I doubled over then and the laughter poured from my mouth. Davey trudged off to the car to get a look at the new him. A door opened and I heard him roar.
‘I hate you, Lexie.’
Mr Romanov was next.
I put the shears away and retrieved the scissors from the plastic bag. He hadn’t spoken much during the last few kilometres and I worried that the driving might have taken its toll.
I got to work on his left side, gently cutting at the wisps of silver strands I threaded between my fingers.
‘Are you okay?’ I asked.
‘I am okay, cowgirl.’
‘Are you sure? You’ve driven a long way.’
‘I am fine.’
We’d only been away for a few days, but it seemed more like weeks since we’d left the commission. I’d never really thought about how Mr Romanov might fare, I’d been too busy focusing on myself, but looking at him now, he looked kind of lost.
Although the commission wasn’t the greatest place to live, maybe it was the only thing he knew. His tiny apartment, his nightly adventures were his familiar world, his routine, and I wondered now if taking him away from that might have been a mistake.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said.
Mr Romanov angled his head.
‘Why are you sorry, cowgirl?’
‘I never really asked if you wanted to come,’ I said. ‘I mean, I know you agreed and everything but I never actually asked.’
‘Do not be sorry, cowgirl. I wanted to come.’
‘Really? You’re not just saying that?’
Two pink galahs made a screeching sound and sprang from a tree nearby. I looked at Mr Romanov but he seemed to be someplace else.
‘It was you,’ he said.
‘What was me?’
‘You stopped me,’ he said. ‘That day on the roof, in the rain. You reminded me of Nika.’
‘I did?’
‘Yes. And now also. She used to cut my hair.’
‘You do remember.’
‘Yes. I remember her hands. They were soft, like yours.’
‘So that’s good, right?’
‘Yes, cowgirl, that’s good. An old man should have memories but with the dementia sometimes they do not come, no matter how hard I try. I think you help me remember.’
‘I do?’
‘Yes.’
I understood now why hairdressers liked to talk. It seemed a natural thing to do while cutting someone’s hair. I sliced some more grey and kept going.
‘I reckon someone made us meet, you know. Not God or anything, but someone else.’
Mr Romanov turned his head and smiled.
‘Your father, perhaps?’
‘Yeah, maybe.’
I cut another wisp of hair and gave the idea some thought.
‘Maybe he made me see you up in the clouds that day,’ I said. ‘I mean, sure, he could’ve made us bump into each other in the elevator or something, it definitely would’ve been easier but maybe that was the point. Like, I probably wouldn’t have come up and tidied your apartment if we’d met in the elevator. I wouldn’t have brought Davey up either. And that means we wouldn’t have worked on the garden and we wouldn’t have gone on this trip. Everything’s connected. Maybe it was my dad.’
I hadn’t spoken to the others about it, but ever since we’d crossed the border into New South Wales, I’d felt my father’s presence more than ever before. Sometimes, in the moments of silence, when Davey stopped talking, I could feel him so strongly it was as if there were four of us in the car and not three, and somehow him being with me made me think I was right not to turn back.
‘You have the same eyes as my father,’ I said.
Mr Romanov looked up as I moved around in front of him and started on his fringe.
‘I do?’ he said.
‘Faraway eyes,’ I said. ‘You don’t have them all the time, just every now and then. It’s like you want to go somewhere, like you want to be someplace else. And it was the same with my dad.’
‘And what about you, cowgirl?’
I cut the last bit from Mr Romanov’s fringe and lowered my hands down by my sides.
‘What about me?’ I asked.
‘Why do you want to be someplace else?’
‘Because I want to see Surfers Paradise, for myself.’
‘And what do you want to see, cowgirl?’
Something strange happened when I went to answer. The words I had ready didn’t come. Everything I’d dreamed about, the postcard above my bed and the snow dome on the dash, the beach and the sun seemed to disappear. A new set of words came from nowhere and leap-frogged the ones I had waiting in my mouth. I saw my father and I saw his eyes.
‘I want to see why he went without me . . . I want to see why Surfers Paradise was more important than me.’
Davey hadn’t returned from the car. No doubt he was coming to terms with not being Davey Goodman anymore, so I walked with Mr Romanov to the toilet block. After handing him the shaving gear, I headed into the women’s toilet and retrieved the blonde hair dye from the bag. After reading through the instructions on the pack, I donned the rubber gloves and go to work, pouring the peroxide and the developer into a small plastic container. When the two ingredients were thoroughly mixed, I wrapped a towel around my shoulders and scooped up a dollop with my fingers. I didn’t bother separating my hair into sections like it said on the instructions. With my hair cut short the way it was, I figured I’d save time and dive straight in. Nothing looked worse than a dodgy dye job so I got my fingers in and teased at the roots of my hair, working my way out to the ends. While I worked, I could hear Mr Romanov shaving in the men’s next door – the splash of water and the tink tink tink of the razor on the metal sink. It didn’t take long to apply the peroxide mix so I used up what was left in the container just to make sure. Thirty minutes was the suggested leave-in time so I wrapped the towel around my head and twisted it tight into a knot. I took a step back and when I looked up into the mirror, I saw her clear as day – it was my mother staring back.
Every minute we lingered ate into our driving time, so I tidied up quickly, dumped the dye kit and gloves into the garbage bin then headed outside. I heard a new voice as I rounded the toilet block, someone chatting to Davey near the car. I slowed myself down and when I angled my head out for a look I saw a police car, parked behind the Merc. I gripped the wooden wall hard and saw a clean-cut policeman in a smart blue uniform standing next to Davey with his back to me, between the two cars. Mr Romanov was in the back of the Merc. He looked like he was sleeping.
Despite the urge to join them, I decided it was best to stay where I was. The three of us together would raise suspicion but I worried that Davey might not be thinking the same thing. He needed to know so I inched myself out from the toilet block and raised a hand in the air. It worked. When Davey saw me he glanced away then shook his head as a warning to stay put. I breathed a sigh of relief then lifted the towel up above my ears and listened in. The policeman seemed concerned.
‘Jesus, I’m sorry to hear that, Myron. You okay?’
‘Yes and no.’ Davey lifted a hand up and ran it over his freshly shaved head. ‘The chemo knocks me around, makes me real sick but they’ve stopped it for a bit, thank God. Pops is taking me to the Gold Coast. We’re going to Sea World. Just me and him.’
The policeman angled his head towards the back seat.
‘And your Pops . . . he’s all right?’
‘Yeah, good as gold,’ said Davey. ‘He’s just taking a power nap. I wouldn’t wake him, if I were you.’
The policeman nodded then made his way to the front passenger door and peered inside. I tried to remember what I’d left on the seat, if there was anything typically girlie, but it was too late. Something caught the policeman’s eye and he turned to Davey behind him.
‘We need to talk,’ he said.
Davey took a step back and I felt my heart sink.
‘We do?’ asked Davey. ‘What about?’
&n
bsp; ‘What about? I’m not stupid, Myron.’
‘No, sir, I didn’t say you were. I’m just not sure . . .’
‘You do realise it’s a collector’s item.’
‘What is?’
‘That Worf figurine. Hell, I’ve never seen one before. Do you mind if I . . .?’
I saw Davey relax. He dropped his guard then extended a hand to the front door.
‘By all means,’ he said.
The policeman opened the door and carefully removed Worf from the dash. He lifted him up and turned him over in his hand.
‘Jesus, no, what happened to him?’
‘Unfortunately, he was involved in an accident,’ said Davey. ‘My stupid sister, Sharelle, threw him into the insinkerator.’
‘Damn.’
‘Yeah. She’s an idiot sometimes. Thank God she’s still at home in Frankston and this trip is just me and Pops. Seriously, you’d think she was the one with cancer sometimes.’
‘I hear you, mate.’
As relieved as I was, the idea that two strangers, one of them charged with upholding the law, might bond over a doll seemed kind of ridiculous.
‘You can keep him if you want,’ said Davey.
Any doubts I had about Davey’s commitment vanished right then and there. I knew how much Worf meant to him and handing him over to someone else, decapitated or not, wasn’t something he’d do lightly. Something told me the policeman knew it too.
‘Mate, no, I couldn’t,’ he said. ‘I’d feel bad, with you being sick and all.’
‘I want you to,’ said Davey. ‘Really, I’ve got Gowron at home.’
‘You do not have Gowron.’
‘I do. I’ve got him locked away where Sharelle won’t find him.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah, really. Take Worf. I insist.’
All of a sudden the two-way radio in the police car crackled to life. I couldn’t hear the voice from where I was but the policeman turned his head and listened in.
‘Bugger, that’s me,’ he said.
I’m not sure how much Davey heard, but he seemed interested.
‘Anything important?’ he asked.
‘It’s probably nothing,’ said the policeman. ‘There’s some missing kids. Been a sighting, apparently.’
It was time for goodbye. The policeman shifted closer to Davey and stood directly in front of him.
‘I’m not sure I know what to say, Myron,’ he said. ‘But thank you. The people you meet, hey?’
Davey smiled then angled his head my way.
‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘The people you meet.’
The radio began to crackle again in short, sharp bursts and a magpie warbled a reply. Funnily enough it was Davey who extended his hand first. The policeman reached out and shook it.
‘You take care, Myron,’ he said. ‘And I hope the treatment goes well. Look after yourself, yeah?
‘I will.’
The policeman began to walk off towards his car. A few metres away he turned and looked back.
‘And by the way, Myron, I want you to pass something onto your Pops when he wakes up.’
‘Sure.’
‘Tell him the Merc needs a new set of tyres.’
As soon as the police car was out of sight I hurried over to the Merc. When I got there, Mr Romanov sat himself up in the back.
‘That was close,’ I said. ‘Way too close. Myron, you were brilliant.’
‘Wasn’t I just.’
‘And the Worf thing. You never cease to amaze me, you know?’
‘Yeah, well, I’m one hundred percent onboard, Lexie. And sometimes bribery is the only way to go.’
‘The cancer thing was a bit over-the-top, though. Kind of heartless, really.’
‘I know. It just came to me.’
‘And Mr Romanov, you were good too.’
‘Thank you, cowgirl. And now, I think it is time for us to go.’
I caught sight of the other bags I’d dumped in the foot space in front of my seat.
‘Not yet,’ I said. ‘There’s one more thing we need to do.’
After rummaging through my suitcase in the boot, I grabbed my father’s clothes and accessories I’d taken from the cardboard box at home. I sorted them into two piles and handed one to Davey and the other to Mr Romanov.
‘Change of clothes, fellas. Follow me.’
After grabbing the things I’d bought at the second-hand store, the three of us headed for the toilet block. I took myself off to the women’s again and the others went left to the men’s. I rinsed the dye out with water and dried my hair with the towel. It didn’t take long to change into the new gear. I slipped off my old plain clothes, the black top, the faded jeans and Converse and replaced them with the things I’d bought. When I was done, I shifted towards the mirror again. I moved into position and slowly reached two hands up. I whipped the towel off my head and looked up at the strange and unfamiliar girl staring back. Davey’s voice rang out close by.
‘We’re done, Sharelle. We’re waiting outside.’
I didn’t have time to make sense of the girl in the mirror, so I bundled up my old clothes and tossed them into the bin. I stopped at the door for a moment then I took a deep breath and mouthed a warning as I walked outside.
‘Don’t laugh,’ I said.
Davey must have heard my voice. When I came out he was all eyes.
‘Bloody hell . . . .’
‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’ I said.
‘You look . . . different,’ he said.
‘That’s kind of the idea, Davey.’
‘You’re wearing a dress. An actual dress with flowers. And red boots too.’
‘So?’
‘So? I’ve never seen you wear a dress before. You look . . . incredible. And your hair. It’s totally blonde. It’s like you’re not you.’
‘Oh thanks. So the old me wasn’t any good, is that what you’re saying?’
‘No, I’m not saying that. The old you was fine.’
‘Fine?’
‘Okay, let me rephrase that. The old you was incredible as well, I’m just saying that the new you . . .’
Mr Romanov stepped up beside Davey in my father’s black ACDC t-shirt and shorts. Besides the night in the motel when he wore pyjamas to bed, it was the first time I’d seen him without his thick grey coat. His old-man legs were bruised and battered.
‘You look like an angel, cowgirl,’ he said. ‘But then again, you always have.’
I turned to Davey and threw him a smile.
‘Thank you, Mr Romanov.’
Davey wasn’t happy.
‘Hang on, that’s not fair. I just said you looked incredible. Why does he get a thank you?’
‘Because there are ways of saying things to a girl, Davey.’
‘And what about saying things to a boy? I look like rubbish, you said. I can’t go on Brainstormers without a makeover, you said. What about that?’
‘That’s different.’
‘It is not. Hang on, this is about the angina thing, isn’t it? I already told you, Lexie, it was an honest mistake.’
I screwed up my face and as I walked off towards the car, Davey angled his head towards Mr Romanov beside him and pushed a word from the corner of his mouth.
‘Suck.’
Despite the time we’d spent on the makeovers, I felt a lot better about the new looks, especially with the news of a possible sighting. If the sightings were true and someone had fitted us to the photos on the news, I reckoned we’d done enough to throw them off the scent. The only problem was the Merc.
We went back over our trip, to the various times we’d stopped and tried to remember if anyone could connect us with the battered car. It was impossible to know exactly. At most of our stops, we’d been careful to park it out of the way, but if the connection had been made and the policeman we’d just bumped into got wind of it, it was only a matter of time before we were caught. It was a risk, all right, but after some discussion, we decided
it was one worth taking.
After studying the various maps he had with him, Davey made some rough estimates in the back. He guessed we were about a thousand kilometres from Surfers Paradise, which translated to an eleven or twelve hour drive, and one more overnight stay. It didn’t sound all that far when you said it out loud but the driving made it seem like forever. Every bend we rounded, every hill we topped, we looked ahead and expected to see a police car waiting for us by the side of the road. Luckily, there were none, so fifty kilometres further on, I gave up looking and turned to Davey in the back. He was wearing my father’s Yankees baseball cap and favourite pair of white-rimmed sunglasses, but the clothes he had on were his own. He raised his head up and I felt the glare of his eyes underneath the shaded lenses.
‘What?’
‘Thank you,’ I said.
‘Bit late now, isn’t it?’
‘Yeah. Sorry.’
‘It was supposed to be a compliment, Lexie. I was being nice.’
‘I know, but I’m not used to it.’
‘I’m nice a lot, you know?’
‘I know you are. What I mean is, I’m not used to people saying nice things . . . about the way I look, I mean.’
‘So, how come you liked it when Mr Romanov said the angel thing?’
‘That was different.’
‘Why?’
‘Because you’re a boy.’
‘So?’
‘So, no boy has ever looked at me before, ever, and no boy has ever told me I look incredible until now. Why do I have to put a dress on to be incredible?’
‘Because you’re a girl, Lexie. And girls wear dresses. I’m not saying you should be like every other girl. In fact, I’m really glad you’re not. But looking incredible in a dress isn’t something to get your knickers in a knot over.’
‘Knickers in a knot?’
‘Yeah.’
‘I’ll pretend you didn’t say that.’
‘No, don’t pretend. It’s what I said. Knickers in a knot, knickers in a knot, knickers in a knot . . .’
It was like the girls and fluffy books comment. If it had been anyone else, I would have turned back around. But it wasn’t anyone else. It was Davey, honest as hell and I suppose you had to love him for that.
‘So, I really look incredible?’ I said.
Mr Romanov's Garden in the Sky Page 14