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He'd gotten into terrible trouble over that little adventure. He had indeed crashed the tram and ended up spending weeks in hospital, getting his body and his mind sorted out, which may or may not have been better than spending months in goal. Someone else must have believed in him, for a moment anyway, to have saved him from a goal sentence.
Then there was the time he'd been given a bike, a pushbike, by a kind lady. He'd loved riding it from the hostel where he had a room into town, to his doctor's surgery, and to Centrelink. It was also great for getting away from all the crazies who wanted to bash him up and steal his stuff. One day, though, he wasn't quick enough, and one of them pushed him off his bike, bashed him, and just rode away on it.
And the time he was sleeping in his room in the hostel when the bloke next door broke in and stole all his stuff.
And the time…
Mostly, when these things happened we didn't see him for a while, he just disappeared. But he always came back eventually, ready for a chat, keen to tell us this time’s story, smiling his shy smile and holding his hand out.
