by Boock, Paula
She felt sick most of the time. She really had been sick: vomiting and feverish for about four days after It happened. It was ironic; they nearly didn't go to Bali after all. In the end it was Louie's decision that they should. Anywhere would be better than the dark paralysis of her bedroom.
One good thing about Bali was that she could lie on the beach wearing sunglasses and cry without anyone knowing. Her parents left her alone, convinced that time, sun and fresh fruit would do the trick. Instead, she lay awake all night, lay in a stupor all day and stopped eating anything except oranges.
She looked at figures walking on the beach: beautiful men, beautiful women. She tried to find them attractive; first men, their strong legs and bulky muscles, their tight bottoms and bronze shoulders. She watched them dive powerfully into the crashing sea, she watched them twist at the hips stitching up the waves on their surfboards. Then the women; their long slim legs and neat waists, the flight of their hair, the sway when they walked. But she felt nothing. She failed both tests. All she knew was that when she thought of Willa, her flaming hair and small kind hands, the soft smell of her neck and the gleaming oyster-coloured skin of her belly, Louie's head swirled and she felt as if she were falling from an aeroplane. She would gnp the sides of the sun-lounger, take deep breaths and force herself to focus on something close up—a shell, a bottle of sunscreen, a coloured towel, and slowly, slowly, everything would stop moving.
She watched Nic, too. He surfed and sunbathed, he drank beer and chatted up women on the beach, he joked with everyone they met, played with Marietta, and charmed the staff at the hotel. Susi fussed over him and Louie noticed for the first time the look in her mother's eyes as Nic was admired by young women. It was pride, the pride she was missing out on with Louie, but it was something else, too. Louie noticed how Susi liked to touch Nic, drape an arm around him, ruffle his hair, pat his leg.
Nic was kind to Louie. He took her side once or twice when Tony and Susi tried to force her to join them for dinner or dancing or something stupid. "Hey," he'd said, "she's okay. She's just chilling out. Leave her alone." One day Louie walked with him into the market and bought fruit, earrings and a sarong. It was the best day of all: she liked being around real people, not the glossy hotel crowd. But that night she spotted a look exchanged between Nic and her parents, a pleased nod in her direction. How much did Nic know? The next morning at the beach she was silent again, and when Nic's quips got him nowhere, he snapped, "Get over it, Luisa. It's only a girlfriend." She heard her own scream as if it came out of the earth, and when she ran out of things to throw at him she heaved handfuls and handfuls of sand until she'd dug a hole that she collapsed into sobbing, the world spinning, the ground subsiding again.
The panic attacks continued when they returned home, but by then Louie could hide them better. The worst was when she first walked back into her bedroom. It had a smell—not of Willa, but of Willa and Louie and the room combined—which pierced her chest, turned her legs to dust and left her crumpled on the bed, gasping. In the end she threw open her suitcase and buried her face in the Bali clothes, in their spicy foreign smell, then opened the ranchslider to the bitter air and gulped deep breaths. Even the roll of the ranchslider was now Willa; the loamy smell of the ferns outside was her too.
The next day they all went to Sunday mass, and this time Louie found it vaguely comforting to recite the familiar prayers, to sing the familiar hymns, to be soothed by the careful deep voice of the young priest. He was wearing proper black shoes this time, no Reeboks, and when they stopped to speak at the church door there were no special words for her, no insight into her suffering, just a moment—did she imagine it?—when Susi mentioned the new school term and he placed his hand very, very gently on her shoulder.
Louie dreaded school more than anything. The first morning her entire body shook while Mo and Vika gabbled around her. She knew the minute the door opened it was Willa.
"Hi there," she managed to force out.
"Welcome back." Willa's eyes were frighteningly blue, glittering.
"Thanks." Louie couldn't breathe. There was a roaring in her ears. She rummaged in her bag, then stuttered something about seeing Willa later and tried to escape.
Willa's voice slammed into her. "Don't bother." It was a heavy, dull sound. "Not unless you've got something to say. You've made yourself perfectly clear."
Louie couldn't remember anything after that. She moved from class to class, she filled up sheets of paper with writing, she pulled out books and put them away. She thought she had been silent throughout, but sometimes was surprised to hear her own voice chattering to friends, or answering a question in class. At such times she would stop bewildered until someone else filled the gap.
After a few days she found it easier to speak, to laugh, to play the game, but it never seemed real. What was real was the agony of glimpsing Willa in assembly, the cooking room, the cafeteria, and not being able to say or do anything.
On Thursday Susi picked her up from school early and took her to the medical centre. Susi stayed in the waiting room but Louie knew immediately that she'd already briefed the doctor.
Doctor Nolan was a small, fit woman with an expensive blonde haircut. She had a reassuring smile, and down to earth manner. Perfect.
"You've been having a stressful time lately," she said as she wrapped the dark sleeve on Louie's arm to take her blood pressure. Not a question.
Louie didn't reply.
Doctor Nolan pumped up the sleeve and made it prickle on Louie's arm. "Any problems at school?"
This was a question, but a leading one.
"Not really."
Doctor Nolan's mouth folded and she wrote down something, then ripped the velcro fastening and removed the sleeve.
"What about schoolwork. You've got bursary exams coming up haven't you?"
"Yes."
"And then?"
Louie shrugged. She didn't like this woman and her smooth professional manner. Doctor Nolan couldn't care less about Louie's future.
"I thought I heard something about law school?"
So why do you have to ask me? "Maybe," she answered, not looking at her.
"Hmm, law school's pretty competitive these days. You'll need to get good bursary results."
"It's the intermediate year that counts," Louie said, looking her in the eye for the first time.
"Really? Looking forward to that?" She was pretending to be reading Louie's hie.
"I suppose."
Doctor Nolan smiled at her encouragingly. She put her finger on the hie. "There's no mention here of contraception," she began and put her head on one side. "Are you sexually active?"
Louie was dumbfounded. She felt herself go bright pink. What could she say? If she said yes, the doctor would want her on the pill. But she didn't need contraception. And yet she was damned if she was going to say no.
Doctor Nolan came to the rescue. "I know it's not easy to talk to parents about sex. So whatever we discuss in here goes no further." Oh yeah, thought Louie. "Most seventeen-year-olds I know are sexually active, or thinking about it. Would you like to discuss different options for protection?"
Louie sat as far back in her chair as she could. "No," she spluttered, "no, I've seen it all in sex education classes. Thanks," she added.
"Are you sure?"
Lome nodded fast. "Positive."
"Okay." Doctor Nolan paused for a moment, then stood up and asked Louie to sit on the bed while she felt her glands.
"How's your appetite?" she asked casually as she pressed around Louie's neck.
So Mum's told you that too. "Not bad."
"Feel like eating?"
"Not much."
"Mmm. You've lost a bit of weight I think."
What would you know? You see me once a year.
Doctor Nolan took a leaflet from a shelf above her desk and handed it to Louie. Eating Disorders. "I'm not suggesting you've got an eating disorder Louise, but it's young women of your age who are most at ri
sk. It's very important to nip it in the bud, because these things can take over and believe me, I've seen some very very unhealthy young women. And it starts because you're unhappy. You are unhappy aren't you?"
Louie felt the tears start. She ducked her head and nodded.
Doctor Nolan put a firm hand on her shoulder, not like Father Campion's. Hers said, You must get over it; his said, I know how it is.
"You've had a problem with a friend you're very close to, perhaps?"
Louie sighed. She couldn't beat this woman, she was too smooth. She brushed the tears from her face and nodded again, harder.
"It's very painful, I know." Her voice was soft, reassuring. "But it's perfectly normal. You must remember that. At your age there are so many hormones being released into your system that the body almost dictates that you fall in love. Your primary relationships are with your friends. Sometimes those hormones just kick in and turn it into something much more intense. It's not your fault, and there's nothing wrong with you. It'll sort itself out with a bit of time, believe me."
The doctor handed her a tissue and bestowed her best smile on Louie. Good girl for crying.
"I wouldn't be a teenager again for anything. It's hard isn't it?"
Louie wiped her face, hating that she'd gone along with all this. Willa wasn't a friend. Willa was never a friend. How could she put it all down to hormones?
"Just give yourself some time, some distance, try not to dwell on it, and it will go away." The understanding tone gave way to a firm command. "Focus on those exams, on your future, that's the important thing."
Doctor Nolan got Louie to take off her jersey and listened to her heart. "Well, it's not broken!" she announced with a bright smile, handing back Louie's jersey.
That was it. Louie looked at the doctor, so bloody sure, so I Know Best, and decided. She grabbed her jersey and pulled it on as she stood up.
"Thank you Doctor, for all your—advice. But I don't think this is something you can help me with." She opened the door and walked out into the waiting room, to be met by Susi's false, expectant face.
Susi lurched from understanding and concern to fits of exasperation over Louie. She wanted her daughter to get better but she was infuriated that Louie wasn't eating. It seemed to Susi a deliberate tactic to get back at her. Louie was equally confused. She could see the worry in her mother's eyes and she wanted to make it go away, but when Susi snapped at her to stop moping or eat something for god's sake or just pull herself together, Louie's anger was violent. She said anything, anything that would hurt her mother as much as she'd hurt Louie.
Tony, on the other hand, was characteristically easy He treated Louie the same as ever, he played down the eating, and concentrated on jollying her along. Some of the time it worked, and she was grateful for that. Marietta, jealous of all the attention Louie was getting, tried not eating dinner one night too.
"Don't you dare," said her mother through gritted teeth, and when Marietta disappeared upstairs with Tony in pursuit, Susi turned to Louie.
"See what you're doing? You're pulling this family apart!"
"Well you know all about pulling apart, don't you," Louie flashed back.
"I did it for your own good, Lou, you know that."
Louie rose to her feet. "You did it for your own good, Mum. You were thinking of you, of the neighbours, of the church group—anyone but me. Don't give me that bullshit!"
Tony returned from upstairs and took control. "Both of you stop it." His voice was always quiet in an argument. "Suse, have a sit down." He handed her the remains of a bottle of wine and shepherded her into the living room.
"Now, Lou," he said, returning, "give me a hand clearing up."
"I don't want to." Tony stopped and raised his eyebrows at her. "Oh, all right." She hated the sulky sound of her own voice.
They cleared the table and stacked the dishwasher in silence.
"You have to forgive your mother," Tony said eventually.
Louie gazed at him. "I can't."
"What she said was true. She did the only thing she could at the time."
"Like hell!"
Tony looked at her openly. "The only thing she could think of."
"Well that showed a remarkable lack of imagination."
"It's not an easy situation for anyone. Not for us, not for you, not for Willa."
It was a shock just to hear him say Willa's name again. Louie turned away and closed the dishwasher door and turned it on. A soft whoosh began the cycle.
"I don't think I can do this, Dad." She still clung to the door.
"Nobody's asking you to do anything right now—except get well. Whatever you decide in the long run is your decision. Much as we'd like to, we can't make it for you."
Louie leaned against the bench in surprise. Did he mean...?
"But you think it's wrong, don't you." She ducked her head. "Me and Willa."
There was a pause while Tony drew in a long breath. "I don't know, Lou. I don't like it. And I don't like seeing you and your mother so unhappy."
"It was fine until she found out." But was it? Louie thought of how sick she'd begun to feel, how knotted up at church, how guilty that she was lying to everyone, and not spending much time with Mo or the others.
"You know, when I was at St Peter's I had a mate, Stevie Carmichael."
Louie looked up. Her father was walking towards the window, his hands in his pockets.
"I thought Stevie was the next best thing to the Pope. He looked like something off a toothpaste ad, he sang like Paul McCartney, and played rugby like a demon. And he had a car," Tony grinned, turning around so he was framed by the night lights across the valley. "A Citroen. Well, I followed Stevie Carmichael round like a flaming border collie for six months. We used to skip school and go to the pool hall down town, smoke those nasty Russian cigarettes and listen to Manfred Mann. When Stevie left school in the sixth form and moved to Dunedin I wanted to go too, I really did. Your grandmother had no time for him."
Tony made a pattern on the rimu floor with his toe. "I cried every night for a week after he left. I didn't know anything in those days, you didn't. But I had a crush on Stevie Carmichael all right." He looked up at Louie. "Do you know where he is now?"
"Where?"
"Round the corner in Tanner Road." Tony laughed out loud. "He was gay all right. He's a hairdresser in town, complete works, chains, bangles, camp as a row of pink tents. He's okay, I guess, but well, you know what I'm saying? It's easy to get caught up with someone strong-minded and make too many decisions too early"
Louie sighed shakily and her father came over and bent his head into her vision. He smiled hopefully. "Okay?"
She nodded.
"Promise?"
Another nod.
He waggled his eyebrows. "Ice cream?"
"Na."
"Worth a try."
Louie sat in her room and tried to think things through. Was this all about hormones? Was she just caught up with Willa because she was strong-minded? Was it right or wrong?
She picked the old dictionary off her bookshelf and looked it up.
"Lesbian: Of or pertaining to the island of Lesbos, in the Grecian archipelago. 2. Lesbian vice: Sapphism."
She flicked to the Ss. "Sapphism: (from the name of Sappho who was accused of this vice;) Unnatural sexual relations between women."
Louie's hands dropped. Unnatural sexual relations. She thought of how she'd felt when she first kissed Willa, compared with how she'd felt kissing guys. It always came back to that. It didn't feel wrong. In fact, it felt right.
She'd been avoiding looking at something else, too. To be fair to her father, she'd better face it. She walked back to the shelf and picked up the Bible.
Willa
It was a hot and steamy midnight at Burger Giant. There's a good opening sentence for my next creative writing assignment, thought Willa. The condensation ran down the insides of the windows and the noise rocketed about from vinyl floor to chairs, tables, seratone
walls to plaster ceiling. It was such a harsh, clanging sound compared with the deep hubbub of the pub. Willa was hot too, and tired. Her wrists were sore from flicking closed the hamburger containers and putting orders into bags. She didn't see the customers' faces any more, they just became orders, totals and change.
Simone was serving with her while Kelly and the new girl, Rebecca, were clearing tables. They were flat out, all of them just hanging on until the night shift started at one. Finally, when there was a lull behind the counter, Simone stretched her neck and yawned.
"Why does everybody else have more fun than us?"
Willa grunted. "They're not having fun. God, why don't they all go home to bed?"
"There's still the Jimmy Barnes crowd. They'll be here as soon as the concert finishes."
In fact they started drifting in a few minutes later. Most were drunk and all were singing badly. They quickly took over the whole place, yelling to their friends, spilling drinks, throwing up in the toilets.
"Give me a five-year-old birthday any day," said Simone.
Kevin chucked a few out and managed to calm down the others, while Kelly flirted with the worst remaining table until one overexcited guy made a grab for her and pinned her against the wall. Kevin chucked him out too.
Then, thankfully, it was hand-over time. Poor Rebecca was only halfway into her shift and looked at them pitifully as they hustled out the back to get changed. The incoming staff were nearly all schoolgirls like her, except for Marty, a university student who was weekend night manager.
"Drink, girls?" asked Kevin, popping his head into the women's toilets. Kelly squealed and clutched her clothes to her chest in mock horror.