Riggs Crossing by Michelle Heeter

Author:Michelle Heeter [Heeter, Michelle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781921665707
Google: oS92MAEACAAJ
Publisher: Hybrid Publishers
Published: 2012-09-15T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 30

When I wake up the next morning, the first thing I see is the shopping bag with the wok inside. I remember the Westgardens Metro. I remember the ugly red brick block of flats.

The problem with living in this place is you can’t follow things to their natural conclusion. Yesterday, when I saw that block of flats that I recognised, the logical thing to do would have been to get out of the van and take a closer look. But I couldn’t do it, because I would have had to explain to Lyyssa why I wanted to look at a block of flats that’s especially ugly, and because it would have interrupted our shopping trip, and because Karen probably would have pissed her pants.

Actually, that would have been funny. We could have knocked on the door of the stringy-haired Loser and asked if Karen could use his toilet. Then she could weigh herself on that stupid Mickey Mouse scale of his, then the scale would break because Karen’s so fat, then Karen would cry, then Lyyssa would apologise profusely, and invite the Loser to hop in the van with us to come to the Westgardens Metro, where she’d buy him a new scale. And then I could say, ‘Excuse me, Lyyssa, but perhaps the man would prefer a kitchen scale instead of a bathroom scale. You never know what he uses it for.’

My imagination’s running away with me. I’m going to find that building.

It’s not that far to Marrickville, but once I get there I can’t exactly remember where the block of flats was. I end up on the main shopping street, which is a lot more interesting than the Westgardens Metro. There’s an aquarium shop that sells goldfish for $2.50 and fish that look like miniature sharks for $49.95. There are lots of smelly butcher shops, with lights shining on the meat to make it look even redder. There are Asian supermarkets selling fish balls and bunches of leafy cabbage and stuff that you can’t even tell what it is with Chinese writing on the packet. There are two-dollar shops selling clothes pegs and storage containers and cheap clocks and a battery-operated red and gold cat that waves its paw at you and fake jewels to paste on your fingernails and plastic ice cubes that light up and flash blue, red or green when you put them in a glass of something cold. There’s a doctor’s surgery with no-hopers going in and coming out. There are stern warnings posted in the window of the surgery about how you must bring your Health Care card with you, and that no drugs of addiction or money are kept on the premises. There’s a curtain store. I can hear the lady inside talking on the phone.

There’s a Target. I ignore it. There’s a McDonald’s. I ignore that, too. I go off into a daydream and somehow end up at a supermarket called Banana Joe’s, where I go in to buy a bottled water and maybe a muesli bar or yogurt.

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