Belly Dancing for Beginners

by Liz Byrski

  A large cardboard box sealed with brown tape stood slap in the middle of the reception area. Brian nudged it with his foot. ‘Get this unpacked whatever it is, will you, Janice,’ he said to the receptionist. ‘Doesn’t look good out here. Photocopy paper, is it?’

  ‘It’s not . . . er . . . it’s not paper,’ Janice said, glancing nervously over her shoulder.

  ‘Whatever it is, get it out of the way, will you?’

  ‘It’s all right, Janice,’ a voice said and, looking up from the offending box, Brian saw Mal’s bulk, contained in a rather loud check suit, filling the doorway of the meeting room. ‘Good morning, Brian. A little tardy this morning, but better late than never. I’ve been here since half after eight.’

  ‘Mal? I didn’t know you were coming to Perth,’ Brian said, annoyed at being caught on the hop. ‘To what do we owe the honour?’

  ‘Things to discuss, Brian, things to discuss. I think we might talk in your office.’

  ‘Sure,’ said Brian. ‘Could you organise us some coffee, please, Janice. Mal likes cream with his, I’ll have the usual. Come on in, Mal,’ he said, opening his office door. ‘Sorry I’ve kept you waiting. If I’d known, of course I’d –’ He stopped dead in his tracks. The office was empty. Everything personal had been removed. The papers had gone from the desk, the pictures from the walls, the books from the shelves. Brian actually felt himself grow pale. His mouth went dry and he struggled to swallow.

  ‘What the . . . ?’

  Mal pushed past him into the office and took Brian’s old seat behind the desk. ‘Gotta let you go, I’m afraid,’ he said. ‘Gotta let you go.’ And he motioned him to the visitor’s chair. ‘A sad business, Brian, very sad, but that’s what it is, of course – business. You know how it is.’ And locking his hands behind his head he leaned back in Brian’s chair and began to outline the terms of the severance package.

  Gayle lay on the couch, her legs curled under her. On the television the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra was playing something she recognised but couldn’t name, and she closed her eyes, letting the music soothe her and going over the events of the day once again.

  ‘Gayle!’ Marissa had cried as she opened the door. ‘You’ve been gone for ages, we were worried about you. How did it go?’

  Speechless with tiredness and thankful that she wouldn’t have to dance that evening, Gayle sank onto the couch feeling her remaining energy ebb away.

  ‘It was all right,’ she said, her voice trembling. ‘In the end I think . . . I really think it was all right.’ And then she started to cry so hard that the sobs shook her whole body. Marissa sat beside her on the couch, an arm around her shoulders and Sonya, summoned from the bedroom, fetched tissues and joined them.

  ‘I thought he wasn’t going to listen,’ Gayle managed to say as the sobs subsided, ‘that he was just going to get up and walk out of the office any minute and that would be it. And, you know, for a moment I almost wished he would. I felt like chucking it in at that point, it all felt too hard. Once I’d told him, then I’d be honour bound to tell Angie and then there would be Brian to deal with. And there was this moment when I thought, why bother? You’ve lived with all this for so long, why not just go on? Be boring, useless Gayle again, spineless and pathetic, because this is just too hard.’

  ‘Okay, okay,’ Marissa said. ‘Take your time, there’s no rush. Do you need a glass of water, a drink?’

  ‘Water, please. Sorry about the crying. It’s all so sad but it’s such a relief too.’

  Sonya got up and filled a glass. ‘So you talked for ages obviously . . . ?’

  ‘Yes, ages. I found Dan first and he was lovely. He said Josh needed this as much as I did, and I kept thinking of that and thinking that even if he hated me for what I was going to tell him, even if it meant I never saw him again, I owed it to him, to let him know me, to help him understand . . .’

  ‘Drink this, Gayle,’ Sonya said, putting the water in front of her.

  ‘Thanks, I’m so sorry to be like this –’

  ‘There’s nothing to apologise for,’ Marissa cut in.

  Gayle gripped Marissa’s hand. ‘It’s so good to be able to talk about it.’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ Sonya said impatiently, ‘but tell us what happened. We’re dying to know.’

  ‘Okay,’ Gayle said, managing a laugh. ‘Well, eventually he gave me a chance. He was standing looking out of the window, so I just started talking.’

  She had begun by explaining about her father, the grandfather who’d died before Josh was born. ‘A bully,’ she’d told him. ‘Not physically cruel, but threatening, always threatening, so you were never sure you were safe. Oh, I know that’s not the picture you ever had of him. My mother always made him out to be some sort of saint and I wasn’t game to spoil that for her. But he bullied us both, always kept us in line with threats – so much so that often he didn’t have to say anything, threaten anything specific, because being frightened of him had become a way of life.’

  ‘Why are you telling me this?’ Josh asked irritably, turning round to face her. ‘What’s it got to do with you and me?’

  ‘A lot,’ she said. ‘Honestly, Josh, an awful lot. I grew up terrified of putting a foot out of line, believing that if I got it wrong something terrible would happen to me or Mum or both of us. I lived in fear and anxiety. When Dad died, I thought I was free at last. I passed my exams, and with the money from his insurance Mum sent me to uni. I was going to have a new life, be free and independent, and then I met Brian. It felt good to be with someone who was strong enough to take care of me. I looked up to him, I suppose, tried to be what he wanted me to be.

  ‘But it wasn’t long before I realised I’d married my father. What I’d thought was caring was actually control by intimidation. I was back where I’d always been, trying to please someone because I was scared of what would happen if I didn’t. He’d come from the same sort of family but he’d beaten it by becoming the perpetrator instead of the victim. I don’t think he means to be unkind but he doesn’t know how to be any other way. His ego relies on the same sort of emotional standover tactics as my father did.’

  They were sitting down again by now, facing each other across the coffee table and she was shaking with cold in the warm, airless office.

  ‘Go on,’ Josh said.

  She swallowed hard. ‘So you see, I had got myself into a relationship that replicated the past. Dysfunctional, painful, but somehow almost comforting in its familiarity, and I didn’t have the emotional wherewithal to get out of it. Then you came along and that made it all worthwhile. And Brian adored you – really, Josh, he did. I know you feel he wasn’t there for you and you’re right, most of the time he wasn’t, but that was how he was. He couldn’t cope with domesticity, he just worked, worked, worked. But that was also part of his love for you. He wanted you always to have the best. It was the only way he knew how to show love.’

  Josh looked down at the floor without responding.

  ‘And then . . .’ She paused. ‘And then I . . . I met someone else, another man.’ This was the part she had been dreading most of all, this saga of deceit and pragmatism. Perhaps after this any remaining shred of respect he had for her would be gone, but at least he would know the truth. So she told him about the affair, about the lover who had begged her to leave, and promised to care for her and Josh, and promised to leave his wife so that they could be together. And who, when she finally agreed, changed his mind and backed off in panic. She had never seen him again.

  ‘And then I realised I was pregnant,’ she said, and Josh looked up, confused now, wondering what was coming next. ‘I was pregnant and not by your father.’

  Josh was staring at her, his hands trembling. He reached for the bottle of water on the table and gulped at it. ‘So what did you do?’

  ‘I had no option. I had to tell Brian. I was terrified. He hit me – he’d done that a few times before. I wanted to leave but I was still so unprepared to cope alone, to look after myself and
you. And then he told me that if I left he’d make sure I lost you. He would sue for custody, and he might have got it because I was carrying another man’s child. I couldn’t lose you, Josh. You were almost four years old and you were so precious to me. I couldn’t take that risk. And so . . .’

  ‘And so . . . what happened?’

  ‘And so we made a deal. He promised not to lay a finger on me again, and that he’d treat the baby as his own. His pride was terribly hurt and he didn’t want anyone else to know that I’d had an affair and that Angie wasn’t his. I was worried he’d treat her differently but he didn’t. If Angie had been a boy I think it would have been harder for him not to favour you. I think he tried to be fair, to treat you both the same.’

  ‘Well, he was equally absent for both of us,’ Josh said. ‘And so that time . . . that day when I told you about me, you . . . what did you feel?’

  ‘Terrified. Absolutely terrified. I knew he wouldn’t take it well, that’s why I didn’t want you to tell him straight away, but you wanted to, quite rightly, I suppose. But I thought if I had more time I might be able to bring him around and, of course, I kept on thinking that, even after he’d thrown you out.’

  ‘And you stayed for Angie?’

  She nodded. ‘I’d stayed for you the first time, and the second time I stayed for Angie. He . . .’ She paused, wondering whether she should go on. Perhaps she had already said too much, but she had promised him the whole truth. ‘There was a huge row about three weeks after he’d kicked you out. He wouldn’t back down. I threatened to leave and take Angie with me and he went absolutely berserk. He threatened to tell Angie that he wasn’t her father, tell her about the affair. She was just coming up to her exams and I thought it would be all too much for her, so I just backed off. You were nearly twenty by then; you had friends, a lover, an income, a life. I thought you’d be okay. I never thought it would go on and on as it has, with you as an outcast, and me crippled by my own inadequacy.’

  The silence seemed deafening.

  ‘And now?’ Josh asked. ‘What happens now? You tell me this and just go back, stay put, keep out of trouble?’

  Gayle shook her head. ‘No. Once Angie got married I knew I couldn’t go on, being there with him, just the two of us, but I didn’t know how to change it. I’ve been with him so long, Josh, that, miserable as I was, it still felt safer than trying to change it. And then . . . I drifted into this dancing. I didn’t want to go at first, but once I started it felt good. At first it was just the music and the exercise but it’s very grounded and it celebrates female power. I felt as though I was stepping into a part of me that I hadn’t realised was there. And these two terrific women – Marissa, the teacher, and Sonya, who’s a beginner like me – they’re both so strong, that started to rub off on me.’

  ‘Does Angie know all this?’ Josh asked.

  ‘No. But I’m going to tell her the truth when I get back. She’s got her own life with Tony now. I’m telling you because I know I owe you both the truth.’

  Josh looked at her across the table, his gaze unblinking, biting his lip.

  Gayle stood up. ‘Perhaps I should go . . . and give you some space . . .’ She picked up her bag. ‘Thanks for listening –’

  ‘Don’t go,’ he said. ‘Please don’t go.’ He walked over to her. ‘You did the right thing, coming here,’ he said. ‘You’ve given us a second chance.’ He put his arms around her and, as they held each other, Gayle knew that this moment would last her all her life.

  EIGHTEEN

  ‘So you’re still doing the dancing then?’ Tessa said, and Sonya, shocked almost speechless at this first phone call from her sister in years, admitted that she was. ‘When will you be back in Perth?’

  ‘End of the month,’ Sonya said. ‘We’re in Port Hedland now, then we’re driving down to Geraldton for a week and then home from there. Why?’

  ‘Just wondered. I thought you’d want to know Donna’s had the baby, this morning. A little boy.’

  ‘That’s wonderful news,’ Sonya said. ‘Congratulations, Tess, you’re a grandmother. And are they both doing well?’

  ‘It was a bit traumatic. She ended up with a Caesar, but she’s fine now and the baby too. We’re all very happy about it.’

  ‘Well, I’m thrilled for you, and for Donna and Ray. What’ve they called him?’

  ‘Ned,’ Tessa said. ‘Just Ned, not Edward or anything else. Odd, really. Wouldn’t be my choice but they like it.’

  ‘Is she still in hospital?’ Sonya asked. ‘I’d like to send some flowers and a gift.’

  ‘She’ll probably be home in a couple of days,’ Tessa answered. ‘Best to send it to me, because she’s coming here for a while before she goes home.’

  ‘It’s wonderful news,’ Sonya said, wondering how to continue the conversation. ‘And how’s everyone else? David? Alannah?’

  ‘All fine.’

  ‘And Mum and Dad?’

  ‘Oh yes. They’re okay, delighted with their first great-grandchild. Anyway, I’ll let you go. Just wanted you to know about the baby. And you’ll be back in Perth at the end of the month?’

  ‘Yes, should be, why?’

  ‘Oh, just wondered,’ Tessa said. ‘Well, I’ll let you get on.’

  ‘Okay,’ Sonya said. ‘And thanks for telling me. It was good to talk –’ but Tessa had hung up.

  Sonya took the phone away from her ear and stared at it. The last time she had had a call from Tessa was when Alannah was staying with her in Perth. Tessa would call to speak to her daughter, and when Sonya answered there would be a brief and awkward exchange of information and Sonya would take a message.

  They had been close as children. Tessa was five years her junior and Sonya had enjoyed alternately mothering and bullying her younger sister. She had graduated from university and was almost a year into her first job when Tessa moved up to Perth, ready to embrace the excitement of life in the city. That excitement rapidly found its focus in drugs, and she soon moved to a depressing flat with Gary, a drummer ten years older than her who spent more time trying to score heroin and pump it into his veins than he did on his music, and Tessa was soon shooting up as well.

  For Sonya – ambitious, focused and genuinely fearful of putting a foot wrong in any direction – they were nightmare years in which she constantly rescued Tessa from one drug-related drama after another, taking her to hospital, to the methadone clinic, to counsellors, giving her money or sweet-talking her out of police stations, while fending off anxious calls from their parents. The turning point came the day Tessa found Gary dead from an overdose, blood trickling from his nose and mouth from an encounter with a corner of the table. Sonya had grasped the opportunity to get her sister into a detox clinic, from which she emerged some weeks later, scrawny and grey faced, to sit speechless in the front seat of Sonya’s car as she drove her back to Kalgoorlie.

  To Sonya there was something surprisingly admirable in the way that Vera and Lewis had taken in their errant daughter, nursed her back to health and supported her until she was physically and mentally able to take care of herself and get a job. They had been frantic with worry and strongly disapproved of Tessa’s lifestyle, but there were no recriminations. Sonya respected and loved them for it. Back in Perth again she was relieved that she no longer had the responsibility of looking after her sister and could get on with her own life. But something had changed, something that in all the subsequent years Sonya had never been able to understand. It was as though Tessa had cut her off, as though in leaving behind the chaos of that time she had chosen to leave Sonya behind as well.

  ‘She’ll get over it, dear,’ Vera had assured her the following year when Tessa, just starting a job as a receptionist in a doctor’s surgery, had treated Sonya like a stranger all through a Christmas visit. ‘It’s been hard for her and she hasn’t always been easy to get on with. It’ll all sort itself out in time; you have to be gentle with her.’

  ‘I was, Mum. Probably too gentle for too long,’ So
nya said. ‘So many times I rescued her, bailed her out financially, and now she’s better she treats me with contempt.’

  ‘I know,’ Vera soothed. ‘She’s an emotional girl, always has been. Not practical like you, Sonya. Don’t push her, give her time.’

  ‘She can have all the time in the world,’ said Sonya, ‘but I’m sick of being treated like shit.’

  By this time, Sonya was twenty-five and engaged to Alex, a recently graduated civil engineer. Later that year they were married and Sonya found she was playing rescuer again. The legendary capacity for drink that had made Alex a hero in the engineering faculty also made him a domestic nightmare, and Sonya had more to worry about than her sister’s coldness. A couple of years later, Tessa had married one of the doctors in the practice where she worked and was fitting neatly into the role of perfect wife.

  ‘He’s a nice guy, your dad,’ Sonya had once told Alannah. ‘I always liked him, so it wasn’t anything to do with that. Your mum and I just never got it together again. We drifted further and further apart to the point that when we do meet, we don’t know what to say to each other.’

  ‘She’s weird,’ Alannah had said. ‘She talks a lot about when you were kids and how great it was to have you as a sister.’

  ‘Well, she clearly doesn’t think it’s so great these days,’ Sonya replied. ‘She makes me feel I shouldn’t exist.’

  This phone call had come right out of the blue, any new information about Tessa’s family usually reaching her through her mother or Alannah. Sonya, who had been sitting in the hotel lounge with a cup of coffee when Tessa called, longed to talk to the others. It was only ten o’clock but it was all feeling a bit like the first night of their tour, each disappearing into her own shell to reflect on her own problems. Since they arrived in Port Hedland they’d had large and enthusiastic audiences and that in turn had improved their performances. They were a younger crowd here, more of them in their thirties and forties, some of them bringing children who sat watching in boredom or snuck outside to avoid embarrassment while their mothers made their first attempts at dancing.