M

Belinda McCormick

 

 

 

I had this deal with a guy who owned a noodle joint. Sundays and Wednesdays I sucked his cock; he fed me and Gus. It was solid. Meant I didn’t have to beg all day, scrounge slops half the night just to get by.

He caught us one night trawling for scraps in the alley out back of his shop. I pulled my head out of a bin and found Kung Fu fucking Panda leaning against a hopper, blocking our path.

I tried scoping a way past. I’m quick, but that alley was tighter than a Suit’s wallet. No way I’d get by.

Top lip twitching, Gus slunk forward, dropped to his belly. He had this way of sifting people, sorting the rotten.

Watched him go a guy once.

Behind a block of commission flats, we spotted this whack job. He had a fox strung up with barbed wire. Was so busy getting off on its struggles, Gus was ripping chunks off his arse before he even clocked us coming. Gave me a full-on laughing fit, but we were too late for Foxy. Dumb shit cut its own throat.

If Gus finds you whiffy, you’d best leg it early.

Noodle Boy just leaned and watched. When Gus rolled his weight onto one hip, the guy smiled so hard his cheeks swallowed his eyes.

‘Hungry?’ he said.

Last time we ate proper we’d lucked across a dero nursing half a leg of donated ham. Guts were so gone he couldn’t hardly eat. Gave most of it to us. For two whole days my stomach didn’t feel like it was eating itself.

Course we were hungry. We were always fucking hungry.

One wave of a meaty hand and Gus got up to follow.

At the back door Noodles told us to wait. Fine by me. Gus or no Gus, I wasn’t going inside. Too easy to get done over. Besides, cold metal benches, sparkling white tiles. We’d have made it filthy.

Coupla minutes later, he came back with leftovers. Seeing as how I shared everything with Gus, it wasn’t long before we were scoffing down seconds.

While we gutsed ourselves I thought about the guy’s eyes. How shiny they went when he first looked me over.

A price was coming but he waited till we finished before naming it.

‘You lick it,’ he said, rubbing his crotch, ‘I’ll feed you again.’

If he’d tried anything else I’d have skipped out right then, not gone back.

Maybe he knew it, maybe not. Didn’t stop us leaving. Just stepped aside, waved us off. ‘Three days,’ he said.

He was back inside locking up before we were out the gate.

Buggered if I’d let him find out where we slept. I cut across the street, turned the next corner, doubled back.

No sign of him following but a bunch of hoodies were coming up the block—the kind that might take a bat to you just for fun. Best not to hang around.

On the way back to our doss, I thought about the offer. Wasn’t overly hot on it but I’d had worse things done to me on the off-chance of food.

Walked myself straight into a setup once.

I’d been out begging, pretending me and an older guy were family. People dropped dosh into our bucket like we were a church collection service. Was pretty sweet until the bastard sold me out.

Took me down the river. Said he’d found the perfect scam. Under a bridge, he pinned my arms, held me down while some skinny prick raped me.

Later, shovelling hot peas and mash, he called me a dumb shit. Said it was time I pulled my weight.

I bled for three days. Swore I’d never go back, never trust again.

A week later I found Gus lying in the gutter. Someone had tried to dock his tail. Wound was mostly healed, but he got dumped anyway.

We’ve been together ever since.

Watching Gus twitch in his sleep, tripping on a full belly, I thought about that promise. Wondered how far I was willing to stretch it.

By the end of the third day I had my answer. Leavings had been hard to come by. Told myself I owed it to Gus.

Hunger does that. Makes you twist things.

Anyone who tells you different hasn’t ever had to think with their stomach.

We waited by the hoppers where we’d first seen the guy. Gus heard him coming. Stepped straight up to meet him, tail wagging so fast his arse went with it.

Noodles seemed as surprised as me. He bent down, scratched Gus behind the ears. I’d never seen anyone else do that.

This time we went to a room tacked onto one side out the back. Guy said it was his office. Left me to look it over while he finished cleaning up.

Wasn’t much in there. A desk and chair with peeling vinyl. Wonky bookshelves full of dusty ring binders. A heavy combination safe.

Came back with a bag of bones. Just little ones but still with a fair amount of red on. Gus went all moon-eyed and slobbery. Looked full derpy on a Staffy.

A bucket of water and soap were next. Jesus. Couldn’t remember the last time I’d touched real soap. Noodles set them down on my side of the desk, moved around to the chair.

If I was gonna bail, now was the time.

I watched him watching me. ‘Your choice,’ he said.

Wasn’t real keen about being inside till he told me I could leave the door open.

Hadn’t really known what to expect but was pretty sure this wasn’t it. Even the wet-dog stink of the carpet made it feel like home.

Maybe it did to him too.

I washed my hands, my face, my neck. I’d have done my hair too but I didn’t want to risk pissing him off. Pushing the bucket aside, I looked him in the eye.

‘Done this before?’ he asked.

I shook my head. Hoped it went in my favour.

‘Okay,’ he said, undoing his fly. ‘Give me your hand.’

Didn’t take long to show me what he liked. Talked the whole time about pressure, speed, tongue versus thumb, mouth versus hand. It was over quicker than I expected.

After, he pulled a framed photo out of the desk drawer. Stared at it creepish long before asking my name.

I told him ‘M’. Decided I liked it.

‘Em? Like for Emma?’

He thought I was a girl. Sometimes that’s a good thing. Girls get more handouts. They’re also easier targets. I’m young and skinny enough to pass for either so long as you don’t go feeling me up.

When I didn’t answer, he shrugged. ‘I’ll call you Empty,’ he said. ‘Em for Empty.’

I’ve called him Fool ever since, but I wasn’t daft enough to say it out loud. When you find someone willing to feed you, you don’t hand them a reason to stop. Not even when things start smelling ripe.

Before last night he never seemed to care if I swallowed or spat. He never hurt me either. Hardly touched me at all. This time was different.

Soon as I went to work on him, he started yabbering at me. He always was a great talker— during. But this was something else. Didn’t sound like instructions. Wasn’t even sure it was English.

Arms waving, gut heaving, it was all I could do to stay with him. Was thinking about stopping when he grabbed the back of my head, pulled me forward. I realised then that he was crying. Even him whining outside on the porch. as I struggled not to choke, the crying bothered me more than anything. Maybe Gus too—I could hear

When Fool was done I didn’t want to look at him. He kept snuffling, wiping at his nose while he groped for the bag of food. He set it down and reached for a second bag. Inside were an overcoat and a pair of too-bright Nikes.

Presents? I tried not to think about what that might mean.

I pulled out the coat. Black. Heavy wool. Warmer than everything else I owned put together. If I stayed low a few days it’d reek of gutter leavings and foot-rot. Enough to blend in, go unnoticed. But those shoes were gonna be trouble.

Wouldn’t be bagging any freebies. Not wearing a month’s food money on my feet. Wasn’t stupid enough to try selling them either. Fastest way to a bad end, that one.

Maybe I could keep the coat, leave the shoes.

Fool wouldn’t take no for an answer. He shoved the bag at me, gestured at my worn-out boots. Soon as I had them off, he threw them in the hopper. Didn’t mind that so much. Garbage wouldn’t be collected for almost a week. I’d be back to get them before then.

He hung around like always, watching us eat. I got to thinking maybe things might go back to normal. Not happening. Instead of leaving us to it when we finished eating, this time he stayed. Even followed us out the alley when we left. Didn’t say a word, but I felt the weight of his gaze track me up the street.

A block further on it started to rain. Heavy drops pelted my face. Some part of me wanted to stand there, let the water wash everything away.

Gus was having none of it. He took off down the street. I wasn’t surprised. He knew better than me where to find shelter.

Part way along, he pulled up short, ducked down a narrow lane. He’d seen what I hadn’t. Five or six hoods taking shelter in a bus stop. They might have missed him but my feet were like glow-worms. One guy stood up, shouted.

I went after Gus, picked up his lead. Backstreets round here were a maze of switchbacks. We’d be gone, so long as we made the first coupla corners. Rain thrumming off the awnings, I didn’t think they’d chase for long.

Turned out they didn’t have to.

Gus skidded full-pelt round a corner, straight into a junkie cutting lines. White powder punched out into the open, fell back to the ground as rain. Only score he’d likely find on a night turned sour, gone.

Gangs are bad if you get caught, but they’re not that hard to avoid. Addicts are something else.

Angry red splotches covered this one’s face. He was riding pretty close to the edge.

I held out my hands, tried backing away.

Two steps and he had me hard against a wall, hands fisted together in the front of my coat. He lifted a knee, caught me in the gut.

My breath woofed out, doubled me over. A second knee up under my chin snapped my head back into the wall. My knees crumpled, I went down.

Gus loomed up out of the dark, latched onto my attacker’s arm. It was never gonna be enough.

A dull blade glinted murder in the night. Red ran thin in the downpour. Once, twice, three times. Greyness grew around me and I lost count. By then it didn’t matter. Gus lay as still as me.

The sound of his whimpers drew me back. I’d been hearing them for some time. Soft and forlorn, like the puppy noises he made the night we met. They tugged at me now like they had then, dragging me back to myself.

Don’t know how long we lay there, together but apart. It was the apartness I couldn’t stand. Shoes were gone and I hurt all over but far as I could tell I wasn’t cut. I pushed myself up, crawled to Gus. All the while his stump of a tail thumped the cold asphalt.

Just as I reached him the rain stopped. Pink froth bubbled from his nose. A pool too thick to wash away lay dark beneath his gut. I draped an arm across his shoulders, drew my body up around his. He relaxed into me, whimpers calming as he began to drift.

He passed sometime before dawn.

Next day I held onto him. Watched that scene play out on an endless loop. Tried to change it in my head, give it a happy ending. I couldn’t do it. Kept coming back to those fucking shoes.

After dark I duffled Gus in my coat, carried him across my shoulders. Wearing threadbare socks not yet grown into my skin, I went back to see Fool.

If I’d gone up the alley I’d have seen it straight away. But I’d come down the street, right to the front door. I wanted to be seen struggling under the weight. Wanted people to wonder why I was there.

Safety tape blocked the front of the building but I didn’t want to believe. I’d been smelling it of course. Wet ash, burnt wood. Claggy but sharp, it hung over the whole block.

I hoisted Gus one more time, trudged around to the alley.

The entire back half of the building was gone. Charred beams lay open to the sky. Clumps of twisted metal, glass and tile stood out against the grey.

There’s no way Fool died in the fire. The way the bastard acted, I reckon he did a runner. I hated him for that, but I hated myself more.

I’d gone there wanting to lay Gus at Fool’s feet, watch his face when he saw what he’d done. I’d thought maybe then I’d know what to do. But if I hadn’t got so fucking used to things, I’d have seen it all coming, taken steps. Gus would still be alive.

As it was, I placed his body atop a mound of ashes, draped my new coat around him. I thought about putting him inside the building, but I wanted him to be found. Even if I was the only person who understood why he was there.

I checked the hopper. Boots were right where they landed. I put them on, went to look at the office. Safe was still there. I sat on it, tried to make sense of things. My gaze wandered till I spied the corner of a silver frame poking out of the rubble.

Most of the woman’s head remained undamaged. Below her shoulder one side of the photo had blistered. But you could tell she was wearing a wedding dress.

The fall of her hair, the line of her neck, even the cast of her eyes. I didn’t need a fucking mirror. Any younger and she’d have passed for me.