A Mother's Fears by Bounce
Disclaimer: I don't own the TCP concept. The
Crisis Point idea belongs to Rossi.
Note: Thanks to Rossi, Azzy and Mouse Carcass for
Betaing this. Any mistakes still in it are mine
I don't let my kids walk home from school on their own. Not in this area.
Jason is almost 10. He's in Grade 4. He thinks he's old enough to walk
home on his own by now, but I don't think it's safe. Sarah, though, she's
only 6, and in Grade Prep. I wouldn't be letting her walk home on her
own, no matter where we lived.
I walk in the school gates and look over at the footy oval. Jason and his
friends are playing there as usual. They prefer basketball, even play in
a Saturday morning competition, but the bigger boys never let them get a
turn on the court. He leaps, trying to catch the ball and slips on the
wet ground. I wince as he falls flat on his face, in a spray of mud and
water. A moment later he's back on his feet and running after the ball,
jumper and pants covered in mud.
Sarah is waiting for me by the door of her classroom. Someone has put her
hair up into two messy pigtails. "Hi sweetie. Who did your hair?"
"Steph did at Big Play. I want to wear it like this tomorrow too." She
nods her head so the brown curls bounce in their pigtails. The look does
suit her. "And I want to get my ears pierced too! Steph has earrings.
Blue ones. They're really cool and they're all dangly and I want some too."
Steph is an older girl. She's in grade 6. But I'm not going to let my
daughter get earrings just because a girl she hero-worships has them. Not
'til she's older. I shake my head. "You are not getting your ears
pierced. I've already told you that you can't get them done until you're 9."
Sarah's lip quivers for a moment. "But…"
"No."
She nods, knowing when I'm serious. "Okay mum."
I frown. "Did you remember to get your Barbie from the show and tell desk?"
"Yeah." Sarah brightens. "Guess what, Mum! Tom brought his kittens in for
us to see for show and tell today and Tom's mum let us all pat them and
then the kittens' mummy bit Tracy and Tracy said a bad word and then she
was bleeding everywhere and Tracy's not supposed to say bad words, 'cos
she's a teacher and…" She takes a deep breath "…then Lucy had to come in
and put a Band-Aid on Tracy's hand and Tracy said some more bad words
about the cat and then one of the kittens escaped. I helped look for it.
It was the little stripy one and we didn't find it for ages and then
Nigel found it under the bags, on the floor and then it ran away again,
when he tried to catch it. And then Tracy got really mad and said some
more bad words. Like you do, when you're mad at Dad."
Oh hell. She'd heard that? I'd been trying to set a good example by
fighting with Luke outside, where the kids couldn't hear.
"And then we finally got the kitten and Tom's mum said she was really
sorry and that she hoped Tracy was okay. And the kittens were really,
really cute. Can we get a kitten?"
I try to hide my smile. Sarah would think I wanted a kitten if I smiled.
And then we'd never hear the end of it. "No. Buster would try to eat it.
Remember, he tried to eat the rabbits, so we had to send them up to
Grandpa's? And kittens are a lot smaller than rabbits. We'd have to get
rid of Buster if we did."
"Oh. I don't want to get rid of Buster."
"Neither do I." I glance at my watch. It was getting late. I call out:
"Jason! C'mon! It's time to go!" He starts heading over to where we are.
"Mum. Can I stay a bit longer and then walk home after?"
"No. You know that you aren't allowed to walk home on your own. Have you
got your bag?" He nods sullenly and trails after us as we walk out the gate.
"What do you want to get for tea tonight Jase?"
Sarah looks up at me angrily. "Mum! It's my week to choose! Jason got to
choose last time!"
I nod. "And you swapped your turn for his chocolate bar yesterday. Remember?"
"I want to get Macca's," Jason announces. I manage to control my wince.
Sarah would have chosen Turkish and then I would have gotten some too.
Jason thinks McDonalds is the best thing since sliced bread, and he won't
be convinced otherwise. But Thursday is takeaway night, since Luke works
the late shift at the Hospital then. And there are too many arguments if
I choose what we ete every time, as Sarah won't eat Italian, and Jason
hates anything with vegetables in it.
I hold Sarah's hand tightly as we walk past the mutant Community Centre.
There's a young man sitting out the front, reading a book.
"Is he a mutie?"
I glare at Sarah. "Don't call people muties! It isn't nice. And yeah, he
probably is."
Jason stares at the boy, who couldn't have been more than 18, as we walk
past. He blushes bright red under the scrutiny and hurries inside, giving
us a good view of his previously hidden tail.
"Jason! What have I told you about staring at people?"
The boy hangs his head and mutters: "Don't."
I nod and walk a bit faster. I don't like the mutant Community Centre.
Yeah, sure, it's got the neatest yard on the street and always looks well
cared for but you should see some of the people there. And it's too close
to the school. Half the building got destroyed last year: they said a
mutant had lost control of his power. They should have been more careful.
Someone could have gotten hurt. One of the kids from school, even. Most
of them walk down here every morning.
Someone should do something.
***
I pull the car up outside our house and stare out at the pouring rain.
Times like these I really wish we had a place with a covered garage.
I give a small sigh and open the car door and sprint around to the boot,
and tug it open. I manage to snatch up all of the bags of shopping and
the backpack holding my yoga gear in one go. I slam the boot shut and
hurry inside, trying to ignore the rain soaking through my jumper. I
juggle the heavy bags full of groceries and tug the keys back out of my
handbag. The door sticks again, as it often does in winter, when the rain
makes the wood swell up. I twist and manage to shut the door without
dropping anything. "Hello, anyone home?"
I hear Luke's voice coming from the kitchen. "Hey honey." I drag the bags
down the hall and dump them on the table, on top of the Saturday Age's
Property section, which Luke is busy poring over.
"Where are the kids?"
"Sarah is still at her sleepover at Ruby's. Ruby's mother rang up before
and said she'd be dropping her home after lunch. She said they'd been up
till almost one AM."
I wince. Great. Sarah gets really cranky when she's tired.
"And Jason asked to go round to Alex's after basketball. Alex's older
brother Steve is going to walk him home later."
I nod. "Alright. Did Jase win his basketball match?"
Luke shakes his head. "No. They lost 10 to 56."
I snicker. The kids' team always lost, since they'd been bumped up into
the Under 12's division. But that was worse than usual. "Was Nathan sick
again today?"
"Yeah." Oy. Nathan was the one good player on the team. With him absent
they didn't just lose, they got slaughtered. Every time.
The doorbell rings. I hurry down the hall to answer it. A young woman,
wearing a suit and raincoat stands huddled on the porch. "Hello. My name
is Martha, and I'm from the Safer Suburbs Committee. I was wondering if
you would sign our petition?"
Safer Suburbs? I've never heard of them. "What's the petition for?"
"We want to get the mutant Community Center moved to a non-residential
area. We feel that it presents a definite danger to the children and
families who live in the district." She pauses, and digs a folder out of
her bag. Martha opens it and begins to flick through, stopping on a page
filled with bright red lettering. She hands it to me. "These are some
statistics showing how having a large mutant population in an area
affects crime rates and property values. It's a proven fact that mutant
enclaves mean an average increase of about 21 percent in crime rates, and
a drop of fifteen percent in property values. The mutant community breeds
poverty and crime. These are proven facts ma'am."
Luke walks down the corridor, curious to see who's at the door. He nods a
greeting to Martha and looks down at the pamphlet I hold. 'Mutant child
destroys school.' The boy's powers had apparently manifested while he was
at school in Adelaide. Five people had died in the accident. There were
rows of statistics, showing that the average crime rate in cities around
Australia had increased by 10 to 15 percent in the last five years, since
mutants had begun to become mainstream.
And then, towards the bottom of the page, it showed the monthly crime
rate statistics for our suburb. They'd increased 23 percent in the year
and a half the centre had been open. I thought about the used syringes
I'd had pick up from our front yard this morning. And how the little old
lady who lived next door to us and gave the kids Easter eggs every year,
had her car stolen last month. And the man who had been with the
anti-mutant protesters outside the centre last year had had to go to
hospital after a mutant woman had set him on fire.
This just proved what I'd already known. Mutants were dangerous. I didn't
want my kids growing up in an area like this. I look at the woman. "I'll
sign the petition."
"No." Luke shakes his head. "This is FOH propaganda. Look." He points to
the row of tiny text at the bottom of the page, which reads 'A
publication of the Friends of Humanity.' "I can't believe you'd sign
something put out by those fascists."
I look at Luke. "This isn't about the Friends of Humanity. This about our
kids and trying to keep them safe!" I snatch Martha's clipboard from her
and sign my name at the bottom of the list. Most of our neighbors have
already signed it. I offer it to Luke. He takes it and scans the list of
names, mouth tightening in disapproval. He silently hands the clipboard
back to Martha.
"I'd appreciate it if you left now." He nods at her, shuts the door and
walks back down to the kitchen without once looking at me.
I stare down the hall at his back, sure I haven't done anything wrong.
After a moment I follow Luke and sit down at the table opposite him.
He looks at me then, from where he stands, leaning against the bench. "I
never thought my own wife would do something like that. I never thought
you'd follow a group like the FOH in anything." He sounds so tired as he
says that.
I flinch. "I already told you! This isn't about that. I just want to keep
our children safe. That's all. Mutants are dangerous."
He looks at me for a moment. "Don't give me that crap. You know that most
mutants are fucking harmless!"
"But what about the ones that aren't? And what about all the fucking shit
that goes on around here since the centre opened? What about all of
that?" My voice cracks.
"Christ Amy! What do you expect happens when people refuse to hire
mutants, and landlords won't let them rent houses?"
"I just want to keep our children safe! Mutants are dangerous. Everybody
knows that!"
Luke turns away from me. His voice is very low as he says: "I never
thought I'd married a bigot."
I flinch. "I'm not a bigot. I'm not a fucking bigot!"
He doesn't reply. Instead, he picks up his keys and walks out of the
room. He calls back as he opens the front door: "I'm heading out for a bit."
I stare after him, wondering when we had changed. When we had stopped
knowing each other.
***
It's late by the time Luke gets home. I'd put the kids to bed hours ago.
I told them that he was out visiting some friends. He does that
sometimes, visits friends who live way out in the suburbs. He doesn't get
back until late when he goes all they way out there.
He makes fair amount of noise, moving around the kitchen making himself a
cup of coffee. A few minutes later he enters our room and undresses for
bed. Luke slips between the blankets and rolls over, turning his back to me.
I'd gone to bed a few hours ago. I'd been unable to sleep and had stared
at the ceiling for the next two hours. I roll over and face the wall,
pretending to sleep. It's too late to argue about it all over again. I'm
tired. I hadn't been sure, not really, that he'd come home tonight.
It takes me a long time to fall asleep.
***
Jason and Sarah have been up for hours by the time I get up. They always
watch the cartoons on Sunday mornings. Jason sometimes tries to fight
Sarah for the remote, wanting to watch Video Hits instead, because
cartoons are for babies. He never tries that hard though, and isn't too
upset if I make him turn the television back to the cartoons instead.
I give a small smile, remembering a time when I'd been able to sleep in
until noon on weekends. It seems like a half remembered dream these days.
I'm washing up the breakfast dishes by the time Luke gets up. "Morning."
He mumbles something in reply and makes himself a cup of coffee. Luke has
never been a morning person, not for as long as I've known him.
"Mum. Can I have a glass of milk?" Luke gets up and pours the drink for
Sarah. I nod to him in thanks.
Luke looks at me. "I think we need to have a talk about yesterday."
I frown, unsure what I should say. He's wrong. That mutant Community
Centre is dangerous. I don't care what he bloody well says. Mutants are
not harmless. All you have to do is read the papers every day to know
that. I look out the window at the backyard. The lawn needs mowing again,
and the flowerbeds are being over-run with weeds.
Sarah yells at Jason: "No! I wanna watch the Lion King! I don't wanna
watch stupid Video Hits!"
"Nuh-uh! That's for babies! I don't wanna watch some stupid baby show."
"Mum! Jason won't let me watch the Lion King. He's being a fart-face!"
"I am not! Anyway you're a mutie-lover!"
I glance over at Luke. "Can we talk about all that later?" I raise my
voice: "Jason! Don't let me hear you call your sister a mutie-lover
again. I don't want to hear that kind of language in here. Sarah, you can
watch the Lion King later. It's on video."
***
I work late on Tuesdays. Luke picks the kids up from school. It's almost
ten before I get home. The kids are generally in bed by then. Once in a
while though, Luke'll let Jason stay up till I get home.
Jason is sitting perched on the edge of the couch, staring at the
television. '…over twenty people died in the explosion. Another eight are
injured, including the children's teacher, Thomas Avery. I repeat, over
twenty people died in the explosion, which was caused when a mutant
child's powers unexpectedly manifested while she was at school. The
mutant, a girl named Polly Smith, was among the dead…' The screen shows
the smoking ruins of a building. The gum tree next to it had been badly
burnt. There are buildings in the background. Portables. A group of
children and adults huddle together on the far side of the oval, as far
from the destroyed building as possible. Paramedics, police and
firefighters mill around the survivors. In the foreground is a small
sign. 'Trentham Primary School'. I reach out and pull the remote from
Jason's hand and turn the television off.
He turns to look at me, his face twisted in confusion. "Why did she blow
up the building?"
I shake my head, mutely. "I don't think she did it on purpose Jase. She
just didn't know that she was a mutant."
"But. She killed all of those people." I sit down on the couch beside him
and give my son a tight hug. I wish someone would do something about the
mutant problem. Because they are dangerous. You only have on turn on the
television to know that.
I knew I was right. It's fair enough understanding Luke's 'socio
political context' that mutants function in. But the thing is, this is
not an abstract discussion. It's about our children.
I think about my children and I pray that nothing ever happens to them.
-fin-
The original can be found at http://lisabounce.topcities.com/fears.htm