If there was one thing I knew about Egypt it was that she changed her address more than she changed socks. Which I prayed was often.
The way we saw things there were two places she could have possibly been. The first was in motel emergency housing, and the second was with her on and off again boyfriend Trydon.
Ever since covid there were many emergency housing motels across the city. I didn’t know where to start. But luckily for us Michael had made contact with her two weeks ago and knew that it was within walking distance.
Michael didn’t know the location but he could remember the block of shops on its nearby corner shops. A slightly better option than a stab in the dark.
We wandered around for a good while, past shop block to shop block knocking on Motel doors trying to track her down and still nothing.
we noticed a wild eyed elderly woman walking about with a lean, cursing at the world as she went.
“New Zealand bloody well lit Australia on fire!” she cursed as she walked past a young couple and spat at them.
“Shit, here we go.” Michael said as she began to approach us.
“Don’t look her in the eyes.” I said, facing away from her as we walked.
We could hear the woman as her steps drove closer, yet her ramblings became increasingly incoherent.
“Nothing in this world but your own and your own only. Nothing, you hear me?! Nothing!” She cursed as she began to walk past us.
Suddenly her footsteps stopped, and I could see Michaels curiosity getting the better of him.
“What’d they do to your face, darling?” the old woman asked, bringing an arm up towards Michael’s eye.
“They wished to torture me. To make a mockery of me. Thank the gods I got away.” Michael replied, wiping away imaginary tears.
“Oh! How awful…” the woman replied, rubbing her fingers lightly across his wound.
“Don’t touch it love, don’t wanna risk an infection innit.” Michael continued. I was seriously cringing at his impressions.
“You look just like my son, Harry his name was.” The woman began.
“Don’t you dare…” I thought to myself, trying to look away, but I couldn’t.
“Mum?” Michael asked.
“No, no…” the woman said as she began to squint at Mike. Suddenly her eyes looked as if they were about to bulge out of her head. “Is that really you!?” She cried, throwing her arms around Michaels shoulders.
“I miss you mummy.” He answered, his eyes looking across at me from behind her shoulders, giving me a horrendous thumbs up.
“This is fucked on so many levels.” I thought to myself, while scratching my eye. “Alright Harry, we gotta head to the park, say goodbye to your mum, let’s bounce.”
“How have you been keeping? I thought you’d ran away for good.” The woman continued, holding his hands.
“No, no, never mum I’d never abandon you. I just went to get an ounce of weed and ended up in the boot for a while but I’m alright—“ with the closure of that word the old woman belted Michael across the head with her metal bangle.
“DON’T YOU EVER DISRESPECT OUR FAMILY NAME AGAIN BY DOING DRUGS, YOU HEAR ME YOUNG MAN!” She screamed while repeatedly banging him over the head.
Michael ducked out of the way and shielded himself as we began walking away together.
“Fuckin crazy bitch.” said Michael, “Did she open up my cut again?” he asked me.
“Nah I don’t think so. But that’s what you get for egging on the mentally Ill.” I replied, as we crossed the street.
“You’ve gotta admit that was pretty funny though.” replied Michael, beginning to shadow box.
“Nah you’re a ratchet guy.” I stated, as we stepped up onto the curb.
We were nearing a bus stop crowded with a decent amount of people, when a face from within the crowd called out to us.
“Yo! Boys! How’s it!” the voice boomed.
At first we couldn’t see the culprit, until this weedy, baggy shirted, pasty faced man named Chris revealed himself from behind a couple of basketballers.
It had been years since we’d seen this little toe rag, but it seemed very little had changed, even down to the shoes he was wearing, although they had frayed and worn down over the years.
“Long time no see brothers.” Chris greeted, holding a pack of Cody’s in one hand and outstretching his other palm towards us.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
I didn’t wanna shake that thing, and neither did Michael by the looks of it. But instead of being rude I bumped his knuckles.
“I thought you moved down the line?” Asked Michael, hands in pockets, slanted back.
“Ohhh, yeah bro I was but I ended up losing my job and getting kicked out so I came back. What are you guys up to?” Chris asked and answered, skulling back another can. With the showing of his hand I could see that he had black nail polish along every fingernail and the polish was peeling off.
His fingernails were short Stubbs and his yellow teeth looked as though they were prime to be pulled. His face was malnourished, thin, and sunken. He looked as if a rat looking for a block of cheese. Perhaps figuratively.
“I can’t even remember when I saw you guys last…” Chris thought aloud, sipping a drink.
I could remember. I could remember quite vividly. But I pushed those thoughts of anger out and said; “Yeah, neither.”
Chris pulled a can out of his box and offered it to either of us, we both declined.
Chris was an old friend of our older brother Charlie’s. Chris had given Charlie a heroic dose of magic mushrooms and fed him up on more synthetic cannabis than he could handle. Eventually everything went pear shaped, and Charlie found himself locked away in a psych ward. That ordeal severed any comraderie Chris and Michael and I would ever have.
For years we all hated Chris, in fact we still do. But eventually Chris had found himself battling his own battle with Mental Illness and if anything the anger we felt towards him turned to disgust and even morbid pity. I wouldn’t wish his life on anyone.
“They’ve put me on this new medication called Dexamphetamine. It’s reeeally good, you guys have to try it. It’s pharmaceutical grade speed.” Chris stated as he began necking back another can.
“Isn’t that stuff just legal crack?” asked Michael, his jaw tight.
“No,no,no this stuff has missing components that’s in crack so it’s not crack it just makes you feel really alive and wired and like nothing can phase you.” He told us, his jaw chewing.
“Yup, sounds like crack.” I thought to myself.
“Anyway, I’ve got a few trays of it left if you guys wanna head off somewhere there’s a library on the other side of that park there that has a toilet we could go into and rail back a couple if you want it’s upto you though man upto you.” Chris insisted.
“I think we’re all safe on that man.” I answered, looking across at the park.
“Ohhhhhh, yeah, fair enough that’s allgood you don’t have to, no pressure, well anyway, I have this group that I’m trying to start up upland I’m not sure if you two wanna be a part of it but it’s this cell group if you guys are keen.” Chris continued, cracking open another can as the basketballers began to side eye Chris.
The closer I looked at Chris the more I felt physically sick. His skin was a greenish yellow, his eyes a deep yellow, the under eyes dark and tired and droopy. His long unwashed hair slimy and filled with grit. My palms began to clam at the sight, I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up. In that moment I would’ve done anything to get away from this disease riddled dropkick.
“What’s Cell group? Like Bible study?” Asked Michael, scratching his cheek.
“No, well, yeah, sorta, we just hang out and see how everyone’s week has been then at the end of it we open up the bible and see what it has to say to all of us.” Chris replied.
Michael and I both paused, “We’re all good bro.” I spoke for both of us.
Chris mouthed some imaginary words, his eyes flickering back and forth as he crunched his empty can and tossed it to the roadside. “So you don’t want to?” Chris asked again.
“That’s right.” Mike confirmed.
“Is it the other guy?” Chris asked us both, his eyes darting between us, his shoulders hunching.
“Other guy?” I prodded, with a burrowing frown.
“Yeah, the bad guy…it’s okay, I used to talk to him too.” said Chris, with a grimey smile.
“What? No.” laughed Michael, taking the initial steps to work away. I quickly followed after him.
“Alright catch ya later guys, take care, love you’s!” He called out after us.
We fell out of earshot as we walked further down the road and I felt free to speak my mind, “No saving that guy now aye.”
“No way in hell.” agreed Michael. “Suppose we should just go to Trydons, I don’t think we’re going to find that Motel,” he offered.
“You know where he stays?” I asked him, scratching my chin.
“Yeah man. How could I forget?” Michael confirmed.
“What do you mean?” I asked him again.
“Well, After Egypt told me about him pawning of Mum's engagement ring I decided to pay him a visit.” replied Michael, spitting on the roadside curb.
“I’m surprised they even answered the door.” I stated, kicking an empty can.
“They didn’t. I broke in and made a sandwich. Waited six hours for them to get back from their errands.” Michael continued.
“Shit man. Woulda scared the fuck outta me. I can only imagine what that woulda done to Trydon.” I laughed.
“I never got that ring back. One of my biggest regrets.” Michael spoke further.
“I don’t know what she sees in that muppet.” I agreed.
“Last I heard he got fired from his operating job so I’d have to agree with you.” said Michael, as we turned down a street.
“What do we do if she denies taking them?” I asked, noticing some graffiti on a power box.
“She obviously took them, we’ll get em back.” Concluded Michael.
The house was up and over a couple hills round a bend or two and down at the back of a housing project.
I could see the gears turning in Michaels head as he contemplated breaking another window.
But instead we knocked. We knocked and we waited.
And yet, no answer. So we knocked again.
Finally, with a light scuffle about behind the door; the door receded a few inches and Trydon stuck his head out from behind the chain lock.
“What are you doing here Mike?” He asked, his eyes widening as he began to relive some trauma.
“I just wanna talk to Egypt.” replied Michael, spitting on the ground again.
“I don’t think she wants to talk with you.” Trydon replied, still behind the chain lock.
“I don’t give a fuck. Tell her to tell me that herself!” Michael called out to her.
Trydon shook his head and went to close the door. But instead Michael shoved the door back into Trydons head and kicked the door open.
After that it was open season, and we made our way down the hall.
“Don’t run from me you coward!” Michael called out, as Trydon ran down the hall towards the kitchen.
With a loud thump, Egypt planted a ceramic mug firmly across Michaels left brow. Re-splitting it open and dropping him like a sack of spuds. Blood began to leak onto the hallway floor.
“What the hell are you doing Egypt!? That’s our brother!” I exclaimed, rushing to his side.
“Well, for a brother he sure tends to try and throw his weight around a lot.” Egypt replied slipping the mug off of her knuckles. “Surprised that the bloody thing didn’t break.”
I rolled Michael onto his back. And brushed my knuckles across his collar bone. He began to brush my hand away and helped himself to his feet.
“You took our phones?” He gritted, swatting blood away from his eye.”
“Your phones?” She laughed. “I’ve got six IPhones in my sock drawer I don’t need your crummy Samsungs?”
“Samsung has a better camera.” gritted Michael. Holding his brow.
Egypt rolled her eyes, “I run a business here. Everyone knows Samsungs are the cheaper plug.”
“Run a business? More like running a syndicate! Bloody criminal!” cursed Michael, feeling at his eye brow and groaning in pain.
“You alright there Mike?” I asked him, patting his back.
“Don’t fuckin pay me you patronising cunt.” Michael spat, shrugging my hand off.
“Have either of you thought that maybe your phones are still inside the wreckage?” Egypt asked, folding her arms and tilting back.
“The Ute?” Michael thought aloud.
“That would make a lot of sense actually.” I agreed.
“Happy to help and while you’re scrapping it…MAKE SURE YOU USE IT TO PAY FOR MY FUCKING DOOR! LUNATIC!” Egypt yelled, as she began to kick and claw at Michael.
We rushed to the front door and down the drive as Egypt slammed her door shut without realising that it was unable to close.