Obsession

CHAPTER 1-3

On the bus home to Marrickville. Benny thought about Joshua Anderson. His life seemed to revolve around gaming, eating junk food and drinking. Pretty sad. The house had made him feel depressed—it looked inviting from the outside, but inside it was crap. You could never tell by looking at the outside. Just like people.

Benny didn't break and enter to steal things, although he had done it as a sideline when he was a teenager. But after being caught trying to sell some stolen jewellery, appearing in court and have the magistrate threaten to send him to jail, he decided it wasn’t worth the trouble. He broke into houses to make himself feel good, to peek into another person's life, pretend he was someone else for a few hours. Technically, he supposed that eating someone's food was stealing, but he told himself it was different if they didn't know.

He wondered again about Joshua's love life. Even if he didn't have a girlfriend now, he'd probably had one in the past. He guessed that Joshua was younger than him, probably in his twenties, so there wasn’t a lot of shame at that age in admitting that you didn't have a girlfriend.

When you got to 42, though, people started to think that you were a bit strange. Benny had often been asked if he was gay. And that always upset him—not that people might think he was gay, but thinking there could be no other reason that he didn't have a girlfriend.

Women usually reacted to him in one of two ways. They either ignored him, or looked at him with pity, as if he was some freak who'd grown an extra head. Once on the bus, he'd got chatting to the girl beside him and told her that Errol Flynn was his favourite actor in the whole world.

"Cool!' she exclaimed. ‘It's so unusual to meet someone who likes those old movies.'

But when Benny asked her if she'd like to come to his house to watch his favourite Errol Flynn movie, The Adventures of Robin Hood, she tossed her head and snorted, 'As if,' got up and moved to another seat. So she'd lied—she didn't think it was cool after all.

The bus screeched to a stop. A young girl got on with a folded up stroller in one hand and a whingeing toddler in a pink dress on her hip. Benny sprang up, took the stroller from her and put it in the luggage rack. She sat down beside him, placing the toddler on her knee, and smiled at him.

‘Thank you so much.'

The toddler stared at Benny, stopped grizzling and gave him a wide toothy grin. Benny blew a raspberry at her and she giggled. The more raspberries he blew, the harder she giggled. He loved the sound of children laughing; it was pure and full of joy. They couldn't put it on, not like adults.

The passengers in the surrounding seats were smiling; it was infectious, like a disease, but in a good way. The girl laughed as well. ‘You're good with kids, she's usually wary of strangers.’

‘I love kids,’ Benny said.

He remembered when he was 15 telling Auntie Fran, the last time he went to live with her, that one day he would get married and have lots of kids. Auntie Fran was sitting at the kitchen table after her shower doing her nails. She leaned back to survey her handiwork, her robe gaping open to reveal the swell of a breast and a glimpse of flat, pearly white stomach. Benny swallowed hard and crossed his legs.

‘That's wonderful!’ Aunt Fran said. ‘You'd be a perfect father, you're just a big kid yourself.’

The way she'd said it, it was a good thing to be a big kid. Not like at school when the teacher wrote on his report card that he was 'childlike' and the other kids called him Dumbo.

Shortly after he started school, the principal told Auntie Vi he thought Benny would be better off in a special school. When Auntie Fran heard about it, she drove all the way from Sydney to see the principal, and tell him there was no way her nephew was going to a special school. It was discrimination and if they weren't prepared to accept him she'd take them to court.

That night at home, he overheard her talking to Auntie Vi over a glass of wine on the patio.

'So how did you persuade him?' Auntie Vi asked.

'I told you, threatened to take them to court.'

'Tom Coddington doesn't strike me as someone who'd be easily intimidated. Especially by a woman.'

There was silence. Benny heard the sound of a match striking, then cigarette smoke wafted inside through the open door.

'He might not be intimidated by a woman but he's quite happy to be f****d by one.'

'Frances, you have no shame.'

'Don't you get on your high horse with me, Vivienne. You were just going to let it happen, you were too lazy. Or too scared. Going to a special school would be the worst thing for Benny; he'd learn nothing except how to make beaded necklaces. He needs to be stimulated and challenged. And if that means I have to f**k the principal to make it happen, it's a small price to pay for his future.'

Benny didn’t understand it at the time. He didn’t know what f**k meant. But recalling the conversation in later years, he realised what had happened. After that, every time he saw Mr Coddington all he could think of was him and Auntie Fran together naked, and his cheeks would go red and he'd hang his head.

His face felt warm now just thinking of it. 'This is my stop,' the girl said.

'It's mine, too,' Benny said, though it wasn't. His stop was another few blocks away, but if he got off now he could help her. He lifted the stroller out of the luggage rack, carried it off the bus and set it up on the pavement. The girl wrestled the toddler, squirming and squealing, into the stroller and strapped her in. Benny waved to the child who immediately started gurgling and grinning.

‘Thanks so much,’ the girl said. Benny watched her as she walked away, pushing the stroller. She was very young, her figure still boyish, with long legs, bum-hugging shorts and a tiny tank top. Was she married? He hadn’t seen a wedding ring on her finger. Maybe he should have plucked up the courage to ask her out for a date. He wouldn't mind going out with a girl who already had a child. In some ways it could be an advantage having a ready-made family. He wouldn't have to go through all the messy pregnancy and childbirth stuff.

She turned the corner. He'd missed his chance. There'd be others. Other girls, other chances. That’s what Auntie Fran had said. 'Never give up, Benny, 'she said, not long before she died. 'One day you'll find a girl who'll love you for who you are. And it will be worth the wait.'

He hadn't found her yet. How much longer did he have to wait?