Machines for Feeling by Mireille Juchau

Author:Mireille Juchau [Juchau, Mireille]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: University of Queensland Press

The Embellishment of an Intolerable Life

Dog Boy pushes his way through the people at the bar. Words buzz like flies overhead as he breaks through the bodies, ducks under spicy armpits and scoots around the chests of men. They seem like massive trunks of trees, so little do they shift as he nudges past. Finally he reaches the counter pocked with cigarette burns and ringed with beery sweat. He orders two schooners, and holds the liquid above his head as he passes back through the crowd, scanning the room till he finds them, easy to spot because of Lola, the sparkiest character there, he thinks. She wags her tail in an earnest frenzy, her eyes blinking over-quickly in the smoke.

‘So this is where you’ve been, no news for weeks and here I find you. The pub.’

Dog Boy turns, slopping beer down his grubby forearm, and sees her hollow cheeks, black hair pinned messily on her head, those haunted eyes and their plunging corners.

‘Rien Rien Rien,’ his face becomes entirely animated.

‘I’ll have one of those,’ she takes a schooner from his hand and gulps hungrily. He watches the foam shimmering above her lip, thinks it’s the first time he has seen signs of appetite in her. She used to push her food on journeys around the plates at the Home and would remain behind after the bell, staring listlessly at the congealed masses before her.

‘Thirsty, yeah? I’ll get you another, this is for …’ He jerks his elbow toward Salvatore and Lola, waiting at a table by the blacked-out window.

‘Oh, friends, Dog Boy! New friends. Not part of this,’ she waves at the crush, ‘rugby reunion or whatever it is?’

He shakes his head.

‘So,’ she sniffs, ‘you smell bloody awful, where have you been and what’s this about burning the old place down?’

‘I … yeah, that’s right,’ he lets out a bubbling chuckle, more sudden self-consciousness than amusement, he has forgotten her discomfiting manner, the way she can scrutinise and pronounce in a quick once-over.

‘I’ve been everywhere, Rien, saw the sea – yeah, that’s right, and I found … ah, this beautiful garden, like Eden, rats jumping over the sea wall and across the grass at night.’

‘Eden with rats! But what about this fire? You’re a wanted man, isn’t that right?’ Her fingers pluck bonily at his clothes as if searching for singe marks.

‘Mmm, yeah, I’ll save the story for later. So, you’re okay, you look …’

‘What? Come on, spit it out!’ Beneath the din he heard the guttural sound of something swallowed down her throat.

‘Er, different, I only meant … Mark here?’

‘I am different, Dog Boy.’ She says this importantly, turning to look at the bar. ‘He’s at home. He has projects. I suppose you’ll hear about them. He’s inventing some sort of machine to take him to Planet Indolent.’

Soon they are seated with Salvatore and the tail-thumping Lola. Rien realises she’s met the man before and explains about the bus, the picture of Antonio. Salvatore claps his hands together, feigning recollection; he gives out his pamphlets to so many people he hasn’t a clue who she is.

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