes him out of his cage and plays with him when she’s not so dressed up.
This book isn’t working anymore. I’m getting interested in the pictures.
I turn off the light and try to sleep, even though Bindi and Cinnamon are still making noise in their rooms. I can’t stop thinking about those ethnic boys we saw at Hungry Jack’s. It’s because they make me think of something else, something I don’t want to think about.
I push it back for a while, trying to hear what Bindi and Cinnamon are up to, trying to think about the Japanese pictures. I finally give up, and the memory rises to the surface.
‘Can’t stand dealing with foreigners,’ says Ernie. I’m lying on the floor. I was colouring in my new colouring books, but now I’m just lying on my stomach, half-asleep. Reggie is asleep in front of the fire, as close as he can get without being burned. Daddy keeps having to pull him back so he doesn’t catch on fire, but Reggie’s fur is so hot to the touch that Daddy has to put on gloves each time he does it. Then Ernie laughs at Daddy. Then Daddy says ‘STAY!’ to Reggie. Then Reggie inches back toward the fire a little bit at a time when Daddy isn’t looking, then Daddy has to put his gloves on and do the whole thing over, and Ernie laughs at Daddy again.
Ernie spits into the fire and there’s a hiss. ‘Send ’em all back where they come from, as far as I’m concerned.’
Reggie creeps a couple of inches toward the fire. ‘Reggie!’ Daddy says sharply. Reggie pretends not to hear, settles his head on his front paws, and closes his eyes.
‘That is one spoiled dog,’ says Ernie. ‘One boot up the arse would teach him to do as he’s told.’
‘He’s not a working dog, he’s a pet,’ says Daddy. ‘It doesn’t hurt to spoil a pet.’ Daddy picks me up and sits me on his lap. I’m tired so I rest my head on his chest. He’s wearing a flannie. There’s something in the pocket that presses against my cheek.
Daddy ruffles my hair. ‘Two things it doesn’t hurt to spoil: your pet dog, and your daughter. With a son, you’ve got to make him into a man. But a daughter, you can spoil her and there’s no harm done.’
I’m tired because we just got back from Coffs. Daddy bought me two My Little Ponys, one pink and one purple.
Chapter 14
Karen is up early the next morning, probably for a doctor’s appointment. I hear her whining when Lyyssa wakes her, then I hear her clomping to the bathroom, then I hear the front door bang shut and a car drive off. I don’t know where she’s going or care whether she comes back.
I didn’t sleep well last night. I dreamt of monkeys in cages, of me standing on a table at Hungry Jack’s singing while Cinnamon and Bindi jeered and ethnic boys yelled Hose her down, hose her down.
My eyelids feel gummy. I don’t want to get up. I try to go back to sleep, but I just lie awake, miserable, and remember something else I don’t want to know.
The man in the flannelette shirt is cutting something into pieces on the kitchen table, which is why I can’t sit there to colour in my colouring books. There’s another man watching, and two yellow-haired women talking to each other and not paying any attention. I’m in the lounge room sitting on
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