by Scot Gardner
I laughed and chomped in half with my teeth. Have an orgasm, why don’t you.
As soon as my hand was free, Nonno Dino grabbed it and kissed it. His palm was sweaty and the skin loose. Dino shook and started panting. His eyes couldn’t hold focus and for a minute I thought he was going to faint. He shouted something in Italian and kissed my hand again. And again.
Bruna was whimpering. Tears were tracing across her cheeks and she whined like a puppy. She wheeled her mother over. Mena was a frail woman and I reckoned if she convulsed herself onto the floor, I’d be able to pick her up with one arm. Her head was cocked to one side and she looked at the blanket over her knees. Bruna yelped as I took her mother’s hand. I looked down my nose at Bruna, wondering what the next theatrical outburst would be and saw she had her hand over her eyes. Mena pulled on my fingers. Her wasted little arm was dragging me to her but I stood my ground. She didn’t stop pulling and the effort was hauling her out of her wheelchair.
‘Ahh, hang on a minute. Take it easy, Mena,’ I said, but if she heard me she didn’t understand. A shaking foot reached for the floor in front of her chair.
‘Nonna, settle,’ I said. She grabbed at my shirt with her other hand and I stepped back. She pulled on my hand and next thing I knew she was standing in front of me. Her legs trembled and she seemed more wet bird than Italian grandmother.
‘Oh shit,’ I said. I thought I’d whispered but behind me I heard Pepe gasp.
Bruna uncovered her eyes and squealed. ‘Mama! Mama!’
The men were beaming and shouting at each other in Italian. From behind me, I heard applause and I turned to see Paolo standing in the kitchen doorway clapping wildly. He looked shakier on his legs than Nonna Mena. His eyes were bloodshot and he’d propped himself against the door-frame.
‘I . . . I didn’t . . .’ I started but it was useless. My shoulders dropped and so did Nonna Mena. Like a bag of butcher’s offal. I heard a crack. The air was punched out of her lungs in a pathetic squawk and garnished with a fart. I held my breath and dragged her back into her wheelchair.
‘Mama, are you all right?’ Bruna asked, smiling. Mena smiled, too, in a possessed-by-the-devil kind of way. She slapped her daughter’s hand off her shoulder. She barked at Bruna. Her voice was deep and gravely. The only word I understood was ‘Angelina’.
Yeah, where was Angelina? Her bloody vision got me into the mess and instead of cleaning it up I had managed to dig myself in deeper.
Thoughts lumped in on top of each other. I’m no bloody healer. I’m not a miracle worker. If an Italian bloke has an orgasm while I’m shaking his hand then that’s him, not me. And Nonna Mena? I reckon she was faking it all along. You know, the wheelchair was for effect. Bit of sympathy. Maybe no one was taking any notice of her. Maybe . . .
‘Ten years,’ Bruna crooned. ‘Ten years since Mama walked. It’s a miracle.’
Pepe and Paolo backed into the restaurant as I walked to the kitchen door. Pepe held it open. Paolo held the wall for balance.
Luce must have been on a delivery. I answered the phone. Two large Pepe’s Specials delivered to the ninth floor of my block of flats. I wondered if I could do the delivery myself and go home. Just for a few days. Until they got over their craziness. I made the pizzas and visited the two tables of people sitting in the restaurant. I picked up the plates from table four and they laughed too hard at their own jokes and made me squeeze in around them. There was a woman at the head of the other table and she’d stacked their empty plates and cutlery neatly. She moved her chair to give me better access and thanked me as I walked off with an armload.
They were still ranting in the kitchen. Bruna shushed everyone as I backed through the door with my load of plates and cutlery. Paolo had left. They smiled and looked at each other. Frozen like the DVD of their lives had been paused. I put my plates on the sink and washed and dried my hands. Nobody moved.
I put my fists on my hips. I looked at Pepe. He looked at his shoes.
‘I’m going to need a pay rise, Pepe. If I have to run the whole place by myself then I want more money.’
‘Sorry, Madonna. Not all by yourself,’ he said, and moved into the restaurant.
Bruna watched her husband go then bowed her head. Her lips moved but no sound came out. She crossed herself. I pushed through into the restaurant and the door swung closed behind me. It felt like I was a gunslinger going into my favourite saloon. It was my domain. To the DiFrescos, I was somebody. Maybe their faith in me was misguided but it was faith just the same. I felt powerful. I felt like a real Madonna, though the feeling was short-lived.
My name sliced through the crowd of very artsy-looking people spilling through the door. It took me a moment to recognise who’d said my name. My sister’s lover–boss. Bianca. My tummy scrunched as she shoved past her friends and wrapped herself around me. She kissed me and cooed in my ear. She and her crew had just finished dress rehearsals of a new show and were on a massive high, she said. A table for seventeen. I led her down the back and shoved three tables together.
‘Where’s Evie?’ I asked.
‘At work, I hope.’
Bianca introduced me and I got them drinks. It didn’t occur to me until I was mixing my third gin and tonic that I was breaking the law. Luce always made the drinks. Pepe was very particular about that and without her around, I’d done it automatically. I was someone else that night. The other Madonna. I was living life on the edge. I was healing the sick. I was the pop diva and the Bible Madonna rolled into one.
Jiff arrived. My tummy did a little tango. He stood at the counter and talked to Pepe as I took meal orders at Bianca’s table. Cargo pants were made for bums like Jiff’s, I decided. I did more scribbling than writing with that order.
Pepe was heading for the kitchen. I gave him the pasta orders. Jiff smiled at me as I stepped behind the counter.
‘You didn’t phone,’ I said.
He smiled. ‘Sorry about that. I wanted to. I didn’t have your number. Colin reckons he’s never called you before. I didn’t know where to look. Do you know how many O’Dwyers live in Brunswick? Sorry about that, ay.’
‘Yeah, no worries. I wasn’t hanging by the phone or anything.’
Colin had dialled our phone more than anyone else on earth, the lying bastard.
‘Have you got your tongue pierced?’ Jiff asked.
I felt my face colour and I poked out my tongue.
‘Sweet!’ he said. It was almost a squeal.
‘That’s not all . . .’ I said, and kicked off my runner and sock to show him my tattoo. The scab had washed off in the shower and it looked like it had been there forever.
‘Whoah! So cool. Japanese, right? What does it mean?’
I smiled. ‘You working?’
He shook his head. ‘What does it mean?’
‘What can I get for you?’
He smiled. ‘Your phone number?’
‘That’s easy.’ I wrote the number on the back of a card.
‘Oh, and one medium Hawaiian. With prawns.’
‘Coming right up!’
Head down. Hands busy. Luce shoved through the front door and bolted for the toilets. I only saw her face for a slice of a second but the mascara scars on her cheeks were like a flashing neon sign.
Jiff noticed, too. ‘What happened to Luce?’
‘Um can you . . . I dunno. Can you make your own pizza? I’ll go and . . .’
‘No worries. Go, Maddie.’
I wiped my hands and headed through to the toilets. Luce was locked in a cubicle. I heard her sniff. I saw her black leather shoes under the door.
‘Luce, you okay? What happened?’
‘Nothing,’ she barked. ‘Nothing, all right? Just leave me alone.’
I nipped into the cubicle next door and peed. Luce sniffed, rattled some paper off the roll and blew her nose.
‘Luce? Are you going to be okay?’
‘Yeah,’ she mumbled. ‘I’m all right.’
‘Not going
to try to flush your head down the toilet or anything?’
‘No,’ she said.
‘Good.’
‘I’ll be out in a minute.’
‘Okay. I’m timing you.’
‘Maddie . . .’
Jiff and Pepe were delivering garlic bread to Bianca’s table. I told Jiff to go and enjoy his meal. He wasn’t supposed to be working.
‘Nah, doesn’t matter. It’s not ready yet.’
‘Go on, piss off,’ I said.
He smiled and, on his way back to the counter, punched me playfully in the tummy. I doubled over and he shoved me onto my bum. I laugh-squealed and the whole restaurant looked. He held out a hand and pulled me to my feet with a satisfied grin.
Later, as I delivered her pizza, Bianca grabbed at my leg. ‘Who’s the hunk?’
‘That’s Jiff.’
She mouthed his name.
‘Yes, Jiff. He’s from New Zealand and he’s mine so eyes off.’
Bianca smiled. ‘Obviously.’
Obvious that he’s from New Zealand or obvious that he’s mine? I couldn’t work it out. Bianca was looking at me with her eyebrows raised. Maybe she does like boys. As well.
‘What?’ I asked.
‘Bring him around on Friday,’ she said.
‘Pardon?’
‘Bring him to my place. Introduce him to your sister. Friday, for lunch.’
My face scrunched and I shrugged. ‘I dunno. I’ve got heaps of work to do and . . .’
‘Bullshit.’
A glass smashed. I looked around like everyone else. Jiff was standing in the bar with one hand raised like he’d just won Olympic gold. Bianca started clapping and a summer shower of applause rippled around the restaurant.
Bianca looked at me with her puppy eyes pleading and I realised she was asking me to do something that I wanted to do. I was just frightened. Terrified.
‘All right. Twelve o’clock?’
She smiled and nodded. She hugged my leg and I patted her curls.
Luce sneaked out of the toilets. I watched her close the door behind her. That had been a long minute. She’d mopped her face. The mascara had gone but the skin around her eyes was raw and puffy.
I nudged her elbow when we met behind the counter. ‘Hey. You okay?’
She nodded. ‘Ari’s moving house,’ she said, and busied herself with the order dockets. ‘Going to Sydney.’
I rubbed her back. ‘Sorry, Luce.’
She shrugged. ‘Plenty more olives in the barrel, huh.’
Jiff’s pizza was ready. I opened my mouth to call him and thought better of it. He was standing beside Bianca’s seat, chatting away. I put his pizza on a table for two near the door. Jiff was showing Bianca his finger. The one he’d cut. I pushed between them and put my arm around Jiff’s waist. I told him that his pizza was getting cold and that he wasn’t supposed to be working.
‘I wasn’t working. I was just talking to . . .’
‘Bianca,’ I said.
‘Telling her about . . .’ He held his middle finger aloft and someone at the other end of the table shouted, ‘Same to you, arsehole.’
He laughed and shrugged my arm off. It flopped to my side and he was gone. For a second I felt sick, like I’d pushed the new confident Madonna too far. That I’d found the limit of my charm.
‘Hey Maddie. You want a piece?’ Jiff called as he sat down.
Things had slowed down. The phone was quiet. Pepe was sitting near the kitchen door with a glass of vino and his newspaper. Luce was cleaning the benches. Every swipe with the cloth was an effort. I knew she’d live.
Sit with Jiff. Why not, I thought. Just for a minute. Date practice.
I pulled out the chair opposite him and the front door opened. It was Trefor with an armload of empty pizza bags. I sat down. My heart galloped. The whole scene was something else. I’d never sat down while there were customers in the restaurant, except to take an order. I’d never sat opposite anyone worth lusting after and shared their pizza. Pepe looked over while the mozzarella from my piece was still stringing to the pizza in front of Jiff. I smiled. It was a dumb, apologetic, I’ll-just-have-one-piece smile. He smiled back.
‘Who’s Bianca?’ Jiff asked through a mouthful.
‘My sister’s . . . boss. Colin’s boss.’
‘Ahh, the Bianca. She’s pretty wild.’
‘Yeah.’ Chew chew.
The pizza was good and I didn’t realise how hungry I was until I swallowed the first bite. There was the hunger and there was the growing sense in me that I was pushing my luck with the DiFrescos.
‘She older or younger?’ Jiff asked.
‘Huh?’
‘Your sister.’
‘Evie? Twenty-one.’
Jiff was staring at me.
‘What?’
‘Do you always eat like that?’
I looked at my hand and realised that I’d put away twice as much pizza as Jiff. I shrugged and filled my mouth again. Chewed hard. ‘I’m supposed to be working.’
He nodded slowly.
‘I’m hungry.’
‘Uh huh.’
‘Starving.’
He smiled. ‘Will you come and have a coffee with me sometime when you’re not working?’
‘What?’
‘I didn’t come in tonight to work. I came to see you. Talk with you. About my finger. And get some of the best pizza in Brunswick, ay.’
I shrugged and chewed and swallowed hard. ‘Me, have a coffee with you?’
His head rocked back. ‘Yeah. What’s so bizarre about that?’
‘Nothing,’ I said, and wiped my mouth on a burgundy napkin as I stood up. ‘That would be great.’
‘Okay. What are you up to tomorrow?’
Thursday. ‘Nothing.’ As usual.
‘Ten o’clock?’
‘Okay. Where?’
‘I don’t know. You tell me.’
I thought about Igor’s. I thought about Gables. I thought about holding Jiff’s hand. ‘Meet me out the front at ten.’
‘Pepe’s? Just out there?’
‘Yeah. We’ll walk. I know a place.’
‘Choice.’
‘I’d better get back to work.’
He nodded and waved me off with the back of his hand.
I joined Luce behind the counter. The table of four had decided to pay individually. They looked like two couples. They were arguing with each other about who’d had what and Luce’s jaw was clamped in barely contained rage. I’d never seen her so angry.
‘I can do that, Luce.’
‘Oh, you are working this evening, Madonna.’
I looked down at the counter. ‘Sorry.’
Pepe called Luce over and she slapped the pen and docket book on the counter. He made her sit down. She lumped into the chair and crossed her arms. She spoke in Italian.
I watched the faces of the customers contort as they argued shamelessly about tiramisu. They were drunk enough not to give a damn. They looked like couples but they argued like divorcees on TV. I added a few extra dollars to each bill. No one noticed. No one complained. The most vocal bloke gave me a sleazebucket look and handed back his change.
‘Keep it, lov. Thanks,’ he said, and held my hand for way too long. He was too drunk to look at me.
Lucia was smiling when she returned. ‘You sure stuffed that up.’
‘Stuffed what?’
‘The big healing. Now they all reckon you’re the Madonna with divine powers.’
‘Well, maybe I am.’
She grunted.
I laughed.
‘How’d you get Nonna to walk again?’
‘Um, held her hand. She got herself up. I reckon she’s been faking it all these years. They call it attention-seeking behaviour.’
‘That fits. She’s always been a bit of a drama queen.’
Jiff arrived at the counter with an empty pizza tray. ‘That was dee-lish. How much?’
Luce looked over at Pepe then whispered to Jif
f that it was on the house.
‘Sure? I don’t want to get you into any trouble.’
‘Positive. Have a good night.’
He smiled and turned to go. ‘Thanks, Luce. See ya. See ya tomorrow, Maddie.’
And he gave me that look. The Dad look. The something-behind-the-eyes look. The Red look, only it made the skin on the back of my neck prickle when Jiff looked at me like that. The door closed quietly behind him.
Luce was blinking. ‘Did he just say, “See you tomorrow”, Maddie?’
‘Uh huh.’
‘Oh moi gawd, she’s got a date with the gay boy.’
‘Yeah yeah.’
‘You going to convert him, Madonna?’
I stepped past her and tried not to smile. ‘You never know.’
She forced a laugh. ‘Don’t like your chances. But, hey, you are the Madonna.’
Pepe kicked Bianca and the last of her friends out at midnight. He sighed as he turned the sign on the door to read closed. He dragged out his keys and I realised the relos were still in the kitchen. They’d been there all night.
‘Hang on, Pepe,’ I yelled. ‘I’ll get going.’
‘Sure? Why not stay for a while. Have a coffee or something?’
‘Nah. Got stuff on tomorrow. Better get a move on.’
‘Okay,’ he said, and stood by the door.
I called goodnight and Bruna appeared at the kitchen door. ‘Goodnight, Madonna,’ she beamed. ‘See you tomorrow. Thank you. Thank you for everything.’
I got to the door and realised that I’d forgotten my jacket. I grabbed it from behind the counter. I kissed the tired Pepe on the cheek and stepped into the cold air. It had been raining. A car shhhhed along the road. Its headlights lit up a form slumped under the verandah in front of Fun-Da-Mental. I sucked a breath and swung wide around the body.
‘Mahhhhhhdonnnnaaaahh.’
‘Paolo? Go inside. Your dad’s locking up.’
‘That was pretty impressive, what you did for Nonna.’
‘What? Held her hand?’
He struggled to his feet. One of his knees cracked. ‘Made her walk again. You heard what Mum said. Ten years. It’s a miracle.’