by Boock, Paula
Louie drew up her legs, hugged her knees, and stared at the place where Willa had disappeared. In the dark glass doors she saw a girl in a white bed, sheets drawn around her. She was trapped in the cold, black glass, she was somewhere else, not on the other side, but inside the glass, in a thin layer of ice and you could only see her from one angle, otherwise she disappeared.
There was a soft knock at her bedroom door and Susi appeared. She sat on the side of the bed and gave her a hot drink. She murmured words of reassurance, she smiled like a mother, she patted her arm. She made noises for a long time; once she sounded stem and forced Louie to look at her, but it hurt Louie's eyes. They were hot and burning, so she looked back into the icy glass where it was cool and there was no reflection of a mother.
After a long time Susi tucked things around Louie, locked the ranchslider, pulled the curtains and turned out the light. As soon as she was gone Louie got out of bed and drew the curtains apart. The black ice sighed and invited her in properly. It was deeper now, it moved like water, like oily seaweed and its patterns mesmerised her.
Willa
She hung around outside the house until she saw Louie's light go out, then trudged back to the Duke. It was freezing. She didn't cry, not this time. She worried.
All was quiet at the pub. At least that meant Mrs. Angelo hadn't rung Jolene. Willa hugged Judas on her bed, and lay awake worrying about Louie, wanting to phone, wanting Louie to phone her, knowing neither would happen.
Early in the morning Willa went back to Louie's street to meet her going to school. She hid behind some trees across the road, and watched Tony Angelo leave in the Mercedes, with Marietta. There was no sign of Louie, or of Mrs. Angelo. Eventually Willa went to school, where she fretted and panicked every time a message came to the class. Nothing happened.
Nothing happened that night either. Willa checked, but Louie's ranchslider was closed and there was no light. She didn't dare go any closer.
As the days passed Willa felt colder inside. This was the last thing she'd expected—no word. She went to work at Burger Giant and was asked to take over Louie's shift. It seemed someone had called Kevin. The official line both there and at school was that Louie was sick, and Willa had no idea if anyone knew otherwise. When Mo asked her, Willa told the truth—she hadn't seen or heard from Louie for three days.
"She'll probably see the term out, I s'pose. Only two more days."
Willa nodded. "I guess."
Willa was prepared to do anything for Louie, but she had to know. Each day she arrived at school expectant, fearful, hoping and dreading to see Louie. When the last day of term passed with still no sign of her, Willa could take it no longer. She stood outside the Metal Petal that night, Judas by her side, clenching and unclenching her hands, only partly to keep them warm. The frost had already settled on the few cars on the street and Willa's careful steps seemed to echo in the stillness. It was 1A.M. Finally Willa threw a small stone at Louie's rartchslider. It missed by miles. She tried again and hit the wall. A third tinkered against the glass door and clattered on the steps. Willa ducked down quickly out of sight, her heart rapping. There was no response. She was just considering whether or not to try again, when she saw the door slide sideways, and Louie standing there.
Willa slid through the ferns and slipped on the mud of the garden, then she was there, panting white breaths. Louie was silent.
"Hi," said Willa, suddenly stuck like clay to the spot.
Louie looked tight and pale, her eyes round dark shadows. "Hi."
"I just wondered—if you were all right."
Louie gave a weak laugh and looked desperate.
"Like, I don't know..."
There was a long silence while Willa felt the cold seep through her. Louie was quivering, she suddenly realised. Every time Willa met her eye, Louie would smile wryly, and shake her head, look to the sky, rub the back of her neck with a shaky hand. Her starling-black hair was flattened and dull, like a dead bird. In the end she said, "Willa—"
"Yeah?"
Louie shook her head again. "I'm okay. I just need ... time out."
Willa felt her stomach contract. Time out.
"Time to think, to work stuff out. I'm not—" her voice was ragged and trembling. "I just never had time, you know? To think about it. It happened so fast, and..." she shrugged. "I don't know what I want."
Willa had stared at her, trying to understand, willing Louie to say the words she needed to hear. They never came. The words that came were horribly like ones she'd heard before. Judas lay down at her feet and Willa stared at him instead in silence.
"Please don't hate me," said Louie.
"How could I hate you?"
"I'm going to Bali, it'll ... give me time."
Yeah, with your family, thought Willa. She nodded, and swallowed. "Enjoy yourself, eh."
Louie snorted and looked at her in such pain that Willa couldn't bear it. "I love you, Louie," she said, starting to cry though she'd promised herself not to.
"I know." Louie's voice sounded ready to snap in two. "I love you too," she said, at last, at last. "But that's not the point, is it?"
"Isn't it?"
They stood and looked at Judas for a bit, then Willa sniffed. "You know where to find me, if ... well." She looked away and tried to stop the tears but it was too late. All the stress of the last few days caught up with her—and she wrenched herself away, stomped through the mud and ferns back onto the street and ran this time, ran with Judas beside her, and to hell with the ringing of her boots on the pavement.
All the way down the hill she choked on great sobs which were forced out of her every few steps. Near the bottom was a park bench and Willa skidded onto it, racked with sobbing. Judas nosed her hand worriedly, then jumped up on the bench to lick her tears. She buried her face in his fur and hunched over, crying.
She'd really believed Louie wasn't like Cathy. With Louie, Willa had thought there might be a future, a chance—she'd trusted her. But it was exactly the same. Sicko Willa, corrupting poor straight Louie. That's what her family would tell her, that's what Louie would believe, and maybe, maybe that was the truth?
Willa
Jolene knew something was up. She knew better than to force the issue, but when your daughter is crying herself silly in the next bedroom night after night, you can't ignore it. Often Willa didn't come home until hours after her shift was finished at Burger Giant. Jolene wasn't particular about that sort of thing—Willa was sensible—but the suffering in silence routine broke her heart.
Finally one night, she went into Willa's room with a pot of tea.
"Here, this can't go on. You've got to talk about it, love."
Willa looked up in surprise. Had Jolene known all along?
"Did Mrs. Angelo ring you?"
She shook her head and laid the tray on Willa's desk.
"Oh. I can't talk, Mum," she whimpered. Then she cried again. "It hurts too much!"
Jolene wrapped her arms around her daughter and rocked her. "It always does, love. It always does."
"What's wrong with me?" Willa choked out.
"Nothing. There's bloody nothing wrong with you."
Willa pulled herself out of her mother's arms. "Yes there is! First Cathy, now ... this. Why can't I just be normal?"
Jolene shrugged. "What's normal?" she smiled. "Anyway, same thing happens, whether it's a boy or a girl. A broken hearts a broken heart."
Willa wiped her face with the tissues Jolene handed her. "You knew all about it, didn't you?"
"Look, I made a pot of tea. It's a flaming cliché, but it works. You never feel as bad after a cuppa." Jolene stood up and turned on Willa's bedside lamp. It immediately made the room warmer. Willa's clothes came to life, hanging along one wall from a wooden rod.
Willa blew her nose and took the cup her mother poured. Jolene fetched a woollen shawl and wrapped it around her daughter's shoulders.
"Now, what's that silly beatnik been up to?"
Willa told her. The bit about her a
nd Louie in bed together when Mrs. Angelo came in made her go bright red.
"Oh god almighty," breathed Jolene. "You didn't do it there?"
"We weren't doing anything!" snapped Willa, then sighed. "Well, you tell me where we can go? I mean, there's nowhere, eh, just to be together."
Jolene bit her lip. "Guess not."
"And there are all our friends, with guys hanging out every weekend, every party—god! Just an hour together for us is almost impossible. Anyway, that's not the point." And she heard in her head Louie's voice. I love you. But that's not the point, is it?
"So, what now?" asked her mother.
Willa put down her cup and saucer and hugged the shawl tighter. "She needs 'time.' Which means she's changed her mind, just like Cathy." She sniffed. "Why?"
Jolene rubbed her daughter's shoulders. "Well, maybe Louie's not ready. Maybe she has changed her mind." Willa's heart sank. "But don't judge her too soon, eh? She only said she needs time. Give it to her."
"But her mother hates me. I'm not allowed to see her again!"
"Well, mothers can grow up too, you know." Jolene grinned at her. "I didn't like that business with Cathy." That business. "But then, I'd never had to think about it before. I hope I'm more understanding now, love. You know whatever happens, I still love you."
Willa brushed impatiently at the tears on her face, and nodded.
"Now, what about those blue letters."
Willa shook her head. "They're nothing to do with it."
"You sure? Sid reckons they are."
"Sid? You didn't tell him?"
"Well, who have I got to talk to, for godsake?" Jolene leaned sideways on the bed and pulled a cigarette packet from her dressing gown pocket. "He's my best mate. And that's all," she said, pointing the unlighted cigarette at Willa warningly.
"What did he say?"
Jolene flicked her lighter and dragged deeply. "Oh, just the usual. You could wring his brains out and be left with a lump of ear wax."
"Well, what?"
Jolene looked at her and rolled her eyes. "He puts it all down to raging hormones. Mind you, he's used that line on me, too. He's still looking for someone to blame. You're not his image of a dyke."
Willa reeled at the word. Her, a dyke?
"He's just a big lump, love. But he does care about you, and he won't say anything, I have his word."
Willa gave a weak smile. Great.
"Now," said her mother, getting up. "Do you think you might get some sleep? It'll do you the world of good, honestly."
"If you take that cigarette out of here."
Willa
It would have been better if it wasn't the holidays. There was too much time to sit around and brood. Willa took on extra shifts at Burger Giant, and strangely enjoyed her time there. Joan and Deirdre knew she'd "fallen out" with Louie and they'd decided that Louie was to blame. The main reason for their decision was Louies being in Bali on holiday and Willa's working with them at Burger Giant.
Even Kevin was being nice to her now. He invited her out after work, and once or twice she went with him and Kelly to a mate's house to watch a movie, or to a bar. They made a big deal of her getting in underage, and Willa just smiled and wondered how they could think she'd find a pub glamorous. One time Keith turned up, so Willa left quickly.
Every day she collected the mail, hoping for word from Louie, and every day she was disappointed. She received two more blue notes. One said: God sees everything, the other, I love you.
Eventually, one afternoon, Cathy rang.
"Can you talk?" she asked. Her voice was thin and high, like a doll's.
"Yes," said Willa.
"There's no one around?"
Willa sighed. "No, Cathy, I'm all alone."
"I just wanted to tell you—I know it wasn't your fault."
"Oh."
"And I'm sorry. I'm sorry I blamed you for everything."
Willa stared out the window at the blue wintry sky, a drift of pale cloud like old underwear over the hills. "Yeah, well," she said finally. "Thanks."
There was a pause. "You know I still feel the same sometimes?"
Willa didn't answer. She knew.
"I just want to see you, to be with you. Most of the time I'm okay, but ... I miss you, Willa."
"I miss you too." It wasn't really true, but so what.
"And ... maybe you could come over?"
"I don't think so, Cathy."
Willa heard the tears starting, and sighed. This was such an old pattern.
"Please?" cried Cathy, her voice all whispery. "Not for long, Mum'll be home by five, but maybe..."
"No, Cathy. It'll only upset both of us."
Then she was bawling on the other end and Willa was trying to placate her, trying to reassure her she'd be all right. An hour later, when Cathy heard her mother's car in the drive, she finally hung up. Willa was exhausted.
It was a long, lonely weekend. She worked Saturday afternoon and studied at home the rest of the time, trying not to think of Louie. On Monday she got a card from Bali. All temperatures and places and Mum, Dad, Nic, Marietta. At the bottom she said love, Louie, but then, Mo would write that. Willa moped around the Duke trying to be useful and only getting under Sid's feet. There wasn't even any fencing on Monday night because of the holidays, but then Marcus rang and suggested she and Lucan and he get together for a practice anyway.
Willa met them at the gym and forced the poor guys into a workout as hard as any they had on official nights. She beat Lucan twice then let him win since he'd started to sulk, and followed it with a long bout against Marcus which he won in the end. He took off his mask and grinned.
"Whew! What a marathon."
Willa had lam on the floor to get her breath. He sat down, watching her carefully, while Lucan pulled up the mats.
"You've finally discovered some aggression, huh?"
Willa liked Marcus. He'd been her first friend at fencing, and wasn't egotistical about winning, like Lucan. Mind you, she'd never beaten him yet. His dark hair was damp and messy and his upper lip shone with perspiration.
"I needed an outlet," admitted Willa. "Sorry."
"Don't apologise. You could win the open event next week if you're still that angry."
Willa wondered how she'd feel in a week. Louie would be back, but would she have heard anything? She couldn't even imagine getting through the next seven days.
"You wanna talk about it?" asked Marcus in a mock American accent. "Sorry, physics doesn't help much with communication skills. But I'm a good listener."
"It's too long and boring, believe me." Willa untied her hair and pulled a brush through it roughly. It crackled with electricity.
"Try me."
Lucan banged a cupboard shut and came over.
"Maybe some other time. Thanks," she said, as Lucan picked up their gear, stuffing it in a large canvas bag. He grunted something and disappeared.
"We-ell," continued Marcus, "speaking of some other time, the film festival's still on this week. We could go and see a movie, have coffee, you could tell me your life's problems ... no?" he tailed off.
Willa put down her brush and bit her lip. Marcus was kind, gentle, smart, he was even good-looking. But he wasn't Louie.
"I'm sorry, Marcus. I really like you. It's just—there's someone else."
He nodded. "The one who makes you angry. Lucky guy."
Louie got home on the Saturday before school started. Willa knew because she saw the lights on at the Metal Petal when she just happened to be walking Judas past, as she did at least three times a day.
She heard nothing. She stayed up, fully dressed and pretending to study all that night, in case Louie came past the Duke. She didn't show; nor on Sunday. With a stomach full of stones Willa went to school on Monday and saw Louie the moment she opened the door to the seventh form room. Willa was shocked at how thin and drawn she looked, despite the fresh Balinese tan. There were greeny-black rings under her eyes. Vika and Mo were congratulating her on l
osing weight.
"Hi there," said Louie carefully when Willa came in.
"Welcome back."
"Thanks. Hey, um ... I've got Art History first thing," Louie pretended to look for something in her bag, "I'll catch you later some time..."
Willa steeled herself. "Don't bother."
Louie looked like she'd been slapped. The others were silent.
"Not unless you've got something to say. You've made yourself perfectly clear." Willa turned and left.
They didn't share any classes, and it was weird how little Willa suddenly saw of Louie. Before, it seemed she just had to walk down a corridor, or into the library, and there she was. Now Willa hardly saw her. Once she was in the canteen queue, too far away to speak, and once she was three rows away in assembly.
Then, one afternoon when Willa was reading in the library she spotted Louie outside. She was walking across the quad in her black jeans and beatnik coat; walking slowly, her feet dragging. As Willa watched, Louie paused at the professional cookery room and tried to look in the windows. When she didn't find Willa, Louie slumped against the plaster wall, and lifted her face to the heavens. It was enough for Willa. She leapt up and rushed out of the library, along the corridor and out the side door into the cold wind. By the time she rounded the corner, Louie was a distant figure heading slowly towards the school gates. Willa ran after her and was just about to call out when she noticed the sleek white Mercedes parked outside the entrance. She pulled up heavily and watched as Louie opened the door, got in and Susi drove off.
Louie
Food disgusted her. Just the thought of it made her stomach bloat and turn over, her throat tighten. When Susi put food in front of her, Louie stiffened and went grey. She nibbled edges of things, placed tiny pieces just inside her lips and tried not to smell or taste them. Susi started to make such a big deal about it that Louie insisted on taking her meal to her room where she promptly threw it out the door into the ferns. She could hardly stand having the dirty plate in her room afterwards, and took it back as soon as possible.