Handpicked

by Siew Siang Tay

  He’s barely able to answer. Lying on his side, he attempts to move, but finds that his left leg has gone to sleep. He tries to focus, and the view around him starts to become clearer. It’s the side alley, and he sees bins, a row of them, rubbish spilling out, the stench of rot whirling around him. Flies buzz.

  ‘Jesus, let’s get him out of here,’ a man says.

  Jim makes an effort to lift his head and sees Peter staring down at him. Peter. A few seconds of relief. But his head starts pounding hard, and he can no longer focus. His stomach churns.

  ‘Hang in there, buddy. We’re getting you out of here,’ Peter says.

  Jim feels arms propping him up by the elbows, then his body being lifted. Peter drags Jim’s arm over his shoulder. Then Marietta pulls his other arm over her shoulder. He struggles to take steps but his feet feel like jelly. They drag him slowly round the corner from the alley, but he only sees the ground sliding below him; his feet are barely able to move. Hobbling along with their arms holding him up, he finally sees their blue four-wheel-drive, his vision spinning.

  The air is fat with the aroma of coffee. Jim opens his eyes and recognises the interior of Peter’s caravan. It is morning. Blades of light slant in through the windows. He’s lying on his back on a small couch, knees bent, legs bunched up. A checked woollen blanket covers his body. He is warm but a morning chill brushes his face.

  Marietta is standing by the stove, frying eggs. Clink clank, her spatula hits the pan. The sounds and smells remind him of the first time Laila slept in his caravan and he made her breakfast. He rolls over to his side and his eyes brim with tears. He wipes them away with his palms.

  ‘How are you feeling, Jim?’ Marietta asks.

  Jim sits up, rubs his eyes. ‘Like death warmed up.’ He shakes his head. The pounding and throbbing are still present.

  Peter steps through the door. He has been sitting outside, reading the paper.

  ‘Hey, big fella. How’s it going?’ Peter says.

  Jim tries to be cheery. ‘I sure did it, didn’t I?’

  ‘Got to, sometime, right?’ Peter chuckles, pulls a chair up beside him. He slaps Jim on the shoulder.

  ‘Sure do…’

  Marietta brings him a tray with fried eggs, toast and coffee. ‘Here you are. This will make you feel better.’

  Jim looks at the tray then he bends his head. Tears stream down his face now. He chokes.

  ‘Oh God,’ he says, covering his eyes with his hands.

  Marietta leans over and hugs him. Peter touches him on the shoulder. Jim cries for a long while. Eventually he composes himself. He eats his breakfast, slurps his coffee.

  ‘Why, why did she have to be so cruel?’ he says.

  Marietta takes a seat at the foot of the couch. ‘She was in a lot of pain, Jim.’

  ‘I know, I know, but surely she didn’t have to end it like that. I mean, we could have tried to find a way round the problem.’

  ‘Easier said than done,’ Peter says. ‘You know what it’s like with couples. You go round and round in circles and in the end, things are still the same.’

  ‘I never knew what I had until I lost it. Shit, I swear I’ve never loved any woman as much as I loved her.’

  Jim stares out the window, mug in hand.

  ‘You need to understand where she’s coming from, Jim,’ Marietta says. ‘All her life, she’s lived in squalor. She only wanted something a little better than a caravan. She wasn’t expecting a palace or anything like that.’

  ‘A house. Yeah. And I couldn’t give that to her.’ Jim punches the pillow. ‘Shit.’

  ‘Don’t beat yourself up about it,’ Peter says.

  ‘And that bastard,’ Jim says. ‘Fucking bastard, opportunist.’

  Peter and Marietta sigh.

  ‘Any idea who he is?’ Jim says.

  They shake their heads. Marietta stands up.

  ‘Finished with breakfast?’ she says.

  Jim nods. She takes away the tray.

  ‘Appreciate your help, guys. Last night was real rough.’

  ‘Good thing we found you, otherwise the garbage truck would have picked you up,’ Peter says, smiling.

  ‘I wouldn’t have fitted in the receptacle,’ Jim says, pointing at his paunch.

  ‘They’ve got grinders in there, I hear.’

  Marietta brings Jim a wet flannel. ‘Here, this will help you freshen up.’

  ‘You are a gem, Marietta. Peter has no idea how lucky he is.’

  Marietta winks at Peter. ‘I think he does.’

  ‘I’m out of here. Got work to do.’ Peter approaches the door. ‘Stay as long as you like, pal.’

  ‘Nah, gotta get back. The caravan’s a pigsty. Need to get that in order.’

  Marietta takes the flannel from Jim. ‘Sing out if you need help, okay. We’re only five minutes away.’ She gives him a hug. ‘And, I wouldn’t give up that easily if I were you.’

  33

  LAILA IS ABOUT TO enter Hong Kong Grocer when she notices a woman across the road. Something about the way she carries herself makes Laila look twice. The woman stops, reaches into her handbag and, looking up, catches Laila’s gaze. Laila races across the road.

  ‘Marietta!’

  ‘Laila, oh my God, I can’t believe it.’

  They hug and kiss each other on the cheek. She has not seen Marietta in nearly six months.

  ‘Marietta, you have no idea how happy I am to see you,’ Laila says.

  ‘Same here. I have been thinking so much about you.’

  ‘What are you doing in Adelaide?’

  ‘Peter’s visiting his uncle, discussing a possible business deal. He dropped me off here to do some shopping.’

  ‘Listen, I have about an hour. Let’s go have coffee.’

  ‘Okay. Zuma’s? They have good coffee there.’

  At Zuma’s, they find a corner table away from the crowd. Laila orders black coffee, Marietta flat white. Laila tears open a tube of sugar and pours it into her cup.

  ‘I still like my coffee like this, just the way Mak made it in the longhouse.’

  ‘I can imagine. You know I never drank coffee until I came to Australia?’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yeah, my first cup of coffee was with Kate, this friend of mine from the sweatshop. Remember I mentioned her?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘It was a carton of iced coffee that we bought from the deli in Wingfield. Took one sip and I was hooked.’

  They drink.

  ‘So, how are you?’ Laila asks.

  ‘Good, good.’

  ‘Still in the caravan park?’

  Marietta nods. ‘Yes, same one. Peter’s still at the blocks. And oh, I’ve started helping out at the child-care centre.’

  ‘Wow, that’s great. So you like it?’

  ‘Love it. Only doing about twelve hours a week, but it keeps me busy. I started with cleaning the place. After a few months, one of their staff fell sick and they asked if I wanted to fill in for her.’

  ‘That’s good.’

  ‘Children. They teach you so much. Sometimes I get really impatient with them, but that’s usually when things are not that great inside me. You know how it is.’

  ‘Yes.’ Laila nods. ‘The money helps too, huh?’

  ‘Definitely.’ Marietta sips her coffee, then gives Laila a serious look. ‘How are you, Laila?’

  Laila turns away, stares at the tables on the footpath. Only one person is seated outside, rugged up in a parka.

  ‘I’m okay.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  Laila forces a smile and nods.

  ‘No, you’re not, Laila. I can tell.’

  Laila looks down at her lap. Then she looks up again, reaches for Marietta’s hand and squeezes it. ‘I am so glad to see you.’

  Marietta squeezes her hand back. ‘What is it like living with the new man?’

  ‘You heard.’

  Marietta nods.

  ‘He’s got a lovely big house by the b
each. And he’s very good-looking.’

  ‘Hmm. Everything you ever wanted?’

  ‘Sort of.’

  ‘Grange?’

  ‘No. Henley Beach.’

  ‘The romance started when I was on holidays?’

  ‘Yes. After you left, things got worse between me and Jim. I was so lonely, so lonely, you wouldn’t believe. I met Sean at the Christmas party.’

  ‘Do you love each other?’

  ‘What is love, Marietta? I don’t understand the word anymore. I thought I loved Jim, but look what happened.’

  ‘What’s he like? Does he treat you well?’

  The dreaded question.

  ‘He’s okay.’

  Marietta gives her a sideways look. ‘You sure?’

  Pause. Laila looks up into the ceiling then away to the side, and the tears well up. ‘He beats me.’

  Marietta puts her hand to her mouth. Her eyes widen in horror. She holds Laila’s hand again, tight. ‘Oh God.’

  Laila dabs her eyes with a tissue. ‘Nothing I ever do is right. Sean is that sort of person. You can’t go against him. He has to be right all the time. And he gets angry easily and becomes nasty.’

  ‘Oh Laila. When did it start? How long has this been going on?’

  ‘Three and a half months after I moved in with him.’

  ‘You can’t go on like this.’

  ‘He always says sorry after. Buys me gifts and things like that.’

  Marietta shakes her head. ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘Don’t know.’

  ‘God. There must be something you can do.’ Marietta looks at the coffee machine located behind the bar. ‘Why do some men act like brutes? What is it that makes them cross the line?’

  Laila shrugs her shoulders.

  ‘The police,’ Marietta says.

  ‘No, I can’t do that. We can work it out.’

  ‘Why didn’t you contact me?’

  ‘I wanted to, I thought about it so many times, but I was so ashamed.’

  ‘Laila, I’m your friend, will always be your friend. You don’t have to be ashamed to tell me anything.’

  ‘Remember in the beginning you asked me to give Jim a chance and I did? But now, how can I face you after what I have done to my marriage?’

  ‘Hey, hey, listen, nothing fazes me anymore.’

  ‘And I lied to you, Marietta, I lied to you about my first trip here to visit Sean. Remember, I said I had to go see a special doctor for my headaches? How could I face you again?’

  Marietta cups her hands around Laila’s face. ‘It’s okay, it’s okay. What personal decisions you make doesn’t affect our friendship. You’ve always known that, haven’t you?’

  Marietta gives Laila a smile. Those moments again. The feeling of being inside each other’s space, invisible cords flowing back and forth between them.

  ‘Yes.’ Laila smiles back. ‘I know things are in a mess right now…but I’m sure they’ll work out.’

  ‘I’m not so sure, Laila. I have no time for men who beat their women.’

  ‘Do you see Jim?’

  ‘Not that often.’

  ‘How is he?’

  ‘Do you really want to know, Laila?’

  Laila shrugs her shoulders.

  ‘He’s having a hard time, Laila. A really hard time. What did you expect?’ Marietta is about to continue but she hesitates.

  Laila looks away. A couple is coming in the door, arm in arm, laughing. Laila looks at her watch. ‘Have to go. Sean’s picking me up in five minutes.’

  Marietta quickly pulls a notebook from her handbag and scribbles on a piece of paper. ‘Here, this is the number at the caravan park office. Leave a message and I’ll call you back.’

  ‘I’ve got the number.’

  ‘Take it again, just in case.’ Marietta shoves the paper into Laila’s hand. ‘Are you going to give me your phone number?’

  Laila pauses. ‘Sean wouldn’t like it. He doesn’t like me having friends. There was a girl I got to know at the nearby deli. She invited me to her place for lunch and Sean wasn’t happy with that.’

  ‘Alright then, I’ll depend on you to call me. Call me, okay?’ Marietta gives her a smile.

  ‘Okay.’

  Laila’s eyes mist. She feels as if someone is squeezing her heart. They both get up, hug and kiss hurriedly.

  ‘Please don’t tell anyone,’ Laila says.

  ‘Promise.’

  ‘I’m serious. Especially Jim.’

  ‘Sure. Take care. Love you lots. Remember, be strong.’

  ‘I will. Love you too.’

  34

  WEEDS HAVE GROWN INTO the concrete. Mostly kikuyu, strong as wire, and some straggly vines. Cracks gape.

  Jim places the bouquet on the ground, puts on his gardening gloves and starts to rip out the weeds. Loose earth falls on the concrete. He sweeps it away with his palms. The tombstone looks much better cleared of weeds.

  He puts the bouquet at the top end, near the headstone. His mother’s picture in the headstone is a little discoloured. Jim runs his finger over her face, leans forward and gives the picture a peck. Then he kneels beside the tombstone. The grass feels soft through his trousers. Above him the Moreton Bay fig tree fans out, light filtering through. The air has a definite bite to it. It’s been nearly two months since Peter and Marietta rescued him from the street. How long will it take for the pain to ease? There’s something about the cold and the dampness that makes it seem as if the gates are shutting. When the wind hits you, it gets right into your bones, your depths.

  Jim pulls up his collar and buttons his jacket.

  ‘Well, Mum, it’s me again. How’s it going? Hope you’re doing okay. Been a while. Sorry, I’ve been busy—well, stuffed rather.’ He pauses, looks to the side. A sea of tombstones spreads out, different shades of grey and white. In the distance, dark shapes of trees move.

  ‘Things haven’t turned out that great, to be honest. Again. Yeah, again. Hmm.’

  He stands up, then walks around the tombstone. He slips his hands into his pockets. Loneliness sweeps over him like a tsunami. The air is still. Birds sing in the distance. He stares at the grass, watches ants crawling around, making their way up his boots. He stomps his feet to stop the ants getting to him. He walks around a little longer and returns to his mother’s tombstone.

  ‘Hey, Mum, remember that time in the hospital, when you came to for a day or so? Your voice was real frail and I almost couldn’t hear what you were saying, remember? You said life is what you make of it. I remember thinking at the time, yeah right. Sorry, Mum, you know how I get that way, smartypants and that, not wanting to really hear what you were saying.’

  He stops, closes his eyes.

  ‘Well, guess what? It’s just dawned on me I haven’t made anything of my life. Nothing. Zilch. No career to speak of. No house. No possessions. Doing bloody nothing you could be proud of. And now I’ve stuffed up my marriage, to boot. Gone down the gurgler. Yeah, drove her completely round the bend. She couldn’t take another day of being with me and my smelly caravan. Yep, up and left. Finito. Pssshh.’ He made an explosive gesture with his hand. ‘For another man. Yep, another bloke who’s richer and more successful.

  ‘So, there you go, Mum. Thought I’d let you know. I’m a complete failure. Even Rick doesn’t want a bar of me. Told me last week if I don’t increase my output, he’ll have second thoughts about renewing my contract.’

  He pauses.

  ‘And you also said to go with the wave, right? “Don’t fight it,” you said. Maybe you were just referring to your own situation. Well, I’ve been trying to go with the wave. But you know what, I’m still stuffing up. Big time. I can’t even hold myself together anymore. I can hardly function. My life is a complete mess.

  ‘So, surprise, surprise, Mum, I’ve turned out to be a complete and utter loser.’

  He runs his fingers over the concrete.

  ‘If you’re here, show me how I can pull myself together.
Oh God, please, please help me.’

  He puts his face in his hands. Then he sprawls out on the tombstone and hugs the concrete. He weeps. His body shakes.

  35

  SEAN WAVES HIS HAND at the waiter. ‘Can you bring us the dessert menu please?’

  Laila reads the choice of five dishes. The dessert menu looks as exquisite as the main one. Gold embossed lettering, smooth finish. She doesn’t feel like having sweets. The grilled chicken with avocado sauce she had for a main was filling, but she orders a lemon soufflé anyway. She’s best off agreeing with him. It will be light at least. Sean orders a pecan tart with rhubarb sauce.

  ‘Having a good time?’ he asks, dipping a piece of tart in sauce.

  The last two days at the Royal Pines Resort have taken her mind off things. Queensland is so different from South Australia. Much warmer and greener. A welcome break from Adelaide. Her second spring in Australia, and she’s left one husband, is in a second, difficult relationship with another man, and the future is as blurred as the view through the frosted-glass brick wall of the restaurant.

  The lush sub-tropical vegetation here reminds her of Sarawak. She can’t believe she actually swam today. The water was warm and relaxing. Palm trees surrounding the pool reminded her of scenes from a James Bond movie set on a tropical island.

  Last night they had dinner at the Conrad Jupiters Hotel after which Sean spent about an hour at the casino.

  ‘Yes,’ she says.

  ‘We’ll do Sea World and Dreamworld tomorrow. If there’s time, we’ll throw in some shopping. There’s this cool boutique in Surfers Paradise I want to show you. How does that sound?’

  ‘Great.’

  Sean takes a sip of his dessert wine. ‘What did you do today?’

  ‘Swam in the pool. I took a walk around the hotel after lunch.’

  ‘Good. The drinks after the plenary sessions tend to drag on. Otherwise I would have come straight back here.’

  ‘That’s okay.’

  The lemon soufflé melts in her mouth. Its texture makes her think of clouds. Laila watches the woman next to them getting up and leaving. She’s wearing an orange dress with no back. Her shoulder blades move when she swings her handbag over her arm. Her perfume, a sweet floral scent, wafts to their table. Light bounces off her hair, a mane of blonde curls. Behind her, the hotel lobby fans out from the entrance to the restaurant. A crystal chandelier glitters above a round sofa. People are mingling in the lobby: bellboys push huge trolleys laden with luggage and suits dangling from the top railing, women and men in elegant clothes approach the concierge, a man leaves car keys in the hands of a hotel valet.