Love You Two

by Maria Pallotta-Chiarolli

  ‘Deep inside, Pina, next to the joy of who I was going out with, my love for that incredible man over there –’ she points to my dad who glows under her attention – ‘was an empty heavy space, and I couldn’t find words to describe it. I’d chosen, and I’d both won and lost. So I knew, Pina, I knew.’

  She shrugs and reaches out to gently stroke my hair away from my downturned face. ‘Don’t get me wrong, gorgeous girl. I never regretted the decision I made. Loving your father has been exquisite and a total blessing. It was just that I knew deep down that making the decision wasn’t what the real me would’ve done. But I knew no other way. So when Nathan came into my life, I knew I couldn’t do that again. I had to go with what I knew was my truth, the way I could love the best. Or else what your dad and I had wouldn’t be what you see now and grew up with.’ She sighs. ‘I know that’s hard to understand, but it’s how it is. I love your dad so truly and deeply because I’m allowed to love the way I love.’

  My dad’s voice follows, both soft and strong. ‘And she does love me, Pina, in a way I don’t want to do without.’

  ‘Yeah, but what about Nathan?’ I ask sharply. ‘How does he feel? I mean, he does without a lot, doesn’t he? They both do without, except you.’ I can’t help the dryness that creeps into my voice as I look at her.

  Mum’s looking down, unable to reply as her lips tremble. She just nods slowly, agreeing.

  Dad speaks again. ‘We do without, yes. But we also do with so much more. Nat loved your mum so much that the thought of giving her up and having a traditional marriage with someone else – and which may have backfired anyway, ’cos his heart wasn’t in it – was something he couldn’t do. But he wasn’t going to settle for the ‘home wrecker’ role or play the prop keeping a bad marriage together. Nor would he have an affair, full of its lies and betrayals.’

  Mum’s voice has found its way somehow. ‘He really loved and respected your dad, Pina. And you and Leo were family to him.’ She smiles into the night, her eyes shining. ‘Anyway, that’s all over now. It’ll be easier for you all.’

  Zi Don speaks up, still cuddling Leo. ‘When you’re trying to live with your own truths, when your only crime is loving too much or loving in a way that’s different but not harmful to anyone, you learn to do without what the world says you should have or rewards you with if you obey. Because loving deeply and truthfully is way more rewarding, even though it comes with way more costs.’ He holds his hands out, palms upward. ‘We’re just expanding the rules of what a relationship can be, like gay people are. Who would’ve thought just a decade or so back that gay people could get married? See? More options so we can all find our place of deep and truthful love.’

  Leo kind of smiles, although you can tell some of it’s taking a while to make sense. Then he gets this look as if he wants to say something. His mouth opens, he sits forward, but then hesitates.

  ‘What is it Leonuccio?’ Mum asks.

  ‘Well, like, I know some people think I’m gay. Well, I don’t think I am but people keep telling me I am. It doesn’t matter to me what I am. I just wish it didn’t matter to others. Like, no labels.’ He’s looking at us instead of talking to the ground, his shoes, or a table. He’s looking directly at us, one at a time, even as he says all those words.

  Zi Don makes us laugh when he bear hugs Leo and says, ‘You’re ahead of your time, Leo. No Labels Leo!’

  Leo gives the widest and happiest grin I’ve ever seen on him.

  Mum catches me smiling at Leo, then her arm comes around me gently as she says quietly, ‘Was my book useful, Pinuccia?’

  ‘Yeah, and I should return it to you.’

  That gives me an excuse to get up before my body tenses awkwardly, frustratingly, against her. And it forces me to go to my bedroom.

  I open the door and look in. For an aching second I see the blood on crumpled sheets, Scott on my crumpling body. But I shut my eyes tight and then re-open them. The bed’s been made. The room’s been tidied. There’s a note on Nat’s teddy bear on my bed.

  Our darling Pina

  You may think you lost something here. You may think that this room is forever spoilt. No, bella, you gained strength and soul. That day, in all its sadnesses and confusion, may have saved you from a lifetime of Scotts. Our only sadness is that it was after you learned about us that you may have got into this situation. This is something we will always feel responsible for, and we ask you to forgive us.

  We hope your love for us finds its way back,

  Mum and Dad

  Looks like all of us feel responsible for something. We’ll all have to live with it; we’ve all hurt from it and we’ve all gained from it.

  I lie down on the bed, for a moment worrying the memories will flood back. But instead there’s the moonlight and my stars, still chaotic, but manageably, even entrancingly so, and there’s the sound of warm summer conversation drifting in from the back verandah.

  I take a deep breath, find Mum’s book in my bag, and loserishly hug it one more time. Still feeling weird, like I’m having to let go of something I don’t even really want, I find the last written page:

  Life’s clearer even as it’s so much more complicated. I see more depth and dimension even when there are so many times when having a 2D view would be easier. But it’s the 3D texture that fills me with love, inner peace and inner joy. I’m made to look at myself from both inside and outside the frame. I’m living in the hyphen.

  But then I always had to do that as a child, being Italian-Australian. I always felt like that ice-cream we used to love as kids – rainbow swirls of vanilla, chocolate, strawberry.

  In the chaos with which others judge and imprison me, caught within their own traps of fears and unspoken desires, I choreograph my ordinary everyday, design my liberty.

  Enough. Stuff’s about to spill over. I shut the book and grab the shopping bag full of gifts, wondering if and what she would write on the empty pages from now on, and if I’ll want to read it.

  Heading back outside, I notice Mum’s mobile phone on the kitchen table. I stop and look at it. I know what I want to do, but it’s so painful. I keep walking.

  She takes the book from my outstretched hand, with tears and a tired smile of relief as she looks at me. I look at the book and her hand, and try to sound cool. ‘You should’ve been a writer. I always bagged you about it, but you got a way with words. I admit it, okay?’

  I detect a round of smiles from the audience out there with us but dare not look at anyone. Mum’s sparkling and about to get slushy, so I steady myself by sitting down next to her but out of her reach, hands clasped between my knees. I look out to the backyard.

  ‘Pina, something I dreamed for years was the day you and Leo would be sitting with us, knowing. Thank you, my babies. It won’t be easy for you. Others will attack you because of us, so pick and choose who you tell. May you hover like butterflies and only land on flowers that open to hold you.’

  She holds out her arms to me. I slowly slide into them, allowing myself to rediscover the warmth and security of that embrace. Mum gently strokes my hair as if she knows about this battle going on inside me.

  Leo comes over and leans against her. She kisses the top of his head and embraces him with her other arm. Her voice is frail but steady through her tears. ‘I just wanted you two to always see me, know me, as your mum, that’s all. Because that’s what I’ve tried so hard to be good at, be what a mum’s supposed to be, when I don’t seem to do much else the way it’s supposed to be done.’ I feel the shudder go right through her skin to me.

  I nod and try to joke away her pain, and mine. ‘It’s cool, chill out, Mother. I think I sort of always knew anyway. Remember how I’d tease you? “Ooh, Mum, Nat’s sent you flowers again.”’ I tweak my voice to sound like the child I once was.

  Everyone laughs, even Mum in a wet wobbly way. I like making her laugh.

  ‘What about the time I had crushes on two boys. Remember? Getting out of the car one time after scho
ol, I looked at the houses across the street and said, “I wish Sam lived there and Adam lived there. Then I could see both of them.” Stella was with us, and she goes, “You can only love one person.” But you, Mum, always the freako, you chucked your bag next to mine and we stared at those houses and you said, “That’s a great idea, but the neighbourhood might not be ready for it.”’

  Mum laughs again, and her voice is a little clearer through her tear-blocked nose, ‘Oh Pina, you had this sassy laugh when you were a kid, so strong and confident.’ Her hand pauses on my shoulder. ‘You lost that laugh for such a long time, bella, stressing about pimples, weight and boyfriends. And, I think, about me being not what you wanted in a mum, sort of not good enough and in some ways too good compared to what you thought of yourself. I hope now you get the laughter and confidence back. But I realise I’m not actually making it any easier for you.’

  I look at my mum. Her nose is snotty, her cheeks are lined with mascaraed tear-tracks, but the veil over her eyes has gone. We’re looking directly, clearly and strongly into each other’s eyes, no matter how it’s going to feel.

  ‘Well, you’re not making it easier for me to give you presents with that snot and mascara all over your face. I shoulda bought you a waterproof mascara for Christmas and forced you to wear it.’ I rummage in the shopping bag. There’s the gold brooch with heart-shaped ruby stones making a circle of hearts for my mum. She gasps, cries, squeezes me to her, then finds she’s so trembly she can’t put it on. I pin it over her heart.

  There’s a laminated poster from the film The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe for Wei Lee and Zi Don. ‘For our hallway as people come in through the front door!’ Wei Lee exclaims. ‘How perfect.’

  ‘I’m glad you like it. Look, Lucy and Mr Tumnus are right in the middle, dancing around in Narnia,’ I say, pointing at the print.

  ‘Yes, but –’ Zi Don pretends to look disturbed as he peers at the poster – ‘why do you see me as half an animal? Does being bi make me feral?’

  ‘No, no, no!’ I laugh. ‘It’s about being half and half … oh, whatever!’ He squashes me and I splutter, ‘Well, actually, these hugs of yours remind me of a bear! I meant to tell you – ease up Zio!’

  ‘And he is a hairy creature isn’t he?’ Wei Lee comments as she strokes the fur on Zi Don’s arms.

  For Leo, I have two presents. A wooden carved lion, ‘’Cos you got a strong heart,’ I tell him, feeling shy and loserish. But hey, it’s that kind of day. The second gift is a framed print of a clown trapeze artist, ‘’Cos you don’t know where you’re going but I love the way you’re going anyway.’

  Then he does something that would’ve set me puking only a few weeks ago. First, he looks at me intently again. I’m going to have to get used to my brother’s beautiful eyes without getting jealous. Then he hugs me, kisses my cheek, and cuddles into me. Yeah, it feels a little awkward still, but there’s something about it I really love.

  I hand Dad a purple velvet pouch. Inside it is a bloodstone in the shape of a heart. It fits exquisitely in the fleshy strong palm of his hand. ‘’Cos you know how to hold love so preciously, like that.’

  I point to that hand, and his other one folds securely over my shoulder as he says, ‘Thank you, Principessa Pina mia.’

  There’s one more gift in the shopping bag. I wonder if I’ll get to give it. I wonder if I really want to give it. Why did I even buy it? Doubts like sudden waves still tug me. It’s a carved wooden box, with amethyst stones decorating it. Inside, nestled on purple velvet, is a gold key. If I get to give this gift, I would want to say: ‘It’s so pathetic, I know, like permission to love my mum. For unlocking her heart and for being part of what’s unlocked me.’ But what would I really say?

  The summer evening hours amble on. I show Mum, Dad and Leo John’s ID card and crystal, and convey all the messages from Narnia to my family here. I spend a lot of the evening curled up in Mum’s arms, listening to conversations about the nonni, about Wei Lee and Zi Don’s life and friends in Melbourne. I eventually fall asleep from exhaustion and relief.

  Before going to bed, I give Wei Lee and Zi Don extra hugs. They’ll be leaving tomorrow. They’re planning to come and spend a week with us over Easter and then we’re all driving back to Melbourne for another week.

  ‘You’re not leaving till Dad hangs my sign on the front door,’ I state.

  ‘We won’t, Pinuccia,’ Zi Don reassures me.

  There’s one more thing to do.

  I wonder what will happen if I do this.

  I wonder if I’m ready for what might happen.

  But before my wondering can turn into paralysing panic, I’m standing behind my mum as she washes a few cups for one last round of coffee before bed.

  For the first time this evening, she looks like she could be slipping away into one of her distant gazes, the shroud floating around the edges as she disappears out the kitchen window to the summer night sky of stars. Whatever I don’t want, or am not sure about, I know I definitely don’t want that.

  I nudge her shoulder.

  She turns and looks at the mobile phone in my hand, then at me, curiously, vaguely.

  She takes her phone slowly from my hand. ‘Did someone call me?’

  I get ready to run to my room after I’ve said what I need to say, even as the fear and doubts and aches strangle my voice. ‘Call him.’

  25

  Closets with swinging doors

  I WAKE UP TO BOXING DAY SUNSHINE, Leo’s friends laughing with him in the backyard where they’re putting on plays with all those Pokemons and Digimons, those nerdy weedy boys I always stirred and watched Scott’s little brother damage. Not this year. I’m a senior and going to volunteer to head the Anti-Bullying Student Team. And don’t anyone dare touch my little brother – or me.

  Zi Don and Wei Lee are up and ready to go before I’m even dressed. I head into the kitchen where they’re sitting with coffees and Christmas leftovers. Dad has a hammer near his plate. ‘So let’s name our house,’ he says.

  We troop out the front door, and I do a fussy, scarily real rendition of Nonna: ‘Put it here, a little more there, no, back up there a bit, ma no mi capisce? Don’t you understand me?’

  Finally, our house is christened. We whoop, hug and sprinkle dried pot pourri over ourselves that Mum has taken from some of her many hippy stashes throughout the house.

  Soon, Zi Don and Wei Lee are leaving for Zi Elena’s before heading back to Melbourne. They’re going to do it in two days again, stopping for an evening under the stars and moon at Bordertown. I’m going to miss them, but I realise I carry them with me now. I have Narnia here now. And I actually have missed my home, especially now that I feel it can really be my home despite it all.

  In the afternoon I head off to Laura’s mum’s place. I decide not to phone Laura. I’d like to surprise her. That way she’ll already have some adrenaline running through her veins which will sort of ease her into the adrenaline-rush shock of what I’m about to tell her about my family.

  Laura opens the door, in Tweety-bird t-shirt over baggy trackies, her messy hair pulled back in a loose scrunchie. Yeah, she certainly looks surprised. Shocked even.

  ‘Hey,’ I say grimly, ‘I wanted you to look surprised but can you save that face of horror till after I tell you some news about my family?’

  Her face stays Botox-frozen while her lips mumble, ‘Actually, it’s the look of horror you’re going to have if you walk in.’

  ‘You told me about your mum, Laura. It’s cool.’

  ‘But not about my other mum. Pina, maybe you should go. I swore to someone I’d never tell you about my other mum.’ Now she looks uncharacteristically frantic. ‘Pina, please leave. Text me later and we’ll meet up.’

  Just then I hear familiar voices in the background. One of them is Serena’s and the other is familiar too, but out of place. I know her from another friend’s house. ‘Is that …?’ and I walk in before Laura can stop me.

  ‘Pina,’ Laura
has a firm grip on my arm, trying to pull me back to the front door.

  Two forty-something Italian women are sitting in the lounge room behind her, arms around each other, laughing at something silly on TV, taralli and panettone on the coffee table in front of them. I know them both, too well, but I’ve never known them together. Sure, they’ve been seen together at school functions and doing parental drop-offs and pick-ups since we were kids. But not this kind of ‘togetha’ together. And suddenly I’m seeing what’s been deep inside someone else’s closet for years.

  The women notice me at the door. Serena smiles at me, says hi. But the other woman looks terrified, even as she smiles in recognition. She tries to surreptitiously untangle her arm from Serena’s, but Serena won’t let her. So she talks to me instead. ‘Oh-oh, I don’t think my daughter’s going to like this.’

  ‘No, she won’t,’ I say. I feel a little faint and sit down on the nearest thing, a footstool. ‘This is why …’

  ‘Why she can be so nasty?’ her mother, Elvira, finishes my sentence.

  I nod.

  ‘Especially to Laura,’ Serena completes my thoughts.

  ‘She’s never accepted my love for Laura’s mum,’ Elvira says. ‘She blames her for me breaking up with her dad. But that happened long before.’ She blows out a nervous breath and rushes ahead. ‘I broke up with him because the marriage was a sham, Pina. I loved women. Try telling that to our parents back then. He understood that. She should be happy that we’re such good friends. But I think she’s scared of being like me, like I’m passing on a virus to her, you know, the lesbian infection.’