| G'day
Malcolm,
I
hope this letter finds you well. Actually, I'd be very surprised
if this letter finds you at all, as I have no idea where
you are. If you are where I think you are, you'll never
read this, so I might as well spill my guts and tell you
how I see things. The reason I'm writing is, and I'm sorry
if I've turned all soft and sentimental on you, but it's
because I had a dream about you last night. I thought it
was strange considering I haven't seen you for about 7 years.
It
was one of those dreams that happen just before you wake
up. It was really vivid and it wouldn't leave my head all
day. You were young, fresh and thin. You looked like you
did when I first met you at school when we were 14, with
your full goatee, looking old enough to buy grog. In the
dream you were different though. You were clean, and happy,
wearing a neat bright white shirt. Your smile was big and
white against your black skin. You walked up to me with
a smile and gave me a hug. We chatted a while I'm not sure
what about. I noticed that although you were sober, it was
as if the years of alcohol had already taken effect. Your
speech was slow and so was your body. As if the booze had
retarded you. You had lost that sharp, and cutting wit.
You'd also lost that co'ordination. Co'ordination and grace
that could have taken you a long way.
My
Dad would say you were the best he'd ever seen on that footy
field. Truly amazing, you had it all, the big tackles, the
ball skills, the dummy, the fend. Dad reckons you were heaps
better than Dennis. I suppose you'd know Dennis is earning
a mint playing for the London Broncos. I saw him when I
was back home last year. I was very drunk, at the nightclub.
I started crapping on to him about how he was a role model
for the Aboriginal kids, and how he was great for the community
and all that. I may have carried on a bit, but he was cool,
he bought me a rum and coke and himself a water. He told
me he hasn't had a drink in years.
Do
you remember that couple of years when we were mates? Yeah,
we had lots of differences. Of course there was the obvious,
the Aborigine and the white boy thing, but I think the main
difference was that I had a family that cared about me and
you didn't. Despite our differences a bond formed. A bond
of booze perhaps.
I
wish I could have known what was going to happen. We were
just a couple of kids that used to drink in the park.
You were so strong, much stronger than me, hard as hell,
tough as nails. Who could guess that something in a little
bottle could take control of someone as strong as you.
Even if I could tell what was going to happen, there was
no way I could do anything about it, I was a weedy 15
year old white boy, too busy getting pissed to care.
I
knew you went to jail. A few times or just once? I can't
remember what you were in for, assault maybe. I know you
were handy with your fists. You remember that grand'final
when you tore that guys face apart in about three seconds
flat? Left, right, left, right. All the while his mum
was screaming from the sideline. I don't know how many
punches you threw but I remember seeing the massive gash
the guys' tooth left in your fist.
Maybe
you are in jail now. To be honest I'm not about to look
you up. I don't know why but I can't help but think that
you are somewhere else. You were definitely on the way
to the grave the last time I saw you. It was in the street
at home one Christmas. You came up to me and demanded
money. Even if you could have lifted up your head to look
at me I don't think you would have been able to see me
through those puffed up drunken eyes. I gave you 10 bucks
and said "Merry Christmas Mal." You didn't even respond
to your own name, you just wobbled your way to the bottle
shop. You were all but dead.
I
know you didn't believe in all that dreamtime shit, I
know you didn't believe in anything much at all, but I
reckon that's where you are now. I would like to think
that you came to me in my dreams to say good'bye. It will
stay with me, that massive smile, your clean black skin
against that glowing crisp white shirt. It felt good to
give you a hug. You seemed much happier in my dream than
in life.
Scott.
|
