The Other Madonna

by Scot Gardner

  ‘Let’s party!’ Bianca cried.

  ‘Where? It’s Monday night.’

  ‘Maximus . . .’

  They looked hot. They glowed with sex and success and as we stepped onto the night street, I realised that success was mostly an act. An attitude. A subtle way of thinking, talking, being, which I was learning, mostly without knowing it. I didn’t take notes. I didn’t need to. It came naturally. It felt right.

  We danced and drank in a Fitzroy nightclub. Three storeys of stumping grooves and people going off. On a Monday night. The music fed the animal in me and I danced from partner to partner, women and men, until Evie grabbed my hand and dragged me onto the street.

  ‘God, Be, what have we done? She’s turned into a party animal.’

  I smiled and started dancing on the street.

  Three shops down from the purple double doors of Maximus was a tattoo parlour. It must have been after midnight but the lights were on. I stepped inside. Bianca followed. Evie groaned and leaned against the wall outside. I flicked through boxes of cards. Full-colour drawings that could be transferred onto the canvas of your body for a small fee. Or a large fee. I found a card full of Japanese symbols. There was the symbol for tree, spring, wind, love, secret, balance, hope, good luck, glory. I found the one I wanted. Freedom.

  Bianca’s eyes widened. ‘Are you serious?’

  I wasn’t until she asked. I shrugged. Shrugged and nodded. A woman pushed through a saloon door from the back of the shop. A youngish woman with blonde hair trussed into a ponytail and permanent bangles of ink from her wrist to where they disappeared under the sleeve of her T-shirt. ‘Fat Pizza’ her T-shirt declared. There was nothing fat or pizza about her. She smiled and asked if she could help.

  I asked her how much.

  ‘Sixty-five.’

  ‘Let me pay,’ Bianca whispered.

  I looked sideways at her. ‘No way. You paid for my tongue.’ I turned to the tattoo woman. ‘How long would it take?’

  The woman poked her pierced bottom lip out. ‘Five minutes.’

  Five minutes? And it’s there for life?

  ‘Have you thought about where you’d like it?’ she asked.

  ‘Yeah. On my ankle.’

  ‘No worries. Could do that for you now if you like.’

  I smiled and she led me through to the back of the shop. Bianca followed.

  Swab. Transfer. Buzzing little machine. Funny-looking Bandaid over the top. Four minutes.

  It didn’t hurt. Just like my tongue. Well, not as much as getting my eyebrows waxed and I’d bled more after shaving. Bianca paid. I put up a fight but she just paid.

  Freedom.

  I was buzzing when we got back to Brettas Street. We had a coffee and Bianca excused herself and went to bed.

  ‘You want me to drop you home?’ Evie asked.

  I screwed up my face. ‘Don’t feel like going home. I feel like going off!’

  Evie grinned. ‘Right. Let’s go then. I’ll order a taxi.’

  The passenger door opened with a huff of warm air. I slid into the seat and looked over at Evie. Her full lips were painted red. She’d dressed in black – a silky suit that plunged at the neckline to reveal a great cleavage of smooth white skin.

  She raised an eyebrow at me and made a noiseless whistle before telling the driver where we were going.

  We didn’t speak. We listened to ethnic FM and watched the traffic. We arrived at a neon-lit place in Carlton called Sirens. Evie paid the driver.

  ‘Wait, Maddie,’ Evie called just as I was about to step past the big guy in the white shirt outside the door. ‘You need some war paint.’ She dug in her handbag for her lipstick and puckered at me. I puckered back and she painted my lips. She winked and held my hand as we stepped inside.

  It was a dingy joint with a sea-faring theme that looked a bit tired, but the place was rocking. Shoulder to shoulder around the smoky bar. There were bodies on the dance floor and the house bass reverberated in my lungs.

  ‘What do you want to drink?’ Evie shouted.

  What does a kid drink when she’s with her big sister? ‘Water?’

  Evie snorted and caught the eye of a young woman in a black T-shirt behind the bar. ‘Two vodka and lemons,’ she shouted.

  ‘Do you want me to pay? I can pay,’ I yelled in Evie’s ear.

  She looked in my eyes, shook her head, and smiled. She paid for the drinks and led me through the crowd to a kind of hallway with mirror walls and about twenty booths. Black vinyl bench seats and shiny black tables. Evie slid into an empty booth and I sat opposite her. She held her glass up as a toast and I managed to slop my drink on the table as I saluted her. The drink tasted like squash.

  ‘You don’t get out much, do you Madds?’

  I shook my head. Never had anyone to go out with. Work. Not old enough. Frightened of who I might meet.

  She reached across the table and rested her hand on mine. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Bah, don’t be silly.’

  ‘I haven’t been much of a sister.’

  ‘You’re my best sister in the whole world. You’ve got your own life.’

  She tossed her head back, took a swig then stared into the crowd down the hall.

  I finished my drink and Evie ordered another. She offered me a job.

  ‘What?’

  ‘If you get sick of Pepe’s. We’re having trouble finding reliable staff. I could get you a job tomorrow if you want.’

  I shook my head. ‘You’re amazing.’

  ‘It’s the least I could do. You’d have Colin and me as bosses. It’d be better money than the pizza place. Professional clientele.’

  My tummy felt warm and by my fourth drink my bladder was fit to burst. I excused myself and staggered to the toilet. There was someone in the cubicle next to me and I heard her sniffing as I tore down my jeans and sat with my head in my hands. She was sniffing those little uncontrollable post-bawl sniffs and I hoped she was okay. I wondered how Lucia was going. I saw a black pubic hair curled on the wet floor. I washed my hands and went back to sit opposite my sister. My beautiful big sister. With the frown.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ I asked.

  ‘What took you so long? I was about to send out a search party.’

  ‘I wasn’t long. Was I?’

  ‘About half an hour.’

  ‘Nah . . .’

  ‘Yeah. I think you’d better have another drink.’

  I hung my tongue out and nodded. Evie laughed.

  When the drinks arrived she sat up all sort of formal.

  ‘So,’ she said. ‘How’s Dad?’

  ‘He’s changed since –’

  ‘Changed? Tricky O’Dwyer changed? Since when? Dad still wears the undies he got married in.’

  ‘Since you left.’

  Evie shot me a look, puzzled and worried. ‘How?’

  ‘Um, let’s see . . . he’s cleaned the flat.’

  ‘Shit. Huge step forward.’

  ‘And painted it.’

  Her eyes widened.

  ‘And he’s got a job.’

  Her mouth dropped open.

  ‘And he’s in love.’

  ‘What? Who? God, I don’t believe it.’

  I nodded triumphantly. ‘Rosie. Next door.’

  She said omigod to herself a few times then she grabbed my hand again. ‘Are they rooting?’

  ‘Whaaat?’

  ‘You know, are they having sex and that?’

  ‘How would I know? What would I care? Why would you care?’

  ‘He’s my dad. I’ve got a right to know.’

  ‘He’s your dad and he’s got a right to his own life, more like.’

  ‘Wonder what Mum would think.’

  ‘Who cares? Mum’s dead.’

  Evie took a swig and wiped her mouth with a napkin. ‘I know she’s dead. I think she’s dead. Understand she’s dead but part of me keeps expecting her to come home again.’

  I nodded furiously.

  ‘It’s
like I’ve been waiting for Dad to say, “Sorry. It was all a story to protect you from the pain of knowing that your mother is still alive, she just doesn’t want to be with you anymore.” I could live with that. Part of me still believes that . . . god listen to me . . . I’ve never talked about it . . .’ She swallowed. ‘I still can’t say her name. Talk about skeletons in the closet. I’ve only got one . . . that I know of . . . and it really is a skeleton.’

  ‘Yes!’ I shouted, and slapped her hand. ‘There’s a part of me that believes that, too.’

  We used to ask Dad about Mum all the time. He told us lots of stuff. He told us she got sick and she died. After a while we gave up asking about Mum. We even gave up talking about her before we fell asleep. I guess we never gave up wondering.

  Evie straightened her clothes and sat up. ‘It’s different for you. You didn’t know her like I did. It doesn’t hurt as much if you don’t know what you’ve lost.’

  I sat back like a blast of cold air had opened a window in my face. ‘How can you say that? How can you know? Yeah, it’s different but it’s different for Dad, too. You know what you’ve lost. For me it’s just this creeping feeling that there’s something missing. You make it sound like you’re the only one in the world who’s ever lost anything.’

  Evie looked at the table. ‘It wasn’t meant to sound like that.’

  ‘Look at all the things you’ve got . . . nice place to live, your job, Bianca, your friends, Jerome.’

  ‘Jerome? Why Jerome?’

  ‘He’s gorgeous and he loves you and you’ll probably get married and then your life will be perfect and everyone in the whole world will want what you have.’

  Evie laughed. First to herself, shaking her head, then at me. Her mouth fell open but no sound came out. I could see her tongue. ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Well, it certainly looked like it from where I was standing.’

  ‘There’s so much you don’t know though, Madds. You don’t know me, do you?’

  ‘No. Not anymore. I did once. Not that long ago. We slept in the same bed. You don’t know me either.’

  Evie nodded.

  ‘Do you love Jerome?’

  She laughed. ‘Yes, I love Jerome, but I don’t want to marry him.’

  ‘What? Scared?’

  ‘No. Not exactly.’

  ‘What then?’

  Evie sighed and looked at her watch. A waitress arrived and cleared the glasses. Asked if we wanted another drink.

  ‘No,’ Evie said flatly.

  ‘Yes!’

  Evie looked at the waitress then at me. ‘Two vodka and lemons, please.’

  The waitress moved on but Evie held my gaze. ‘I don’t know where to start.’

  ‘Just answer my question. Why wouldn’t you marry Jerome?’

  ‘Because . . . because Jerome already has a partner.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Adrian.’

  ‘Ohh.’

  ‘And so do I.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Bianca.’

  ‘Bianca? Bullshit. Your boss?’

  Evie shrugged. ‘Sorry. I thought you knew.’

  ‘How would I . . . oh that’s . . . oh no . . . that’s totally off. You’re bullshitting me, aren’t you? Please say you’re talking crap.’

  Evie looked into the crowd on the dance floor. She was biting her lip.

  The waitress returned with our drinks.

  I touched her hand. ‘Sorry, Evie. I didn’t mean to . . . Shock. Just a shock, that’s all. I always thought you liked boys. I never thought you’d be . . . you always liked boys. Bianca’s married.’

  Evie nodded. ‘Yeah. She doesn’t love Philippe. She said she’s going to leave him. He’s hardly ever around anyway.’

  ‘Yeah but . . . she’s married to him. She must like boys.’

  Her shoulders jumped.

  I felt a bubble in my guts. I remembered when Colin told me that he was gay. I knew before he told me. Being gay fitted Colin like an old pair of shoes. Evie liked boys. There were posters of boys all over our room and I didn’t put them all up. I burped and it came from the point of my borrowed strappy heels and bounced off the walls. Evie’s mouth dropped open but she was smiling.

  ‘Excuse me,’ I said.

  They’d seen me naked in the shower. Gross.

  Yeah, and Evie and I had had a million baths together before. That was one of the best things about having a sister.

  They’d seen me naked and nothing had happened.

  I grabbed her hand and kissed it. ‘You go, girl.’

  Evie laughed and kissed my hand back. ‘Dance?’

  My response was a drunken yelp and we danced like that other Madonna for hours. We were wild. We danced with women and men and anything that moved close. I danced until all the steam had gone from my veins and I flaked. Just fell down on the dance floor. Evie and a man who smelled like sweat and aftershave dragged me to a booth and got me a coffee. When I came round again, Evie called a taxi. She rode with me and held me up as we rode the lift to the twelfth floor. I opened the door to the flat. She kissed me on the lips and hugged me with her everything.

  ‘Thanks, Maddie. That was a great night. You’ll have to come over for a video. Make it soon.’

  ‘Aren’t you going to come in? Just for a little while?’

  She shook her head and backed towards the lift. She shrugged. ‘Give old Tricky my love, hey?’

  eleven

  It hurt to be in sunlight on Tuesday afternoon. I wore my sunnies down to Pepe’s and I didn’t want to take them off. I dragged myself through the evening at work and slept until midday on Wednesday.

  Things got weird on Wednesday evening. Paolo was sitting in front of Fun-Da-Mental with an orange Bacardi Breezer in his hand. The bottle hung at such an angle that it almost poured onto the footpath. He didn’t notice me until I was almost standing on his toes.

  ‘Mahhhhdonnnnnnaaah,’ he sang, and reached for the leg of my jeans. I stepped to the side and he slopped his drink on his runner.

  ‘Looks like you’re in for a big night tonight, babe.’

  Yeah, I thought. Wednesdays can get busy. I stepped inside and Bruna shushed her husband. Luce was carrying drinks from the bar to the kitchen. Her face lit up when she saw me but she didn’t make a sound.

  ‘Hello, Madonna,’ Pepe said, far too formally. ‘Good to see you.’

  Bruna didn’t say anything, just smiled until I thought her dentures would pop out and hugged me.

  ‘What?’ I asked.

  ‘What you mean, what?’ Bruna said.

  ‘What’s going on? You’ve gone all weird.’

  ‘Weird? What are you talking about? There is nothing . . .’

  Luce pushed through the kitchen door and I saw people behind her. Strange people. Luce grinned again but her eyes looked pained. I followed her into the toilets.

  ‘What’s going on, Luce? Who’s that in the kitchen?’

  She put both hands on the sink and looked at me in the mirror. ‘If I was you, Madonna, I’d make a run for it now.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Pull a sickie. Something. Just go.’

  I frowned.

  ‘In the kitchen is my Uncle Vinnie, Nonna Mena and Nonno Dino. They’ve come to see you, Madonna. Mum and Dad and Angelina have been blabbing all over Brunswick about that thing with Jiff last weekend and it’s way out of hand. Zio Vinnie wants you to fix his hip. It’s gone bung from a life of concreting. Nonno wants you to fix the arthritis in his fingers so he can play piano accordion again, and Nonna . . . Nonna Mena is in a wheelchair.’

  ‘Whaaat?’

  Luce nodded slowly.

  ‘But that thing with Jiff . . . that wasn’t me. I didn’t do anything. I dunno what happened. They were there. They saw it. I didn’t do anything.’

  ‘Not according to Angelina. She said you were holding Jiff’s hand one minute and then you transformed into something else. She saw the Holy Mother of Christ. She had a vision, Maddi
e. She reckons you’re not just Madonna, you’re the Madonna.’

  The Madonna? ‘Holy Mother of Jesus’ Dad used to call me. He’d call me that when I aced a maths test or found his keys. It was a joke. I remembered Angelina crossing herself. I looked at my hands and started to freak out. ‘What a crock of shit. Angelina is off her nut.’

  ‘I know that. You know that but Mum and Dad, they live in fear of God. They’re superstitious people, Madds. If Angelina had a vision of the Madonna then she saw the Madonna as far as they’re concerned. It wouldn’t be the first time she had a vision. The love of her life got killed in the war. She still talks to him.’

  ‘Bloody hell. Where does that leave me? What am I supposed to do now?’

  Luce shrugged. ‘Go in and heal them.’

  ‘I can’t heal them. I can’t heal anything. I’m flat out peeling the wrapper off a Bandaid.’

  ‘Yeah, and once they work that out they’ll leave you alone.’

  I looked at her in the mirror and she smiled.

  ‘Give them what they want,’ she said, and left.

  I looked at my hands in the mirror. My pathetic hands with the stumpy fingers and chipped-polish nails. I poked my bottom lip out at the reflection then laughed.

  I acted dumb. It’s not hard. Pepe and Bruna kept smiling at me and nodding. I took orders. I made pizzas then Bruna called to me from the kitchen door.

  ‘Oh, Madonna. Come and meet the family.’

  I put the last order in the oven and Pepe smiled at me and nodded.

  ‘This,’ Bruna said, ‘is my brother, Vinnie. And the tall one is Dino, Nonno Dino, my papa. And this is my mama, Nonna Mena.’

  I shook Uncle Vinnie’s hand and he held me tight. Crushed my fingers. A life of concreting might have left him with a bung hip but his fingers still worked fine. His eyes blinked furiously and his mouth hung open like he was being electrocuted. His tongue darted around in his mouth, then his eyes rolled and his whole body shivered. He let my hand go and sighed.