That's Why I Wrote This Song

by Susanne Gervay

  Oliver rings at lunchtime to talk about what movie to see on Friday night. It’ll be just us. No Angie and Christopher. No mates. No football crowd.

  We decide to see the latest Superman movie. I wanted to see Road Trip, inspired by Billy’s life, with Insomniac Road playing the music tracks. He didn’t want to and I caved in.

  I don’t know what I think about that. Shouldn’t he want to see what I want? Want to make me happy? Am I supposed to see Superman to make him happy? I like super-hero movies, it’s just that Insomniac Road is inside me. I don’t know if he’ll ever like Insomniac Road. Does that matter?

  ‘So it’s Superman. Great,’ Oliver says. ‘I tried to call all last night but your phone was busy. Was it off the hook?’

  ‘No. I just had to talk to Karen.’

  ‘That girl’s too crazy.’

  A shiver goes down my back. ‘She’s not. There are things happening in her life that are…’ I stop mid-sentence. I’m not explaining to Oliver.

  ‘Too crazy,’ he says again.

  Suddenly I’m angry. I’m the only one allowed to say Karen’s crazy. Not Oliver, who doesn’t know her. He’s pressuring me to drop Karen as my friend. What’s he talking about? I’d never make him abandon his friends. Karen plays music with me. She’s my best friend. We’re the Kindergarten Kids. Who does he think he is? Shut up, Oliver. Shut up.

  I don’t want to talk about this.

  I change the subject. ‘I’m going to Rockfest.’

  ‘Great. I’ll go with you. I’ve never been to Rockfest.’

  What’s wrong with Oliver? He’s not invited. He doesn’t even like rock. He admitted to liking country music. Country, for God’s sake. I shouldn’t have said anything about Rockfest. I’m going from Superman to super-mess. I try to be calm on the phone. ‘Rockfest is just for Music students. We have to listen to bands in this muso way, then write a report. It’s schoolwork.’ It’s half true, or a quarter true, maybe ten per cent true. This is all getting too complicated.

  I don’t mention Karen’s name. There is no way he’s coming.

  Lately I’ve being doing extra shifts at work. So I can afford a ticket to Rockfest and escape when Dad’s around. Mum tries to be home before I have to go to work at the music shop. She makes an early dinner for me of low fat food. Cottage-cheese pies, vegetable soups, stir-fried chicken…Except I’d like to miss dinner sometimes to lose a few kilos.

  But there’s no chance of skipping meals with Mum around. Her eyes sparkle as she watches me eat one of her special Pip recipes. Karen doesn’t have a mum who makes her special meals any more. Her mother used to.

  Have to rush. I want to get out of here before Dad gets home. I kiss Mum and run towards the bus stop.

  I’m on time. The manager waves at me. I raise my thumbs because Insomniac Road’s new album is playing. ‘Good one.’

  The manager doesn’t mind my music, but he does mind Angie’s phone calls. That is a no-way thing to do, unless it’s a total emergency. It is an emergency. In Angie’s mind. She is having stress with Christopher. He’s pressuring her to go to more bases and she doesn’t want to go there. ‘But I like Christopher.’ Angie has finally worked out that the ‘love’ word with a boy doesn’t get my serious attention.

  I’m happy to talk to her, but not at work. ‘I can’t talk, Angie. Work.’ The manager is looking at me. ‘Sorry, I have to go. I’ll ring you later tonight. Promise.’

  ‘Sorry,’ I mouth to the manager. I put down the phone. I sell six Insomniac Road albums. I ignore the messages on my phone. They’re from Angie, of course. She’ll never understand.

  The music makes the time go quickly. I can’t believe it’s ten o’clock already. The shop closes. Suddenly I feel exhausted.

  As I’m about to drag myself home, I see Mum parked outside in our old station wagon. ‘Thought you might be tired, Pip.’

  ‘I am.’ She looks tired too. It’s Dad. The extra work making sure the house is tidy and we’re doing what he wants and still getting on with our lives. We say nothing, but it is Dad. I lie back in the car seat and close my eyes. Mum turns on the radio as we drive home.

  Dad. He’s leaving for Japan in two days. He always sends me postcards. He sent me one of cherry blossoms the last time he was in Japan.

  His postcards confuse me. He writes things in them that he never says to me. Things I want him to say. He wrote on the cherry blossoms:

  Dear Pip,

  How are you? I wish you were here to see the beautiful pink flowers on the fragrant trees. It won’t be long before I’ll be seeing you. I miss you.

  Take care of your mother and brother for me.

  Love you,

  Dad.

  He sends Eddie and Mum postcards too. I keep my postcards, even though they are written by a different father. A father who appears on the cards, but disappears when he enters the house.

  At home he’s a father who never listens. Who demands that we do what he wants—except how can we? He doesn’t know me. I don’t know him.

  I hate loving those postcards. I’ll never forget that country drive. It was to Dad’s boss’s holiday farm for lunch, with all the executives and their families. ‘It’s very important,’ her father had said. I’ll never forget. Never.

  Pip and Eddie are in the back seat of the car already, waiting for their parents to get in. Their mother and father are arguing on the front lawn. Their mother is sick and was vomiting this morning, but their father tells her to get into the car anyway. She’s crying as he grabs Eddie, belting him into the front seat. Seven-year-old Pip stays in the back with Fluffy Rabbit and Woolly Lamb. As their father speeds away, Pip turns to see her mummy waving, crying out, ‘Wait, wait.’

  Pip waves back to her mother, but she doesn’t cry. Her daddy would be mad if she cried. She holds on to Fluffy Rabbit and Woolly Lamb as her father drives away with the radio blaring. Rabbit and Lamb have always looked after Pip, especially when her father is angry. Rabbit and Lamb are Pip’s best friends.

  It’s so hot that Pip winds down the car window. She sticks her head out, letting the rush of air flick her brown hair into windy knots.

  She doesn’t know how it happens. Did she lean forward and push Lamb upwards? All she knows is that Lamb isn’t on her lap any more. She sees Lamb swept onto the road.

  Panic grips her like pain. Her screaming makes Eddie peer over the headrest.

  ‘What’s wrong, Pip? What’s wrong?’

  ‘Daddy, Daddy,’ Pip screams. ‘Stop, Daddy. Stop.’ Her screaming makes Eddie reach out his hand towards his sister. ‘Lamb. Lamb is gone. Stop Daddy, stop.’ Eddie shouts too, but their daddy doesn’t stop. He’s not listening.

  ‘Be quiet,’ he shouts, because he’s late. He’s in a hurry and the boss is waiting and he wants a promotion. The radio is so loud.

  Pip and Eddie see Lamb disappear as their father speeds away. Pip can’t sob. It’s deeper than that, as she watches Lamb on the long windy road. All alone on the road. All alone.

  She holds on to Fluffy Rabbit, scared for his life. Scared for her life. She never forgets. Never.

  Suddenly my brain is fracturing and Dad is erupting from my head like a zombie in a horror movie. Mum and Eddie are running and I’m panting after them, tearing up postcards. I hold Fluffy Rabbit close, safe. Lyrics and music pound in my head as I rock on my bed with Rabbit. Rocking, rocking, rocking…

  No one hears my screaming

  No one knows my pain

  Is that because they can’t see me?

  Or am I just insane?

  Can’t I be myself?

  Can’t I live my life?

  Can’t I just be free?

  To be me.

  Chapter Five

  Friday night arrives. Oliver buys me popcorn and a drink, then gives me a silver necklace. ‘It’s lovely,’ I say as he clasps it around my neck. We sit in the last row of the cinema even though I like the middle. But he gave me a necklace, so I feel I have to sit where he says. The lights go off
, the film trailers look good, then it begins.

  It wouldn’t have mattered whether it was Superman or Road Trip or Alice in Wonderland. Oliver tries to force me to second base. I stick popcorn between us. Spill drink on the chair. But his hand…

  The necklace is choking me as I sit there next to someone who wants what he wants. I can hardly breathe. There’s no movie break.

  ‘Bathroom,’ I whisper, and flee to the lobby just as Superman is saving Lois Lane. Save me. Save me.

  I look nervously around. There’s no Superman in sight. But there’s Mum. I hide in the bathroom to phone her. ‘Please can you pick us up? I’m tired. Please don’t ask Oliver in. I’m tired. Very tired.’ I pray Mum can’t hear the panic in my voice.

  ‘Is everything all right, Pip?’

  No, it’s not all right. ‘Please Mum. Come and get me Mum.’ I know she’ll be tired, but she’ll get out of her nightie, put on her track suit, slide on her old lambswool slippers and wait for me outside the cinema.

  I go back into the cinema, put my bag between Oliver and me, whisper in his ear. ‘I want to see the movie. I mean it.’

  Superman finishes and I race out of the cinema. Mum’s there in her blue station wagon. Oliver is surprised to see her. I’m relieved.

  I sit in the front seat. Mum is chatty. ‘Hope you don’t mind me collecting you, but Pip has to be home early tonight. Her father rang from Japan, to say he’ll be phoning back later tonight. She has to be there for his call,’ Mum lies and smiles.

  She drops Oliver at his house. I’m silent all the way home. Mum just drives quietly. As she parks in our driveway, I slip my hand quickly over hers.

  The house is warm and welcoming. She makes hot chocolate with marshmallows on top. No dieting tonight.

  I show her the necklace. ‘It’s lovely.’ Mum sips her chocolate, then looks at me. ‘You know he hasn’t bought you, Pip. It’s just a gift.’

  Tears well in my eyes. I stare into my hot chocolate so Mum can’t see them. I just wanted Oliver to care for me. A boy to care for me, like me for who I am.

  ‘Do you like Oliver?’

  I shrug. I can’t talk to Mum about it. Not tonight. Mum just waits. ‘Maybe you should just go out with friends, until you really know.’

  I nod.

  I suck the marshmallows, letting their sweetness fill me. The house is quiet without Dad or Eddie. Eddie’s with his girlfriend tonight. It feels so long since we’ve had just Mum-and-me time. We talk about school, music, Karen’s parents, my birthday. Will I have a party or not? Mum wants me to have one. ‘Sixteen is special, Pip.’

  I think about it for a while. Yes, I’d like to celebrate with my friends and Mum. Irina is sixteen a week earlier than I am. Eddie has to be there, but without his girlfriend. Do I want Oliver there, or any guys?

  ‘You’ve got time to think about it. I want to do what you want.’

  ‘Do you, Mum?’

  ‘Always, Pip. Always.’

  Lunchtime talk on Monday is about parties. There’s a big one in a few weeks with a boy band. Everyone’s going to it. There are birthdays as well. I’m definitely having a party for mine. Well, maybe.

  ‘I’m thinking about using the basement at home for my sixteenth. Can we play our new song? If it’s finished, of course.’ I look at Angie and Irina. ‘Karen?’

  ‘Sure. I love a party and for you, Pip, I’ll even bring the vodka,’ Karen pretends to skol a glass.

  A shiver zips down my back. I don’t know about vodka. If Dad’s home he’ll kill me, and Mum won’t like it either. I was thinking of having a few undercover low-alcohol drinks, that’s all. No vomiting and alcohol poisoning for my sixteenth.

  Maybe this is all a bad idea. What if Karen…? I stop. No, I’m having a party. I’ve waited so long to be sixteen.

  Karen is in her entertaining mood. The vodka idea has got her going. ‘My father has his liquor cabinet under lock and key.’ Karen winks. ‘He tries to put me under lock and key as well, except I’m not vodka.’

  ‘No, but you drank a lot of it two Saturdays ago.’ There’s laughing and gossip about that night and all the drinking. I don’t like the taste of alcohol, but a party isn’t a party without it. When I’m drinking I don’t care about my bum or boobs. I glance at Karen and think of her kneeling over the toilet bowl. I shut my eyes, blocking out the image.

  ‘I don’t need his liquor cabinet anyway.’ Karen laughs. She has worked out an alcohol escape route from her father’s apartment. Karen is hilarious as she enacts her escapes. Escape number one is through her bedroom window. She scrambles down the fir tree outside her window, then dodges along the side path to freedom. Escape number two is waiting for her father to go out, then leaving. He doesn’t know.

  The alcohol hunt sends her into the inner city. She has her own special Karen-drinks supply source. Karen has ‘friends’ in low places. Vodka friends.

  ‘The gay pubs are so funny. The guys call out “Hi, darling” as the girls pass by.’

  ‘Are you scared of them?’

  ‘Scared? No. I love the inner city. It feels real, with the bars and cafés. People having a good time. Everyone is there, from models to hobos.’ Karen twists her hair into a knot before letting it fall down her back, like she always does. ‘No one is afraid of gays. Some of them are pretty cute.’

  That starts off some jokes about ‘cute and unavailable’.

  ‘Packs of straight guys. Now, they’re the ones I keep away from.’

  Except Karen doesn’t keep away from them. I wish she would. But she’s been mentioning Josh a lot lately. Karen says that he protects her, whatever that means. Karen’s vodka ‘friend’ is Tommo. He hangs around the bottle shop with his extra clothes bagged in plastic and methylated spirits in a paper bag. Karen gives him the money she has stolen from her dad’s wallet. Then Tommo buys vodka or whatever from the liquor shop. He gets a free bottle from Karen and she gets underage booze. She laughs. ‘Everyone wins.’

  My stomach cramps. Wins what? Angie and I look at each other. Where’s Karen going? What’s she doing? Everyone else is talking, joking with Karen. I can’t stand it. Is a sixteenth birthday party such a good idea?

  ‘So I’ll bring the vodka,’ Karen announces.

  ‘If I have a party.’

  ‘You have to,’ everyone buzzes around me.

  When I get home Mum announces that Dad has called. He’ll be home late tonight. Mum’s not prepared. She went to work early this morning, leaving dishes on the breakfast bench and the bathroom floor wet. She’s not ready for Dad and has descended into some preconditioned low self-esteem mode. She’s panicking. Dad will be home in a few hours.

  ‘Mum, stop.’ I give her an infuriated stare. Mum ignores it. So what if eagle-eyed Dad swoops down on us? Maybe he’ll discover that we’re human. In any case, if he wants to find something wrong, he will. He can locate anything that’s out of place. Mostly imaginary things. The house is never, ever tidy enough. Why’s Mum bothering?

  ‘Pip, can you help?’ Mum’s in a whirl of activity. ‘The vacuum cleaner isn’t working.’

  ‘I can do that.’ Eddie fiddles with the levers and it starts. Eddie can fix anything—except Dad. He’ll never stand up to him. He’s still connected to Dad. Wants to be loved. Like Mum does. It makes her weak. She loses every argument. She resorts to half-truths when Dad’s around and he just gets stronger. Here they are: stupid Mum with Eddie as the backup, whizzing around the house like mice chased by a scary, hairy cat. Eddie and Mum belong to the door-mat club. Suddenly I feel my face burning. Sometimes, I’m a doormat too.

  I grab the mop, sloshing water over the kitchen tiles. ‘I don’t want to do this, Mum.’ Be like this, Mum. I bang the mop against the cupboards. ‘This is insane.’

  Eddie switches off the vacuum cleaner and calls out, ‘Give it a rest, Pip.’

  ‘A rest? Dad comes home and everyone goes into panic. What’s that about?’

  ‘Pip, start cleaning, not complaining.’

&nbs
p; ‘Why, Mum?’

  ‘Shut up, Pip.’ Eddie supports Mum like a trained seal. ‘We’ve heard you before.’

  ‘But do you listen?’ I throw down the mop. ‘I’m never, ever getting married. Not if you have to run around scared all the time. What will the god say? What will he do? What? What?’ I turn to look at Mum. ‘Don’t you see? It’s wrong. It must be wrong. Isn’t it wrong?’

  Mum stands still, her face flushed. She looks angry, then her face changes as she watches Eddie and me. Is she going to cry?

  ‘Don’t, don’t.’ I grit my teeth.

  ‘Leave Mum alone, Pip.’

  ‘It’s all right, Eddie,’ Mum’s voice grates. I refuse to look at her. I’m not interested in guilt today. ‘The house is tidy enough.’

  ‘So can we leave this tidy room now?’

  Mum ignores my sarcasm. ‘You’re nearly sixteen, Pip. And Eddie is just eighteen. It seems like yesterday when you were babies.’

  Emotional blackmail. I can see it coming. It’s going to be an avalanche of tears and memories. Save me. I prefer the manic-panic of cleaning any day. I turn away.

  ‘Don’t go, Pip.’ Mum closes her eyes for a second. ‘I’d like to talk to you.’ She looks at Eddie. ‘To both of you.’ She makes a final sweep of the kitchen bench, catching the last remnants of dust. ‘Please.’

  Everything stops. It’s like a movie where the frame is frozen. I don’t want to stay, but Mum’s eyes fix me like a bug pinned to the wall. What can I do? I love Mum. She picked me up from the cinema after Superman, saving me from Oliver.

  The frame unfreezes. I follow her to the couch, but refuse to sit next to her. Instead I sit cross-legged on the floor. Eddie pulls up a chair.

  ‘You both mean everything to me.’ I tug at the carpet strands. ‘You know that I fell in love with your father while we were studying.’

  ‘Well, that was a mistake.’ I’ve heard the story dozens of times. Different versions, different excuses.