Family Drama 3-in-1 Box Set: String Bridge, The Book, Bitter Like Orange Peel

by Jessica Bell

  Bonnie: My daddy buys me lots of I-screams.

  Dr Wright: Does Mummy not allow you to eat ice cream?

  Bonnie: [shakes head] It doesn’t make logic.

  Dr Wright: What doesn’t make sense, Bonnie?

  Bonnie: It’s silly. No bodies scream when they eat I-screams. They should be called I-quiets.

  Dr Wright: [laughs] Would you like to explain that further?

  Bonnie: [blank stare, continues to draw in green]

  Dr Wright: How come you don’t like any of the other colours, Bonnie?

  Bonnie: Daddy said green is a colour of being safe.

  Dr Wright: Do you believe that too?

  Bonnie: [nods]

  Dr Wright: Why do you think green means safe?

  Bonnie: [shrugs]

  Dr Wright: You have a logical reason for everything, Bonnie. I'd like to hear it.

  Bonnie: No thanks.

  Dr Wright: I'm a little bit confused. How come you don't like eating the green jellybeans?

  Bonnie: [stops scribbling, looks up and offers a blank stare]

  Dr Wright: Have you had enough talking today, Bonnie?

  Bonnie: [nods] I don't eat the green ones because they taste like medicine.

  February 16th, 1984

  ~Mummy

  I sent Mary to pick you up from school today. The guilt is killing me, but I just didn’t know what else to do. I hope you forgive me for writing horrible things in this book, but you must know the truth. I don’t know how long I’ll wait until I give this book to you. Maybe when you start high school, maybe university, maybe I’ll wait until you have kids of your own. Whenever it is, I want you to know that I’m sorry. I miss your father, and Ted, though a good provider, is getting grumpier and grumpier. The shop isn’t doing very well and today he asked me to send you to live with your dad and Mary for a while until we get back on our feet! Can you believe this? I would never ever ever send you away! I hope you know that. You are the only thing in this world that I would gladly starve for.

  I have to tell you, I cry a lot. I try not to. I’m not sure why I feel so unhappy. Maybe I miss John. Maybe I’m sad that I never did anything with my life, besides have you, that I can be proud of. I’m so glad you haven’t seen me cry. I can’t even begin to imagine how that would make you feel. I still haven’t decided whether I should have Ted collect you from your dad’s when he closes the shop, or just let you stay there overnight. I know you love Mary and you’ll probably have fun. But I fear, being the only other constant female influence in your life, that you’ll end up loving her more than me.

  John still hasn’t written in this book since you were born. I keep offering it to him, but he keeps refusing. I’m not going to ask anymore. I’m tired of it. Honestly, I think he’s scared of all the feelings in here. But I do secretly hope he reads it all again. Maybe it will help us have a better relationship. I hate to admit it, but I would take him back in a heartbeat. Maybe I should just let you stay overnight and insist John bring you back tomorrow. Maybe the more we see each other, the more chance there is of rekindling what brought us together in the first place.

  Wait. The phone is ringing …

  I just got a call from your dad. He said you have a terrible stomach bug and that he’ll bring you back tomorrow afternoon.

  Perhaps it’s fate.

  PS: I’ve started pressing some flowers for you. You were so fascinated by Grandma Miller’s collection that I thought we should start our own! So far I’ve got some jasmine, daisies, and buttercups pressed between the pages of this book.

  I DIDN’T GO TO school today so I get to play a shop with Mary all day while Daddy is at work. I don’t rooly understand what he does. But he always is talking about numbers in shapes and the sky, and always is leaving the house wearing the same boring old thing.

  Anyway, how the shop game works is that I pull all the medicine bottles out of the bathroom cupboard, and I spread them all pretty on the kitchen counter. Every two minutes, Mary comes in and tells me that she’s not feeling good. So I ask her to splain me how she feels so I can sell her the right bottle. It’s not good to make mistakes with sick bodies because if you do they might be getting sicker.

  Most of the time, I don’t really understand the words she says, but I think they’re called SimTims. But that just makes me want TimTams, so I just give her a packet of aspirin to take the pain away and ask her to go to the milk bar to buy me some. She’s good like that. She doesn’t get those silly lines in her face every time I ask for sweets. She just goes and gets them. It’s really simple. I think she should tell my mummy how simple it is.

  After a while of playing, Mary gets bored and speaks on the phone. She always twirls the cord around her finger and gets her whole body wrapped up in it. It’s silly. Sometimes I don’t think she’s really a grownup. Maybe she’s just playing dress-ups.

  Daddy walks in with a big smile on his face, and Mary skips up to him like a little girl and gives him a kiss on the cheek.

  “Did you go to see your mother today?” That’s Daddy speaking to Mary, not me. She nods and does doll’s eyes and hangs her head to the side making a stupid groaning sound. She sounds like my Ted in the mornings.

  “I still don’t understand why I should go, Dad. She can’t remember me.”

  “It’s just good to keep touching base.”

  I don’t know what sports has to do with what they are saying but it sounds serious. It always sounds serious with grownups.

  “The doctor did say she might get her memory back at any time, remember? And by seeing you on a frequent basis can trigger flashbacks. Please just keep going to visit her.”

  “But it’s been years! You’re not going to send me back to live with her are you?”

  Daddy’s head goes all wobbly in his hands. He hasn’t come to say hello to me yet. That happens a lot when he speaks to Mary. Chooally, it happens to all bodies when they speak to Mary. I don’t understand why. Will I be that special when I get bigger?

  “Sweetheart …”

  Daddy looks over at me and smiles.

  “Are you feeling any better?” That’s Daddy speaking to me now, not Mary. I nod and eat another TimTam. I don’t know why he bovvers to smile when the smile is really invisible sad words. Now Mary looks at me too and does doll’s eyes again. That makes my Mr Stomach feel like there are fuzzy clouds in it. I don’t think it was a nice thing to do to me. Sometimes I think grownups are stupid just pretending to be smart.

  Mary punches Daddy in the shoulder and he looks at her funny. Those looks send feelings all through the room. Like the air is going hard in our nostrils. Daddy moves his head towards me and Mary makes an annoying sound with her tongue. There they are again. Those invisible words. Why don’t they just say them out loud? It would be so much easier to understand.

  Daddy walks out and Mary takes the TimTams away from me. I want to tell her not to, but my mouth is full of one, and Mummy tolded me it’s rude to open my mouth when there’s food in it.

  Mary grabs a tea towel and wipes it across my mouth. It hurts and I say ow, but it doesn’t rooly sound like ow because I have a tea towel over my mouth.

  “Stop being a baby.” That’s Mary speaking, not me.

  “I’m not being a baby, you’re too violent.”

  “Violent? Where did you learn a word like violent?”

  “None of your beeswax. I go to school.”

  Mary throws the tea towel on the counter and lifts me off the tall stool because I’m too short for the tall stool. I don’t like being short. If I was tall like Mummy and Daddy I could poke my chin on the top of Mary’s head. And then when she is pretending to be a grownup, I would be pointing my finger at her, and saying to her, “Don’t misbehave, young lady,” and make her go to her bedroom without any dessert.

  Mary laughs and makes an annoying sound through her nose and she sounds like sumfing off the Animal Farm show on Channel 2. I don’t know why Daddy only watches Channel 2. I hearded him say to Mary t
hat all the other channels are full of shit. Shit is a bad word. I askted Mary what shit means and she tolded me that it means poo. So that makes me think and I think that it doesn’t make logic for TV channels to be full of poo. Only torlets and undies can be full of poo. I didn’t say that to Mary because I didn’t want her to be in trouble with Daddy for telling me about a bad word.

  “Go get cleaned up for dinner.” That’s Mary telling me to get cleaned up for dinner.

  “But I’m not hungry.” That’s me speaking, not Mary.

  “That’s because you ate half a packet of TimTams!”

  “That’s because you gave them to me.”

  “Well I thought you were only going to eat one.”

  “But you didn’t tell me to only eat one.”

  “Why do I need to tell you to only eat one? You know it’s almost dinner time.”

  “When Mummy gives me sweets, she always tells me how much I can have.”

  “But I’m not your mother.”

  “But you’re a grownup and you should know better, young lady.” That was me talking, not Mary, and I used “young lady” a lot better than my Ted because Mary really is a young lady.

  Mary puts her hands on her hips and her mouth goes all thin. She walks out of the room and calls for Daddy. She comes back in with him and they stand at the kitchen door staring at me with googly eyes and my Daddy has a funny smile on his face, but it’s another smile that doesn’t mean he’s happy, I think he’s got feelings of being annoyed, but I think he’s annoyed with Mary, not me.

  He’s changded clothes. He’s wearing a tracksuit now. Mary says sumfing to him all quiet and he mumbles sumfing back all angry man, but trying not to be angry man.

  “Honey, how is your stomach after all those biscuits? Are you feeling okay? Do you want an antacid?”

  I was feeling okay until he said that I should be eating one of those disgusting lollies, they taste like disgusting chalk and make me want to chuck.

  Then he comes up to me and rubs my back all nice, but then I can hear my Mr Stomach do dancing again and I chuck up awwwl over his feet.

  February 17th, 1984

  ~Mummy

  John just called to say he’s on his way home with you. Apparently Mary fed you a box of Tim Tams. Silly girl. She may be smart enough to be accepted into medicine at a prestigious university, but she certainly needs to learn a bit of common sense.

  John also told me that you had a bit of a fight with her. Can I say I’m secretly satisfied with that outcome? I know it’s horribly selfish of me. But I’ve been so distant lately, and I often wonder how it’s affecting you. It can’t be easy seeing Ted and I argue about you all the time. I know that all he wants is the best for you. For us. But in my opinion, the best thing for a little girl is to be with her mother, regardless of her financial situation.

  Can I make a confession? I’m not sure I love Ted as much as I used to. I thought I did. But I think I only married him so that you could have a decent upbringing. Your father has enough of his own problems to deal with so I couldn’t possibly ask him to support you after everything that happened with his ex-girlfriend and daughter. I feel sorry for Mary, I really do. But I am just a bit jealous of her. Trying to accept that I wasn’t his first love was hard enough, but to find out he had another daughter who needed him was just horrible. I could never wish anybody to experience such a thing. But life is funny like that. One minute you have everything you want and need and love. The next, the whole world is turning upside down and you’re giving everything you love away.

  Oops! There’s the doorbell ...

  Tape #02

  Dr Wright: What do you think of Mary?

  Bonnie: She’s pretty.

  Dr Wright: Do you like being around her?

  Bonnie: [nods] Sometimes. [picks at wood on edge of table]

  Dr Wright: Why only sometimes?

  Bonnie: [stares blankly, opens mouth slightly, shrugs]

  Dr Wright: It’s okay, you can talk to me.

  Bonnie: [takes an exaggerated deep breath then breathes out with cheeks puffed up]

  Dr Wright: [waits patiently]

  Bonnie: Daddy does invisible words with her.

  Dr Wright: Invisible words?

  Bonnie: [nods]

  Dr Wright: What are invisible words?

  Bonnie: Mary is more special. Mary is a grownup.

  Dr Wright: Do you think she’s more special than you?

  Bonnie: [shrugs, nods]

  Dr Wright: Bonnie, sometimes grownups don’t understand that their actions look like something different to what they really are. Daddy just speaks differently with Mary because she’s a bit bigger than you. It doesn’t mean he loves her more. All parents love their children equally. You understand?

  Bonnie: [shrugs, nods, picks at edge of table]

  Dr Wright: Do you want to play a game?

  Bonnie: [looks at Dr Wright, nods, smiles]

  Dr Wright: What would you like to do. It’s your choice.

  Bonnie: Can we play the shop like I do with Mary? I like to give medicine.

  Dr Wright: Do you want to be a doctor when you grow up?

  Bonnie: No, I want to give medicine from a shop with a green cross.

  MUMMY OPENS THE DOOR and she’s holding the book and she has a pen between her teeth. She smiles at me and takes the pen out of her teeth and puts it behind her ear. Then she smiles at Daddy. But the smile is different than the one she gave to me.

  Daddy rests his hand on my shoulder and pushes me forward a bit. I think that means I should be going inside. Again with the invisible words. I go in and watch from behind Mummy’s legs, but not touching.

  The sun is getting tired because the light is going away, but it’s still shining some happy thoughts behind Daddy’s head. It’s pretty, and I want to visit the sun one day, like those men on TV did visit the moon. I think they should have beened to the sun. Then they wouldn’t be needing those big stupid suits to keep them warm.

  Mummy winks and blows me a kiss and then speaks to Daddy all softly. She holds the book to her chest like she’s hugging it. Daddy touches it but it looks like Mummy is holding it more tight. She has that smile full of sad words, and she steps backwards a bit.

  “You had your chance. I’m over it.” That was Mummy all low and whispery a bit angry woman sounding.

  “I wasn’t ready before. But I’m ready now.”

  “Why now? What’s changed?” Mummy leans her shoulder against the inside of the door and Daddy puts his hands in his pockets and looks at Mummy’s feet. He looks at her feet a lot. I think he always is thinking that she should buy some new shoes because she always is wearing the same ones.

  “I’m not sure. Maybe the guilt of leaving you is catching up to me.” Daddy said that last bit rool quiet still looking at Mummy’s shoes. I don’t know what guilt means but it sounds pretty and a bit like gold.

  They go on pause and Mummy sniffs and rubs her nose.

  “Ted will be home soon.” That was Mummy, not Daddy.

  “Can I have the book?”

  “Not tonight.”

  “Why not?”

  “I haven’t finished with it. I was in the middle of an entry when you arrived.”

  I don’t think she’s talking about the same entry as I know. But I don’t think doors can fit in that book. Unless they are magic doors. Maybe they are doors that gobble up bodies. Maybe there’s demons in it. Maybe it’s full of badly and that’s why Mummy cries at it.

  “What if I come back tomorrow and collect it?”

  Mummy moves her head. I can’t see if she’s saying yes or no in those grownup invisible words. Then she closes the door in Daddy’s face without saying goodbye. I think that’s rude.

  Mummy turns around and looks to me. She gives me one of those smiles. The ones where she wants me to think she’s happy but she’s really not. She puts her pen and book on the coffee table and gets down on her knees to hug me. She’s warm and she smells like those swirlded black
things that you can get at the milk bar. They come in red too. And there’s also a funny plant in the backyard that smells like the black swirlded stuff too. Sometimes I chew on it but then I spit it out because the taste goes away and it goes all like soggy grass.

  I wish I could go into Alice in Wonderland. Then I could eat that cake because I like cake, but this cake could make me go big, and then I would pick up Mummy and Daddy and put them in a box like hamsters and keep them in my bedroom forever.

  “Why does Daddy want the book?” That’s me asking, not Mummy.

  Mummy breathes rool loud through her nostrils and it sounds like she’s sniffing in caramel fudge. She holds me outward and makes her lips do that pressing together thing.

  “It’s not important, Pumpkin.”

  “It is important.” That’s me and I stamp my foot.

  Mummy smiles like she thinks she knows more than me. Grownups do that a lot. They think they know more than me. They don’t know more than me, I know it.

  Mummy makes a little piglet noise, “Why is it important?”

  “It has to be! You’re always holding it, and writing in it, and ...”

  I turn my head and look at the book on the table. I pobably shouldn’t say it. Maybe it will make her madly and she won’t let me have dessert tomorrow.

  “And what sweetie?”

  “I don’t know. I just think it’s an important book. If Daddy wants it like you do, it must be important. What’s in it? Is it full of sadness and that’s why he wants to take it away?”

  Mummy laughs and it makes me feel stupid. But I’m not stupid. I know that there is something in that book that keeps making her cry. When she gives it to Daddy, I have to tell him not to ever give it back.

  February 17th, 1984 cont.