by James Roy
Anonymity felt queasy at the very thought of a tiny camera filming her, watching her shower and dress, and ... ‘Hey, Tina, you know all this how?’
‘Yeah, how?’ Viera asked, and she and Andi turned to face Tina, amusement on their faces.
Tina shrugged. ‘I just do, I guess. I’m very worldly wise. And full of surprises. Like John.’
Anonymity shook her head. ‘Believe me, you’re nothing like John.’
‘I really wish you hadn’t told us about those photos,’ Andi said. ‘It’s creepy. Just photos of you and Raven? Like I say, ick.’
‘That’s right.’
‘Advice: make sure you lock the bathroom door,’ Tina suggested.
‘Thank you, that’s very comforting,’ Anonymity replied.
Anonymity’s father was in no shape to discuss what she’d found on John’s camera. She didn’t even try. Having sunk even lower into his deep funk of self-pity, it seemed as if he was now going to try to lift himself out of his depression at the cost of what little dignity he had left. He’d sold his car and bought a motorcycle. Anonymity thought he looked ridiculous in his leather riding pants and leather jacket zipped up tightly over his paunch. And when he took off his helmet, she almost laughed out loud at the sight of his goatee.
‘What? Is something funny?’
‘No, Dad.’
His mouth twisted in an uncertain smirk. ‘Your mother never let me have one of these.’
‘The beard or the motorbike?’
‘Either.’
She laughed. ‘You know, Dad, Sam won’t be happy.’
‘Because of the beard?’
‘No, because you can’t take him out for drives anymore, now that you’ve sold your car. And he loves his car rides. You should see him when John puts the roof down on the Impala. Sorry,’ she added.
‘For what? So John’s got a convertible. I’ve got a motorbike.’
‘Exactly. Which you can’t take Sam on.’
Richard frowned. ‘Why not?’
‘What if he forgets to hang on?’
He thought about this for a moment. ‘Maybe I’ll get one of those little trailers. Or a sidecar. Yes! A sidecar!’
‘You could do that.’ Anonymity smiled at the image of Sam in the sidecar, riding goggles pulled down over his eyes and his mouth wide with excitement.
But at that moment she saw also a raw and crestfallen moment in her father, as he realised that he’d forgotten a crucial detail. His plan was flawed. The fantasy was already unravelling.
‘Are you OK?’ Anonymity asked him shortly after he’d peeled off his riding jacket, taken it down to his room and returned to the kitchen wearing a plain white tee that did little to flatter him.
‘Yeah, I’m OK.’ He sighed as he leaned against the bench while Anonymity filled the kettle.
‘What happened?’
He shook his head.
‘Dad, what happened?’
‘What happened is that the woman who helped break up my marriage has now decided that she prefers to love women–’
‘Whoa – what? She’s a lesbian now?’
‘I believe that’s the term, yes. I made a woman gay, so hooray for me. I’m reliably informed that her new partner is a doctor. Sorry – an “emergency physician”, which is a very special kind of doctor, apparently.’
Anonymity smiled. The woman who helped break up her father’s first marriage was living with a Chevy-driving, rock’n’roll-loving, retired truckie with an interest in teenage girls. ‘At least you didn’t shack up with a cliché,’ she said.
‘No, I got the one in a million. Lucky me.’
‘Actually, now I think about it, there is a bit of cliché to this story. You ever thought about writing for a soapie, Dad?’
‘I’m glad I could provide you with such a rich vein of amusement,’ Richard said.
‘So, it’s over then?’
‘Unless I can reinvent myself as a lesbian.’
‘Do you think you’ll try to come home?’
Richard shook his head again. ‘That ship has sailed, honey. To be honest with you, I was happy to take whatever excuse I could to leave. That sounds bad. I don’t mean take any excuse to leave, but to feel free.’
‘And how’s that freedom working out for you?’ Anonymity asked him.
He glanced around his friend’s kitchen, replete with signs of new-found bachelorhood. A half-empty box of tea bags that no one had bothered to unpack into the caddy. A bin that needed a new liner. A cardboard box by the back door, loaded to overflowing with empty beer bottles. Then he sighed.
‘Yeah, it’s working out great, isn’t it?’
He dug out a partly eaten packet of chocolate biscuits from the pantry, and they went out to the back deck while the kettle was boiling. Richard dug out some cigarettes and a lighter.
‘You’re smoking again?’ Anonymity asked.
‘No,’ he said, lighting up and taking a long draw. ‘No, these are patches.’
‘Dad–’
‘Don’t, all right? So tell me, what’s he really like, this “John”?’ Richard made quote marks in the air.
She so desperately wanted to tell him everything she knew and suspected, but she couldn’t do it. Not when he was in this mood.
‘“John” is all right, I guess,’ she replied, choosing not to complicate matters for now. ‘He keeps to himself, mostly. I mean, apart from...’ In her mind, she backed away from the edge.
Richard sniffed and took another drag on his cigarette. ‘Yeah, I get it. He’s sleeping with my ex. Your mother. It’s OK.’
‘But it feels like she’s cheating. Even though I know she’s not. And so therefore neither of them are doing anything wrong.’
‘Correct. Besides, I did it first. Second as well, as it turned out, whereas I don’t think your mother ever cheated on me.’ He smiled briefly. ‘She did cheat with me, though – it’s important to remember that. But look, she deserves someone good, so I’m glad this guy is around for her. What’s he do again?’
‘He’s retired. Owned a transport company, I think.’
‘A truckie.’
‘Maybe. I don’t really know.’
‘Well, good for him.’
‘His taste in music is shithouse, by the way. Almost as bad as yours.’
‘Nothing wrong with the Stones. He doesn’t have a wife somewhere, does he? Wondering where he’s gone?’
‘His wife died ages ago.’
‘Ah. No good.’
‘No.’ Anonymity brightened. ‘But you know the best bit? Sam can’t stand him. He growls at him.’
‘Growls?’
‘Actually growls. Grr!’ she added, with her claws out and teeth bared.
Richard laughed. ‘Classic.’ He flicked his cigarette butt onto the lawn. ‘Kettle’s boiled.’
It was around then that Raven sent her first proper email, not counting the single-line group message that had announced her safe arrival at Heathrow, with a promise to write a longer email soon.
This was the promised longer missive. She was safely in London, had laid low for a couple of days to sleep off the jet-lag, but was now having a terrific time, although drinking too much and definitely spending too much. She claimed to be shocked at how much everything cost in London, even though Anonymity recalled several conversations predicting precisely that.
A week or two later, she emailed again. She was still having the time of her life, but was also thinking about working in a bar for a couple of months to finance her trip to the Netherlands.
‘Hmm, I can see Raven working a bar in London,’ John remarked over breakfast, and Anonymity bit her lip.
Corinne sighed. ‘All that money she saved, almost gone already...’
John cast her a sympathetic smile. ‘Tell her I’ve got a bit put aside, if she needs a hand. Or a loan. So she doesn’t have to do that.’
Anonymity regarded him with a sideways glare. ‘I think working in a London bar is part of the appeal, John.’
‘That might be true, but she shouldn’t have to work too hard.’
‘Plus she needs some money to pay for all that cheap dope in Amsterdam,’ she added, enjoying the sudden tightness that seemed to clamp around her mother’s chin.
Later that day, at the mall, she told Tina about her witty retort, but she didn’t get the gleeful response she’d expected. Instead, it was as if Tina had barely heard her. She simply gave a distracted, half-hearted chuckle.
‘Come on! It was funny! Her mouth went like this...’
But Tina wasn’t watching. She was reading a text on her phone and keying in her reply, with her phone held down by her thigh.
‘I can see what you’re doing,’ Anonymity said. ‘Rude bitch.’
‘Huh?’
‘I’m trying to tell you a story!’
‘Oh. I’m sorry. I thought the story was finished.’
‘Well, it kind of was, I guess. Who are you texting, anyway?’ Anonymity leaned over to take a peek, and Tina put the phone away in her pocket.
‘No one.’
‘Seriously, who?’
‘You know Henry?’ Suddenly Tina was all attention, her eyes bright.
Anonymity shook her head. ‘Henry? Who’s that?’
‘The pizza place. You know, the one with the nose-ring.’ ‘Henry is the pizza place with the nose-ring?’
‘You’re very funny. No, the guy at the pizza place has a nose-ring, and that guy is called Henry. And he’s got a tat as well, on his neck, just here.’
‘Oh, the spider web guy?’
‘Yeah, that’s him – the spider web guy.’
Hearing this, Anonymity slumped a little inside. The spider web guy. How could her story about a witty retort to her mother possibly compete with Henry, the spider web guy from the pizza place? ‘And that’s who you’re texting while I’m trying to talk to you?’
‘Yes, exactly.’
‘So, you and him are ... what?’
Tina shrugged. ‘We’re nothing, yet.’
‘You haven’t been out with him?’
‘Not yet.’
‘So, will you?’
Tina winked. ‘Maybe.’
‘Maybe?’
‘Maybe this Saturday night, after he finishes his shift.’
‘Maybe?’
‘Correct,’ Tina said, her eyes sparkling. ‘And after he’s finished his shift he’s maybe going to take me to Club Vendetta.’
‘But you’re not eighteen.’
‘Also true. But maybe, once we get to Club Vendetta, he’s going to talk to his friend Carlo, who might be able to get me in, because it could be that he’s the assistant manager there.’
‘That’s a lot of maybes.’
‘Life’s full of uncertainties, my love.’
‘Can I come?’
Tina grimaced. ‘Aren’t you babysitting the twins?’
‘Oh, yeah.’
‘Besides, it’s kind of a date.’
‘ Maybe kind of a date?’
‘No, definitely kind of a date.’
Anonymity grinned. ‘Wow, a date with the spider guy,’ she said. ‘Lucky you.’
That Saturday night, while Tina was out on her hypothetical date with a boy with spider webs inked up the side of his neck, Anonymity stayed home. The McGeorges had cancelled at the last minute, so she was left without plans. It didn’t really matter – she would use the time putting some ideas together for her major art work. The theme for her project was still something of a mystery. Everything she considered seemed too angsty, too obvious. Edge was called for.
She lay on her bed, casually flipping through some of the photos on her computer, looking for Edge, or something resembling it. But every image she came to left her flat and uninspired, so she picked up her phone and rang Viera, who could usually be relied on for a good, edgy idea, and probably should have done art but hadn’t.
The call went through to message-bank. Anonymity considered leaving a detailed message, but in the end she simply said, ‘Hey, it’s me. Sorry I missed you.’
Next she called Andi. The call was answered after the fourth ring. ‘Hey you!’ Andi said, a little too cheerily. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Not much. What’s going on with you?’
‘Right now, I’m at Aaron’s place.’ Andi stopped speaking long enough to giggle, before saying to someone at her end, ‘Just pause it – I won’t be a sec ... Sorry. So what’s going on?’
‘Not much,’ Anonymity repeated. ‘Same as five seconds ago, really. I’m just doing some work on my art thing, and I thought–’
‘Tonight? It’s Saturday night! Jesus, girl!’ Another giggle, followed by a hearty laugh that went on and on, until Anonymity hung up and tossed her phone onto her pillow in disgust. It was just her and her dull, uninspiring photos staying in on a Saturday night.
Sensing a presence behind her, she turned her head and saw her mother in the doorway.
‘Hey, Mum.’
Corinne smiled. ‘What are you doing up here all on your lonesome?’
‘Just having a think.’
‘About?’
‘Stuff.’
Corinne glanced at the computer. ‘Your photos?’
‘Yeah. I’m thinking about my major work for next year. I’m looking for Edge, but Edge refuses to be found. I’m sure I left it here somewhere...’
‘On a Saturday night? I thought you were working.’
‘They cancelled. Jamie’s sick.’
‘Pity. So it’s a surprise night off. Why aren’t you spending it with your friends?’
Anonymity smiled wryly. ‘Because they’re all doing other stuff, with other people.’
‘On dates?’
‘Probably. I know Tina is. So it’s me and my photos. How boring am I? And I’m not even having any good ideas to make up for it.’ She rolled onto her back and sighed at the ceiling.
‘Well, you know what you should do? You should ask John for help.’ Corinne suggested. ‘He’s a good photographer.’
‘Well, he’s got a nice camera...’
‘ And he knows how to use it.’
Anonymity suppressed a chuckle at the accidental double entendre. ‘Really? What’s he ever taken that you liked?’
‘He’s taken some lovely shots of lighthouses.’
Anonymity pursed her lips. ‘Lighthouses? Not really my thing, Mum.’
‘No, but landscapes, old buildings...’
‘Not really me.’
‘People. You could take photos of people.’
Anonymity nodded slowly. ‘Probably.’
‘I’m serious; you should ask John for some advice. He’d love to help you. He takes photos of people all the time. So will you ask him? Not now – he’s out. But later, or before you make a final decision about your art assignment.’
‘It’s a bit more than an assignment, Mum. It’s actually my major work.’
‘All the more reason to get some quality advice. Anyway, think about it, huh?’
‘Maybe I will.’
‘Good. Well, enjoy,’ Corinne said, turning to go.
Anonymity took a deep breath. ‘Mum, have you seen John’s photos of Raven going away?’
Corinne stopped. ‘Only the ones he put up on Netbook. Why?’
‘Not the ones off the camera?’
Corinne’s eyes narrowed slightly as she shook her head. ‘Why?’ she repeated, folding then unfolding her arms in an attempt to look casual, perhaps. ‘What about them?’
‘You aren’t in any of them. All those photos he took at the airport, and you’re not in any of them.’ Anonymity wanted to ask how that made her feel, but in the end she didn’t put the question into words. There was no need.
A pause, then a shrug from Corinne. ‘Well, it wasn’t about me, was it? It was Raven’s big thing. Anyway, John took a lot of photos at the airport. He only put a few on Netbook.’
‘Mum, do you remember a single time that day when John pointed his camera in your direction,
or asked us all to stand together, all the Joneses, for a group photo?’
‘No, I don’t remember, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. It was an emotional day.’
‘Trust me, it didn’t happen.’
‘How would you know that? And what are you saying?’
‘I’m not saying anything.’
Her mother’s voice was suddenly hard-edged and flinty-cold. ‘No, you’re not saying anything, that’s true. It seems to me you’re being very careful about that. But what are you suggesting?’
Anonymity drew another deep breath. ‘Nothing, Mum. I’m not suggesting anything. I’m not.’
‘Good. You should keep it that way.’
And the dog in the tall white house on the corner was yelping again.
Tina’s hypothetical date turned out to be very real. She made sure to emphasise this to Anonymity when they spoke on the phone the following morning.
‘So did you get into the club?’ Anonymity asked.
‘I said I would, didn’t I?’
‘Well, technically you said you might get in, maybe.If Henry’s friend Carlos really was the assistant manager.’
‘Oh yeah. Well, it was all true, and it’s Carlo.’
‘And?’
‘And what?’
‘Where are you calling from now?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Are you at home?’
‘Of course. What do you think I am? It was a first date!’
For reasons that were neither clear to her nor comfortable, Anonymity felt a sense of relief when she heard Tina’s protest. ‘Sorry, you’re right. So, you went to a club and did a bit of under-age drinking with the spider web guy–’
‘Henry.’
‘That’s him. But nothing serious, huh?’
‘I don’t–’
‘I mean, it sounds like it was just a bit of fun.’
Indignation stretched the edges of Tina’s voice. ‘It wasn’t “just a bit of fun”. We had a great time. We’re seeing each other again tonight, and there’s no maybe about it this time.’
‘Oh. Well, that’ll be good.’
‘Aren’t you happy for me?’
‘Of course,’ Anonymity replied. ‘I think it’s great.’
‘You don’t sound very happy.’
‘No, I am, honest.’
There was a pause. ‘Then what?’ Tina asked.