That's Why I Wrote This Song

by Susanne Gervay

  Eddie slumps onto my bed. ‘Dad at home…’ He tries to smile. ‘But we can get away if it gets really bad. I’ll take you with me, Pip. In my car.’

  I love Eddie’s car. I love Eddie. I nudge him. ‘What about your girlfriend?’

  ‘She’ll just have to wait for me.’ Eddie grimaces.

  I’m glad Eddie didn’t say she’d come with us. But we know we won’t be able to escape. It’ll be harder on Eddie than on me. Dad wants Eddie to be some great success. Eddie is average at school work, but he’s not average. He’s funny. He drives me and my friends to places and jokes all the way. Eddie can fix things. He fixed our blocked sink the other day. Eddie wants to be a plumber but Dad wants him to be like him. An economist. That’s no success. As if Eddie can be that.

  And what’s he want for me? ‘You could be the best, Pip.’ ‘Work harder.’ ‘Be a success.’ ‘You waste too much time on music.’ He thinks my music is a hobby. It’s not a hobby. It’s what I do and who I am. Music is my soul. He tells me that I can be whatever I want. Mum says that I can be whatever I want. My teachers say it too. Can I? I play music. I write music. I sing songs. That’s who I am. I can never be the way they want. Is Dad? If he’s got what he wants, why is he so miserable? Angry? And Mum? Mum says one day she’ll go back and finish her teaching qualifications. One day. Never.

  Eddie leaves to see his girlfriend. I lock myself in the bathroom and cry. With Dad home, there are going to be more scenes. I won’t have any chance to talk to Mum on my own. Karen won’t be able to stay overnight.

  I splash my face with water, stare in the mirror. I look awful, with dark circles under my eyes and a red nose. I sit on the bathroom mat, grab a glossy women’s magazine from the bathroom book rack. The sealed section is unsealed and the magazine flips open on penises of all sizes. Which one do I like? What size? What shape? I have never seen a real guy’s penis, although Oliver is trying to show me. He’s always pressing himself against my hips. Shudder.

  I throw the magazine back into the rack. We’re told all the time that we’re free to do what we want. But this isn’t freedom. I don’t want to look at penises in a magazine and pretend to snigger with my girlfriends, who are pretending as well. I don’t want the pressure to do sex, or have sex when you’re not having sex, or have real sex. You’re a slut if you do it and frigid if you don’t.

  I can’t handle the pressure of having everyone expecting me to be something. School, friends, Mum, even Eddie. Dad expects the most. He doesn’t hear me. No one hears me. Suddenly, I’m scared. Suddenly I feel so alone.

  Lyrics crash into my head.

  Why do I feel so alone?

  Like I’m standing here all by myself

  When there’s people all around

  I’m lost but I want to be found

  I scramble up off the mat, open the bathroom door and slam it shut behind me. Fluffy Rabbit is waiting for me on my bed. I grab my guitar. I don’t care what Dad thinks. I don’t care what anyone thinks. I strum the chords, sing my songs.

  Boys make everything too hard. I’ve been trying to avoid Oliver’s phone calls. I’m such a coward. Oliver isn’t working out and I have to end it. ‘I’ve got to study.’ (True.) ‘I’ve got netball.’ (True.) ‘I have to work on my music.’ (True.) ‘There are the concert arrangements. My writing. Music practice.’ (True, true, true.) ‘I’ve got to survive my father, who’s going to be home now.’ (True.) ‘Sure. I’ll see you one afternoon, Oliver.’ (Not true.) ‘I’ll see you on Friday night for the party.’ (True.) Coward. Coward.

  Everyone is going to the party. I promised to go with Oliver. This boyfriend thing is not working for me. There’ll be music and a real band at the party, and Oliver.

  I’m forcing Irina to go. She has to persuade her parents, but she’s good at that when she has to be. Angie will be there with Christopher, of course. And Karen with her army of boys. I wonder if I’ll get to meet Josh. Not that she’s interested in him like that, which is a good sign. But is he really okay? I don’t trust Karen. I don’t trust guys.

  There’s one piece of good news. Oliver’s told me that his whole year is going away on a seven-day camp.

  Karen and I are practising our trumpet pieces in the afternoons now. It feels good playing together and it’s easier doing it after school finishes. It’s quieter. Less temptation to talk about parties and birthdays and the latest boyfriends. I want to do well in my exams and I’d hate to disappoint Mr Connelly. Karen’s happy to have an excuse not to go home, and she makes the trumpet sing.

  We have a great session. ‘You’re sounding smooth,’ I tell her. Karen is a better trumpet player than I will ever be. She has that special feel for it.

  I stop playing, rest my trumpet on the back wall and listen to Karen play for a while. We don’t want to leave, but it’s getting late. Karen’s father is picking us up today after work. There’s some boring anniversary celebration that Karen has to pretend to enjoy tonight. That woman is organising it. I have to drag Karen away from the music. ‘We’ve got to go. We’ve got to go.’

  ‘I don’t want to, Pip.’

  Me neither. ‘Your father…’ I pull Karen’s sleeve. ‘He’ll be at the gates.’

  We pack our music away. Karen groans. ‘You know he’s checking on me. Making sure I’ll turn up to that stupid woman’s function. Checking that I’m here practising and not lying to him.’ Karen’s blue eyes flash. ‘Where does he think I’ll be? It’s not school I’m escaping from, is it? It’s him and her. But I can’t escape.’

  ‘At least we get a lift.’

  ‘I’d rather walk.’

  It’s after six o’clock by the time we run towards the school gates. Karen’s father is pacing. He pretends to smile at me, says hello, but I’m wary. His voice is sarcastic and irritated as he glares at Karen. ‘You’re late. Did you do some practice?’ He doesn’t wait for an answer before he starts walking just ahead of us like a dog trainer pulling two mutts behind him.

  Karen ignores him as we talk about our music. ‘I’m feeling good about the trumpet,’ she admits. ‘I’m improving. Josh plays with me sometimes.’

  ‘Josh?’ I tickle her.

  ‘No, it’s not like that. I’ve told you that. He’s a friend. He loves music.’ Karen’s mood becomes excited as she talks about Josh’s jazz playing.

  A woman swings past us wearing a very tight leather skirt that hardly covers her butt. Karen nudges me and says in a high-pitched voice. ‘Sex and the City. Or is that just sex?’

  It comes from nowhere. The back of the dog trainer’s hand swipes Karen across the face.

  A red print marks Karen’s cheek. But she doesn’t cry. ‘Don’t speak like that. You sound like a slut.’

  The car ride home is silent. I can’t look at Karen’s dad. He tries to be pleasant to me. Asks how my parents are. I just want to get out of his car. I press Karen’s hand quickly. She returns the pressure. When Mum opens our front door, I sink into her arms.

  Jerkily I tell her what happened. ‘Why?’ I whisper.

  Mum holds me and I rest against her. She strokes my cheek, as if she is healing Karen’s attack. ‘He’s an angry man.’

  ‘But why, Mum? I don’t understand.’

  ‘He wants his own way, whatever that costs.’ Sitting on our old comfy lounge, Mum and I talk about Karen. Karen and I have shared so much—school plays, concerts, picnics. I look at the Kindergarten Kids photo on the mantelpiece. Mum looks too. She whispers, ‘Most Talented Award.’

  Quietly we rest against each other’s shoulders on the lounge. Tears blur my vision. We know that Karen is smart and good and beautiful. Her father doesn’t know that. Her mother has hidden it. Karen can’t remember it.

  ‘You have to invite Karen over more often.’

  I nod.

  Friday night party. Phone calls from everyone. Pre-party Angie call: ‘What are you wearing? When will you be there?’ It’s the usual.

  The party should be good. The band is playing in a shed at the
back of the house, so parents won’t be guarding there. The guys playing guitar are supposed to be great.

  ‘Dad’s driving Christopher and me to the party tonight. Are you sure you don’t want a lift, Pip?’

  ‘No, thanks. Oliver’s coming in his panel van. He’s excited about it. He’s just finished doing it up.’

  ‘I can’t wait for Christopher to get a car. But Dad doesn’t mind taking us. He likes Christopher.’ The barbecue Angie organised was a great success. Her dad and Christopher talked about football manoeuvres, cooked sausages and steak and made bad jokes. It’s sort of nice. I wonder if my father could ever do that with a boyfriend of mine.

  I glance at my watch. ‘Got to go, Angie.’ I put down the phone and head for my wardrobe. I take my jeans out of the cupboard and pull them over my bum. They’re still tight, but they nearly fit. I just have to do more walking and netball. At least I like my walks with Irina, and I love netball.

  I wish Oliver wasn’t driving me. Mum or Eddie could’ve given me a lift.

  I look at the time. Eight-thirty. Doorbell. I race past Mum to open the door.

  ‘Hi, Oliver.’ He gives me a package. ‘You shouldn’t have.’

  ‘Please open it, Pip. Hope you like it.’

  I really wish he wouldn’t give me gifts. I quickly untie the ribbon. A crinkly brown teddy pops its head out of the wrapping. It seems to be winking at me and I can’t help hugging it. It’s really sweet.

  That seems to be the sign for Oliver to tongue-kiss me on the front steps. I turn my head just in time to get a wet slurp on my cheek. Luckily Mum is behind me, coming towards the front door. There’s no chance for Oliver to give it another try. I drop the crinkly teddy into Mum’s hands. She starts to say how lovely the teddy is, when I cut her off.

  ‘We better go.’ Now that Dad’s home, I have to get out of here before he gets back. As usual, he’s working late tonight. I grab my phone and handbag.

  ‘Drive safely, Oliver. Not too fast.’ Mum hugs the brown teddy again.

  Is Mum making me into a total loser? ‘Bye, Mum. Bye.’ If she doesn’t get the tone in my voice then she’s deaf. She is deaf.

  ‘Have a nice time,’ she calls out as we race down the footpath.

  ‘Sorry about Mum,’ I murmur. ‘I do like the teddy.’

  Then I see it. Oliver’s car. His yellow Sandman panel van. It looks better than Eddie’s car. I’m impressed.

  Oliver’s really excited. He shows me the back, with its music speakers and black-covered floor and sides. He’s put so much work into it. His excitement sends a shiver through me. I know what it feels like doing something you love. ‘It’s fantastic, Oliver.’ He kisses me and I kiss him back. I like this Oliver.

  Then it starts. Oh, my God. Lead-foot Oliver screeches down the road and around the corner, nearly knocking down old women and children as they risk their lives and step onto the pedestrian crossing. I’m being initiated into speed car racing with an amateur. ‘Slow down. Watch that speed hump. There’s another person. Oliver…’ I scream, then close my eyes.

  Finally we squeal to a stop outside the party. Oliver gets out and slams the car door. He’s angry. Why should he be angry? He nearly killed me—and what about those poor people risking their lives crossing the road?

  We’re not speaking. Good.

  Music is beating out onto the street. I run down the side passage into the back yard. Oliver follows. He grabs my hand. ‘Hey, it was only a drive.’ I stop and look at him with my hands on my hips. I say nothing. ‘Hey, Pip, let’s not wreck the night.’

  ‘I’m not ever getting into that car again unless you drive like a normal person.’

  We just stare at each other. I’m not backing down. He’s not backing down.

  More guys and girls arrive. A few mates call Oliver over. ‘Go on.’ I grit my teeth. He looks at me uncertainly, then heads towards them. I feel like cheering. A reprieve.

  I look around. There’s Karen without the wire-mesh fence. She can’t have brought Josh. Is she with the whole boys’ school? I’m not in the mood for Karen just now. I avoid her and walk towards the shed where the band is playing. The garden is lit with dull lights. I follow them, away from Oliver and Karen with her boys’ team. The music is getting louder as I get closer to the shed. It’s rock. I like rock.

  Why’d you do that to me?

  Smash my life…

  It’s dark inside. I squint and can just make out Angie and Christopher doing some sort of octopus session with fingers and tentacles everywhere. There’s a bimbo scene going on in the corner. I don’t get why some girls become brainless airheads when guys are around. Lock me up if I am ever like that. I’ve spotted Irina. Great, someone normal. She grabs my hand. ‘Mum and Dad went out to some Russian thing. This is a prison break-out.’ She smiles. ‘Mum and Dad do know I’m here. It helped when your mum rang. She persuaded my mum that it’s good for us to go out together. My mother likes your mum.’ She laughs. ‘The guards are coming home late.’

  I laugh with her. I’m the only one she confides in about the pressure she gets at home.

  We move closer to the band. Their music has a heavy beat. The singer’s hands are clasping the microphone like he’s in a trance. The drummer is doing a session. Loud, rhythmic. Irina and I dance in time with the beat. A couple of guys are manic like they have a fever. Speed, for sure.

  Another guy we half-know snakes up to us. He slips a tablet out of his pocket. I glare at Irina. She glares back. I trust him as far as I can spit. He’s always trying to hook up with a girl. He’s gone through quite a few so far.

  ‘No thanks,’ I say with as much contempt as I can. He slides away.

  The band is good. ‘Not as good as us.’ I nudge Irina. Are we a band? I’m getting more desperate for us to be one.

  Oliver arrives. ‘I’ve got to go. Bathroom,’ I say. I leave him with Irina. She understands. I’ve told her everything about Oliver. The death-defying drive in the yellow panel van confirms it. Oliver isn’t for me.

  The night turns into a game of hide-and-seek. I hide. Oliver seeks. I keep diving into the bathroom. Oliver thinks I should see the doctor for my bathroom problem. He has no idea. He’s not going to ruin my night.

  When it’s finally clear, I go back into the shed and listen to the band. I grab a cola. I want to listen to the music. I dance, sing, get some air in the garden, talk to friends. Then I’m back in the shed. Angie is still tentacled to Christopher. Oliver is smoking with a few guys in the back yard. I never thought I’d be glad of nicotine addiction. I hope Oliver smokes all night. I’ve got to break up with him.

  I jump when Irina grabs my arm. She shouts over the music. ‘Karen…’

  ‘Karen?’ I shout back. I look around. Can’t see her

  Irina points inside. Karen’s in trouble for sure. I’m sick of her always losing it at parties. I want to have a good time. ‘Okay, Irina. I guess we’ve got to look after her.’ I try to hide my lack of enthusiasm. We go on a search-and-find-Karen expedition.

  There’s noise coming out of the garage. I push past a few guys and open the back door. The garage has been set up with lounges and flashing lights. The music filters through from the shed. There are a couple of girls hooked up with guys on the lounges, drunk and right into it. They’re going to be embarrassed tomorrow.

  There’s a crowd of guys laughing. I can just see Karen’s blonde hair swirling and the flash of her blue eyes. There are six, maybe eight guys. There is a brief gap in the crowd of bodies. I see her. Dancing, lifting her top, laughing. Her white breasts sway rhythmically, reflecting the flashing disco lights. Her pink nipples look like pale raspberries. There are calls, yahoos, cheers: ‘More, more, more.’

  I push my way through the crowd. ‘Move out of the way. Move, move.’ I grab Karen’s hand, pulling her out of the garage and into the back yard. Irina follows, repeating, ‘Move, move.’

  ‘They love me,’ Karen whispers. ‘You how saw they loved me.’ She holds her stomach and dry ret
ches over the daffodils.

  I put my arms around her. ‘They don’t, Karen.’

  Irina repeats. ‘They don’t.’

  Somehow Oliver drives Karen and me home without killing anyone on the roads. Maybe he doesn’t want her to vomit in his car. Maybe I’m being unfair.

  He’s nice when he drops us off. ‘Can I do anything?’ He bends over me with a protective smile.

  ‘Please don’t talk about this, will you?’

  Oliver nods, then kisses me softly on the lips. The kiss is tender. My stomach contracts. Maybe Oliver is all right. Maybe it’s me. I watch as he walks back to his car.

  Please, please, please, Dad, don’t be in the lounge room. Karen leans on me as we struggle to the back door. Mum opens it quietly. I jerk backwards, surprised but relieved. ‘I’ve been waiting up for you.’

  ‘Dad?’ I whisper.

  ‘Shush.’ Mum looks nervously around. ‘Asleep.’ She shepherds us towards the kitchen. ‘Do you want to make some tea, Pip? Karen looks like she needs some.’

  ‘Karen is at her mother’s this weekend.’ I look at Karen.

  ‘I’ll phone her mother. She can stay tonight.’

  I make some tea and Karen starts to get her bearings. The tea tastes sweet and warm. Mum sits down beside us. I don’t want to speak. Karen’s doesn’t want to speak. ‘Mum, we’re all right.’ She puts her hand over mine. ‘We’re all right. I promise. It’s late. We want to get to bed.’ I kiss Mum goodnight. Mum kisses Karen goodnight.

  We head for my bedroom, close the door on my sleeping father and Mum, who’ll worry all night. It’s late but we’re too awake to sleep. We drink tea until a pink flush tinges Karen’s pale face.

  It’s quiet in the house. We talk about music. I take out my guitar. I get Eddie’s guitar from his room for Karen. He’s out with his girlfriend again.

  We strum our guitars, softly humming. Karen starts singing.