Best Australian Yarn: Kevin and Dave by Shannon Meyerkort

It was after eleven when they pulled up outside the main entrance to Serpentine National Park. ‘It looks very busy, Dave. We really should have come earlier,’ his mother-in-law Karen said. Dave swallowed his reply, glancing at Pen. She avoided his eyes. Dave rolled his window down and held a twenty dollar note out towards the ranger. The man gazed at him, his deep-set eyes buried in a profoundly wrinkled face. He extended a leathered arm, pointing. ‘Main car park is well full,’ he said. ‘You’ll have to head to the overflow bays, up the hill.’ He looked back at Karen, smiling broadly at him from under her visor. ‘Bit of a long walk, yes. Mind the snakes.’ Karen blinked, the smile dropping off her face. The man cackled and waved Dave forward. He inched along the rocky road, feeling the tyres spin on the loose gravel. ‘Should we all get out and walk, mate?’ Steve joked from the back. Dave ignored him. It had been Pen’s idea to take her visiting parents and Nonna on an Aussie BBQ in the bush. Dave had wanted to stay home and watch the game. Pen popped the boot and a mountain of bags and eskies came cascading out. At the bottom of the pile, a crushed cooler bag. Dave’s bag. The bush sang with summer, a constant hum of bees and birdsong. The wattle made Dave’s eyes water. The steep path was loose gravel and red dust, and Dave noted with grim satisfaction that Karen’s new white sneakers were now a pale shade of pink. He lagged behind his family, arms loaded with folding chairs and eskies. Reaching the picnic area, Dave scanned the crowds. Children ran between the rugs, dressed in their summer uniforms of bathers and shorts. The air was thick with the smell of frying sausages and onions. A few steps away was a bank of rubbish bins. Holding the dripping cooler bag away from his body, Dave watched as a large kookaburra with a perfect circle of brown feathers around its left eye landed on the lid of a bin. For a moment, bird and man regarded each other. ‘It’s beer, mate,’ Dave said to the kookaburra. ‘Broken glass and broken dreams.’ The bird opened its enormous beak. Was it smiling at him? ‘Talking to birds now, Dad?’ Dave turned to see Allie, tall and thin in her bikini, a towel around her shoulders. ‘Mum says to tell you we’re under the trees on the far side, near the BBQs.’ In the distance, he could see Pen, arms outstretched, signalling at him. He turned back to his daughter, but she was gone, already halfway to the swimming hole. Dave hefted the esky and picked his way through the maze of chairs and rugs. He was so thirsty it hurt. Finally, Dave reached his family, squeezed into some patchy shade on some patchy grass. Pen’s Nonna perched at the edge of a folding chair, holding a cube of cheese on a toothpick, smiling and nodding as Karen spoke to her in Italian. Dave dropped the esky and rubbed his head under his cap. His hand came away sweaty. He wiped it on the seat of his pants. ‘I might wander over and check out the falls,’ he said to no one in particular. But then his hands were being filled with metal trays and tongs. ‘You can go after lunch,’ Pen said, handing him an enormous packet of sausages. ‘You’d better get in the queue, or it will be dark before we eat.’ Dave’s shoulders slumped as he regarded the BBQs. Already there was a line stretching behind them. ‘I wish we’d just gone with a cold quiche and BBQ chook,’ Dave said, fully aware of his petulant tone. ‘But then Nonna wouldn’t get the full Australia Day experience,’ Karen said primly. She took a large sip of red wine from her plastic cup. ‘Need a hand with the cooking, Dave?’ asked Steve from his camp chair. His legs were stretched out in front, a paper plate of prosciutto and cheese balanced on his gut. ‘You don’t have to…’ began Dave. ‘Good, good,’ Steve cut him off with a wave. ‘Holler if you need me.’ Swallowing a curse, Dave headed off to the BBQ area, taking his place behind a young couple wearing matching flag t-shirts. He tried not to watch as they began kissing. Dave turned his gaze upward, searching out the kookaburras and ravens watching from above, the parrots diving and swooping between trees. He could feel sweat dripping down behind his knees. After a lifetime, the man at the BBQ signalled he was done. The rich smell of marinated lamb chops had been making Dave’s mouth water, and he looked dejectedly at the supermarket sausages and steak in his hand. The man gave Dave a commiserating smile and moved away. Still, the couple kissed. Dave coughed. Loudly. Overhead a kookaburra began to laugh, slowly at first then building to a full cackle. Laughing at Dave, with his cheap sausages and empty stubbie holder. The couple detached, looking upwards with a smile. ‘Guess it’s our turn,’ the man said to Dave with a hint of embarrassment. ‘Sorry,’ the woman said without a trace of apology in her voice. ‘We’re newlyweds.’ She held out her hand to show Dave her rings. ‘You probably guessed.’ Dave smiled weakly and patted his back pocket, looking for his phone. Damn. He must have left it in the car. He audibly groaned as the couple began unpacking packets of gourmet sausages, thickly cut onion rings, and beautifully marbled steaks. The woman reached into the esky one more time, bringing out two frosty bottles of beer. Dave’s eyes greedily followed the bottles, the pop and soft foam as she twisted the caps, the beads of condensation that ran down the glass. Dave’s mouth was parched. He’d happily have some of Steve’s dry red wine, but no one was looking over at him. They were sitting in the shade waiting for their meal. ‘Pen,’ he called. ‘Pen!’ A fly landed on his lip, and in his panic, Dave sucked it in. He could feel it moving in his mouth and spat it out again. ‘Penelope,’ he bellowed, causing people to stare disapprovingly in his direction. Pen’s head turned. Dave raised his curved hand to his mouth, the universal sign for ‘drink’. She waved at him. Thank God, he thought. The newlyweds were taking their time with their gourmet feast, moving their sausages to the side and bringing out vegetable kebabs. Dave felt himself wilting; where was Pen with his drink? Suddenly there was a flurry of wings, and the large kookaburra with the brown eye swooped down and landed on the tray of sausages. Dave watched with alarm as the tray overbalanced, sending its contents falling to the dirt below. The woman shrieked, flapping her hands at the bird, which quickly swallowed two of the snags before grabbing a third in its large beak and retreating to its high post in the tree. The woman sobbed as she picked the sausages out of the dirt and placed them back on the tray. Dave eyed them hungrily. ‘It’s okay, Bevvie,’ the man said, rubbing her back. ‘We have the other packet remember. I wasn’t sure how many were coming today, so I packed extra.’ The woman smiled through a sniff, rubbing at her nose with her hand. ‘I’ll run and get them.’ Behind him, Dave could hear groans from others waiting in the queue. The man turned, hands raised. ‘They’re chicken sausages,’ he said by way of an apology. ‘They will cook extra quick.’ Twenty minutes later, it was finally Dave’s turn at the BBQ. He had been standing in the sun for over an hour, and his head throbbed. He squirted some oil on the plate and dumped the sausages in a big pile. Above him, the kookaburra watched. Pale pink and uniform, the sausages looked insipid. ‘They were all that was left,’ Pen had protested when Dave voiced his disapproval. At least she had found some half-decent steak. Using the sharp edge of the tongs, Dave began separating the sausages, pushing them into neat rows. But before he could finish, the kookaburra plunged and collected the final string of sausages. Dave slashed at the empty air behind the bird as it flew away, a string of profanity spilling from his mouth. High above, the bird laughed. Karen appeared at his elbow, sipping at her red wine. ‘You’ve got to be quicker than that,’ she said conversationally. ‘They’re so majestic, aren’t they? And apparently very intelligent.’ ‘They’re a damn nuisance,’ Dave growled. ‘Look, Karen, can you bring me a drink or something. I’m dying out here.’ Karen regarded him coolly. ‘You know David if you need some help, you only have to ask.’ Dave mumbled under his breath. His mother-in-law leaned right in, ‘I’m sorry David, I didn’t quite catch that.’ A drop of sweat trickled off the end of Dave’s nose, landing with a sizzle on the hot plate. Karen grimaced. ‘Perhaps you should take a swim after lunch, cool off,’ she said. Open-mouthed, Dave watched his mother-in-law swan back to the rug. He watched her sit down and pour herself another glass of wine. She had already forgotten his request for a drink. Angrily, Dave tore open the packet of steaks and threw them on the sizzling metal. Normally, he would use his mobile phone to time the cooking to perfection, but today he was beyond caring. Dave picked up the heavy metal tray that Pen had insisted on bringing and laid it at the side of the BBQ. The steaks only needed a few minutes. He bent down to stash the empty wrapper in his rubbish bag, and when he stood up, Dave was eye to eye with the kookaburra, perched on the thin tiled edge of the BBQ. ‘That’s Kevin,’ said the man at the next BBQ. ‘He’s a legend in these parts.’ Dave ignored the man, swooshing at Kevin with the tongs. The bird flapped his wings but did not move. Behind him, Dave could hear a snort of laughter. ‘Shoo,’ Dave said, waving his hands at the bird. Kevin cocked his head. ‘Looks like you’ve been put in your place, mate. By a bird!’ Laughter welled up behind him. ‘Rack off,’ yelled Dave. The kookaburra shot upwards, but not before grabbing the biggest steak in his beak. Dave swung at the bird, which paused in mid-air, opened his enormous beak and let the steak drop with a thud in the dirt. The kookaburra retreated to the trees. Behind him, a few groans mixed in with the hoots and cheers. Dave took some deep breaths, well aware of the tears pricking the back of his eyes. He picked up the heavy metal tray, preparing to transfer the sausages when from the corner of his eye, he saw a flurry of brown feathers. Oh no, you don’t, Dave thought. These are my bloody steaks. Dave swung the tray. It connected with a dazzling chime, like a solitary church bell. Kevin’s body flew a few feet, then landed in the dirt. For a moment there was nothing. People stopped talking, birds quelled their song, even the wind died away, taking with it the rustle of leaves in the trees. Dave looked with horror at the feathered body in the dirt, willing it to move, to stand up and fly away. The tray fell to the ground, a metallic clang that echoed around the silent picnic area. A rumble rose around him, murmurs of shock and outrage. Dave turned to his accusers, wearing his disbelief like a shroud. His throbbing head tried to make sense of what was happening. All around him, phones lifted as strangers recorded his shame. ‘It was an accident.’ The words fell from his parched mouth. ‘You killed Kevin, you bastard.’ ‘We should kill you.’ ‘I’m calling the police.’ Dave collapsed onto the dirt near the kookaburra. The bird looked so small now, so defenceless. ‘Dave? David?’ Pen’s voice cut through the threats like a summer rain shower. Pen would know what to do. But when she saw the body at his side, her face cracked. ‘Dave,’ she whispered. ‘What’s going on? What happened?’ ‘Your husband killed this bird. Smacked it out of the sky and killed it,’ a woman said from her rug. Her hands were on the heads of two small children, their faces wet with tears. ‘They’re a protected species,’ a man said from the crowd. ‘You’ll go to jail.’ ‘Nonsense,’ said an authoritative voice. ‘This bird has a well-known reputation for swooping and stealing food. There are warning signs everywhere. This man was provoked; it was just a terrible accident.’ Dave looked up at his mother-in-law in awe. She stood in front of the crowd with her hands on her hips, challenging them to dispute her. ‘Stand up, David,’ she hissed from the corner of her mouth. Pen helped Dave stand. His legs were weak, as though he could not bear the weight of the hundreds of accusing eyes. ‘He should be punished,’ someone yelled. ‘I’m calling the papers,’ another woman shouted. Behind him, Dave could smell his steaks burning. The man on the next BBQ quickly gave his sausages a turn before facing Dave again, scorn on his face. ‘Let’s go, David. Penelope.’ Karen was calm and imposing. ‘Bird killer,’ a small child hissed at Dave. ‘This is an outrage. He shouldn’t get away with it.’ Something made Dave take one glance back at the feathered body. To say goodbye, to apologise. It wasn’t there. Dave fell to his hands and knees, searching between the mob’s feet, looking for the body. He crawled in the dust, seeking an answer. ‘It’s gone,’ he croaked, but his voice was too small to be heard. ‘He’s not dead.’ Dave felt a tugging on his arm and looked up to see Karen grip him under the armpit, hauling him bodily towards the carpark. A sea of phones filmed his shameful abscondment. No one had noticed that Kevin’s body was no longer lying in the dirt. His family, their arms full of hastily folded chairs and eskies, ran to catch up. Keiran pulled his iPhone out and took a quick photo of Dave. ‘That’s enough of that, young man,’ Karen said, swatting her grandson on the back of the head. ‘Delete that immediately.’ Nonna, oblivious to everything or pretending to be, patted Dave on the arm and handed him an open can of lemonade. He was shoved in the minivan, along with a jumble of chairs and bags. Pen jumped in the driver’s seat and roared the motor. High above them, watching their escape, a kookaburra began a slow laugh, a charred steak hanging from his enormous beak. The end.

Best Australian Yarn: Kevin and Dave by Shannon Meyerkort

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