The Infernal Optimist
I’m fair dinkum,
bloody oath I am
I’ve loved the smell of gum leaves,
since I was in a pram
Some places may be greener,
but I don’t give a damn
’cause I’m fair dinkum,
bloody oath I am
John Williamson, ‘I’m Fair Dinkum’
When I walked outta them gates, I coulda sung for joy. There she was, waiting for me—Marlena, me own little Version a Heaven. She Who I Love, Honour and Try to Obey. She Who Supports Me Through Thick and Thin. She Who I Call She Who For Short, what she is, being even shorter than me. She was sitting in the car, tapping them cute little fingers on the wheel. She got out when she saw me coming. ‘Babydoll,’ I said, opening me arms wide. ‘Give your man a kiss in the Free World.’ What she did.
I’d just thrown me swag in the boot and climbed into the passenger side when she informed me, in no unswerving terms, that it better be the last time she had to collect me from prison. She looked hard at me as she turned the key in the ignition. ‘No more schemes, Zeki. No more deals. No more stealing stuff that doesn’t belong to you.’
I gave her a little poke in the ribs with me elbow. ‘No more getting caught, anyway.’
‘Zeki!’ She turned off the motor and crossed her arms over her chest.
‘Only joking, darl.’ Marlena’s like the Gym of Accusation, I swear. She gets me guilt muscles fully pumped. I swore to her that it was just a joke. I swore that from then on in I was travelling the straight and narrow. I swore it all the way home. I swore it in through the door. I swore it on me knees. I swore it on me grandmother. I swore it on the extra-large pizza I got her to order us for dinner that night.
It was hard work. Finally, She Who believed me and let me do what a man’s gotta do when he gets outta the nick, and that is
relax
. I settled onto the sofa with me woman by me side, the remote in one hand and a stubbie in the other, and switched on the telly. Now, I don’t know much about world politics, and I don’t have no particular feelings for or against the US of A, except I is very keen on Tupac and J-Lo and Snoop Dogg and Tommy Hilfiger what come from there. But when I saw them towers fall, me eyes nearly popped outta me head. I was detonated. What got to me most was the sight a them people falling outta those windows. I’m something of a window specialist meself, and I know all about getting in and outta them. You don’t wanna be doing it from that high off the ground. I looked over at Marlena. Her big eyes were filling with tears.
‘The world’s too scary,’ she said, after we finally managed to stop watching and switched off the telly. ‘I want you here with me. You really, really, really gotta be good from now on, Zek.’
It was time to lighten the mood. The world was fucked—pardon me French—but it didn’t have nuffin to do with us.
‘I am good, darl.’ I patted her on the arse and winked. ‘And I’m gonna show you just how good I is. I’m planning on being good all night long.’
She gave me one a them looks what she and me mum both do perfect, what says they don’t think I be listening to anything they been saying. ‘Zeki.’
‘Darl, I promised you I was going straight. I mean it.’ I winked again. ‘Straight to the bedroom.’
She tried not to smile.
I was doing me best to keep that promise. I got me a nine-to-five as a storeman in a warehouse and everything. But I’m not gonna lie to you, I wasn’t making that much in the warehouse. And you gotta be realistic. You can’t expect a man to get rid of all his bad habits at once. Life don’t work like that. Besides, I wasn’t making that much in the warehouse. I had to sublimate me income somehow. It was only for the short term, I swear.
The trouble began about a month later, one night in October. That night, me and Marlena, we was due at me folks’ for dinner. Me dad had called and said Mum needed cheering up, what Marlena always did for her. Me mum had been pretty stressed since September Eleven. See, it didn’t matter that most Muslims—especially Aussie Mossies like us—were horrorfied by what happened in New York. Every time me mum picked up the phone at the Community Centre where she worked, she got abuse in her ear. Like she done it
herself. Like me mum was Osama bin Laden. I mean, she’s starting to grow a few hairs on her chin, but that’s where the resemblance stops. Someone threw some stones through the window a me brother’s shop, too. And me cousin Tulip, what wears the veil like me mum, she got spat on when she was out shopping. Maaan. I don’t wanna sound like no hippy, or be in labour with the point, but I don’t see why we can’t all get along. Me, I don’t care whether you’re a Chinaman or a Paki or Eye-tie or any other sort a wog—we can all be friends. She Who is a Christian, by the way.
That afternoon, I phoned Marlena and told her to meet me at the station at six. That gave me enough time, I reckoned, to meet a man about a dog first. It wasn’t really about a dog, but you know what I mean. I was doing the deal, what involved a few mobiles, a laptop and a watch, when I happened to look at the watch, what was on me wrist. It said five to six. That didn’t give me a lot a time for negotiating. I had to run then, and when I got to the station—one what didn’t have its ticket barriers up yet—I could see the train coming. It was a cool night. Down on the platform, She Who was shivering in her fleecy top, looking round and smacking a rolled-up magazine against her palm like it was me own hairy bottom.
I raced up just as the train pulled into the platform. ‘Sorry, darl,’ I go. I kissed her on the cheek, what was cold.
‘Hmph.’
We found a seat in the downstairs part a the carriage. She plopped down all sulky. Her hair, what is pretty, fell in front of her face.
‘C’mon, babydoll. Give your daddy a kiss.’ I went to tickle her under her chin but she jerked her head away. I caught a whiff a her perfume what was full a flowers like me nan’s garden. ‘You smell sweet, babydoll.’
‘Where’d you get that watch?’
Shit. I wasn’t sposed to keep that.
‘Like it? It’s yours.’
‘It’s a man’s watch.’ She looked closer at it and frowned. ‘It looks very expensive.’ She was looking at me all suspicious. Sometimes, I swear, she be like me own personal lady cop.
‘It was on special.’ In factuality, it was on this bloke’s side table, in full view of an open window, what was pretty special from me own point a view, but I wasn’t gonna go into unnecessary detail.
It was then that the pair a coppers boarded the train.
At first I stressed, cuz I thought the coppers knew about me seeing the man about a dog what wasn’t really a dog, and the watch what wasn’t really me own watch in factuality, but I saw they was just checking tickets, so I relaxed again. After September Eleven, the New South Wales Government put more coppers on the Sydney trains. Makes sense, eh? Like Osama bin Laden was gonna make his next appearance on the express to Bankstown, and New South Wales’s finest could catch him and be heroes like the firemen in New York. But if Osama bin Laden was in the hood, he wasn’t going anywhere near the trains. So the coppers spent most a their time checking people’s tickets and telling them not to put their feet up on the seat.
‘Did you buy a ticket, Zeki?’
‘You worry too much, darl.’
‘I don’t think so. I think I worry the right amount. Maybe I don’t worry enough.’ I could see she was in a puff. ‘Well?’
‘Well what?’ I put on me best, most innocent face, what wasn’t really.
‘Zeki, how many times—’
‘Relax, babe.’ To illustrate how this was done, I flipped over the seat in front so it was facing us and put up me feet. ‘This is the life, eh?’
‘Zeki,’ Marlena said, ‘you do have a ticket, don’t you?’ She wasn’t letting it go. ‘Zeki?!’ I already owed She Who a hundred bucks for paying me last fine, what might a been the reason she was getting so tense on me. She worked this job emptying bedpans and washing floors in the children’s ward at the hospital. Even though she loved kids, the job was pretty terrible and she earned fuck-all—pardon me French. Still, she managed to save. At least when I wasn’t around.
‘Everything’s under control, darl.’ I winked. In factuality, I knew I had to improve on the situation, what was looking as hairy as me auntie Elma’s upper lip. The coppers were moving through the carriage in our direction. ‘Tickets, tickets.’
Marlena pulled her own ticket outta her bag. She looked at me with big eyes and a tight mouth.
I gave her me most charming smile. ‘Chill, darl.’
‘I’m so chilled I’m shivering.’
‘It’s only a ticket. Anyway—anything happens, you don’t know me.’
‘
Zeki
.’ She and Mum, they got the same way a saying me name like it really means something else, like ‘Stop it’ or ‘How could you?’.
‘Shh. Trust me, baby.’
She Who took a breath and opened her magazine. I could tell she was only pretending to read.
The coppers was checking all the people’s tickets. When they got to us, I looked up like I be pleasantly surprised. ‘G’day,’ I go. ‘Howzit goin’?’
One a the coppers had a face like a country boy, what be made a freckles and sunlight. He said ‘G’day’ back. The other, what was older, didn’t say nuffin. He had a face like an arrest warrant. He smelled a belt leather. He was staring at me feet.
‘Mate,’ goes Detective Sergeant Freckles, ‘you know you’re not supposed to put your feet up on the seat.’
‘Oh, mate, I know, I know,’ I go. ‘But I got ankylosing spondylitis, gotta keep me ankles up, you know? Doctor’s orders.’
He looked at me like he wasn’t sure if I be bullshitting him.
Marlena made a noise that sounded like the bark a them small dogs with big ears what are more like rats than dogs. See, her uncle got ankylosing spondylitis. It’s such a funny word that after he told us about it, I went round repeating it for days in all kinds a funny voices, though not in front a him. Not after the first time, anyway. ‘Pardon me,’ she goes, coughing into her fist and frowning. She looked down at the magazine, what had a spread on Brad Pitt and that Friends chick.
‘My brother has ankylosing spondylitis,’ goes the other copper. ‘It’s a disorder of the spine. Nothing to do with ankles.’
‘Maaan!’ I go, like I was fully surprised. ‘I’d better get me a new doctor, eh, mate?’ I put me feet back down on the floor,
giving each one a shake and checking them out like I couldn’t believe they was okay down there. ‘The things them quacks will tell ya.’
I could see Freckles was trying not to smile. His partner wasn’t laughing. ‘You wouldn’t be carrying a train ticket now, would you?’
‘Aw, look, mate, I’m not gonna lie to you. It’s like this—I forgot.’
‘Do you forget often?’ This from Freckles, me mate.
‘Yeah, actually.’ I figured I might as well be honest. ‘Bit of a bad habit.’
‘Ever been in trouble with the law?’ Bad Cop asked.
‘Mate. I’ve been Inside four times. But I’m clean now.’ What was almost true.
Bad Cop nodded and asked to see me ID. I gave him me driver’s licence. He walked over to the door of the carriage to call it in. Freckles apologised. ‘Sorry, just protocol.’
‘I know, mate,’ I go. ‘Just doin’ yer job.’
‘So,’ Freckles goes, ‘what were ya in for?’
‘B ’n’ E. Hot goods. That kinda thing.’
‘Hot goods?’ The copper laughed. ‘Stoves and microwaves and stuff like that, mate?’
I grinned. ‘You got it, mate.’ I was thinking this was going all right when the other bloke returned.
‘Right-ee-oh, Mr Togan. Gonna have to ask you to come back to the station with us.’
‘Mate, sir, me folks are expectorating me. Big family dinner. Rellies gonna be there, me nan, you know what it’s like. Give me a fine for not having a ticket, fair enough. But I
didn’t do nuffin. I’m telling ya, I’m clean as a whistle. Cleaner probably. People spit into whistles.’
Marlena wasn’t pretending to read no more.
‘She with you?’
‘Never saw her before in me life,’ I go, giving her the once-over. ‘Though I wouldn’t mind an introduction.’ I winked at Freckles and whispered, ‘Quite a foxy lady, what d’ya reckon?’ Freckles frowned. Both coppers quizzed She Who Don’t Deserve This with them eyes. She stared down at her magazine what had a pitcher a Tom Cruise and that Spanish chick with the same name, except in Latino, while her cheeks turned as pink as that pickle what they got in Leb shops.
The train was approaching a station. ‘Coming?’ Bad Cop asked, what wasn’t really a question.
Just as we got to the end a the carriage, I turned and called out to Marlena, ‘Tell me folks I ran into some friends, darl. I’ll be a little late.’
When we got to the cop shop, these two blokes what was wearing suits and ties was there waiting for me. One was chewing gum. He popped it when I walked in. The blokes nodded to the coppers, what nodded back. Now I was really beginning to panic. I thought maybe they did know about the man and the dog what wasn’t a dog in factuality after all. I eased the sleeve a me shirt down over the watch what wasn’t really me watch.
‘Zeki Togan?’
‘That be me,’ I said, holding out me hand for shaking, what the blokes didn’t do. So I turned it into a move from me
hip-hop repertoire and kinda pointed at each a them in turn as I asked, ‘And who do I got the honour of addressing?’
‘We’re from the Department of Immigration.’
I almost laughed out loud then. ‘Thanks for the service, mate,’ I told them, ‘but you’re a bit late. I immigrated here with me family when I was six months old. That was a long time ago. And now, speaking a late, if you’ll be excusing me, I gotta go to exactly that very same family, what be firing up the barbie—’ I looked at me watch, remembering too late it wasn’t exactly me own watch, ‘right about now.’ I turned to go. The guy what was chewing gum grabbed me wrist and, before I had time to react, slapped on a pair a cuffs.
‘What’re ya doin’?!’ I reckoned they’d worked out it wasn’t me own watch after all, but you always gotta act innocent, specially when you ain’t.
‘We’re taking you into Immigration Detention.’
I almost laughed again. ‘You got the wrong guy.’ I thought I knew the one they were probably looking for. One a me rellies from the Old Country was in Australia on a tourist visa what finished two years ago. He was washing dishes at me uncle Baris’s kebab shop for cash wages—not that I was gonna dob him in or nuffin. I may be a crim, but I got me honour.
‘No, I think we’ve got the right one.’ The first bloke popped his gum again and signalled to the second one. ‘Wanna read Mr Togan his bedtime story?’
The second Immigration bloke held up a piece of paper and began to read. ‘According to Section 501 of the
Migration Act 1958…
’ I looked over at Freckles, what was looking
down at some paperwork like it suddenly be very interesting, like it just grew a pitcher a girls with bikinis on. Then I looked at Bad Cop, what looked straight back and seemed to be enjoying himself. The wind banged a tree branch on the window but no one seemed to notice but me. Two lady coppers walked past the door of the office we was in. One said something what I couldn’t hear and the other laughed. They were babes. I’ve always had a soft spot for a woman in uniform, what I seen a lot of in me time. Somewhere in the station they was making coffee. It smelled good. I wondered if they had any doughnuts. Coppers always had doughnuts, even on TV. I wouldn’t a minded a doughnut. I like to eat when I’m stressed and I was feeling mighty stressed, what is a natural reaction to being cuffed, specially when you done nuffin to deserve it, what in my case was for once. The Immigration guy was still reading from that piece a paper. ‘…powers to deport non-citizens who…’ It was all Greek to me, what, being Turkish by originality, I didn’t understand a word of.
But something he was saying snagged in me ear. ‘Noncitizen?’ I said. ‘But I’s a…’ Then I stopped. I was gonna say that I was a citizen. Then I remembered that, in factuality, I wasn’t. See, when me family immigrated, we was given permanent residence. When I was nineteen, Mum and Dad decided we should all take out citizenship. You shoulda seen the queue at Immigration. It was a hot day, and hotter inside than out. I couldn’t be arsed waiting in there with all them other wogs just for a piece a paper, specially on a day like that. It’d be hours before it got to be our turn. So I told me
folks I was going to the toilet and nipped off to the pub to put away a few coldies. I ran into some mates. One thing led to another, and by the time I remembered about getting back to Immigration, it was eleven o’clock that night. I told me folks I’d go back the next day but never got around to it. Boy, did me dad give me a walloping over that.
They were all staring at me. ‘Did you have something to say?’ The Immigration bloke what been reading that paper drummed his fingers on the desk. I realised me gob was hanging open. I shut it.
And so, as it turned out, I wasn’t late for dinner that night. I never got there at all. I got to Villawood Immigration Detention Centre instead.