Dessi's Romance

by Goldie Alexander

  I try to get a grip on myself. How can I burden her when she has so much pain of her own?

  She hugs me tighter. ‘It’s because of what’s happened with Abdul, isn’t it? She’s told you, hasn’t she?’

  I push her away. ‘You knew about it?’

  ‘Hannah told me.’ Julie holds me tighter ‘She was worried about what might happen to your friendship. She feels terrible about it.’

  ‘She says it’s not her fault, she couldn’t help it.’ I’m starting to get angry, seriously angry. I push Mum away. ‘What a load of shit! Of course it is.’

  ‘Takes two to tango,’ she reminds me. ‘Abdul is as much to blame as Dessi.’

  ‘I hate them both,’ I burst out. ‘I’m never going to speak to either of them again. Dessi and her precious virginity. Bet that’s what it’s all about... she’s gone and lost it. Why couldn’t she have done it with someone else? Why did she go and do it with my guy?’

  Julie reaches out to me again. ‘It’s not that simple. These things happen.’

  ‘Oh, I see!’ I’m so angry I punish the messenger. ‘Like Dad and Laura just happened?’

  She draws back, stricken.

  Oh god, I wish I hadn’t said that. ‘Mum, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it, truly.’

  She hesitates. ‘You’re hurt, I know. But you’ll get over it. Believe me.’

  ‘Are you over what Dad’s done? You should be, he’s just not worth thinking about and Laura’s unbelievably racist.’

  She sighs. ‘That’s different; we were married. What I need right now is your support. I’m so frightened I won’t be here to see you grow up…’

  ‘You’ll be okay, Mum. I just know it. You have to be.’

  But a great big hollow has opened up inside me.

  Mother.

  Best friend.

  Lover…

  All gone in twenty-four hours.

  How am I supposed to cope with three major losses and still stay half sane? Then anger almost overwhelms me. About to burst into tears, I grit my teeth and tell myself not to be a cry-baby. Instead I resolve they’ll be no more cheating or treachery. I might have no control over Julie’s cancer except praying for her to get over it. Or that Abdul prefers someone else. I remember how cold, how distant he sounded when I phoned. Now I know why, I’m angrier than ever. What a cheating, lying bastard! I can’t picture any payback for Abdul, at least nothing I can actually do.

  But when it comes to Dessi...

  No wonder over the phone she sounded strained. When I think how often I visited her in hospital, how loyal I’ve been over the years, I’m even more furious. What kind of payback is this? What is the best way to punish a so-called ‘close friend’? The answer comes to me immediately. By cutting that close friend completely out of your life.

  I decide then and there to never, ever, ever speak to Dessi again.

  ‘Mum, let’s go out for tea,’ I hear myself say. ‘My treat. I’ve still got some money left over. That bistro in the main street. We could walk there and you could have a few drinks and not worry about driving.’

  Julie manages a tiny smile. ‘Are you sure, Emma?’

  ‘Sure I’m sure. Go get ready, eh?’

  Julie’s face lights up. Once again I feel as if our roles are reversed, as if I’m the mother and Julie the child. To hell with Dessi and Abdul. At least I still have my mum and I intend helping her get well.

  After two glasses of wine Julie goes quite giggly. In the soft light, her greying hair curling around her cheeks, she doesn’t look sick. I use my napkin to quickly sketch my pretty mother while she’s saying ‘If I come out of this in one piece, there’s going to be some changes.’

  ‘Like what, Mum?’

  ‘Well, there’s nothing like cancer to focus the mind. So first I’m going to find a proper job. There must be something I can be good at.’

  That night I end up putting her to bed and tucking her in. Then I sit with her until she finally falls asleep.

  In my own room, I finally unpack and find the horse brasses I bought for Abdul. Before I can allow disappointment to flood me, I decide they’ll look great by the fireplace. The pretty top I bought for Dessi I shove into a drawer. Once again I firmly resolve to cut her out of my life forever…

  Next morning, after a night of tossing and turning and dreams where I find Dessi with some unknown guy and in a fit of rage push them both over a cliff, I don’t wake until midday.

  I find Julie at the kitchen table surrounded by piles of paper. ‘What’re you doing, Mum?’

  ‘Oh, just getting things in order,’ she mumbles. ‘The bank, my will. Stuff like that.’

  ‘Don’t talk rubbish. You’ve got to be positive.’

  She looks up with wide, sad eyes. ‘I’ve got to be practical too. Make sure that you will be taken care of. I’ve already asked Hannah and Graham to be your legal guardians and then…‘

  My cubist woman rears up. ‘What’re you talking about? I can’t go and live with Dessi.’

  ‘You have to get over this hiccup. You’ve been friends all your life.’

  ‘I’ll never forgive her, never.’ Even though it hurts terribly to have to say this, I’m firm. ‘I have other friends, Mum. I don’t need her. She’s blown it with me. Absolutely.’ Yet even while saying this, there’s a hole in my heart I know will never be filled. Strangely enough, it’s not Abdul I mourn. I’d only gone out with him once, and I finally admit that he hadn’t liked me enough to even drive me to the airport.

  But Dessi... how could she? How could she betray me like this? No, no, I never can, never will, forgive her.

  Julie shakes her head. ‘This house is yours, Emma. Your father signed the mortgage over to me when he left and it’s almost paid off. Insurance will cover anything else owing.’

  A shiver runs down my spine. I burst out, ‘Stop it, Mum! Will you please stop talking like this?’

  At last Julie manages a feeble smile. ‘Feel like a coffee?’ And once we’re settled at the kitchen table she says, ‘Tell me about your trip.’

  I do, meanwhile doing my best not so show her how miserable I am.

  39. DESSI, Melbourne

  I’m so miserable, even Dad notices. ‘What’s up?’ he asks.

  ‘Nothing. ’ But the mirror shows bruised eyes, swollen nose, pallid cheeks.

  As if in sympathy, late afternoon there’s a storm, one of those downpours that can occur out of nowhere.

  The evening starts off badly. I’ve invited Abdul to tea and he’s twenty-five minutes late. Because Mum is stressed out by her job, living in a messy house and immensely worried about Julie, she takes it out on me. ‘Tell him when I say seven, I mean seven.’

  I answer the door to Abdul.

  He blinks and asks, ‘You okay?’

  Hannah calls from the kitchen. ‘Tell him we’re eating right away.’

  I shake my head. ‘I’ll explain later.’

  If I ever thought my family would welcome Abdul warmly, they do their best to disprove this. I had warned Hannah that Muslims never eat pork so that’s exactly what she serves. Abdul does his best to be polite. But in the end he tells Hannah that he’s just not hungry. Nor does it help that Hannah worries aloud about Julie’s operation, Graham is more than usually monosyllabic, and you can be sure that brothers will always do their best to irritate – especially when I’ve kept to my side of the bargain by answering the phone in case Sienna’s mother phones.

  I can hardly wait to take Abdul to my room where I close the door and then tell him about my conversation with Emma.

  To my astonishment, his face darkens. ‘Why couldn’t you have waited?’

  I gulp and swallow. More tears trickle down my cheeks. ‘My conscience was killing me. I just had to come clean.’

  ‘How could you, Dessi?’ His voice drips acid. ‘Hasn’t Emma’s mum just found out she’s got breast cancer? Telling her today, weren’t you only worried about yourself? How selfish is that.’

  He’s right. I k
now he’s right. But what choice did I have? Of course I had to confess. Having Emma hear it from someone else would make things even worse. I say in a tiny voice, ‘But she’ll be mad with me, not you.’

  His angry face makes it clear that he doesn’t agree. I lie on the bed hoping to tempt him to join me. Instead, he picks up a magazine and makes a show of reading. More tears spill over. He glances over, sighs and joins me on the bed. Though my body enjoys what is happening, I feel oddly distanced... as if my limbs, my skin, my bones, belong to someone else. I breathe Abdul in, feels his skin’s texture, his hair, his distinctive spicy smell. Deep down I know that this relationship is broken, that it is way, way beyond mending, and that I must remember everything about him.

  Half an hour later he gets up saying, ‘Gotta get cracking.’

  ‘What’s the rush?’ How I hate that pleading note in my voice.

  ‘Told you, Antler’s back. Got heaps to catch up.’

  I turn away so he won’t see my tears spill over. ‘When will I see you?’

  ‘I’m pretty busy,’ he says getting dressed.

  ‘How about next weekend?’ It’s that awful pleading note again.

  ‘No way. Loads of sales coming up.’

  As I watch him fasten his belt and fix his hair, I make a final attempt at some forgiveness. ‘Look, about Emma. I really thought I was doing the right thing...’

  ‘Yes, well, I suppose you did.’ But his eyes remain stony.

  I bite my lip and taste blood. As I follow him to the front door and watch him leave without a backward glance, I tell myself how much I hate clingy, unhappy women. That doesn’t stop me from going back to bed and soaking my pillow.

  That night I dream that I’m in a hospital... that a masked figure is about to cut into my right breast…

  ‘Help!’ I scream. The surgeon pulls off his mask. Abdul smiles sardonically and says, ‘Punishment for deceiving your best friend…’

  Raggedy-Anne Cinderella,

  Come out of the world of what might have been.

  The prince doesn’t want you

  and he’s written himself out of this story.

  I start up then fall back on my pillow. That dream was horribly real. Outside my window, a scorching summer sun beats down on woody fruit trees. It’s almost midday and my head feels ready to burst. I crawl out of bed and hop into the kitchen. Jeremy is out, Hannah is at work, Graham is hammering in the back shed.

  Maybe I should ring Abdul and apologise? But what if he says, what if I actually hear ‘I never wants to see you again’? How would this feel? In the end I just don’t dare.

  The cell phone trills. My heart gallops and almost stops. Abdul! He’s forgiven me? No, it’s Leila. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Fine, I’m fine.’ I dissolve into tears.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  I’m crying too hard to answer.

  ‘Hang on,’ says Leila. ‘I’ll be there in two secs.’

  Half an hour later, I open the door to her. I’ve never been so relieved to see anyone in all my life. We hide in my room and I tell her everything.... everything... finishing off with ‘Now I’ve stuffed everything up. Emma won’t talk to me, and I suppose I deserve it…’ though somewhere deep down I still don’t believe this ‘…and Abdul’s so furious, I know he’ll never want to see me again.’

  Leila settles more comfortably on the bed and peers at me. ‘Have you considered why he’s this angry?’

  ‘Sure. He didn’t want to get between Emma and me.’

  Leila shrugs. ‘Well, maybe Emma’s not the problem,’ she says slowly. ‘Maybe it’s someone else.’

  My jaw drops. But when I was at the Maloufs’, didn’t some unknown stranger keep phoning? I say, ‘Those times he was supposed to be meeting Antler… You reckon that was another woman?’

  My friend picks at a lose thread on her jeans and doesn’t answer. Poor Leila. I’m sure she’d like to be anywhere else but here.

  ‘Okay.’ This comes out in a rush: ‘I did hear something and I was going to phone you about it, but you got to me first.’ She hands me a fresh tissue. ‘This Abdul you’re so keen on… Turns out he’s engaged. His fiancée is Fatima Khouri and she’s studying law at Monash. They say she’s real bright and comes from a good family. It’s been arranged since they were kids.’

  ‘Engaged?’ I just stare. ‘You mean…’ I can hardly breathe. Everything seems to come at me in waves. I feel faint. I manage a choked ‘I was… we were just his… his bimbos, his sluts?’

  Leila nods.

  ‘The bastard!’

  More tears pour down my cheeks. But now these are tears of fury. ‘What else did you find out about him?’

  ‘My mum knows someone who came out here at the same time. Seems his family are very nice.’

  ‘They weren’t very nice to me,’ I say plaintively.

  Leila reaches out one comforting hand while the other passes me more tissues. ‘That’s because they had this woman all lined up, and you were getting in the way.’

  Now the Maloufs’ open antagonism makes total sense. In fact given all Leila’s and Abdul’s hints, it always did. But his behaviour...that still doesn’t. ‘Leila,’ I whimper. ‘I don’t understand. Why did he take me home to meet them when he knew how awful it would be for me? Twice?’

  She shrugs. ‘My guess is that he was trying to tell them something. Maybe he hates the idea of this marriage and he was throwing this in their faces, trying to get them to listen to him by bringing home...’ she holds up two curled fingers... ‘a nice Aussie girl who knows how to behave. He’d be trying to get out of this engagement. He never mentioned anything about a fiancée or an arranged marriage?’

  ‘Only in a roundabout way,’ I sullenly reply, though of course he did, if only I’d listened. But I was too besotted, too aware of the approaching gulf between Emma and myself to even consider Abdul’s motives. ‘He did tell me that his parents had an arranged marriage.’ I’m still hoping Leila is wrong. ‘No one,’ I protest, ‘but no one has an arranged marriage in this country.’

  ‘That’s not true. Maybe they’re not actually arranged, but it’s taken for granted that kids will stay within their own ethnicity and religion. Some of the families get really insecure if they don’t keep to the old ways. They’re scared their kids will marry out and they’ll lose them.’

  ‘You mean, all those times he was supposed to be with Antler, he was really with his fiancée?’

  ‘More than likely.’ Leila wipes her fingers on a tissue. ‘Abdul’s not nearly as bad as this makes him sound. You see, his folks would have fed him heaps on how he owes it to them to maintain their name, their culture, their religion. Even if he really liked you, he’d never dare admit it. In a way you have to feel sorry for him. He might be only twenty-one, but his life is already mapped out and he doesn’t dare change it. I feel real sorry for him.’

  I peer at Leila from behind a soggy tissue. ‘Huh? You still say that after he made me go through those horrible dinners... never mentioned a fiancée... then got mad with me for telling Emma...’

  ‘Hmm, I agree that’s gross. But getting mad with you about Emma was more being angry with himself. Try and look at it from his side, like he knows exactly what he has to do to keep the family happy. And he hasn’t any choice.’

  I now remember Abdul saying this about his own parents, and the photo of his brother and his wife. ‘The terrible thing,’ I ponder aloud, ‘is how all this love stuff makes everything else seem trivial.’

  ‘You mean, like getting decent results and gaining a place at Uni? Everything has its flip side.’ Leila peers at my reflection in the dresser. ‘What’s worse? Losing Emma? Or losing Abdul?’

  ‘Oh, Emma,’ I say without a moment’s hesitation. ‘But sooner or later, she’d have found out for herself. Wouldn’t she?’

  Leila is too tactful to comment.

  40. EMMA, Melbourne

  The day Julie goes into hospital feels like the very worst of my life... even w
orse than when Dad announced he was leaving for Surfers… even worse than when Danny dumped me and I thought my heart would literally crack and splinter.

  I just feel sick.

  While she’s being operated on the nurses are kind. One asks if I’d like a coffee. I thank her and shake my head. In the end I go to the ground floor and check out the gift shop. Is it tempting fate to buy Julie a gift? No, whatever happens, it will be nice for her to wake up and see flowers. I buy a very expensive box filled with pink roses, select a card and write: I love you, Mum.

  Back in the waiting room, it’s not long before a nurse comes in. My heart misses a beat… then races like mad. She says, ‘Doctor will be in to see you in a minute.’

  ‘Is she…is my mother all right?’

  The nurse smiles but doesn’t answer. A man comes in. He’s wearing pale blue pants and a sleeved V-neck top like summer PJs. His feet are enclosed in big paper bags tied at his ankles. I can’t take my eyes off them. I have this horrid urge to laugh. He pulls what looks like a shower cap off his head and his hair is dark and curly streaked with grey.

  ‘Emma? Your mum is fine,’ he says without any preamble. ‘We’ve done a lumpectomy.’

  I nod to show I understand.

  ‘Not too painful and it won’t disfigure her too much. She’ll be a bit sore for a while. No heavy housework, no lifting and she won’t be able to drive. Got it?’

  ‘So…so…she didn’t have cancer after all?’

  He frowns slightly. ‘Yes, she did. But we think we’ve contained it. She’ll need radiotherapy to make sure we’ve got rid of all those cancerous cells.’

  ‘Can I see her?’

  His face clears and he gives me a quick grin. ‘She’ll be back in the ward shortly.’

  I find Julie in a bed near the window. A nurse is fiddling with a drip snaking into the back of her hand. She seems to be asleep and looks peaceful if very pale. The nurse indicates a chair by the bed. I pull out my notebook and sketch her lying there, all peaceful.

  Her eyes open. ‘Emma,’ she whispers.