by Ivana Hruba
The gig’s about to begin. Lilian takes her place, close to me. She’s come dressed for the occasion, wearing a thin cotton summer dress, printed with pink flowers. She’s cold, has goose bumps all over cause it’s a dress you’d normally wear over your bikini but that’s the way she wants to be today. I’m wearing mine too. And so is Starling; it’s easy to imagine her twirling around, in her dress, in her pink sandals. Leady or not, Salah, hele I come!
So we stand here looking quite silly in our silly summer dresses, but it’s what Starling would have wanted. We didn’t bring flowers. Only a tiny bird’s nest to put on her memorial plot filled with other people’s gifts. It all looks very pretty and very sad.
The whole town’s here it seems. Gathered, paying their respects. It’s a really lovely affair. The little kids are not quiet at all so there’s a lot of chittering. How Starling would have loved that. She loved children though she was shy around kids her own age. She’d never even been to a kindy. She was going to start this year. It’s not fair, is it? —Oh, Starling, my little darling, I’m sorry you didn’t get to go. But you will always have me. Always, I promise.
So the show went on as planned. Amy made a speech about an angel taken from us too soon and she did such a good job just about everyone cried. Some lovely music was played. I don’t remember what. Lilian chose the song cause Starling didn’t even have a favourite one yet. She only ever sang along with nursery rhymes but Lilian didn’t want to share that with everybody. So she picked something she liked. She made it about herself, understandably. This is her nightmare, after all.
After the music ends, Amy starts again. She’s reading out a poem, about a child. It is beautiful and I’m finding it too hard. Starling, you should not have gone away. I don’t want to cry in front of everybody so I’m shutting my eyes. Fairy, where are you when I need you. But everyone’s abandoned me.
Amy’s done. I can finally open my eyes. And I see. Him. Of all people. Here.
He is standing in front of me holding a posy of snowbells. I’m so surprised I don’t say anything. I’m just looking. So is he. It’s mighty awkward, for a couple of elephants. He’s clutching the flowers; seems like he doesn’t know what to do with them. He doesn’t cause he’s offering them to me. He’s mumbling something now.
‘I’m so sorry for your loss, Sarah. If there’s anything I can do…’
Seriously, dude? How dare you? The surprise is wearing off and I can hardly breathe I’m so angry now.
‘There is something you can do for me, Bruce—’
‘Sarah!’
Okay, Mum. You’re awake now. Finally. Like that’s going to make a difference.
‘—See if you can guess what it is.’
He’s looking at me, all red in the face. At least his nose is. His beard and his beanie cover everything else on his ugly mug. Seriously, Mum, how can you?
‘I’m sorry, Sarah.’
He keeps on being, existing in my world. So he is not as sorry as he claims to be.
‘Why are you here?’
He glances at Lilian.
‘Sarah-honey, calm down. I asked him to come.’
‘Why? Why do you have to spoil everything, Mum? Isn’t that enough that we’re going through with this, this horrible stupid memorial?’
She’s starting to cry. It’s like the old days when she’d break down at the smallest thing, at the tiniest frown from Chris, a change in the tone of his voice. Oh, dear. Why am I still here negotiating with her, I don’t know. It’s not gonna make any difference, no matter what I say. This fool is here to stay.
I turn from them and I’m walking away. She stands there sobbing. I can feel her eyes boring into my back. She’s more than embarrassed but I don’t care how this looks for her. She’s got Bruce to comfort her. And I’ll bet he is doing all he can, has his arms around her about now. So what does she need me for?
‘Hey, Sarah! Wait!’
I’m almost through the Heavenly Gates. Should I stop? It’s her fault too so why should I do her any favours, huh? —Exactly. But she won’t give up; she’s coming up fast, well, as fast as she can roll so I might as well wait for her. Who knows, she might know something I don’t.
‘What do you want, Amy?’
She’s caught up with me but is unable to speak for one, two, three, four elephants. So I’m just watching her trying to catch her breath. It’s a sight; I do so wish Starling were here, in the flesh. Cause they’ve been telling me that she is here in spirit. —Right. Starling, hanging out here with a bunch of dead ones, at the Heavenly Gates. I don’t think so.
Amy, on the other hand, believes she’s done us a good turn. She’s organized this whole shindig, which I have now ruined. Obviously. Folks are leaving, as unobtrusively as they can, through the other gate. They look like they’re glad it’s over. They just want to go home where they can hold onto their children, their lives, hoping to preserve them, as they are. Fools.
‘Are you okay, Sarah?’
I nod. Smile.
She smiles back at me, pushing her puffy soft cheeks to the side, and up. But she’s not having much luck with it. Her cheeks quiver, then fold to hang over the neck of her turtleneck sweater, like a pair of deflated pancakes. It would be a riot if some of my gym class were here. If Starling were here, she wouldn’t laugh. She’d peer closely, lean forward from the safety of my arms to inspect this phenomenon. She would do that cause she was just a toddler, an innocent very young child still acquiring social graces. I have them, of course, so I only glance at these ridiculous cheek pancakes, without expression.
‘I’m fine, Miss.’
I really don’t know what she expects me to say. We’re not friends. She’s on Lilian’s side. Making phone calls and organizing shit that has nothing to do with her. So what does she expect me to do?
‘Sarah. Your mum needs a little help from you. You know.’
She’s smiling apologetically. Shrugs a little like she’s stuck for words though we both know what she’s trying to say. Mum needs me to move on. She wants my approval to carry on with her life. And Bruce who’s definitely in it. But I can’t do that.
‘I know.’
Amy nods, makes a gesture towards the exit so we resume the walking out, and we’re leaving Heavenly Gates silently behind. For a bit, anyway.
‘Bruce is a good guy,’ continues Amy, a dozen elephants’ worth later, mistaking my silence for encouragement. ‘He’s been very supportive to her throughout this difficult time.’
Difficult time? She sounds like a publicist announcing a celebrity couple split. Well, this gives me one thing. An advantage. At least I know what I’m dealing with here. Utter stupidity.
‘I know.’
‘He’s not trying to replace your dad, you know.’
Okay, she’s taking it up a notch.
‘I know.’
‘It would make your mum really happy if you gave him a chance to get to know you.’
I nod. I know it would make her happy. But what does that have to do with me?
‘I’ll try.’
I’m expecting her to clap her hand on my shoulder so I brace for the impact. But she doesn’t. She smiles, relieved and pleased with how this talk went. The only way is up, is what she’s thinking, I’ll bet. And now we’ve reached the car park and she goes away.
67
‘Sarah-honey, you’ll be late for school…’
Lilian’s already at the door. It’s the day after the memorial. We didn’t have a good night and we both slept in this morning. Last night we argued. About Bruce and my bad attitude. So I shouted. She cried. I said many stupid and hurtful things. She deserved them. None of what we said I want to write down so you’ll just have to imagine how it went. But it wasn’t good. She cried herself to sleep. I stayed up writing. And what do we have to show for it? —Exactly.
She lets me take the scooter today cause she’s not feeling well. She’d rather not drive today.
‘Be careful, honey. Have a good day. I l
ove you.’ She gives me a kiss.
‘Bye, Mum. Love you too.’
She stands at the door with her tea cup in one hand and a tissue in the other. She’s still in her dressing gown. It doesn’t look like she’s going to get dressed today. But I can’t deal with it right now. I’ve got to get to school. I start the scooter and go. Just before the big tree I glance back to check on her cause I didn’t hear the door shut. Sure enough, she’s there, looking. I guess she’s making sure I’m riding carefully.
Of course, I think about her all day. She’s really been through a lot and she’s not strong. Never been strong. I still wonder how Chris could have ever thought it was a good idea. Even the dimmest of minds might have grasped that a child was not going to solve their problems. And if I’d figured it out, why was it that he hadn’t? He should have realized. Done something different. Shoulda, woulda, coulda… and now we’re all in it. Except he’s taken himself out. Conveniently. Left me to deal with his shit. With her. Maybe he’s counting on me to solve his problem. That would be just about right. In my mind’s eye I see him thinking about me, looking very pleased with himself. He knew all along that I’d be doing his bidding. But he’s forgetting one thing.
I love her. I do. I’ve struggled with it over the years, of course. Who wouldn’t? But that’s a different issue. Right now it’s not so much about me. She’s falling apart. And it’s sort of my fault. I know she’s attached, again. Once upon a time that would have been good, for her, and me. We could have left, got me a new Daddy. But things have changed. I care about her and I don’t want to fight with her. So I’m gonna think on it some more.
The school day evaporates quite nicely in this insular fashion. I think about all the nice things I’m going to say to her when I get home. Cause I’ve decided that I want to make things right between us. I don’t want another night like that. It’s not us. I’m not like Chris. We used to stick together, us against him, not be at loggerheads with each other. And now that he’s gone, we can’t afford to fight. We can’t let him win. Besides, I’ve been thinking that maybe I am wrong about this Bruce situation. He might be good for her. Plus, if I don’t get to know him, I’ll never know anything about him. You know what they say. Keep your friends close—
So I’ve decided to change tactic. I’m sure I can live with some changes around the house. I know Lilian will like it. I will tell her, as soon as I get home. It will make her happy. As for the rest, we’ll see.
The way home is eventful. The scooter dies at the fork. I walk the rest, pushing the thing up the forest path. Alone amongst the trees, my life comes unexpectedly alive. I see her. She’s everywhere. Here’s where we played hide-and-seek. Here’s where we went riding our sled the winter before last. Here’s where we dug for mushrooms. Here’s where we tossed Assassin a bone. He took it though he was trained not to. Just shows you. Dog will take bone, every time. Here’s where we gave him a piece of cake. He loved it. And the chicken breast Starling couldn’t finish. Assassin got that too. He ate everything on the spot, the clever doggie. He never took anything back to Drake.
I’m nearly there. The house appears ahead of me. From this angle, it looks like nothing much has changed. From this side, the house looks even hopeful that eventually, someone will come home. The back of the house knows better. It’s gutted; is just a gaping, empty hole.
I negotiate the bend around the big tree. It has dense brush, undergrowth. It’s the perfect hiding spot. Baldy knew it. Took advantage every time he came by snooping. Yes, here it is. I swear I can see his tyre tracks. Ah, well. The forest is so much quieter now. I sort of miss the attention. From both of them cause it’s hard to look around and not see old Drakey crouching in the bushes. Pointless now imagining Baldy here too, putting things together for an explosive reveal, I imagine he imagined. Like I would have let that happen. Seriously, men are such fools.
68
Beside the house, the trailer looks vulnerable. Like a dwarf egg, forgotten in the nest after the birdies, the ones lucky to survive, have hatched and gone. It’s quiet here now, weirdly quiet in the forest and on the beach too as if the ocean has gone to sleep. You really have to strain to hear it. It’s so different now to what it used to be. I don’t even know I want to stay here anymore. Lilian doesn’t. So maybe we should have a chat. Once we’ve made up. Maybe she’d like to move. It’s worth asking.
The door is ajar. It’s not like her to leave it open but so what? She probably sat on the doorstep drinking tea and forgot to shut the door when she went back in.
‘Mum?’
Yep, she did. Have her tea. Her cup’s on the table, empty with just a tea stain dried at the bottom. The brew we made in the morning is still on the hob, with a bit left in the pot. So she drank quite a lot throughout the day.
‘Mum?’
She’s lying on her bed, sound asleep. Drooling. So that’s that.
I close the partition. I make myself a snack and then clean up the kitchen quietly. I empty the pot and wash the cup. Put the dishes away. She’s going to notice when she gets up and she’ll be pleased. Then I go lie down on my own bed. It’s the right sort of afternoon for a snooze.
Emily? Emily-darling, what are you doing?
She’s smiling at me. I show her.
It’s my dolly. I’ve cut her hair. See, Mummy?
Oh, Emily. You’ve cut Dolly’s hair. She’ll have no hair now. See?
Her hair will grow back, Mummy.
I point to my own hair. I know it grows.
Fairy’s shaking her head. No, silly, Dolly’s hair is all gone.
I feel like crying. I want Dolly’s hair back.
Fairy gives me a hug. Emily, Emily, sweetheart. It’s okay. We’ll make Dolly a hat.
Fairy’s making a hat for her. She’s cutting the paper. We glue sparkles on it. Then Fairy folds it and I put it on Dolly’s head. And Dolly’s looking nice again.
It’s time for bed. Fairy lies down next to me and we count elephants together.
One elephant, two elephants, three elephants… goodnight Emily. Fairy kisses my forehead and goes. Emily can sleep now.
I wake up when the sun’s gone down. I see the last of it from my pillow. It just dipped below the tree tops, leaving an orange line, hovering. It’s fading to red, pink, opaque blue. Then I have to go pee.
When I come back inside, the trailer is quiet. My head feels funny, like it’s stuffed with things I don’t want to think about. And I’m thirsty. In the fridge, the water jug’s as full as it was this afternoon. So Lilian’s either gone out or she’s still asleep. It can’t be.
But it is. She’s on her bed, like she was.
Oh dear.
‘Mum! Mum! Mum!’
But she won’t move. I don’t even need to touch her to know this. But I do. Touch her.
69
I really don’t know what happened after I touched her. I know people came, Amy and Captain Josh, and I allowed them to take me away. So I never even saw Mum going out, of the trailer, for the last time. I know she went past me when I sat in Captain Josh’s car, but it wasn’t really her. Lilian had gone long before they took her away in the ambulance. I don’t remember if they had sirens on but I hope they didn’t. It just would have been so pointless, so disrespectful. To me cause I knew and I told them, and to her. Cause clearly she didn’t want to be here anymore and her wishes should have been respected.
I wish I hadn’t. It felt strange. Her skin was clammy. Slack. Felt as if it were peeling from her. But it took me a while to understand what was going on. I think I watched her. I might have talked to her. I don’t know. Maybe one day I will remember but even if I do, I will never tell anybody what I said. I won’t even write it down. Except for this. I kissed her. I leaned over her and put my lips to her cheek. And that’s when I saw the note. A single sheet of paper, lying on the bed next to her. It had been torn out of her notebook where she kept important numbers, emergency numbers like the gas company in case we got a leak, and the snake catchers in
case we got a dangerous reptile crawling through the house. Well, the thing is; we don’t cook on gas—we’ve been running the cooktop on a generator—and the one time we did get a dangerous reptile in the house, it was a tiny little thing curled up in the corner. Chris banged it over the head with a shovel. It stunned itself into dying. It was fun to watch. Its beady little eyes stared a bit, then dimmed, and then it was over. Anyway, these were the numbers deemed relevant to our life, kept in this notepad on the kitchen counter next to her phone where very important messages were to be noted. So finally this pad had an important message to convey.
I picked up the note of course. Read it. And got the message, loud and clear. Lilian apparently did too. So that was that.
I guess I could have kept it; showed it to people, Amy, Captain Josh, others who were invested in this situation, in our lives. It might have cleared up a few things for them but this was, is, a family matter and these folks are not family. Chris might have found the note useful, relevant even, to his life, to the decisions he had made in it but he’s not here so what am I meant to do? —Exactly. It’s good enough that I know.
I turn the tap on and place the note under it. The words go, disappear, like Starling, into nothingness. In a little while the paper disintegrates. It’s over.
70
After I turned the tap off, the ambulance came. Amy came and took me home with her. Captain Josh stayed behind. Maybe he was looking for clues. I don’t know. I remember sitting in his car, waiting for Amy who was inside packing my things. My mum went by, strapped to a stretcher. Her head was turned away from me. I only saw her hair, on top of the sheet. She still looked pretty.