“Would you mind if we have a quick look in here?” she says.
“Okay,” I reply.
We go in, and Kate heads over to a wall at the back, lined with bottles of pills and ointments where all the herbal remedies are. A shop assistant comes over to help. She’s wearing a branded blue sweater with a nametag pinned to it that reads Vanya. She can’t be older than eighteen and looks down her nose at me as she walks past. It’s often the young ones who do, as though it’s a crime to have a baby at my age. Sure, it wasn’t part of the plan, but the truth is, before Hayley there was no plan. I’d dropped out of school and was working for minimum wage as a checkout chick in a supermarket. I lived with Mum and Dad so I had enough money to get pissed in the weekends, which is how I got knocked up in the first place. Too drunk to take the necessary precautions. Having Hayley has been the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but it’s given me a purpose.
Vanya crouches down in front of Corbin and says in a syrupy voice, “Ooh, what’s wrong?”
Corbin stops crying for a second and stares at her, then kicks off again, louder this time. Vanya stands up, smiling sheepishly, and Kate gives me this pleading look and says, “Do you mind, Trace? I can’t hear anything with him crying.”
Now doesn’t that take the cake? Here I am, thinking Kate’s asked me shopping as a friend when all she really wants is someone to babysit her brat. But I set Hayley’s stroller aside and take Corbin from her, push him behind a shelving unit full of skin lotions, and then give him another chocolate biscuit. And whaddaya know! He stops crying and chows down on it.
I can hear Kate talking to Vanya, telling her how she got real depressed after having Corbin and moving to Cromwell.
“To be honest, it got so bad I was having suicidal thoughts, which is an awful place to be when you’re alone at home with a new baby. I didn’t want to go on antidepressants because the last time I took them they just made me feel numb, which was horrible, plus they made me fat. Then a friend of mine suggested I try St John’s wort. So I did, and it’s helped a lot. It’s amazing how God provides everything we need, straight from nature…”
Vanya nods, umming and ahhing, unable to get a word in. Corbin finishes his biscuit and is covered in chocolate again. Before he starts crying, I decide to take the kids outside so they can have some fresh air and I can have a cigarette.
It’s awkward, but I manage to get them both out onto the street by pushing Corbin’s Humvee with one hand and dragging Hayley’s stroller backwards along behind me. Once outside, I clean Corbin’s face and hands and set the kids up facing out onto the street. Then I light a ciggie.
I can sympathise with Kate. I felt depressed when I first moved to Cromwell too, but I dealt with it mostly by getting drunk. Maybe I was lucky—I know alcohol makes things worse for some people, but it helped me get through my first winter here, insulating me against the chill on those cold, dark days. And I was careful—I’d express milk before I started drinking. Hayley had some formula from early on anyways, cos even laden and leaking, my tits were barely a handful and I just wasn’t making all that much. By the time summer arrived, my mood had improved along with the weather. Now, me and Davy might get drunk from time to time in the weekends after Hayley’s in bed, but that’s about it. We get drunk, and we fight, and sometimes we even make up. It’s not so bad.
There’s a few people out on the street and they smile as they walk past the kids. Some of those smiles fade when they see me standing there smoking but I just wink and smile back at them. An old lady stops to goo and gaa at the kids and asks me if they’re twins—I dunno why, they don’t look anything alike—but I tell her, “Yep.”
“Oh, how wonderful!” she says. “They’re gorgeous! I’ll bet they keep you on your toes though, huh?”
“They’re a handful all right, but it’s worth it,” I say.
“Course it is, love, course it is! And I’m sure you’re doing a fabulous job.”
“Thank you,” I say. “I do try.”
“I’m sure you do, love. Anyway, I best be off. You have a lovely day, now.”
“Thanks, I will. You too.”
She nods and continues on her way. It’s nice to be complimented—it doesn’t happen too often. I finish my cigarette and Kate is still inside, yabbering away. There’s a rubbish bin on the edge of the footpath and I stub the butt out on the lip and throw it in. The kids are happy watching cars and people go by, so I light another one. I check my watch again and it’s quarter past eleven. If we don’t get a move on I’m not going to have time to go to The Warehouse. Hayley starts twitching and grunting again, so I bend down to see what she wants and get a powerful whiff of number twos. She’s funny like that—as soon as she does a poo she wants rid of it and lets you know, quick smart. I stand and take another drag on my cigarette, and then Kate comes out of the chemist.
She sees me smoking and shakes her head. “I hope you weren’t smoking that near Corbin,” she says.
“He asked for a puff but I told him to wait until he’s eighteen.”
She frowns at me. “You really shouldn’t be smoking, Trace. What about Hayley?”
“She prefers roll-yer-owns.”
She doesn’t laugh, and I feel a little guilty, like a schoolkid who’s been busted by a teacher. Kate’s a health freak. She goes out running and does yoga at the community centre and likes to drink spirulina smoothies. The only way you’d catch me running is if I was being chased by a horde of zombies. An even then, cos they’re zombies, it’d be more of a fast walk.
“I’m just tryin’ to lose some weight.” This is a joke—I swear I’m the skinniest woman in the whole of Central Otago—but she doesn’t get it.
“Oh, Tracy, you don’t need to lose weight! You’re too skinny as it is.”
“Yeah, well, I’m hopin’ the boob job I’m savin’ for will help with that perception.”
“I’m serious Tracy! What sort of role model are you being?”
“Oh, leave it off! The only reason we’re out here is cos you asked me to mind Corbin!”
“Yes, to mind him! Not sneak off for a cigarette!”
That does it. I know I shouldn’t be smoking round Hayley, and Davy doesn’t approve, but fuck him. I don’t do it that often and I don’t do it inside the house or in the car. She does okay. She gets fed, she gets clothed, she gets stories at bedtime and medicine when she’s sick. Most important, she gets love. That’s more than you can say for a lot of other kids. I drop the cigarette on the footpath and grind it into the concrete with my shoe. Kate shakes her head again.
I take a deep breath, cos if I don’t I’m liable to punch her. “You know what, Kate? I’m sick to death of bein’ judged! I get enough of it from strangers walkin’ past in the street. I don’t need it from you. I may not be the greatest mum in the world, but I try my hardest, you know, an’ I think I do okay.”
I can feel the tears welling up and the last thing I want to do is cry, so I squeeze my eyes shut and suck them back.
Kate lets out a big sigh. “I know you do, Trace,” she says, all apologetic. “I’m sorry.”
“S’okay.” I wipe my eyes. “Look, can we just get goin’? I need to change Hayley’s bum.”
“Yeah, sure.”
I move behind Hayley and let the brake off on her stroller. She’s making these little bleating noises and shifting about. I push her along the street towards The Warehouse, moving fast. There’s a change table in the toilets there but by the time we get there and I’ve changed her I’ll have bugger all time to look round before we need to head back to Cromwell. Kate and Corbin fall behind and we haven’t gone far when I hear Kate say, “Ooh, Evan! What a surprise!”
I turn around to see her talking to this tall bloke. She’s got a smile so big I think her face might break and she says in a sing-song voice, too loud, “What are you doing here?” He’s looking away from me so I can’t see his face or catch his reply, but whatever he says, she laughs and tosses her head back, flicking her hair
like she’s starring in a shampoo commercial.
It’s a shameless display and I wonder who the guy is. He’s dressed like a snowboarder, in baggy blue jeans and red sneakers, a striped beanie and a shiny black puffer jacket.
I stand and look on for a couple of minutes. Kate performs a kind of mating dance, peppering her conversation with flowery hand gestures, head tosses, and machine-gun bursts of laughter. Then Hayley’s crying shifts up a gear, and I decide to intervene before Kate embarrasses herself further.
I walk up to them. “Hey, Kate, d’you mind—”
“Ooh, Tracy, come here!” She steps forward and grabs my arm and pulls me in close to her so I’m facing the bloke. He’s a little older than me and bloody good looking, with messy curls of blonde hair poking out from under his beanie, gorgeous blue eyes, and moist, round, beestung lips. “Evan, this is my friend, Tracy. Tracy, this is Evan. Evan’s a snowboarding instructor. I had a lesson with him when we last went up The Remarkables. Normally I ski, but I thought I’d give snowboarding a try. I’m so glad I did—he’s a great teacher. We had a blast,” she says, giggling.
Evan blushes. “Hi,” he says, and offers his hand to shake.
I say, “Hello,” and shake it. “Aah, Kate—”
“Evan’s just on his way back to Queenstown after visiting some friends. He’s stopped here for a bite to eat.” She pauses, looking thoughtful, and then says, “Ooh, I know. Why don’t we all have lunch together? The Highlands Café is just around the corner.”
“Kate, I don’t think—”
“They do the most incredible banana and blueberry pancakes, with bacon and maple syrup,” she says, crossing her hands over her chest and closing her eyes. “They’re to die for. And their coffee—the best in Alex. I could just kill for a mochaccino.”
“Kate, I need to—”
“They serve it with this fantastic biscotti, rosemary and wild thyme, which you wouldn’t think would work in a sweet biscuit, but it absolutely does.”
“For fuck’s sake, will you just stop it!” I scream. Kate and Evan both stare at me in shock, but I’ve had enough. “Hayley’s done a shit! I need to change her bum!”
“There’s no need to get so upset. There’s a change table at The Highlands,” Kate tells me. “You can do it there.”
“Christ, Kate, you just don’t get it!” I’m blaspheming again. “I don’t want to have lunch at The Highlands! I can’t afford to have lunch at The Highlands.”
“I don’t mind buying you lunch.”
“That’s not the fuckin’ point! I came here cos they’re havin’ a sale on kids’ clothes at The Warehouse an’ I wanted a look. If we go for lunch, I won’t be able to. Jesus, Kate, I’ve got to get Hayley into daycare an’ go to work. You know I’m pressed for time.”
“I just thought you’d like to—”
“No, that’s just it—nothin’ in this trip’s been about what I’d like to do! I thought I was comin’ out to do some shoppin’ but all I’ve done so far is follow you around!”
“What do you mean? We went shopping! I bought you a birthday present!”
“Yeah, an’ that was nice, but I didn’t ask you to. It was your idea. This isn’t about me. Why did you invite me, anyway?”
“I was trying to be nice! I know it’s hard to make friends in a new town, and you make it pretty clear that you’ve been having a rough time of it. I felt sorry… I thought you—”
“Pardon? You felt what?”
She shrugs. “Oh, Tracy, you seemed lonely, is all.”
“So? Bein’ a mum with a baby is a lonely job. I spend most of the day talkin’ to myself cos Hayley can’t. But that’s just life—it doesn’t mean I want your fuckin’ charity!”
“It’s not charity, Tracy. I just thought you could use a friend!”
“Yeah, well, if you wanna be my friend, can you take me back home now? I’ve lost my appetite for shoppin’.”
“Oh, come on, Trace! Don’t be like that. What if we—”
“Kate, please. I just wanna go home.”
She sighs and nods. “Okay then, we’ll go.” She looks up at Evan and flashes him a brittle smile. “Well, lovely to see you again, Evan. Sorry we couldn’t do lunch.” Her face brightens. “I’d love another lesson, though. I had such a great time! I’ll book one in and see you on the slopes.”
“Sure, anytime,” he says, forcing a grin. “Bye.” He takes an awkward step backward, then turns and hurries away.
Kate watches him go, looking wistful, then waves and shouts after him. “See you, Evan! Take care!” He doesn’t turn round.
We walk back to the car in uncomfortable silence. By the time we get there Hayley’s cry has become a full-blown wail. Kate unlocks the car and I lift the hatch, position Hayley on the floor of the boot and change her bum. I dunno what she’s eaten, but it’s a rank one, green and sticky, and it takes four wet-wipes to clean her up. I wrap the offending nappy in a plastic bag and put Hayley in her car seat, and then Kate changes Corbin’s bum too, although he’s only done wees. She straps him in, puts the pushchairs back in the boot, and we head off. We don’t speak. Maybe Hayley can sense the tension, cos she doesn’t stop crying like she usually would after having her nappy changed, and maybe Corbin can too, cos he joins in the chorus.
I try to distract them but I’ve got no more chocolate biscuits and they’re not interested. It’s like they’ve formed a bond in their misery and have become unified in expressing it, and my efforts are just keeping them from the task at hand. I turn the radio on but that just adds to the cacophony and makes them cry even louder. I give up and switch it off, and we travel on in a hive of noise.
The funny thing about driving in Central Otago is that it’s the kind of place where you almost can ignore a screaming child. There’s so much to look at, of course, but it’s not just that. You can drive the same stretch of road and look at the same thing, be it a rock or a tree or a pebbly beach beside a lake, and every time you do it’ll be different. Not just subtle differences either, but sudden, dramatic differences. I’ve never lived in a place where the landscape is so… I don’t know, moody. Like today, for instance. Every rock, every leaf, every ripple, every cloud—every single fibre of land and lake and sky—is screaming out, pulsing with a cold, grey bitterness. A couple of howling kids in the back seat just blends in.
***
They cry all the way to Cromwell. Occasionally the wails die to a whimper and I think maybe they’re going to stop, but it’s just a rest in the score, giving them a chance to gather breath, and they start up again. Neither Kate nor I say a word to each other the whole trip. We cross back over Deadman’s Point Bridge, heading into Cromwell, when she pulls the car over to the side of the road, turns off the engine, and bursts into tears, burying her face in her hands.
Can you imagine it? All I want is to get home, have a bite to eat and sort Hayley so I can go to work, and here I am, stuck in a car at the side of the road with two bawling kids behind me and one bawling woman next to me. I feel like joining in, but instead I say, “Hey c’mon, Kate, it’s okay, there’s no need to cry.”
She lifts her head and screams.
The kids are stunned and fall silent, and we listen as her scream dies and is replaced by a low, despairing wail. The wail fades, and she turns to me. Her mascara has run and she looks like she’s been punched in the eye. She sniffs and wipes her nose and says in a voice choked with sorrow, “He’s cheating on me, Trace.”
“What?”
“Lawrence is cheating on me. Has been for a while.”
There’s a pause while I let this sink in. So that’s what this is all about. She wants to unburden. I don’t know why she’s chosen me—as I said, we’re not exactly friends—but then again, maybe that’s why she has chosen me. Some things are too close to home. And in my experience, churchy types are the worst for that. They live for gossip and the petty failings of others. It’s bread and butter to them.
“How do you know?”
&nb
sp; She grabs a tissue from a box between the seats and blows her nose. “I found photos. Him and another woman. At a beach on the Gold Coast.” She shudders. “He said he was going to a conference.”
“Perhaps he was just havin’ some downtime.”
“They were kissing, Trace! And there were just… so many of them. It was like he wanted to rub it in.”
“You mean he wanted you to find them?”
“I don’t know… but they were just there, on the computer. He hadn’t tried to hide them. I sat down to search for something and he had a tab open with his emails on it. He’d barely talked about the conference—said it was boring—and there was one that had ‘Gold Coast’ in the subject line and I thought, This looks interesting. So I clicked on it and there they were.”
“When was this?”
“Last Thursday.”
“What did he say about it?”
“That’s just it. I haven’t confronted him, not yet. I know I have to, but… I can’t bring myself to say the words. And that’s the worst thing, you know? I’ve hardly said a thing to him for days, and I sure as hell haven’t touched him, or let him touch me. He knows something’s wrong, but he… he doesn’t even have the decency to ask me about it. When he’s there the house feels like a prison. I look at him and my stomach churns. Oh, Tracy—” she wipes away a tear “—what am I going to do?”
“Throw his shit out on the lawn an’ set fire to it. That’s what I’d do.”
She gives a sad little laugh. “That’s a good idea.” Then she leans over and places her hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Trace. For what happened back in Alex. The truth is, I needed the company. You’re the first person I’ve told.”
“Really? Why? We don’t even know each other that well.”
“All my other friends are just so perfect.” She sees the look I give her and says, “I mean… they’ve got these perfect husbands and these perfect children and these perfect small-town lives—they’re so perfect it makes me sick!”
What Friends Are For Page 2