This has been A Word of Caution from the:
ATTBYDFAAA
(Always Think Twice Before you Do or Feel Anything At All Association)
Dear Elizabeth,
See that long grass up ahead?
Run in that and you’ll run right into a nest of red-bellied black snakes. You realise that, don’t you?
This has been A Supplementary Note from the:
ATTBYDFAAA
Dear Elizabeth,
Please do not run through long grass again. It is a foolishness which we cannot abide.
Sincerely,
Exasperation Inc.
Dear Elizabeth,
I just wanted to say sorry for leaving an anonymous note last week. Maybe it confused you or scared you or something?
I hope not.
I’m still really really sorry about your dog dying.
A Stranger (who Catches Your Bus)
ELIZABETH!!!!!
IF YOU THINK OFA SLOGAN FOR RASPBERRY-FLAVOURED CATFOOD WHILE YOU’RE EATING BREAKFAST THIS MORNING, RING ME AT WORK AND TELL ME.
TRY REALLY REALLY HARD TO THINK OF ONE!
AND HAVE A NICE DAY AT SCHOOL.
LOVE,
YOUR
MUM
Dear Mum,
Sorry I didn’t ring you at work with a slogan for raspberry flavoured cat food. I didn’t think of one.
Hey, I just thought of one. You ready?
RASP-BERRY DELICIOUS!
What do you reckon? Only I guess you need some kind of cat angle, huh? You could just add: PURR-FECTLY NUTRITIOUS!
Ah well, I guess it’s lucky that YOU’RE the one working in an advertising agency and I’M not.
I’m going for a run but I’ll be back around 7 – for dinner. See you then.
Liz
Dear Elizabeth,
Did you realise that when Arthur Phillip resigned as governor of New South Wales in November 1792, he visited all the farms in the colony and gave each farmer a sheep? Then he sailed home taking along some convicts who were finished being convicts, two Aboriginals, four kangaroos and some dingoes?
I’m really sorry that I’m studying for my History exam at the same time as writing to you, but don’t you find that weird? I mean, that he took Aboriginals and kangaroos back to England with him? I mean, what happened to them?
My Uncle Rosco went to Shanghai once, and he saw a kangaroo in a zoo there. Only it was all by itself in a concrete box as wide as a telephone box and so low that the ceiling almost touched its head. So it couldn’t even take one hop or it would knock itself out. There was a dirty window you could look through and see it.
You know what, I think I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to be one of those management consultant people. It must get pretty boring always just telling people to get a move on. I think I’ll be a historian and an astronomer instead – a historian so I can find out what happened to people like those Aborigines, and an astronomer so I can look at the stars a lot.
I love the stars. You ever see a falling star? You ever see a meteor shower? Me neither. There’s always a thunderstorm on at the same night as once-in-a-lifetime meteor showers, blocking it out. And Mum says every falling star I’ve ever seen has been an astronaut taking a satellite for a spin.
Thanks for your letter. One good thing is that we have finally agreed on food. I agree that your cherry and apricot slice is the best I’ve ever eaten. Actually, I’m pretty sure I’ve never eaten cherry and apricot slice before, so that was an easy one, but STILL, it was extremely delicious. Please send me more of your baking.
I have a very important question for you. DO YOU ACTUALLY HAVE A CLASS CALLED LITURGICAL DANCE?
That is very, very scary if you do. Maybe I should be rescuing you from that weird school before their satanic rituals brainwash you? Just let me know if you want rescuing, okay?
I don’t think you’re selfish by the way, but I’ll answer your questions anyway. Nothing’s happening with me except I’m doing a lot of extra babysitting and a lot of extra shifts at my mum’s florist shop. I guess breaking up with Derek has made me Responsible and Mature.
The weird thing now is that I can’t figure out WHY I broke up with Derek, but at the same time I don’t know whether I should try and get him back – or if he’d take me anyway. All I want to do now is think about him. I don’t want to see him or talk to him. I just want space to think about him, and the first time he touched my hand (lending me a pen in a science exam). And the way he used to make his face go ‘yeah, right’ when I said maybe he’d prefer to spend a Saturday night on his own without me. And the way he used to make me punch his stomach so he could show how built up it was, and the way we always had this conversation when he was about to go to the gym –
‘what are you doing this arvo?’
‘going to the gym’
‘what are you going to work on?’
‘shoulders’.
What’s so great about that conversation? It’s an embarrassing conversation, huh? It just used to be kind of offhand, kind of casual. It always made me feel like his shoulders belonged to me. You know?
All I want to do now is just be left alone so I can think about his body and the second time we had sex.
The second time was so much better because the idea hadn’t really occurred to me that we could do it again. You know, everything seemed to be about the FIRST TIME. So two days after the first time, I was over at his place, and we were kind of shy of each other, pretending nothing had happened. We were in Derek’s bedroom sitting on the floor by his bed, drinking hot chocolate and talking about school and stuff, and then his mother put her head around the door and said, ‘Just going to K-mart; back in about an hour’. And suddenly I just thought: my God, I really want to try that SEX thing again.
I guess Derek was thinking the same thing because he didn’t waste any time. And it was excellent, like I really FELT everything that was happening, and we were just smiling at each other and kissing and everything. Until the condom broke, of course. That bit wasn’t so great.
But I can’t ever, ever be alone. I have to share my room with Renee, and she tries really hard to be quiet, and keep all her stuffed turtles away from my side. But sometimes I go into my room and I just want to KILL her for existing. She spilt sparkly nail polish all over my dressing table the other day and I shouted at her, which just makes me hate myself. Especially because she’s been getting this nervous stomach thing a lot lately – like she’s always feeling sick because it’s so important to her that she pleases people. She even tried to give me her favourite heart-shaped hairclip so that I would forgive her.
Anyway, so that’s the thing – all I want to do now is think about Derek, and I can’t do it unless I’m alone. I mean how can you think about the first time your boyfriend touched you with your little sister in the same room reading out fairytales to her silkworms? How can you think about the second time you had sex, while your dad’s standing right beside you drying the dishes?
MEANWHILE, my cousin Maddie’s acting like the galaxy just organised a surprise party for her. Seriously, she’s DELIRIOUS with happiness. It’s like she’s feverish or something. It’s because she got that guy she wanted – the one who liked her singing voice, but then it turned out he wasn’t interested in a relationship, so it was like this huge challenge for Maddie. She’s used to guys just sprinting to her door when she blinks at them. She finally won him at a dance party (some guy’s 16th birthday party on a yacht of course – that’s how you spend your teen years if you live in Double Bay) – she’s a fantastic dancer. Anyway, so now he’s her boyfriend and he’s like diamond standard value because he was so hard to get.
I’d better go because my History exam’s on in five minutes. Did you know that one of the first convicts to come to Australia was a SEVENTY-YEAR-OLD woman who stole 12 pounds of CHEESE? I wonder if it was Kraft Slices or Coon Mature Cheddar?
Have fun.
Love,
Christina
&
nbsp; ELIZABETH!!!
GUESS WHAT SLOGAN WE USED FOR THE CAT FOOD??? PURR-FECTLY NUTRITIOUS, RASP-BERRY DELICIOUS.
YOU SEE? YOU’RE A GENIUS AFTER ALL. ALL YOU NEEDED WASMY TRAINED EYE TO SEE THE GENIUS IN YOUR WORK ANDSWAP YOUR PHRASES AROUND.
I WANT TO TAKE YOU OUT TO DINNER THIS WEEKEND TO SAYTHANK YOU. OKAY?
YOU ARE WONDERFUL.
LOVE,
YOUR MUM
Dear my mum,
Thanks for your note. How much do I get for writing your copy for you? I would love to go out to dinner with you this weekend. Don’t forget I’m going out with Dad on Saturday though.
I’m going to do a hill workout on Foxall Road. I’ll be back around 8. See you,
Elizabeth
Dear Elizabeth,
I just realised that the note I left the other day was also an anonymous note.
I’m sorry about leaving an anonymous note apologising for leaving an anonymous note.
A STRANGER WHO CATCHES YOUR BUS
Dear Christina,
No, I didn’t know that Arthur Phillip gave everybody a sheep when he resigned. That was pretty nice of him, wasn’t it? Although maybe they’d have preferred a box of chocolates. I’d have preferred a box of chocolates to a sheep. I can’t believe he took Aboriginals and kangaroos home with him too, as if they were souvenirs.
Hey, I keep forgetting to tell you. A very weird thing is happening to me. I’ve been getting ANONYMOUS NOTES in my school bag. They’re signed ‘a stranger who catches your bus’ and I keep finding them when I get home from school. Weird, huh? The first one just said ‘sorry about your dog dying’, so I suppose the person must have overheard me telling Celia and Saxon about my dog. Then after that was an apology for sending an anonymous note, and then an apology for sending an anonymous apology. It could go on forever.
So catching the bus is really strange now. It’s strange in a background kind of way because I know that somewhere on the bus there’s an Anonymous Person who’s feeling guilty about sending me Anonymous Notes. It makes me feel like my shoulders are sticking out a bit too far from my body. Strange, no? Also every time I sneeze or laugh I think, ‘what did that sneeze (or laugh) sound like to the Anonymous Person? Did they think it was crass/cute/ridiculous/ disgusting? Or did they not notice?’
And it’s also strange, catching the bus, because of Celia and Saxon. They always sit together and I always feel like I’m saying the wrong thing, and like they’re taking little glances at each other when I do. Then I get mad and lose my temper about something stupid and then I have to pretend I was only joking about being mad. For an example, this arvo they were talking about this movie (which they’d seen together) and I said I didn’t like it, and they do this quick little glance at each other, this quick little woo-hoo! eyebrow raise at each other. Then Celia’s: ‘Really? You didn’t like it? How come exactly?’ and Saxon’s: ‘Yeah? What’s not to like?’ Then I started getting furious saying it was inane, superficial crap (even though I didn’t think it was THAT bad). It doesn’t help – getting mad. It only makes their connection even closer, like sane Saxon and Celia versus crazy Elizabeth.
It’s like I’ve been catching this bus all year and things keep changing – Celia catches it with me and is my best friend; next thing Celia’s gone and I’m by myself; next thing Saxon’s sitting beside me talking about training and Celia (he talked about Celia so much – what kind of idiot was I not to realise he liked her all the time? ); next thing Celia’s back and she and Saxon are sitting together every day. Every day I’m there in the same seat and all around me other people’s lives are taking all these twists and loops like a ribbon dancer at the Olympics.
So, this letter has been my Essay on Catching the Bus. Maybe I should ask Mr Bother it if he wants a copy as a substitute for my essay on the Lord of the Flies. (I’m going to write a letter about that one anyway. I’ve seen the movie and it’s way too violent for me to be reading the book or writing an essay on.)
I’m training a lot for the Forest Hill Half Marathon at the moment, but probably won’t do very well. I did a hill workout yesterday, which is where you run up and down a hill over and over to try and strengthen your lower leg muscles. Also to build up endurance. Now my lower leg muscles feel like water tanks. I don’t know what my endurance feels like because I don’t think I have any.
I had this dream last night that I would get the time which lets you qualify for the Boston Marathon. You have to run a certain time in another marathon before you can even compete in that race; it’s like the biggest race in the world. So, since all dreams come true I guess that’s what’s going to happen. HA HA. (My actual plan is to win the New York Marathon – that one’s also hugely famous – and then have the Boston people begging me to join in their marathon because they need me for the publicity.)
Thanks for answering my questions. I really like it when you talk about yourself, and tell me the things you’re thinking about. It makes me feel closer to you. I wish I knew what you should do about Derek. It sounds like you really need time to work it out, but it must be impossible with all those kids around. Maybe you and I should swap places? I’ve got way too much space for thinking at my home. I’m practically always alone. Maybe you should come over and stay at my place – we’ve even got a spare room (sorry, I don’t mean to show off) and you could just sit in there and THINK. If you can’t do that, is there anywhere else you can be alone? Like climbing a tree or something? Or you could take up running. That’s when I do all my thinking. Actually, I don’t know how I’d ever work out any problems, or avoid going completely crazy, if I didn’t have running.
And what’s Derek acting like now? Is he being cold or friendly to you? What’s it like seeing him when you’re at school?
So how was your history exam? Did you get asked how many kangaroos Governor Phillip took back to England with him? And how was your weekend? Still working in your mum’s shop like a good, thoughtful, mature, exemplary teenager?
My weekend was a bit draining. Both of my parents wanted to take me to dinner on Saturday night which turned into a kind of third world war – with Dad saying things like, ‘All I ask, all I ask’ and Mum saying things like ‘you think you can just step right back into her life?’ and me saying things like: ‘uh, couldn’t I just stay at home?’
My dad won in the end because he got in first, so he was especially zippy at the restaurant. He asked me if I’d ever been in a mosh pit and said that from above, those things look like screen savers on a computer – a constant movement of crowd surfers sliding towards the front and getting thrown out the side door. Excuse me, but how does my father know what a mosh pit looks like from above?
We had white wine and I said it smelt like nail polish remover. That turned out to be the wrong answer. In FACT, it smelled like green apple peel and butterscotch. What was I thinking?
I had a mother-and-daughter day on Sunday as compensation prize for my mum, and we played tennis and then saw a movie, so that was fine. It’s easier with my mum. Neither of us feels like we have to talk unless something comes into our heads. We even talked about Celia a bit, and how much she’s changed. And then we spent about an hour planning an imaginary trip to New York because Mum’s dying to go there and I want to check out the New York Marathon. I plan to win it before my 21st birthday, so I’ve got to start getting to know the route. Mum even said she’d walk it with me, except only if we can take a thermos and a picnic basket, and stop at a café or an art gallery every fifteen minutes or so.
Gotta go. Mum just walked in the door and she wants us to go choose a video together. Maybe she’s taking this new mother–daughter thing a bit far?
You have fun too,
Love,
Elizabeth
Dearest Elizabeth,
What can you smell? You can smell jasmine and barbecues. What do you see? You see a magpie on a wire and a spring blue sky. What do you feel? You feel Sunday afternoon. What do you hear? You hear an ice-cream truck play a distorte
d tune. And what does it all remind you of, Liz? What do you remember?
You remember Sunday afternoons with Celia on the steps, and how Celia pretended the steps were an ice-castle, and next she decided she wanted a snail, and sent you out on a snail hunting mission. And next you heard the ice-cream truck and ran. You remember how back then, you and she were exactly the same height, and she had short blonde hair and you had short dark hair, and the ice-cream man said ‘What’ll it be, BOYS?’ And you were both so mad that you said, ‘NOTHING!’
And then you were back on the steps and even madder because you had no ice-cream.
Kindest regards,
The Memory Trigger Team
ELIZABETH!!!
GOOD MORNING TO YOU!
CAN WE TAKE A RAINCHECK ON THAT TEN-PIN BOWLING IDEA TONIGHT?
I FORGOT I HAVE EXTRA ALEXANDER TECHNIQUE CLASSES THIS WEEK, BECAUSE YOUR FATHER HAS MADE MY NECK STAR T CRUNCHING AGAIN.
THERE’S A COLD CHANGE COMING TODAY SO TAKE YOUR JUMPER.
LOVE,
YOUR MUM
Dear Elizabeth,
I don’t know what to do. I’m experiencing extreme complications of guilt. I keep sending you anonymous notes apologising about anonymous notes and then straight away I have to apologise for anonymous apologising. It’s like a corkscrew that keeps winding itself in and out of its loops. It’s like when you’re playing tennis and you keep hitting the ball into the net and saying, ‘sorry’, and your opponent gets annoyed and says, ‘quit saying sorry’, and then the next time you hit the ball into the net you say, ‘sorry’, and then you remember you’re not supposed to say sorry so you say, ‘oh, sorry’.
Feeling sorry for Celia Page 11