Neither Here Nor There

• Evie Dean, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2019

“I only ever saw something as beautiful as your father when the stars emerged over the hills each night.”
“Mum, how come he’s pale and you aren’t?”
I looked at my son and smiled.
“Well, that’s because my ancestors have been in this country for thousands of years, their stories passed down through the generations. Your father’s ancestors lived far away, on the other side of the world.”
He continued to ask questions, and I continued to answer. He asked me about early settlement, the parts of Europe my husband’s family came from and even showed some interest when I mentioned a couple of my family traditions. But then my daughter came in.
“Toby, did you hear? Milo just got the newest smartphone. He said so today at school! Mum, why don’t we get smartphones?”
“Well, I don’t-”
She ran out of the room in excitement with Toby following right behind her. My face fell as I realised how much more interested Toby seemed to be in the idea of a smartphone than his unique heritage.
Don’t be ridiculous, I told myself. Of course he’s excited. He can hear my stories anytime. Maybe he’ll ask again tomorrow.
“Do you want a hand with that?”
I set down the collection of photographs, newspaper clippings and cardboard to look up at my daughter.
“Do you know what this is?”
“It’s the family tree you’re making to help Toby with his history homework.”
I shuffled the papers aside so Amelia could take a seat beside me.
“Why doesn’t Toby come and help? It’s his homework, and don’t you think he’d be interested?”
“Toby is out. I’m just getting it started for him. He’ll finish it later.”
I slumped on the lounge, tears streaming down my face.
Why should I care where you and Dad came from? No one else at school is mixed like me. I don’t want to know, it just makes it more complicated. That side of our family is gone!
Toby had regretted his words immediately. But it was too late. He had already revealed his thoughts. I had no idea he felt that way. The tears fell: a river down my cheek, like those created long ago by the spirits of the Dreamtime, who loved among the stars although suddenly the stars don’t seem so bright.
I sat in the backseat, Toby and Amelia either side of me. We couldn’t stop smiling. Today was the first day of the holidays, and we were taking a trip. My children had never seen where my family came from.
The sparks from our campfire crackled and glowed against the tops of the gum trees reaching up to the dark, star-covered sky. We sat, my children, husband and I—brown, white and black—taking in the bush around us.
“You know, our people once looked at the spaces between the stars, not the stars themselves, and found stories there,” Toby said, before going quiet again.
I smiled.