by Tess Woods
Sweat beads collected on CJ’s temples.
‘Does she smoke it or sell it?’ he asked.
‘I think she uses it to put in stuff she bakes for my pop.’
‘Why would she do that?’
‘It could be for his pain. I’m not sure, I only just found out about it this morning.’
‘She’ll have some dried stuff inside, let’s go look.’
‘Uh-uh, no way.’ She shook her head firmly. ‘We’re not sneaking into Nan’s room. It’s bad enough that we’re out here.’
Squatting down next to a plant, he looked up at her. ‘Go on, CJ. Please? Help me find it.’
‘No. I’m not stealing from my nan.’ Her tone was resolute.
‘Ugh, okay.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘We’ll dry it ourselves then. It’ll take longer though.’
‘What? What are you talking about?’ The panic rose fast inside her.
He stared at her as if she was stupid. ‘We’re sitting on a marijuana plantation at the perfect time for harvesting. This is a miracle! We’ll make a fortune selling this at school.’ Without waiting for a response he pulled out his phone and starting typing.
‘Are you serious? We can’t touch these plants. Nan will know straight away. Finn . . . Finn! What are you doing? Who are you messaging? Stop!’
He smugly showed her his phone screen. It was a group chat he’d started with a list of names too long to fit on the screen.
Dope for Christmas. Going for $20 a gram. Pure, high quality. Home grown. Who’s in?
‘No,’ was all she could manage to say. She couldn’t breathe.
His phone beeped seconds later.
‘Declan,’ Finn announced before he read out, ‘“Sick. Ten grams please. Merry Christmas to me!”’
Again his phone beeped. ‘Ha!’ He laughed. ‘Zach said he’ll take five grams. Ha ha, look, he wrote, “Woohoo, can’t wait for a high Christmas.”’
Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping. The notifications came in thick and fast.
CJ stood frozen while he set about carefully harvesting the plants. He pulled off his bandana and used it as a makeshift basket to collect the buds.
‘Please stop.’ Her eyes stung with sweat and tears. ‘Nan will know. She’ll notice the leaves missing.’
‘Nah, she won’t. Relax. I’m being careful, she won’t notice a thing.’
Minutes later, they pushed their way out of the fernery, CJ lightheaded and pouring with sweat, Finn as cool as a cucumber, leading the way.
‘I’ve seen weed being cured back home in the States heaps of times.’ He sniffed the buds. ‘I’ll hang them on coat-hangers for a few days in my wardrobe to dry the buds out, then we just need to find some mason jars.’
‘No, not we! Don’t say we. I don’t want anything to do with this.’
He chuckled. ‘Don’t stress, babe. You don’t have to do a thing.’ He put his arm around her shoulders. ‘I’m doing this for Maxwell and Stone — this is to kickstart our careers.’
‘It’s drug-dealing. And it’s a really bad idea. It’s the worst idea ever. We’re going to get into shitloads of trouble. I mean, we could get expelled. We could go to jail!’ Her voice was shrill.
‘CJ, babe, relax.’ He dropped a kiss on her head. ‘It’s only dope, it doesn’t even rate as a drug. It’s not ice or heroin. Listen, I need to go so I can get onto this before my mum and dad get home from work. Don’t freak out, all right? I’ll take care of everything.’
She walked him to the front door on legs she couldn’t feel.
He looked at her over the top of his sunnies and a slow smile spread on his face. ‘I loved making you come today.’
Not replying, she fumbled with the lock that her trembling fingers struggled to unlatch. For the life of her she couldn’t unlock the front door.
He leaned across from behind her and flicked the lock open. ‘You need to chill, babe.’ He smirked. ‘I can’t wait to see that hot nude you’re going to send me.’ He kissed her on the mouth.
Her lips were dry and stiff. She couldn’t kiss him back.
She watched him dawdle off down the road carefully cradling in his arms the marijuana he’d stolen.
She closed the door and slid down it until she was sitting on the floor, hugging her knees.
It had already gone eleven o’clock. Shit. The day was disappearing. She wouldn’t be able to study at all while the photo he wanted was looming over her.
She had a quick flashback to a conversation with her mum, after they’d gone to that ‘healthy relationships for teens’ workshop at the library that was all about consent. But the psychologist presenting the workshop that night had grey hair, and her mum hadn’t even had her own phone, let alone social media, until she was in her thirties. What did they know about being a teenager these days? Nothing. When had they ever been in this situation themselves? Never.
Everyone sent nudes to their boyfriends. Everyone.
She couldn’t be the only one to say no.
She thought about his cold wet shorts against her groin and imagined turning up to school having broken up with Finn after they’d done that together — after he’d seen and heard her come. How could she face him unless they were still a couple? It would be way too awkward to sit in music class with him, or see him out in the schoolyard at lunch if they broke up after she’d exposed herself like that. No, she had to hang onto him at least while they were still at the same school, and the only way to hang onto him would be to give him what he wanted. And what he wanted right now was a nude photo. She had no choice but to deliver.
CJ got up and went straight to the bathroom. Resting her phone on the vanity, she stripped off. She ran her razor under the tap and stood under the shower for the second time that morning. Lifting one leg up to the wall, she shaved off her pubic hair. No guy wanted to see bush.
She dried herself slowly, the air felt cold on her newly bald crotch. Stretching her arm up high she angled the phone with the camera facing down towards her. She bent her head so that she wasn’t looking into the lens and took a photo. When she looked at it, she had to swallow down the vomit that immediately rose up like lava from her insides.
Blinking at the sour taste, she inspected the photo again. At least her face wasn’t showing and her hair concealed one breast. The rest of her was there though. She couldn’t bring herself to take a second photo. This would have to do. She put a black and white filter over the shot to make it look artier and less slutty.
Before she could chicken out, she hit send.
He replied a quick second later.
OMG! That’s the hottest pic I have EVER seen! THANK YOU!! You’re the best.
Her phone pinged again. Her mum.
How’s it going honey? Working hard?
The guilt slammed into her. Out loud, to the four walls of the empty bathroom, she said, ‘No, Mum, I haven’t been working hard. Finn and I dry-humped, then I helped him steal Nan’s dope and now I’ve shaved my pubic hair off and sent him a nude.’ She stared at herself, still naked in the full-length mirror. ‘You’re disgusting,’ she hissed at her reflection.
Her eyes rested on the tiny raised scab on her stomach from when she had scratched it earlier. The dried blood looked pretty somehow, beautiful even.
She opened the vanity drawer and fished out her nail scissors. She stared at them, going glassy-eyed as she separated the blades and traced her fingers over them. They felt cool and hard under her touch.
Her whole body trembled as she touched the tip of the scissors high up in her right thigh, deep in the groin.
God, what am I doing? This is bad. I can’t cut myself.
She was about to pull the blade away when she looked in the mirror and was faced again with the harsh reality of how gross she was. Everything about her was ugly.
She inhaled sharply as she pressed the blade down into her flesh and the first squirt of blood came out. Quickly she sliced about five centimetres down. She stood mesmerised as the blood formed a line and then began to
trickle down her leg.
It was stunning, gorgeous. She was transfixed.
She didn’t feel guilty about lying to her mum, or betraying her nan. She didn’t feel bad about not having done any study yet. She didn’t feel dirty for letting things get out of hand with Finn on her bed. She didn’t feel sick about the new photo he had of her as well as the one he already had from the other night. She didn’t feel scared of Finn, of losing him if she didn’t go down on him in two weeks, and she didn’t feel repulsed by images of herself giving him a blow job.
She felt nothing except for the exquisite pain in her thigh and the pure adrenaline rush of seeing the blood. It was the most glorious thirty seconds of her day, maybe of her whole life. She felt high.
Then the blood hit the tiles and the cut began to really sting so she lunged for a towel and pressed it against her groin until the bleeding stopped. From the medicine cabinet, she took two extra wide plasters and stuck them across the cut, and then gingerly put her clothes back on. She grabbed some toilet paper and knelt down on the cold tiles to wipe away the evidence.
It was the most serene and controlled she’d felt in days. She went back to her room and found her study notes. She studied with her phone on silent for four hours straight, finding it easier to focus than she had for weeks.
She rewarded herself after the study with an hour of song-writing. The song flowed freely from her. She felt inspired, creative, like she could do anything.
As she sang the words, ‘I bled for you, I needed to’, her entire body was alive and tingling.
How could one tiny cut make her feel this good? Give her this kind of clarity?
A flurry of electric excitement surged through her at the idea of doing it again.
25 OCTOBER 2000
Jamie threw her head back on the sweat-soaked pillow and shut her eyes. ‘I can’t, Mum, no more. I’ve got nothing left.’
Jess wiped her forehead with a damp cloth. ‘Of course you can, my beautiful girl. You’re nearly there, and you’re doing so well.’
‘I’m not . . . I’m not!’ Jamie panted, the exhaustion taking hold. ‘Please, Mum, help me.’ She gripped Jess’s hand and looked at her with wild eyes.
It took all of Jess’s strength to remain calm.
She’d had such an easy delivery herself with Jamie, at home in the bath, with a doula on hand and not a doctor nor gas mask in sight. It was a celebration more than a trial. But this, this was unbearable. Jamie had been induced in the early hours the day before, a week after her due date. It felt as if she had been in labour forever.
It was completely unfair. Her daughter was a deeply good person. She deserved the man she loved, the father of her child, to have been there for her, to have supported her through the nine difficult months that had just passed, to have comforted her through these painful hours of delivery, and to have delighted with her when the baby finally arrived.
But she didn’t know anyone more stubborn than Jamie. Jess had no doubt that Jamie could have had all the love and support she deserved, if only she had agreed to tell Simon she was pregnant.
Jess dipped a face washer in an icy cold tub of water, wringing it out and wiping Jamie’s brow with it.
‘Push again, Jamie. Big, big push now,’ the obstetrician ordered. ‘I can see the baby’s head.’
Her instinct told her that Jamie had been going for too long. Way too long. It wasn’t right.
‘Can’t,’ Jamie whispered. She shook her floppy head once to each side. Then her eyes rolled back and her head dropped forward, the colour completely draining from her face.
The midwife lifted up Jamie’s head. ‘Anthony! She’s out!’
A chill shot through Jess.
‘Shit!’ the obstetrician hissed. ‘Theatre. Now!’
Before Jess could even ask what was happening, the midwife shouted at her to move out of the way.
The midwife then dropped the top of the bed down so that Jamie was lying flat, and together with the obstetrician, wheeled the bed out into the corridor where another two nurses emerged from nowhere and ran alongside them.
In seconds they’d all disappeared with Jamie through swinging plastic doors.
Jess sank into a chair in the visitor’s lounge while another nurse brought her a glass of water which she didn’t touch. She watched the slow minutes tick by.
Not for the first time in her life, she questioned if atheism was the right choice. In moments like this, she could understand why people turned to God. It sure would be a comfort to believe that prayers were actually heard and answered.
Half an hour later, the obstetrician, dressed in scrubs, appeared next to her chair. ‘Mrs Stone?’
‘Yes?’
‘Good news, Jamie’s fine. She regained consciousness but we had to do an emergency C-section because the baby’s heart rate dropped suddenly. Jamie’s doing great. We’re just keeping her under observation.’
‘Thank goodness,’ she exhaled. ‘And the baby?’
‘You have a beautiful granddaughter. All ten fingers and toes accounted for.’ He smiled, peeling back his surgical cap. ‘And I tell you what, she’s got a future singing career in her, that one. Haven’t heard a set of lungs quite like that on a newborn before.’
‘A singing career?’ Jess laughed, the relief washing over her. ‘Well, with her DNA, I can’t say I’m surprised.’
19 JULY 1969
Frank hooked his arm around Jess’s waist while they walked the few blocks to the flat from the station. They hadn’t seen each other for two weeks. He’d had to stay back at the army barracks for an extra training program the weekend before.
After a passionate embrace when he’d stepped off the train, they filled each other in on their latest news and walked to the exit.
‘We had another snake bite yesterday,’ he announced.
‘Gee whiz! Another one? Was the poor man okay?’
‘Far from it. He was taken straight to hospital but it was too late. Poor bugger’s lost his leg from the knee down. That’s one way to get out of Vietnam, I suppose. Those brown snakes are causing more trouble for our boys here than the Viet Cong are for the ones over there.’ He laughed.
She gave him her filthiest stare.
‘Sorry. I’m sorry. I forgot about our new rule.’ He sighed.
‘Well, now that you’ve brought it up, there was something I did want to ask you about. Did you see Menzies on TV last week?’
‘I did.’
‘Did you hear what he said about how long it took to make his decision to send our troops to Vietnam?’ There was a sharp edge to her voice.
‘What about it?’
‘Didn’t his answer bother you, Frank?’ She turned to stare at him.
He shrugged. ‘Why would it?’
A stiff silence hung between them.
Deep down, Jess knew she should change the subject. But she couldn’t help herself. ‘Are you serious? You’re not bothered that he took no longer than five minutes to decide to send our boys to die in an unwinnable war?’
‘Here we go again.’ He rolled his eyes.
‘Maybe if he’d thought about it for more than five minutes he would have realised what a dreadful mistake he was making!’
‘Hey, hey, Flower Child, settle down. Let’s not talk about it. I’m sorry I brought it up.’ He gave her bottom a light tap. ‘I’ll make it up to you back at the flat, hey?’
‘Honestly, Frank, I don’t know how you can even think I’d be in the mood to make love to you right now.’
‘Ah, come on, Jess. Don’t be like that. I’ve only just arrived after the long train trip just to see you and you’re already sulking.’
‘I’m not sulking. I’m just terribly frustrated that because of one rash decision he sent all those Australian men to their deaths. It’s all so pointless.’ She tried in vain to slow down her breathing.
‘Don’t say it’s pointless.’ His voice hardened. ‘Those men gave their lives serving our country. Don’t belittle t
heir courage like that.’
‘Courage? Courage? Is that what you think it takes to blindly obey a corrupt government? To not question why men who aren’t even considered old enough to vote are still considered old enough to be sent to die? I’ve never heard such rot! Stupidity more likely.’ And then she unleashed an anti-war tirade on him that continued until she was unlocking the door to her father’s apartment.
Frank remained silent until he followed her inside. Once he’d closed the door behind them, he shouted, ‘If you’re so passionate about the damn war, then what in God’s name are you still doing with me?’
‘I’m still with you because I keep hoping you’ll come to your senses and leave the army!’ she replied tearfully.
‘That’s never going to happen!’ He threw his arms in the air. ‘For Pete’s sake, Jess, enough! You need to either accept me as I am or . . .’
‘Or what?’
Jess turned to see her father in the living-room doorway.
‘Or what, sonny?’ Malcolm repeated, a bemused look on his face.
‘Mr James.’ Frank, ashen-faced, walked towards him with his hand outstretched. ‘I’m very sorry I was shouting. Jess and I were having, ah, a bit of a disagreement. My name’s Frank Stone. It’s an honour to meet you, sir. I’ve heard many wonderful things about you from Jess.’ His sentences fell out in a rush.
Malcolm looked down at Frank’s extended hand and after a few awkward seconds, he gave it the briefest of shakes.
‘I wish I could say the same,’ Malcolm replied, looking straight at Jess. ‘But my daughter’s failed to mention you at all.’
‘Dad.’ Jess placed herself between them. ‘What are you doing home? Didn’t you say you’d be at the club for the rest of the day?’
‘It was cancelled. Just as well, by the look of things.’ He gave her a wink. ‘Or I never would have found out about your secret soldier here.’ He lit a cigarette. ‘I’ve been wondering who it was that you’ve been hiding from me. I suspected it might have been some married bloke, the way you were sneaking around.’ He gave a little scoff in Frank’s direction. ‘I didn’t expect this from you though, Jess, I must say.’