That's Why I Wrote This Song

by Susanne Gervay

  ‘Shut up, Pip,’ Eddie butts in.

  ‘It’s okay, Eddie.’

  Is Mum practising to be a martyr? Martyrs end up dead. Desdemona died. I can’t stand this.

  ‘Please try to understand, Pip. Please.’ She holds out her hand to me. I ignore it.

  ‘I was young. Your father was young.’ Mum’s eyes try to connect with mine. ‘He was so smart and funny.’ Where is this going? Mum drones on and I try to block my ears. ‘It was love. Sex. Love.’

  I shove my hands in the air, with the palms facing outwards. I don’t want to know about my parents and sex. I don’t want to know about love, love, love. ‘As if Dad was ever funny.’ Mum ignores me. I don’t call this communicating. That lying word, ‘love’, hangs like a noose above us.

  ‘Your father loves you both, even though he finds it hard to show that. He’s under so much pressure with work and…’

  Justification. More excuses. Garbage. I’m tired of the stress, his anger, being afraid, being on a roller-coaster. I’m going.

  Mum holds out her hand again, this time to stop me leaving. ‘He didn’t want to get married at twenty-three. He didn’t want a house and mortgage with kids in tow. He accepted it in the beginning. It was all right, and I was grateful.’

  Grateful. What’s Mum talking about? Well, it hasn’t worked, all that gratefulness.

  She catches her breath. ‘I’ve always felt like I had to make it up to him.’

  Make up for having kids? That makes me feel like garbage.

  ‘Well, you have, Mum. A million times.’ I pound the carpet back into place. ‘Doing what he wants. Waiting for him to come and to go. You’re always trying. He doesn’t try. And look at us. Scared. We’re scared.’

  Tears start in Mum’s eyes. ‘I don’t want you to be scared.’

  ‘I am, Mum. Eddie is too.’ I run my fingers through my hair. I stare around the clean lounge room defiantly. ‘I will never, ever be like this.’

  Mum’s quiet for a while, then whispers, ‘I never want you to be.’

  I want to cry, because Mum knows. This is her life, and what’s she doing with it?

  Eddie mocks me. ‘As if anyone could make you.’

  ‘That’s right.’ I shake my head. ‘A pity you haven’t worked that out yet, Eddie.’

  Eddie gives me an angry stare, but he doesn’t answer. That’s his response to anything he can’t cope with. I think of his girlfriend. Eddie does whatever she wants. He wouldn’t do it for me or even Mum. Doormat Eddie. Doesn’t he know he’s worth more than that? Doormat, doormat, doormat.

  I look at that big idiot. Then at Mum. They’re the most important people in my life. I put my hands over my face and bend my head down. When will this end?

  The phone rings, as if on cue, like in a movie scene. The buzzing slices the film in two. Mum gets up to answer. She calls out, ‘Dad’s flight home has been postponed for a few days. For work. He won’t be back tonight.’

  The relief is obvious. We can end this charade of happy families, getting ready for the eagle to come home. I stand up slowly and slide the mop beside the fridge. Mum softly murmurs about nothing. The weather, cooking, a new book she’s reading. The tension eases. I put on a CD. Eddie pushes the vacuum cleaner back into its cupboard, rocking to the music. I roll my eyes. ‘You dance like a chicken, Eddie.’

  He grabs a cushion that’s lying on the floor. Suddenly it flies into the air. ‘Better to be a chicken than a Pip Squeak.’ It misses me. I throw it back at him. He dives for it.

  ‘Football star,’ he calls out. Then it’s in the air again. Mum sees it coming and ducks. Too late, as the cushion hits her and the atmosphere changes. Suddenly we’re laughing. I want to stay angry, but I can’t. I love them.

  After dinner Mum makes her traditional hot chocolate. Eddie brings out marshmallows. I pretend to punch him in the arm. ‘Do you want me to get fatter?’

  ‘You’re not fat.’ Mum puts her arm around me and I eat the marshmallows.

  Eddie crashes onto the lounge, after a calculated shove from me. ‘Got you.’

  I nudge Mum. ‘So when is Dad home?’

  ‘He’s got to stay in Japan for another three days.’

  Reprieve. At least the threat of his homecoming has one good outcome: the house is clean and Mum didn’t have to do it by herself.

  Tension slowly dissipates. No one feels like moving as we lie back on the lounge. Eddie starts describing his new Woodwork project, a rectangular set of drawers to sit on a desk. I drink my hot chocolate while he explains the intricacies of technical design. I half listen.

  I know Dad wants us to love him. Eddie doesn’t like Dad, but why does he love him? Maybe persecution does that. I love Dad, but I hate him. Feel sorry for him. Don’t feel sorry. I care. I don’t. I feel guilty. I don’t. He’s so controlling. I look at Mum, then Eddie. Is it Mum’s fault, with her failed arguments, the way she caves in to peace at any cost? Does she make him into a monster? Or is he just a monster all by himself? Maybe men and women aren’t meant to live together.

  I know, pregnant or not, I would never marry at nineteen. Never, ever. Mum could have raised Eddie without Dad. It would have been all right. But she’s a coward. Cowardice doesn’t work.

  Relationships. They change everything. Oliver. I’m not having sex with him. I don’t ever want to have sex. That’s mad, of course. I will one day. I do want sex, love. When I listen to Insomniac Road at night, I sometimes imagine being with a boy. But not Oliver. Not a boy who doesn’t love my music, who doesn’t care what I want to see at the movies, who wants sex, not love. No, not him and not yet. Maybe when I’m nineteen or fifty or a hundred.

  Karen crashes into my head. What’s she doing? She plays around with too many guys. Josh sounds different, but is he? She gives guys nearly everything, but not the final act. Not the home run. She has some insane idea that her games give her control. But most of those guys don’t care about her. Why don’t they care? Suddenly I feel like gagging, because I do care.

  I break the silence. ‘Mum, can Karen come over?’

  ‘You know she can. Any time.’

  I curl into the lounge, trying to press my thoughts back inside my head. Eddie takes over again. Thank God for Eddie. His technical descriptions calm me.

  The topic changes to surfing. ‘I’m going out tonight to talk to the guys about some new moves.’ He’s half-lying. His girlfriend will be there. It’ll be mates for a while, then her. He knows we disapprove. It hurts him. He won’t be home until early morning. Is it sex? Is it love? Fear? Insecurity? His girlfriend is taking him away from us. I miss him.

  Mum washes up the mugs. Eddie heads out to meet his mates. I walk up behind Mum. She turns quietly. I kiss her goodnight and she holds me for a long time. ‘Be happy, Darling.’

  I can’t say it. I want to say it to my mother, ‘You be happy, Mum,’ but it’s not going to happen. I disappear into my room.

  Chapter Six

  Mum beeps the horn as I walk out of the music shop. Work was busy tonight. I wave Black Bullets’ new album at her. ‘Free promotion.’ I lunge over and kiss her cheek as I get into the car. ‘Thanks for picking me up, Mum. Eddie’s going to be so jealous of this album. I might give it to him, if he’s really nice to me.’

  Mum smiles. ‘Pip, you always say Eddie’s the teaser. I think you’ve got a bit of teasing in you too.’

  ‘So where is he tonight? At his girlfriend’s?’ I put on a whining voice. That girl was over for dinner last week. I will never call Angie self-centred again. Luckily Eddie disappeared into the basement with her after Mum and I cleared the table. She didn’t even offer to help. Apparently she’s brilliant, she told us. She’s getting brilliant marks at school, and she’s doing some part time modeling. ‘I’m sure she’s a great model,’ I say to Mum. ‘Is she doing a haemorrhoid ad?’ I pretend to be in pain.

  ‘Don’t, Pip.’ But Mum can’t help smiling. ‘She’s a nice girl and Eddie is happy with her.’

  I shrug. I can
’t stand hearing Mum make excuses. Just because Eddie’s going out with that girl doesn’t mean we have to like her.

  Mum has news that’s more interesting than the girlfriend. Eddie’s found a car to buy. ‘One of his friends has another friend who knows another friend who is trying to sell his car. I hope it turns out all right.’

  I’m excited. Eddie with wheels is a good thing for me. He’s been looking for a car for ages. One he can afford. I laugh. ‘This had better not be a car-wreck job.’

  ‘Boys and cars can be trouble.’ Mum’s eyes crinkle into worry lines. ‘And your father isn’t even home.’

  ‘Dad? Eddie doesn’t need his permission to buy a car. Eddie worked all holidays digging ditches and carrying bricks. He’s got the money. And he’s a good driver.’

  Mum pulls up in front of our house. ‘Your father could be—’

  I cut Mum off. ‘I don’t care what Dad could be. Do you?’

  Mum says nothing.

  I race into the house, flashing the Black Bullets CD and calling out, ‘Eddie, Eddie, have you bought a car?’

  Eddie’s done the car deal. It’s a vintage Falcon station wagon according to Eddie. That means it’s old. Very old. Mum’s still nervous about what Dad will think. ‘Eddie should’ve discussed it with your father,’ she says. Doormat, doormat, flashes into my head. I don’t understand Mum. She’d defend us to the death, but when it comes to Dad she crumbles. Dad hardly knows anything about us. So why should he decide if Eddie gets this car?

  Eddie’s up early in the morning. He talks about the car nonstop at breakfast. As we walk to the bus he’s still talking about it. He’s picking it up on the weekend.

  Suddenly we see the bus coming and race to catch it. Once on board, Eddie ignores me. His mates are at the back of the bus and he can’t be seen speaking to his sister. That’s boys for you. I don’t care. Eddie’s getting a car.

  School is chaotic today. Assignments are coming at us from all directions. Karen’s on some detention for not handing in her homework. Angie’s busily planning a barbecue at her place for Christopher. Irina’s working on chemistry experiments in the lab. I’m arranging music for the school concert and I desperately need some practice sessions with Irina. After school today Irina and I are going to rehearse in her garage.

  At last the end-of-day school bell rings. Irina and I are relieved when we walk out of the school gates. It’s a twenty-minute bus ride then a short walk to Irina’s house. We start to jog as we turn the last corner. Her house is a small, box-like, brick building, softened by the pink and cream roses her mother has planted at the front.

  I see the curtain flicker. It’s Irina’s mother watching out for us.

  Irina throws her bag down in the hallway, kisses her mother, grabs some water and heads for the garage with me.

  Irina is getting more amazing at the drums every day. My guitar playing is not so amazing. But we work well together. It’s a great session, and her mum is happy I’m visiting. When we come back into the house there are cream-cheese pancakes waiting for us. My diet collapses. Maybe if I get too fat Oliver will drop me. That’s a great thought. I dig into my second pancake. Am I really ready for a boyfriend? Irina’s mother beams as she pushes a third pancake towards me.

  Mum collects me and my guitar after work. Of course, Irina’s mother insists she comes inside and eat cream-cheese pancakes too. Mum’s diet collapses as well. Irina’s mother packs three more cream-cheese pancakes into a container for Eddie.

  Even though Irina’s mum speaks Russian English, our mothers understand each other. They are talk about the most interesting topic in the world: us. We’re such stars. Irina and I smile at each other as they chat.

  ‘Our girls will be sixteen soon,’ Mum says. ‘Hard to believe, isn’t it?’ I give Mum the got-to-leave look. Luckily she takes the hint, because Irina’s mother would keep her there for hours. I think she’s lonely.

  I don’t feel like dinner tonight after all those pancakes. Mum cooks cheddar and tomato omelettes. She adds five rashers of bacon for Eddie. ‘Homework time,’ she announces, as she wipes her hands on a tea towel after clearing the table. Eddie races to his room because he wants to listen to the Black Bullets album for the tenth time. I ended up giving him the album, of course.

  I turn to Mum. There’s something wrong. I feel it. She was too quiet in the car on the way home. Too quiet at dinner. Too quiet now. ‘Is everything all right, Mum?’

  She carefully folds the tea towel. ‘Yes, Pip. Yes.’ She smiles. ‘This afternoon was lovely. Mothers and daughters.’ No fathers. She doesn’t say that, but it hangs in the air.

  ‘It was, Mum.’ I hug her before I head for my bedroom. I do have a lot of homework. I leave my door slightly open. I’m listening to Black Bullets beating out of Eddie’s room when I hear Mum’s voice. Softly I pad into the hallway.

  Mum is on the phone. She’s half turned away from me, but I can hear her jerky sobs. ‘I can’t understand what’s…wrong…any more…why you’re so angry…Pip and Eddie…they’re gifts, not mistakes…They’re scared of you.’ She whispers. I strain to hear. ‘Sometimes…I…am…too…’ Mum waits for Dad’s answers. Does he hear her? Does he even care?

  Her voice becomes louder. ‘Eddie’s bought a car.’ The announcement comes out of nowhere.

  All of a sudden I want to laugh. Giggles start to burble in my throat like aliens. Burbling, gurgling, making me flee back into my bedroom. Suddenly I’m crying on my bed, pressing Fluffy Rabbit flat against my chest, until Rabbit’s quiet and I’m quiet. My father is a liar. He left Lamb on the road.

  The eagle has landed. Dad arrives home. My stomach knots. There is a brief Gestapo investigation of the house, but he’s not too critical for a change. Must have had successful meetings—or was it that phone call? Have there been other ones as well? Did Mum see me listening?

  Dad has bought Mum and me duty-free perfume and Eddie a Swiss army knife that includes thirty-three attachments, like a bottle opener and a screwdriver. Eddie is happy about the present, but I can see he’s jumpy. I nudge him. ‘Car,’ I whisper under my breath. I didn’t tell Eddie what I heard on the phone. I wasn’t sure if it’d make more trouble or not. So I decided just to wait.

  Dad actually asks me about Music and the school concert. I give a few limited answers. I don’t trust his non-aggressive moods. I don’t trust him. ‘The concert is ages away. After the mid-year exams.’

  He looked mildly interested before, but the exams wake him up. He asks about schoolwork. Eddie quickly changes the subject to football. Normally Dad wouldn’t let that go, but he does tonight.

  ‘I hear you’ve bought a car,’ Dad says.

  Eddie nods, tripping into explanations until Dad stops him.

  ‘I had a car when I was your age. It’s great that you saved the money yourself. Just be careful when you drive, and no drinking.’

  I give Dad a curious look. Why isn’t he angry? He controls everything. He didn’t control this. Did he hear Mum crying on the phone? Is that why he’s different? I don’t believe he is. I get up, put my dishes in the sink, glance at Eddie, then Mum. ‘Got to study.’

  Dad approves. ‘That’s important, Pip.’

  I shut my bedroom door, take out my books, block out my father. It’s easier hating him. I’m confused when the postcard Dad is in the house.

  I put on Insomniac Road.

  The car arrives. It’s big and orange, with a patched-up scrape along its side. Eddie takes me for a spin to the beach. I love it.

  Netball training this afternoon. I have to get through school first. I have nightmares. I feel exhausted.

  I don’t want to talk, so I listen to everyone else’s dramas quietly, and think about my own. There’s the usual update on Christopher from Angie. Some girls have been caught in the boys’ school, so they’re in trouble. They’re always sneaking through the fence at the back of the Science Building. Nothing’s new. Mum flits in and out of my thoughts. I block Dad out. Mr Connelly helps me
with my Music work. ‘Has Karen been researching? Working on the music arrangements with you?’

  ‘Yes.’ I don’t expand on that. Mr Connelly probably knows anyway. I can’t wait for Karen to help, otherwise I’ll get behind and everything will get out of control. My head feels like a pressure cooker as I walk into Geography. For the first time all year, the boring drone of the teacher is a relief. It’s like Zen. I meditate. I push Karen to the back of my mind. Push home to the back of my mind. I think of Eddie’s car and smile.

  Angie’s waiting for me after school for netball training. Our team is pretty good. Karen has been demoted to reserve in the team, since she never turns up for practice.

  ‘Come on, Karen,’ I say to her. ‘You like netball.’

  ‘Can’t make it.’ I know she’s meeting a boy or boys, or the entire football team. She waves Angie and me goodbye, swinging her hips as she heads into male territory, ducking through a hole in the wire-mesh fence and disappearing into the boys’ school.

  ‘That’s Karen.’ Angie shrugs.

  As Angie and I walk towards the netball courts, my phone rings. I look at the number. Oliver. That activates Angie. I try to talk to him, but Angie is dancing around me, kissing the air.

  I finish the call, as quickly as I can. Oliver wants to see me. ‘Later,’ I say. I look at Angie and shake my head. ‘You’re an idiot, Angie.’ I don’t want to talk about Oliver or myself. ‘How’s Christopher?’ That’s all Angie needs for the Christopher-Angie story to take over and Oliver to fade into the background. Angie chatters on and I half-listen.

  Guys…Oliver. I’m confused about him. He’s good looking, smart, plays football. He’s even fixing up an old car with his dad. My father flashes into my thoughts. Fathers. I like the idea that Oliver and his dad are working together. It makes me like Oliver. He’ll have a car soon. That makes me like Oliver more. I wish Insomniac Road wasn’t like an extraterrestrial life form to him.