What Is That Noise?”

Sam woke up frisky. I tell you, a twenty nine year old is a walking hard on. So we fucked awake. We’d smoked an awful lot of pot and hadn’t slept much.

He slapped my hand when I reached for the pot bowl. I made coffee. There was a glow, a day off.

I called mum, we were chatting. She was rabbiting on about something, I was rolling my first joint. I excused myself to close the machine up. Where's the lighter? Full attention back on her, Puff. Puff.

Mum started to pick up the conversation where she left off.

Puff. Puff. I heard a loud beeping noise in her back ground.

Mum had pick up the thread and was continuing full steam ahead.

“Um?” Mum? Hang on?”

“What dear?”

“What is that noise?”

“What noise?”

“That high pitched squeal?”

“Hang on.” Clunk goes the phone. She's gone for a moment. Back she comes, “It’s the smoke alarm, I can’t turn it off.”

“The smoke alarm?”

“It’s alright, though.”

“Alright? It’s not bothering you?”

“I’ll fix it when we finish talking.”

“You could go over the road and ask the male partner of the neighbours, live in boyfriend, to look at it, if you want it done right now.”

“No it’s alright.”

“I’d better come over and fix it before you go out for the afternoon.”

Then she said something about fluff.

I said fluff?

"Yes," she said. "In my eye."

"Not smoke?”

“No, no, don’t be silly. I had something in my eye. I’ll go and ask the neighbour.” And she hung straight up, as she has a tendency to do. Clunk.

I looked at Sam. I looked down at my smoking fingers, I threw the joint in the ash tray in disgust. What? I looked around. My head spinning. I said to Sam I had to go. I picked up my keys and left.

Fluff? Smoke? Fluff? Smoke? I tried to push out of my brain. No, couldn’t be. I’ll get there she’ll be fine.

There were two fire engines in the street as I turned the corner. Mum was on the front veranda in an oxygen mask. A lady walking by with her son, I gather teaching him about sounds and life in general, heard the fire alarm and she and her son investigated and they saw smoke inside the house. She called the fire brigade.

Inside. It was like a war zone, there were men in suits appearing out of no where in the smoky mist. But, fortunately, it was mostly just smoke.

And a hunking bunch of firemen they were too. Goodness. My joint was hitting, after all. The handsomest fire man said, afterwards, that I looked completely shocked... in the smoky kitchen. Trying not to blush at him, most likely.

I was shocked that I’d made a call and, in all reality, it was the wrong call. Smack bang. I was looking at a burnt kitchen full of smoke. It felt weird, as I don’t call shots wrong, generally. But, I just had. There it was.

Mum had put a crumpet in the toaster and it must have got stuck and it caught alight. Then it caught on the cupboard above. The problem is that she didn’t react quickly enough, she didn’t react to the fire alarm until I asked her what it was. And she tried to beat the fire out with the rolled up newspaper, making it twice as bad.

The brigade are the nicest bunch of guys, I have to say. One had found the insurance policy. They made sure I understood what it was I needed to do. They were really nice.

Mum was taken to hospital, because she had burnt the end of her finger when she tried to beat the flames out with the rolled up newspaper.

Then everybody was gone.

Breathe.

Silence.

I called the insurance company and made the claim and got someone to come and repair the burnt power point, and to put the power back on. I didn’t have my glasses, I was blind without them. 

Thank goodness the man over the road offered me a pair and a nice cup of coffee afterwards and a rendition of all the best coffee houses plus in Melbourne, with the history of coffee thrown in too. He made such a par larva about making the coffee with his machine that by the time he’d made his, I’d finished mine. I decided it was either me, or him, so, naturally, I won.

Oh, I shouldn’t say that. I just didn’t want to be talking about coffee, as my mind was reeling. What the hell was I going to do? He really is the nicest neighbour, would do anything for me, I couldn’t ask for better. I’m just terrible. I’ll go to hell.

“Cheeze, thanks for the coffee, that was great. Got a few thing to attend to – I’m not sure if I actually pointed, or if the metaphorical mean was enough – head flick, or not, to the burnt house over the road, it was a blue-chip reason for cutting and running, after all. Not every day...

It would be a couple of hours before the "make safe" man calls to say when he's coming.

I drove home and got my glasses. I just didn't feel I could be certain of tackling every job without them.

The hospital called me, as I hit the Victoria Street car park, and mentioned something about respite care, or staying just one night was possible, anything to help.

Sam text to say he’d get going soon. He’d been at my place all that time, I thought? I just thought he would have left when I did. I just text back, ok. I was on my way home, but thought he'd be gone by the time I got there.

The sun was shining when I got home. I gave Shane the low down. I rolled two joints. I got my journal, no electricity, no laptop and my haiku. 

I got back to mums around 4pm to wait for the electrician.

I smoked both joints. Ah, fuck it, I thought. I even went outside, to smoke them, despite the smell of the house. 

I decided to concentrate on fixing everything just one problem at a time. Just think about the next thing you have to do, that's all you have to do. Get the power point fixed, get the power back on. Then, at least, the house is liveable, if need be, again.

Waiting for the call, I sat back in the peace of my mother’s, oh so familiar, lounge room. I got my breath. The joints had both hit.

Two hours had passed so I called the electrician. He’d been given my wrong phone number. He’d been given the wrong street number.

Another couple of hours, no doubt.

I was hungry, I hadn't eaten anything all day. There was only ice cream and fruit juice, everything else kind of needed heat, so I ate a Cornetto and drank two giant glasses of grape juice. I had such a wild sugar rush, it was too much and it made me feel nausea's.

So, I wrote haiku by the fading light, but it was no good and I had to go and lie down for an hour, or so. Because I was so stoned? Yes? I got horny thinking of Sam. I lay on my sister’s bed, mum had long since given my childhood bed away, and thought about him. (Ed note - in hindsight, it's a pity I didn't think to text him) And the world seemed calm.

Then I called the electrician back at six, as the light faded away altogether. He said he’d be there in an hour. No problem, as long as you are still coming.

Standing in the dark house, there was a cacophony of footsteps parading across mum’s roof. I went out once, or twice, to check, two cats and a possum’s beady eyes spied down at me. Two living creatures that share this planet, right there, eye balling each other. It seemed bizarre, not sure why? Each one of them sounded like a heard as they scuttled across the roof. No wonder mum was beginning to think there was people in the roof. Oh yes, that was new, just this last week, or so - everything I was hoping that the new care person would take care of... you know, with the three hours a week.

Hands in the air, raised eye brows.

The hospital called, as I smoked on the front step, in the shadow of the portico. Yes they could keep her over night. Another problem crossed off. The street was silent, still. I was nearly done.

The small gas heater worked in the sitting room and I found two candles, so at least I was warm and could see. Some people were scratching for water in dry river beds.

Then a lovely nuggety little smiley chap arrived with a bloody big torch and a tool kit. He was straight into it, smile, we’ll get this fix. Oh yes, that’s melted, isn’t it. He asked if I could get him a stepladder as the fuse box was high up, 

"Not made for little blokes like me, mate, old houses like this." 

I’d taken not two steps out to the garage and the lights all started to flick back on, one by one. And then he was gone. And there I was standing alone in my mum’s burnt kitchen, on my own.

Click, next problem is cancelling the nurses, 7am. Nothing to do until then. The house is safe and sound. I'd fed the cat, I could go home. Day done. 

I closed up the house, as the street lights twinkled in the sky. I shut the front door. Silence. Calm.

The sound of my exhaust starting up echoed in the trees. There was icy dew on the windscreen.

I was home for pizza with Shane and Mark W., who I flirted with. I think I’m doing it on purpose now. It's a kind of a challenge, to get eye contact and then that look, small smile. Somebody stop me. I was just in time for MasterChef.