Give Way To Pedestrians

I was up at 5.45am. I left the house at 6.15am. It was overcast and muggy and it was one of those mornings where it felt like it might rain at any moment.

As it was early, the streets were relatively empty. I was making good progress to work down Gisborne Street. I walked down passed St Patrick’s Cathedral and was starting to cross Cathedral Place, you know, where Gisborne Street does a slight dogleg off to the right.

A woman, in her cheap purple Hyundai Excel and a prematurely ageing face, an emaciated Cruella Deville behind the wheel, came flying into Cathedral Place as I was crossing. When I put my arms in the air and gave her a wide-eyed, questioning look, she shook her head, as if in disgust, and accelerated steering around me, as I yelled after her. 

"Give way to pedestrians, it is the law,” I called after her. 

I spun around on my heel.

"You fucking idiot," I said, but she was gone.

Of course, I plotted her death all the way down MacArthur Street.

I wished I'd said, ugly cunt, you know, if there was some way, she’d have heard that. (I know. What can I say? Trotting out the C word, I was furious) Rake thin, with lank blond hair and a face as if she’d smoked a billion cigarettes in her life time, staring at me from behind the steering wheel.

I thought about her all day. I screwed my hands into fists when I did.

I was up at 5.30am. I left the house at 6am. People live their lives in ordered patterns, for the most part, I thought. I wondered if my purple Hyundai Excel drive was the same. I was going to wait and find out.

I ran the scenario through my head as I walked. I’d wait at the gates to St Pats, the gates to god, I grimaced myself. The entrance to hell, that made me smile, sly pursed lips.

It was about 6.30am yesterday, would it be about 6.30am this morning?

I made good progress down Gisborne Street and I was at the gates to hell in plenty of time. I stood with my back to the thick iron bars and waited.

And then, almost exactly at the same time as yesterday, I could see the purple sedan coming down Gisborne Street. She put on her left indicator and steered into Cathedral Place.

I stepped away from the gates and strode into the middle of the street.

I had my umbrella in my hand, and as the car sped past me, I shoved the metal tip into the passenger’s side door, the connection was sweet, nails down a blackboard, leaving a metre long gouge in her paint work. That made her stop, surprise, surprise.

She leapt out of her car. "What the fuck have you done to my car?" She pointed to her door.

I shrugged, it was very satisfying. "Every time you look at that you'll remember to give way to pedestrians." 

"I want your name and number to fix my car." 

“I want you to obey the law, but I didn’t get that either.” 

I turned away and walked off. She was screaming after me. "I'll call the police." 

“Call them.” I kept walking. I don't think the police would come. She was still yelling as her voice became unintelligible somewhere in the distance behind me. I didn't look back.

I was up at 5.30am again, the next morning. I left the house at 6am. I got a good pace up Victoria Parade and turned into Gisborne Street when it was still dark. I liked that cloak under which to operate.

I wanted to see how effective my action was yesterday. It meant nothing if it didn’t change anything. You have to be willing to go the ‘extra yard,’ as my grandma used to say, if you want to change people.

I wanted to change her. I wanted to change her for the good of society. I thought of her as my nemesis. Fixated? No, I would exactly say that. A warrior for good, that’s what I’d call myself. 

I liked that, I thought to myself, as I stood up against the wrought iron gates once more.

I tapped my foot, as I waited. The morning air was crisp and clean.

At 6.30am, I could see the small purple sedan coming down Gisborne Street. I quickly stepped out onto the road.

She sped into Cathedral Place still with no regard for me. I had to step out of the way as her car blasted through the intersection, otherwise she would have run me down. Again. 

Nothing had changed.

She laughed at me having to dodge her. “Get out of my way,” she called out the window. 

"Give way to pedestrians, you ugly cunt." There, I’d said it.

Her car screeched to halt and she got out of her car. "What the fuck did you call me?" 

I turned to face her. "Oh, I'm sorry, did you not hear me?" I stepped towards her. "I called you an ugly cunt, your actions confirm it."

"Fuck you," she screeched. She pushed me in the middle of the chest with both her hands, I staggered back a couple of steps, nearly falling backwards. 

That made me angry, I'd been mildly amused up until this point. It was a bit of a game. I felt the surge of anger come up from the pit of my stomach, through my chest and down my arms. I pushed her back as hard as I could. “Don’t push me,” she yelped.

She stumbled backwards and fell, hitting her head on the bottom of her car door as she went down, which I thought was suitably ironic. She was out cold.

"Give way to pedestrians," I said. “That is the law."

She was lying in the middle of the intersection, legs akimbo, like a bag of shit having been dropped from a great height. I wondered if she was dead? What had I done? My head spun. The Catholics could look after her, of course that would only happen if she was a Catholic. That thought made me chuckle, despite the situation. Catholics don’t save lives, they save souls.

I turned and walked away. I didn’t look back. I’ve always been able to walk away and not look back. Friends, lovers, drivers who push my buttons, it makes no difference. It is a skill, a very good skill to have. 

I caught myself making boxing fists. I stopped myself. Relaxed my hands. I looked around to see if there is anyone around who saw me, there was not. People don’t notice unless it is about them, anyway, I reassured myself.

I crossed the lights at Spring Street and slipped into the shadows of the CBD.

Omelettes, eggs. Omelettes, eggs. Omelettes, eggs, is all I could think, as I, if I said hurried that would be way over estimating it, stepped up the pace along Collins Street.

Then I thought about CCTV cameras, and I started looking around for them. At 101 Collins Street, I got on an old number 12 tram, no CCTV cameras on an old tram and it sailed down the Collins Street hill to work delivering me on time.

That night I couldn’t wait for the news. Nothing, nothing, nothing and then there it was. Woman assaulted outside St Patrick’s Cathedral, Urzila Grimwald, 35, HR coordinator, from Epping. 

Ur, zila, all I could think was daughter of… and every other zilla said, “Ur,” the moment they set eyes on her. That made me chuckle.

She thanked God, just before she was taken away in an ambulance for observation.

Observation? What did that mean? That meant that she sustained no permanent injuries, I assumed. I was thankful and disappointed all at the same time. She wasn’t the victim here, is all I could think.

“What an awful thing to happen to such a nice lady,” said the news reader.

“What nice lady?” I thought.

“If anyone has further information regarding this crime,” said the news reader. “Please call Crime Stoppers on 1800 333 000.”

My first thought was that the world can’t be allowed to think of Ur Zila as a nice woman, which she was not. She is just not.

Could I call Crime Stoppers and do a kind of reverse report, saying she wasn’t the nice one?

Ha ha, I decided the best thing to do was just to let it go. Unless the police arrive, it was time to forget all about Urzila Grimwald from Epping.

Some weeks later, I was making good time down Gisborne Street in the dark of the morning. I’d be at work early, which was what I want. As I approached Cathedral Place, I glanced over my shoulder as I stepped on to the road way and I was shocked to see the purple Hyundai Excel approaching me at a rapid rate.

I stepped onto the road, Urzila swerved around me at breakneck speed, screeching to a halt just passed me a little. She got out of the car slamming the door.

“You pushed me and I fell over hitting my head, then you left me for dead,” she screamed at me.

“Urzila?” I said. I immediately thought of Seinfeld and, “Newman!”

“What have you got to say for yourself,” she demanded.

“I see you have made a full recovery,” I said.

“Yes, I have,” she yelled “Give me your name, I’m going to give it to the police.”

“I want you to obey the law and give way to pedestrians,” I said. “But I don’t get that either.”

“I don’t need to give way to you,” she screamed. “I have right of way.”

“No, you don’t,” I said. “Cars give way to pedestrians.”

“There is no crossing here,” she yelled. “There are no white lines on the road.”

“It is an intersection,” I said. “You have to give way to pedestrians at an intersection, I don’t know why drivers don’t know this fact.”

“That’s not true,” she wailed again. “I have right of way.”

So, I brought the rules up on my phone, in the dark, in the middle of Gisborne Street and Cathedral Place intersection at 6.35am. And she looked at it. She took the phone from my hand and read it again. Then she brought the information up on her phone.

“Well,” she said. Wide eyes. “I didn’t know that.”

“Now you do,” I said. “And the world is a little safer.” I felt my mouth grimace. “Hopefully.”

“Well?” she said.

“Well?” I said.

“You mean, all this time, we could have been friends?”

“Friends?” I questioned. “I guess.”

Homeless Jayden

Aaron, is a very pretty, athletic Aboriginal boy with a penchant for straight white guys. He is cheeky, some may say naughty, and is full of confidence. He’d get to know the “straight” guy, usually, do a workout at the gym with him, go to his favourite coffee shop, sit out the afternoon. Go out to a straight bar and get drunk together. Get to know them, befriend them. 

“Sure, that’s what I want, a nice bit of white boy,” says Aaron. “The heart wants what the heart wants.”

Aaron is walking up Smith Street with his two best mates, Rudi B, a handsome, muscular Asian boy and Trash, a handsome Italian boy, heading out for brunch.

“So, what happened to you last night?” asks Trash. “You disappeared.”

“Oh, you know,” says Aaron.

“That guy you met…”

“Nice he was too,” says Aaron. 

“You go back to his place?”

“All night,” says Aaron. “He was good.” Aaron laughed. “Good at it…”

“You mean getting topped,” says Rudi B.

“Bareback,” says Trash.

“No, I don’t use condoms,” says Aaron. “Isn’t everybody undetectable now a days?”

Aaron is gorgeous with his huge sparkling eyes, his perfect white teeth and his cheeky smile, people just naturally fall under his spell.

Aaron met Rudi B, and Trash when he first came out on the Melbourne gay scene a few years previously. They have been best friends ever since.

It is early, sitting in Smith Street, outside Coles with a begging cap sitting in front of him, is Jayden, a homeless youth, a housemate who got behind on his rent, a straight boy in pretty desperate circumstances. He has on black, three white striped Adidas tack suit pants, which are tight on his muscular legs and a blue hoodie, the hood of which is pulled up over his head. It is cold in Smith Street, and Jayden is rubbing his muscular thighs. 

Jayden looks mournfully at the passes by with his big, blue eyes, but he doesn't speak.

Aaron notices Jayden's big, blue eyes.

Aaron, Rudi B. and Trash have been up all night smoking pot and chatting about the great things they are going to do. That was before Aaron disappeared late.

Aaron is a writer, Rudi B is a talented singer, and Trash is a male hooker. Aaron wrote Rudi B some lyrics to a song. They are full of confidence and bravado.

They walk past Jayden, who looks mournful as normal. Aaron stops. 

"What's your name?" He pulls a packet of cigarettes from his pocket and slides it into his mouth.

"You talking to me?" says Jayden.

“Yes.”

“What?”

"What's your name?"

"Why?"

Aaron shrugs. "Just trying to be friendly."

"Come on," says Rudi B.

"Jayden."

"You have beautiful eyes," says Aaron.

"Let's go," says Trash.

"I'm homeless," says Jayden. He points to the cap in front of him.

"Show me your cock and I'll give you some money," says Aaron.

"What?" says Jayden.

"Aaron," both Rudi B. and Trash say in unison.

"It was a simple question," says Aaron.

Aaron pulls a five dollar not from his pocket. He thought he had a larger note and immediately regrets not having one.

"You're kidding, mate," says Jayden.

"You got something bigger," Aaron says to his friends. Rudi B pulls out a twenty, Trash pulls a fifty from his pocket. Trash always has money (immigrant parents did good). Aaron takes the $50 from Trash’s hand. "A twenty," he says to Jayden.

"A fifty?" Jayden repeats. He hasn't eaten since yesterday.

Aaron lowers it towards Jayden's cap.

Jayden looks up and down Smith Street, there is nobody else on the footpath. He sighs deeply, wearily, as if he accepts what his life has come to. He grabs the front of his track pants and pulls then away from his stomach, exposing his white underwear and his thick slug, curled to the left.

"Very nice," says Aaron.

"Woo hoo," says Trash.

Rudi B. whistles.

Aaron drops the note into Jayden's cap. Jayden lets go of the front of his track pants.

"You sure are pretty," says Aaron.

Jayden blushes noticeably. "Thanks," he says. He gazes up at Aaron with his big blue eyes. “You are too.”

Aaron smiles at the compliment.

"You shouldn't keep that hidden away," says Trash.

"How do you know he does?" says Rudi B.

"You should sit here in your undies," says Aaron. "You'd get more money."

Jayden shivers visibly at the suggestion. "It's a bit fucking cold for that, isn’t it. Mate?"

Aaron shrugs. He thinks Jayden is adorable. "Just trying to help," says Aaron. He smiles, at the thought of Jayden in his undies, more than at his own kindness.

Aaron thinks, Jayden is not recoiling, he is not becoming aggressive, or abusive, Aaron is impressed. But, what could he do. It is just a moment, and this too shall pass, in a few moments, to be sure.

"What's your story?" asks Aaron.

"What?" says Jayden.

"Your story," Aaron repeats. "How did you get..." he hesitates, he wonders if he is being condescending, "here? Showing strange boys your cock?”"

"Oh Aaron," says Rudi B.

Jayden's eyes dart from Rudi B to Aaron. "I'm homeless and hungry," says Jayden. "What else is there to know." He smiles for the first time. Aaron thinks Jayden has a beautiful smile, to match those gorgeous eyes.

"Come on," says Trash.

"Is that true?" asks Aaron.

"Why else would I be sitting here?" says Jayden.

"Money," says Aaron.

Jayden snorts through his nose and looks away. "If only that were true."

Rudi B. pulls at Aaron's arm. He lets Ruby pull him away from Jayden.

"Good luck," says Aaron. The three friends walk away. Aaron looks back several times. Jayden smiles at him again. He raises his hand in the air and waves by opening his fingers wide.

“He was adorable,” Aaron says.

“A bit of rough trade,” says Trash.

“You got to stop hitting on straight boys,” says Rudi B. “It is not going to get you anywhere.”

“I dunno,” says Aaron. “Who says he’s straight?”

“I do,” says Trash and Rudi B. together.

“I think he is a week’s worth of dinners past caring what he has to do for a meal.”

“Anything?”

“Anything?”

“How many straight boys are going to show you their cock?”

 “Hungry ones,” says Rudi B.

“And what a cock,” says Trash. “He reminded me of Billy C the footballer.”

“You did it with Billy?” asks Rudi B.

“I can still feel it how thick it was,” says Trash. He visibly shivers.

“I think I’m in love,” says Aaron.

Rudi B. and Trash groan.

“Don’t be like that,” says Aaron. "He was a good look," 

"He'd make tons more money sucking the old guys off down the train station bog."

"That takes a certain skill," says Aaron.

"Yeah, like divorcing your emotions," says Rudi B.

"Nah," says Trash. "It is only the first one that is difficult, after that it's just open wide, and give me the cash."

“Why would you?” asks Aaron.

“You know I have daddy issues,” says Trash.

“He’d make even more money if the old guys do him over the bathroom wash basin.” 

“Trash!” says Rudi B. “That’s…” 

“Don’t say sad,” says Trash. “It’s the old guys with all the money, and when I am looking in the other direction, I can imagine them as whoever I like.” 

“Sad,” says Rudi B. 

“And cocks don’t get old…” 

“Especially with the little blue pills.” Aaron holds a foil pack in the air. 

“You take them too?” says Rudi B. 

“Not so much me,” says Aaron. “As those guys who want a piece of this.” Aaron slaps his arse. 

“You boys,” says Rudi B. 

“What are you talking about?” asks Trash. “You tellin' me you don’t like a hard man inside you.” 

“As much as the next girl,” says Rudi B. 

“Well, what’s with the attitude,” says Aaron. 

“Old men in public toilets…” 

“Don’t knock it until you try it,” says Trash. 

“Try it,” says Rudi B incredulously. 

“There’s nothing like your feet off the ground, and the cold hard feel of porcelain in your abdomen, as your filled up as full as you think you can get with a big hard piece that you are never really sure how far it is going to get in ya,” says Aaron. 

“Every second meaning another dollar,” says Trash. 

“Split me wide,” says Aaron. 

“Another $100 and you can do me raw…” 

Aaron and Rudi B both look at Trash nervously. 

“I’ve got prep, what’s the big deal?” 

“You letting guys cum up your arse?” asks Rudi B. 

“You don’t let guys cum in you?” asks Trash. 

“Guys I really like, sure,” says Rudi B. “But not guys I have just met and who I’m screwing for money, no.” 

Trash shrugs. “What’s the difference, a dinner and a kiss good night?” 

“You let boys cum inside you?” Rudi B asks Aaron.

“Not on a first date, no,” says Aaron.

“Don’t be so fucken precious,” says Trash. “It is just an arse, everybody got one.”

Aaron lies in bed that night staring at his ceiling. He was nice and warm, he wondered if Jayden was warm? Those eyes, those eyes he couldn’t get out of his head. What was he doing? Aaron laughs self consciously to himself. Why couldn’t he help him? Why is it ridiculous to think he could help him?

Aaron gets out of bed. He pulls on yesterday’s undies and jeans. He pulls on yesterday’s t-shirt. He pulls on his jacket.

Aaron goes out late and finds Jayden sleeping rough in Collingwood, just behind where Aaron first saw him.

“Hey you,” says Aaron.

“What do you want?” asks Jayden.

“I’m here to take you home, you know, a warm shower, clean cotton sheets.”

“I see,” says Jayden. “And why?”

“A cuter boy I never did see,” says Aaron. “I think I fell instantly in love… as did you.”

“Who says I fell in love with you?”

“I do?”

“To your bed?”

“To my bed.”

“So,” says Jayden. “That is very confidant, I have to say.”

“I go after the things I like.”

“Does your bed mean I am required to… um, thank you? In a certain way?”

“Yeah. Sure. Maybe,” says Aaron. “If you want to.”

“Essentially for board and loggings?”

“You will be getting the deluxe deal.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“My mum helps people,” says Aaron. “I want to do the same.”

“She doesn’t help, in the way your proposing…”

“Okay. I’m helping in my own way.”

Jayden sits and holds eye contact with Aaron. Aaron holds eye contact with Jayden.

“But, to be clear, I’d have to do things?”

“Yeah…”

“With you?”

“Oh, Jesus mate, only if you want to,” says Aaron. “You don’t have to.”

“But then you wouldn’t help?”

“I help you, you keep me warm at night, yeah, that’s the deal.”

“How do you know I…”

“I just know, hey?” says Aaron. “Good judge of character, you might say.”

They head to Aaron’s place together, up Smith Street to the end and through the park. 

“What happened to you?” asks Aaron.

“What do you mean?”

“To be out here?”

“There’s a lot to explain? says Jayden.

“So, explain?” says Aaron.

“My mum, she’s a great lady, but has problem with booze… and drugs… and men,” says Jayden. “Every other day I have had a new dad, the last one liked coming into my room, at night…”

“Oh, that’s shit, says Aaron.”

“Mum didn’t believe me, and it was just easier to leave.”

“You finish school?” asks Aaron.

“Yeah, year 12,” says Jayden. “Now I’m just considering my options.”

“You’re funny,” says Aaron. “We’re here.” 

Aaron’s house is a big old run down white weatherboard with peeling paint with a big barren front garden. 

The two guys go inside.

Aaron leads Jayden to his bedroom.

“I need a shower,” says Jayden.

“Sure,” says Aaron.  “I’ll take your dirty laundry.”

“Huh?” says Jayden.

“Take your clothes off,” says Aaron. “I’ll washed them.”

Jayden takes his shirt off. Aaron stands and watches him. “And your pants, come on.” Jayden takes his jeans off. “And your jocks, come on.” Jayden drops his jocks. He stands naked in front of Aaron, with both hands covering his genitals.

“Come on.” Aaron takes Jayden by the hand and leads him out of the room.

“I’ve got nothing on.”

“Don’t worry, they’ve all seen it before.”

“What?” Jayden resists. 

Aaron laughs. “No one else is home.”

Aaron leads Jayden to a huge white tiled bathroom. Aaron takes a towel from the cupboard. “This is yours.”

“Thanks,” says Jayden.

Aaron points to the shower. “I’ll put your cloths on to wash.”

Jayden comes back into Aarons room with the towel wrapped around his waist.

Aaron is sitting on the bed. He wolf whistles Jayden.

“You right there, are ya?” says Jayden.

“Look at you,” says Aaron.

Jayden smiles. His blue eyes light up.

Aaron gets up and takes some jocks from one draw and a t-shirt from another draw. “He tosses them at Jayden. “Here, put these on.”

Jayden puts on the t-shirt and jocks and gets into bed with Aaron. Aaron spoons Jayden from behind.

“What do you do?” whispers Jayden.

“I write stories,” Aaron whispers back.

“Are you going to write one about me?”

“Maybe,” says Aaron. “Go to sleep.”