The Rooftop. Toby Hammerschlag

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СКАЧАТЬ with maple syrup. But then his bags are packed and he is ready to go back to Los Angeles. I always feel sad but pretend to smile because I know that my dad will be sad if I am. When I get home, my mum is always grumpy because she hates me spending time with him. So when she asks me if I had a good time, I just say, ‘It was ok,’ and go to my room.”

      As Simon finished speaking, he gave a half smile that did not quite reach his eyes. He had wanted to impress Mr Zulman by speaking first and placing himself in a good light. But he now regretted that he had exposed himself. He looked up uncertainly at Mr Zulman, who was nodding his head intently as if every word that he had just said was very important and Simon felt himself relax.

      Talia’s thoughts had begun to wander while Simon was speaking but she suddenly noticed that the group had become silent and that Mr Zulman was looking directly at her. She looked back at him with surprise. Talia was often forgotten in the rush of overeager students in the crowded classroom, their hands raised and ready to partake while she instead conjured up her next painting in her mind. She looked again into his soft, direct gaze and felt enticed to speak. She began hesitantly, knowing that the story would flow as long as she did not need to write it down. It was always the spelling of the words that made her lose her train of thought.

      “Um, for all the time I lived in South Africa, I had a black nanny called Gladys. Every day Gladys would appear just like magic. I never thought to ask her how she got there until I was older. She called me Nyenyane which means ‘my precious one’ in Sotho, which is an African language. I loved Gladys and still miss her.”

      Talia’s voice quivered. She was surprised that everyone was listening intently to her and so she continued.

      “I have always found it difficult to sleep and I still do. I remember my mother insisting when I was little that I take naps and feeling like a prisoner when she shut the door behind her. I would jump up in minutes and hear my mother muttering, ‘Never any time for myself’. The door would swing open and there was Gladys with the biggest smile you have ever seen. She had these big white teeth that seemed to shine in her black face,” and Talia smiled at the memory.

      “‘Give her to me, madam!’ she would say to my mother and swing me up into her arms. Her arms always felt so strong and she would put me on her back and tie a blanket around us. I remember clearly that the blanket was bright yellow, red and green with a zigzag pattern. I loved the rough feel of it against my cheek. She had this soap smell, not perfumed like my mother’s but strong like washing powder. She hummed softly while she did the washing or vacuuming with me on her back and before long I would fall asleep.”

      Talia could not quite believe that she had told Mr Zulman and the other students about her beloved Gladys. She had always thought that Gladys belonged to her and her alone. Maybe it is because Mr Zulman is just so cool that I told them, she thought ruefully to herself.

      “Thank you for sharing that with us,” Mr Zulman said softly in response. Mr Zulman turned to Maha and asked gently, “Would you like to tell us anything, Maha?” Maha continued to look down at the desk, feeling as if her lips were clamped tightly shut.

      He then looked over at Emma, “Would you like to add a story or thought of your own?” he asked quietly.

      While Talia had been talking, Emma had been racking her brain for a story to tell but could not for the life of her think of a time that she or her family had made a real sacrifice.

      Her family were nothing like Simon`s. Her parents loved each other and did everything together. She remembered her last birthday when she had taken all her friends bowling. Her mother had bought a chocolate ice-cream cake which was decorated with ballerinas, as she loved to dance. She had adored all the attention, especially since her brother and sister were a lot older than her and spoilt her rotten. She looked miserably at her new friends and shook her head.

      The bell rang for morning recess and the students jumped up, gathering their belongings and ran out into the playground, barely turning around as Mr Zulman mumbled, “See you next week”. Emma noticed Talia taking a skipping rope from her bag. Talia did not particularly like skipping, her timing was always a little off and her feet seemed to get caught in the rope but having a rope insured that she was not left alone. Today she was immediately surrounded by three friends.

      “Who wants first turn at holding the rope?” asked Emma.

      “Me,” said Talia quickly even though she knew that she sometimes struggled to keep an even rhythm. Maha also chose to turn the rope and stood there shyly, concentrating on moving her arm in wide circles. The other two children weaved happily in and out of the rope and were soon joined by other students from their grade.

      Tuesday Afternoon

      As Maha packed her school bag, she wondered why the end of the school day always seemed to come around so quickly. She loved school and soaked up all the new subjects even though she struggled to understand some of the English words of her teacher with her strong Australian accent.

      “G’day” and “Good on you!” she would practise saying to herself in front of the mirror at home but never dared to say these funny sounding phrases aloud at school. Maths was her best subject and she was always the first to finish. She even found herself handing her finished sheet to Talia who struggled with numbers and sat miserably chewing on the end of her pencil during Maths class.

      Maha started walking slowly home. She could have caught the bus to nearby Surry Hills but she chose the half-hour walk to avoid as long as possible the responsibilities that always awaited her when she got home. As she arrived home, Maha stood for a moment looking up at the tall, ugly building that they now called home. She could see the many broken window panes covered by cardboard and the torn, dirty, fading cream-coloured net curtains that fluttered in the breeze. The outside area was just a mass of dirt that had turned to dry dust in the summer heat and Maha hated how it stuck to her clothes and shoes. She sighed and entered the foyer of the building. She always held her breath to avoid the stale odour that hung in the lift as it slowly lumbered up the fifteen floors to her unit. Her mother was waiting anxiously for her return in their sparsely furnished unit. The only adornment was the brightly coloured prayer rug in shades of purple and red that lay across the sitting room floor. Her mother was waiting to go shopping with her as she still did not have the confidence to ask in English for what she required and relied on Maha to be her spokesperson. Her mother began to cover her hair with her scarf as she prepared to go out. Maha walked companionably next to her mother and chatted happily in Arabic about her school and her new friends, being careful not to mention the Jewish Scripture class.

      They arrived at the local Franklins supermarket and began to do their shopping. Maha knew without being told that they could only afford the cheapest items and she would scour the shelves for home-brands and discounted items. The huge, boisterous Italian man behind the fish counter who had taken a liking to the shy pair greeted them cheerily.

      “Hello lovely ladies, today there is a great special on perch fillets and for your smiling faces another ten per cent off!” Maha knew that he was trying to help them and she appreciated his kindness. However, she felt her mother’s embarrassment as she shook her head to say ‘no’ to the offer. Maha scanned the prices, searching for the cheapest fish, “A kilogram, thank you,” she said pointing to the bream. He smiled at the timid girl with the strange accent. Maha watched as the fishmonger wrapped up a lot more than one kilogram of bream and hoped that her mother hadn’t noticed.

      Tuesday Morning:

       1 February 2011

      The children walked into the tiny room where this time Mr Zulman was already seated at his desk waiting patiently for them. His hair was still damp from his early morning swim on Bondi Beach and he sat СКАЧАТЬ