Calypso Summer Page 2

  I even taught myself Bob Marley songs on an old nylon stringed guitar. In the summer, when I wasn’t filling in my job-search diary or writing stupid applications, I was glued to the cricket. One day when I was watching Australia versus the West Indies, Mum came in and said, ‘Still want those blackfellas to win?’

  ‘Of course I do,’ I said.

  ‘When you were little, you always wanted the West Indies to win. That’s how you got called Calypso. Granddad started calling you Calypso after the famous tied test match between Australia and the West Indies in the 1950s. They called that time the Calypso Summer. Granddad was a proper old Englishman, he knew all that stuff.’

  I still want the black teams – India, Sri Lanka and the West Indies of course – to beat Australia. It makes sense to me. My real name is Kyle.

  3

  I almost dropped the packets of chia seeds I had in my hand when Gary called out, ‘Hey Calypso,’ in his deep voice from the counter.

  ‘What up man?’

  ‘Did you know Usain Bolt was running in the Korean 100 metre World Championships final?’ Gary asked, peering at me over the top of his glasses.

  I nodded. ‘What was his time?’

  ‘He didn’t get one.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘He was disqualified.’

  ‘For real – what, for breaking the sound barrier?’

  Gary adjusted his glasses and read slowly from the paper, ‘With Bolt disqualified, it was his Jamaican teammate and heir apparent to his throne, Yohan Blake, who took the gold medal in 9.92 seconds.’

  ‘How was he disqualified?’ I asked, not believing Gary.

  ‘He jumped the gun, some new false-start rule.’

  ‘That’s crazy man. Bolt is running 9.58s, he would of won the final jogging.’

  ‘Well you can’t blame it on him being black. The other Jamaican won the race.’

  Gary is always saying stuff like that about black people to make me believe the world is a great place or something. Sometimes he says that we’re like Vegemite and toast, but I’m not so sure. I hate Vegemite.

  Apart from my Dad who died when I was nine and my Granddad, I haven’t really spent much time with whitefellas. Gary was about the same age as my Dad too. I guess he was probably in his fifties with his skinny tanned body and little beer gut, grey hair and wrinkles. Sure I had white mates when I was a little fella but when we got older things changed. Don’t know why. They just did. And teachers, bus drivers, sport coaches, they’ve all looked at me like I am about to steal or break something at any second.

  Not Gary. Even though he said weird things sometimes, he was different to other whitefellas I knew. He didn’t suss me out, my dreads or anything, but encouraged me to play up on how I look Rasta and can kind of talk like a Rasta.

  When I first met Gary, it was a crap Adelaide autumn day, the kind that drove me mad when I had nothing to do. I was still living at Mum’s. I woke up, saw Run snoring in the bed across from me and then looked out my bedroom window at Mum’s backyard. Rain spat down against the corrugated iron fence, patchy overgrown lawn, fruit trees and garden. I sat on the edge of my bed, rolled a joint, smoked it and lay back down.

  After a while I decided to go get a DVD. So I threw on some track pants, a jumper, my red, green and gold crocheted beanie, slipped on some thongs and made my way down to Gary’s Showtime DVD Store. Mum’s is like a kilometre from Seaview Road so it took a while and the rain almost froze my toes off.

  I looked at the grey all around me – the old style brick cottages lined up along Seaview Road. They all looked the same, painted brown, maroon, or cream – boring. Although some of the houses were run down with paint cracking and peeling and verandas caving in, I realised that it was weird that we lived near this flash part of the city. There are double-storey houses and that along the esplanade too. Mum was lucky to get an Aboriginal housing place when Dad died. I remember it being all shiny and new when I was little but it’s a bit of a mess these days because Mum is only on the pension you know. Dad did something with the railways for a while, so for a time there, we had things pretty good I guess. We went on a holiday and the photos of Mum and Dad’s wedding look pretty flash.

  Beyond the garages and the houses with their lookalike gardens, I could see the Ramsgate Hotel through the drizzle, towering over Henley Square. There are a whole lot of businesses around the square like a deli, a laundrette, a couple of hairdressers, some restaurants and cafés. It gets pretty busy around there on a nice day. Families picnic there all the time or take strolls along the jetty licking ice-cream. The Henley Surf Life Savers Club is there too. The place is crawling with rich whitefellas.

  Gary was taking DVDs from two trolleys and stacking them on shelves when I stepped into his store. I stood quietly and watched what he was doing. Basically he was just grabbing the DVDs and placing them on the shelf in alphabetical order. I didn’t have anything to do so I just started giving Gary a hand, stacking the shelves.

  I could tell that Gary was surprised but he didn’t seem to mind. After all, Gary didn’t really know me. I’d only been going to the store for a few weeks. He knew my name though because when I filled out the membership form, he said, ‘Calypso Summers, hey? I won’t be forgetting that name in a hurry.’

  Gary stopped what he was doing to watch me. ‘You’re pretty good at that, Calypso,’ he said.

  ‘It’s not rocket science, mahn.’

  ‘Of course not, but I didn’t have to tell you how to do it either. Work experience kid last year, he was bloody hopeless. Why are you helping me out anyway, mate? Do you want some freebies or something?’

  ‘Nah … just bored.’

  ‘Bored, really, a young bloke like you?’

  Gary made his way over to the counter and I continued placing the DVDs on the shelf.

  ‘Well, if you want to make yourself useful, there’s something you can do,’ said Gary grabbing the middle section of his paper.

  ‘Yeah, what?’ I asked pulling my beanie firmly over my dreads. ‘I need to go out for a while. Do you reckon you could look after the shop?’

  I felt the grin spread across my face. ‘You’d trust me?’

  Gary pointed at the computer screen behind the counter. ‘I’ve got your name and address, remember!’ then he laughed and said, ‘Why wouldn’t I trust you?’

  ‘Okay, so what do you want me to do?’ I said shrugging my shoulders.

  Gary waved me over to the counter and explained how to search for a DVD and scan it through. The cash register was easy and once you scanned the DVDs it even told you how much to charge.

  ‘You got it?’

  ‘I overstand,’ I said.

  ‘What?’ asked Gary.

  ‘Got it,’ I corrected, realising that Gary wouldn’t understand what I was saying, speaking muck-around Rasta lingo.

  ‘Yeah but what was that first thing you said?’

  ‘I overstand,’ I said, without the accent.

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘It’s Rastafarian, Bob Marley lingo. It means that you’re over an idea, you overstand it.’

  ‘Say it with the accent,’ he asked, smirking.

  I didn’t even hesitate because I’m deadly at it. I’ve been copying the words and accents of West Indian cricketers, Usain Bolt, reggae and dub songs and throwing them together since I can remember. Cracked kids up at school it did.

  ‘I overstand it mahn,’ I said.

  ‘Beauty Calypso,’ Gary said before he started walking next door to Estia’s Café. I didn’t have time to call out to Gary to ask him when he’d be back.

  Then I thought, what if someone comes in and robs the place? What if I get blamed for it?

  Freaking out, I looked around the store and realised that I was responsible for all of the shit in it … DVDs, drinks, chocolate bars, packets of chips. Lovely … and I had the munchies too!

  There was a shelf of DVDs for sale. I knew Mum wanted the Bridesmaids one, pissed herself
when she saw the advert on television. What if Gary walked in when I was walking towards the DVD?

  I stepped away from behind the counter and flexed it to the trolley and started to stack the shelves again. I wondered how a customer would react when they walked in and saw me? Maybe they wouldn’t walk in. Maybe they’d just call the cops as soon as they saw me through the window.

  ‘Cut it out Calypso, you’re just being paranoid,’ I told myself, reminding myself that it was the dope that was probably just making me paranoid. I decided to relax and lap it up while I could.

  A few minutes later a customer walked in. I heard the door open so I went to the counter. I only saw a flash of the woman as she stepped into an aisle and then her back turned as she looked at the DVDs. All I could see was brown curly hair bobbing up over a shelf.

  I was looking to see what the woman would grab. She grabbed a DVD and then walked along to grab something else. I was looking at the computer screen and the cash register and trying to remember what to do.

  Then the woman started walking towards me. It was the relief teacher who talked to us about dreams and shit … She was wearing track pants, a t-shirt and sneakers and her big brown curly hair was tied up on top of her head, way different than she dressed at school but true as god it was her!

  Big-dream teacher-woman placed the DVDs on the counter. I looked down at them knowing I was supposed to say something. And then she handed me her membership card on her key ring. I grabbed it and scanned it and then the DVDs. She kind of did a double look at me but she didn’t say anything.

  I started looking at her DVDs closely and realised what she was hiring … The Secretary and Intimacy. The covers of the films are like pornos. Shame job!

  I asked for her password and she said ‘daffodil dreaming’. Is she for real? I thought, almost pissing myself.

  But I kept my cool and took her money, looking at all those notes in the till and then handing her change and DVDs before she walked out of the store. Straight away a couple more customers walked in.

  When Gary returned about an hour later he asked, ‘How did you go mate?’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Many customers?’

  ‘About twenty or something.’

  ‘Beauty.’

  He seemed like he was in a pretty good mood and I didn’t steal anything or have the cops called on me so I asked, ‘Can I hang out for a while?’

  ‘No worries.’

  ‘Can I serve customers?’

  ‘I can’t pay you mate.’

  I nodded and he said, ‘But you can take whatever you like.’

  I stayed for most of the day. Gary watched me serve customers as he talked on the phone. When I left I didn’t take anything more than what I’d come for, one DVD. He asked me if I wanted to come back again. I asked him if he could give me a reference. He nodded.

  4

  The next morning I woke up and I could hear Run sucking down a bong and listening to 50 Cent. I sat up in one swift motion. Run pushed the bong toward me.

  ‘Nah cuz, and turn that shit down,’ I said pushing it away and rubbing my eyes.

  ‘What’s wrong with you?’

  ‘I’ve got work to do, put on some Linton Kwesi Johnson tracks or something.’

  ‘What type of work? If you’re dealing gear, I want in on that shit.’

  ‘What you talking about dealing? You’ve been listening to too much gangsta music mahn.’

  ‘I mean it, I want in if you’re selling anything.’

  ‘Run, go have breakfast and go to school,’ I said. He was doing year twelve at Henley Beach High, where I went too and while Mum was glad that he hadn’t dropped out yet, he and I both knew he was only still going because he could get away with doing next to nothing. He’s pretty smart though and I knew that if he stopped being a smart-arse and half tried he would do alright.

  ‘Lot of good school’s done you,’ he said before I grabbed the towel off the doorknob and went to the shower.

  Run was lying in bed with the covers over his head when I came back. I opened the cupboard and saw the shirt and slacks I’d worn to all the interviews. I grabbed the shirt, some jeans and the trendy black shoes. Gary wore a shirt and slacks and that.

  ‘Where you going mate?’ Gary asked when I walked into the store early that morning.

  ‘Nowhere,’ I said pulling on the band wrapped around my dreads.

  ‘What do you want to do today?’ he asked.

  ‘Same as yesterday,’ I said.

  ‘But I can’t pay you mate,’ he reminded me.

  I grabbed the trolley and Gary pointed to the afterhours return shoot. It wasn’t like I had to rush or anything as I put DVDs back on the shelves and served customers. I just talked to them how I like to be talked to. I just said, ‘howdy’, ‘what’s your password?’ and ‘thanks’. Gary didn’t seem to mind. And then he said, ‘Next customer, I dare you to serve them using your Jamaican accent.’

  I raised my eyebrows at him. ‘For real?’

  ‘Give it a go.’

  The next customer was a real serious looking fella with his young son and daughter. He could have been a copper or something.

  ‘You sure?’ I whispered. Gary nodded.

  The fella’s kids ran around the shop pulling DVDs off the shelves and nagging him for them. Finally he stepped up to the counter about five minutes later with some films.

  ‘Iri, mahn?’ I asked.

  The bloke nodded, looked at me a bit strange and handed me his membership card.

  ‘What’s di password mahn?’ I asked throwing on the curling Jamaican accent.

  When I handed the DVDs to him I said, ‘Jah Rastafari, and good night to your yute,’ as I pumped my fist to my chest before giving the fella’s kids the peace sign.

  Gary winked at me and said, ‘You’re a fair dinkum West Indian aren’t ya?’

  °°°

  The second week I helped Gary out, I took some Centrelink forms with me … they were hassling me again. I wanted Gary to sign them, to tell them I was doing work experience with him, just for a week, to keep them off my back. I knew the best time to ask was after he got back from the Ramsgate Hotel. Of course he was ducking off with his paper to have a beer and that. So one day, I told him I didn’t mind looking after the shop for as long as he wanted … and he was certainly in a good mood when he returned.

  ‘Plenty of customers,’ I told him.

  ‘Beauty,’ he said.

  Jumping right to it I asked, ‘Gary, can you sign this, just say I’m doing work experience with you for a couple of weeks?’

  Gary read the form and I was a bit nervous because he didn’t seem too happy about it. He squinted his eyes and went real serious.

  ‘Maybe I could give you that reference you asked for?’

  ‘That would be deadly but I need the form signed too.’

  ‘I don’t know mate.’

  ‘But if you sign it I can just keep doing what I’m doing for a while without getting hassled. Centrelink mob are getting me to fill out forms all the time!’

  ‘You should try gambling,’ he said as he got up to grab a pen.

  When he signed the form he said, ‘But remember Calypso, I can’t promise you anything.’

  ‘I know,’ I said … But I was hoping something might come up.

  °°°

  The weeks after Gary signed the form were deadly. Even though I was up early every day and working hard, I was less stressed and happier than I’d been in ages. Mum and Evelyn kept asking me what I was up to as I left for work and Run still thought I was dealing drugs for some big-time gangster but the main thing was that Centrelink wasn’t hassling me. I hid my work clothes in a backpack and changed in the public toilets down the beach to keep Mum, Evelyn and Run off my case. There was no way I was going to let Run know where I was working. And if Mum and Evelyn knew I was doing work experience, they’d get too excited and jinx things.

  What confused Run most was that I wasn’t smoking any ganja. I
just kind of stopped, not entirely but almost. Well I couldn’t be wasted at work could I? And after work, instead of going home to have a smoke, I just hung around Henley Square or walked along the beach. Even after not smoking for a few days, I felt good. I wasn’t as aggro or tired and I stopped coughing up all of this crap. My chest was starting to clear up. I was kind of feeling positive even though I couldn’t understand why Gary hadn’t offered me any work. No one else was helping him out and he was raking it in.

  And then one day Gary came back from this lunch break and he was in an extra good mood, whistling and being friendly with the customers all afternoon. I had no idea what was going on.

  When I went to leave for the day, Gary said, ‘Calypso, can I have a word?’ I quickly sat up on a stool behind the counter holding my backpack. Gary rubbed his hand across his chin as he asked, ‘What would you say if I offered you a job?’

  ‘Of course I’d take it!’

  ‘But not this business,’ he said looking around the store. ‘DVD stores are shutting up everywhere. People are buying films online and it’s only going to keep happening.’

  ‘What type of business then?’

  ‘Something a bit different, something I’ve been thinking about for a long time.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Well people are health conscious around here. That’s why they live near the beach, to make the most of the sun and surf.’ I nodded. ‘People in this neighbourhood are always walking their dogs, running, riding, swimming and playing tennis.’

  ‘You’re going to open a sports store, unna?’ I asked almost pissing myself with excitement.

  ‘What gave you that idea?’ Gary asked, giving me a weird look. ‘No, there are enough of them around, I’m going to open a health food and products store.’

  ‘Health food and products?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter if you don’t know much about it. All that matters is that you look the part, I’ll teach you the rest, and you’re a fast learner … smarter than other people like you … young people.’

  ‘I look the part?’ It was the first time anyone had ever told me that.