by Anita Heiss
♥
On Saturday morning I circled six or so units in The Age and headed out early, convinced I would have something by lunchtime. I had to. It was simply too hot to be doing anything other than sitting near the water. I was really missing Coogee for the sea breeze and the coastal walk and the Ladies Baths.
'Take my car, Peta – it's the quickest way to get to St Kilda.' Aunt handed me the keys to her faded red Cortina, a Blackfella's car if ever there was one. If the crocheted blanket in the back window wasn't enough, the stickers holding the back bumper bar together sure as hell gave it away: Koori Radio, Reconciliation Australia, Land Rights NOW!, Stop Black Deaths In Custody, Moving Forward Looking Blak! The slogans said it all. The tyres were bald, the car was dusty, but old Gemma was Aunt Nell's favourite family member. It was a tank of a car and I had no idea how the old girl manoeuvred it. It didn't have power steering and I was too scared to ask if it even took unleaded petrol. I was sure the car was as environmentally unfriendly as they came.
'Can I come with you?' Maya asked, looking gorgeous in her favourite purple dress.
'Oh darling, I can't take you today, it's for grown-ups. Maybe another day.' Maya was cute but I didn't have any problem saying, No, sorry, not today.
'Will you take me to Luna Park?' She was brazen at times, but maybe that's what kids were like these days.
Joe and Annie motioned and mimed behind her back: 'No, say no!' I couldn't understand what the drama was. She was a well-behaved little girl, and as I wasn't going to be staying with them much longer, I thought the least I could do was promise to take her to Luna Park one day.
'Of course, Maya, I'll take you and we'll have fun, won't we?' Joe and Annie shook their heads, but Maya ran off singing and clapping and I felt warm and fuzzy for doing something nice. See, I didn't need to have kids. I could just be nice to other people's kids, get lots of kid-cred, appreciation from the parents and family – and then give them back.
Not having a car of my own in Sydney, I wasn't confident driving down Centre Road, turning onto the Nepean Highway, then left onto North Road, but as soon as I saw the ocean in the distance and Brighton up ahead my spirits lifted, even if my forty-kilometre speed limit didn't. I was driving like the old lady the car belonged to. Even though other drivers were passing me and shaking their heads, I knew that Aunt knew every scratch on Gemma and I didn't plan on getting another one.
It was a steaming hot day and the area was crowded. I drove along the Esplanade looking for a park, finding one immediately outside the St Kilda Sea Baths, but there were coin-only parking meters and I didn't have any change. There was no change in the ashtray, just too many butts. I was glad I was giving up smoking. It really was a disgusting habit. Scratching around the car and the bottom of my handbag looking for change, I was getting really frustrated, just as I did back in Sydney, where parking meters at some beaches only took credit cards. I recalled being outraged the first time I had to use one at Bronte, and thought it was a very strategic way of keeping Blackfellas off the beach, as most didn't have credit cards. Now I had a wallet full of cards, but no change. I didn't want to lose my spot, nor did I want to get a ticket, so I looked pathetic and desperate as I approached a man sitting in a white van nearby.
'Excuse me, you wouldn't have some change, would you?'
'Sure, what do you need, love?' he said in a friendly tone.
'I've got five in change, need another two – can you change five dollars?' I held out the note.
'Can't break it, sorry, but here's the two dollars to make up the difference.'
'Oh, really, thanks, that's very kind of you.'
'Pay it forward.' I turned to walk away, and he called back, 'Oh, and nice legs.'
It was going to be a hard task to avoid the men in Melbourne, they were friendly and cheeky, but were my 'nice legs' only worth two dollars? I was almost tempted to try again to see if I could do better.
I still had time before the first open-for-inspection, so I took a walk around the Sea Baths precinct. It was too early for a drink, so I got a green tea to settle my nerves and sat under an orange umbrella at Beachcomber Cafe and just looked out to the pier and the marina. I took a photo on my phone and sent a text to the girls and to James. He wouldn't know it was a group text, unless he asked Alice.
At St Kilda havin cuppa bout 2 find new flat. Wish u were here! Luv ya, Px
I was starting to relax, feeling right at home among all the couples eating breakfast, the mothers and the fathers having time out together on the weekend, and then I heard him: a noisy, crying, whining, bawling, complaining brat.
I got up and strolled around the building reading the signs; there was a wellness centre, a tanning studio, a health club and a 'Day Spa Dreaming'. I was too scared to go in, just in case it was one of those places that tries to sell a 'traditional Indigenous experience' without any Indigenous involvement in the process at all. Like the Native Americans' dream catchers and medicine wheels, completely bastardised by hippies up the north coast who mass-produced them, probably believing they'd been Indigenous in a past life. I wasn't sure what 'dreaming' would be offered in the luxurious day spa, other than the obvious dreaming you'd do if you fell asleep during a relaxing massage.
As I walked along Jacka Boulevard, my phone went, and it was James.
'Got your message, how's it going?'
'I'm just walking towards the first unit and I'm laughing at the palm trees that line the street like an attempted Venice Beach.' I half expected to see some bikini-clad rollerblader zoom past me any minute. I didn't, but a red Golf passed me and I thought of Alice back there in Coogee and I smiled. 'I'm here now, gotta go, I'll call you later.'
'Love you, babe.'
'You too.' And I hung up.
The first unit I entered on Grey Street had a hot young agent in a pale linen suit showing people through. I liked the space as soon as I walked in. I wanted it. It would be perfect. One bedroom, newly renovated kitchen and bathroom, with a small shared courtyard out the back.
'Can I have an application form, please?' I held out my hand.
'Hi, I'm Max. You'd look great in this flat.' He smiled and handed me a form. Max was right. I would, and in fact did already look great in the flat. But there were about twenty other people looking at the same property. There were couples, single women, parents, and artsy-looking folk. No-one looked over forty, which I found interesting.
It was promising to see who wanted to move into the area that I'd decided I would call home for the next year. Problem was they all appeared on sight to be worthy applicants, so I had to think about what would set me apart, give me that edge that would mean I would get the lease over someone else. I needed to be original when I filled out the form. Could I simply write, PS I'd look great in this flat, just as the agent had suggested? Or had he said it to every single girl who walked in? James had warned me about real estate agents.
I put Alice down as a referee because someone employed as head of department at a private Catholic school would have to carry some serious weight for sure. I decided that putting Liza down from the Aboriginal Legal Service was an equally bad idea. I also put down my old landlord, who'd offered to keep my flat in Coogee on notice for when I returned. I handed Max the form.
'You have a good chance, Peta.' Max winked at me, and I thought, You are way too cheeky and way too cute, Mr Max.
seven
Manipulative Max
First thing Monday morning, agent Max called me on the mobile to talk about the flat. 'There are some things you forgot to fill out on the form. Do you have time to do it after work?' I was sure I filled everything out on the day, but if he said I'd left something out then I must have.
'Sure, but I won't be able to get there until six.'
'We shut at five. I can meet you at the George Hotel around the corner from the unit at six – do you know it?'
'I'll find it, and I'll see you there.' It seemed the George was going to be my local. I punched the air like a
sports star who had just won gold in the 400-metre butterfly. It was obvious I'd landed the flat I wanted – why else would he need me to fill more forms out? Life was going to be very good in Melbourne.
'You look happy.' Sylvia appeared at my desk without warning. She was one of those phantom types, one minute there, the next gone, and then back again.
'I'm fairly sure I just got a great flat in St Kilda. I'm meeting the agent after work to go through the forms again.'
'Sounds great, congrats.'
'We're meeting at the George, do you know it?'
'Of course, it's also known as the Melbourne Wine Bar. But why are you meeting him there? Be careful, won't you.'
'What do you mean?'
'Now, Peta, I know you're an adult and everything, and you're my boss, but you do know that real estate agents deal in deceit every day, don't you.' She sounded just like James.
'Really?' I'd rented straight from an owner in Sydney and he was more like a father to me than a landlord. If only my mum had chosen him as one of her many husbands.
'Yes – and it's part of their job to tell lies to innocent, unsuspecting candidates, just like you.' Sylvia was adamant as she went through my diary and slotted in different events I had been invited to attend.
'Gees, that's a bit brutal isn't it, Sylvia?'
'I'm just worried about our new resident is all. Be careful, boss.'
'First of all, don't call me boss. I don't play the hierarchy thing. And secondly, thank you for your concern, but I'm not as naive as you imagine.' I liked that Sylvia was being a bit protective of me as the new person in town. It was exactly what Liza would do if someone from another state started work at the ALS in Sydney.
'Trust me, Peta, I know what I'm talking about. I'm not as old as you, but I've been around the block a few times, you know. I'm telling you, for every property deal he'll have a woman.' Sylvia was serious.
'Yes, and I can see why, because he's hot.' I showed her Max's business card with his photo on it.
'See, don't you think there's something conceited about someone who has a photo of themselves on their business card?' Sylvia said in an I-told-you-so voice, raising one eyebrow at the same time – something I always wished I could do.
'Hmmm, I don't know. I was thinking we should get them too!' I was joking, but she did have a point. I didn't know anyone else who had a photo on their business card.
♥
I arrived a little early at the bar. It was dimly lit, so everyone looked better than they would otherwise, and I seemed even more gorgeous than usual. I didn't need a photo on my business card to prove it. I ordered a gin'n'tonic and sat, just looking at the shelves lined with bottles. I noticed their top shelf spirits were really top shelf, about ten foot up top, and wondered how expensive they must've been. Another whole shelf was lined with bottles of ouzo, and I pondered whether or not it was the Melbourne Greek influence that had done that. Was the owner Greek? George was a Greek name after all. It made me think of Dannie's George and I felt a pang of homesickness so I texted her as I waited for Max to arrive.
Hi D – just wantd 2 tell u I'm in bar called George! Made me homesik 4 u guys. Luv 2 ur mob. News on embryo??? Px
Dannie responded almost immediately, which really touched me, as it would be chaos in her house at that time of night, trying to feed kids and dogs and get homework done, et cetera.
Hi, lovly 2 hear frm u. Messy mob send luv. No embryo yet, will let u no 4 sure. Miss u, D x
I looked around the bar and noticed an extraordinary number of men – straight men, businessmen, grungy men, men with men friends, men with women friends, men of all denominations. And then I missed James and sent him a text:
About to sign lease for flat. I miss you! Px
I turned my phone off because I knew he'd call and I couldn't really talk there and then. I smiled as I looked around some more and I knew this would be my local, even if I didn't end up living in St Kilda. Being faithful didn't mean being blind. The no-sex rule meant I'd have to at least be having a damned good perve.
Max arrived and kissed me on the cheek, which seemed very forward and unprofessional.
'Hi Peta, great to see you. Can I get you a drink?' he asked enthusiastically.
'Oh, okay, I'll have a gin'n'tonic.'
'You know this is a wine bar.'
Normally, I would have said, 'So what?' but I wanted the flat, so played the game. 'Right, well then I guess I might have a wine. Can I see a wine list?' Already I was thinking, You're a knob, and you can stick the flat keys where the sun don't shine.
'I'd suggest something from the Geelong region,' Max said, while I looked down the list of whites.
'Really, is their wine as delicious as the football team looks?' I thought I was funny, but he just rolled his eyes.
'Actually, I think I'll try a sauvignon blanc from the Yarra Valley.'
'Oh no, if it's a sauvignon blanc you're after, try the Kettle Lake from Central Victoria.' It's just wine, I thought to myself. This was getting too serious and too wanky and it had to end.
'Hmmmm, Kettle Lake, would that be to go with the Kettle Chips?' I couldn't help but laugh at my own joke, but Max didn't seem to think it was funny. The barman who overheard did, though, and laughed out loud.
'The lady will have the Yarra Valley Sauvignon Blanc,' said Max. And that was it. I couldn't stand it any more. He'd pissed me off. James would never have ventured to tell me what to drink. I wanted to get down to business and end the 'meeting'.
'So, have you got the forms for me to go through?'
'Oh, they're in the car. I thought you might like to go and look at the flat one more time and if you like it, we can seal the deal tonight.' A sly grin came over his face.
Something didn't feel right, but I wanted the flat, and only two sips of wine had lubricated me enough to chill and just go with the flow.
'We should go,' I said almost immediately. 'We can walk from here, can't we? And shouldn't we get the papers from your car?'
'Oh, we can get them on the way back.'
As we walked towards the unit I felt a little light-headed, but not drunk. I was excited about seeing my new home. I started dreaming about where I would put the few knick-knacks I'd brought south with me and momentarily forgot Max was beside me, so I was startled when he opened the door to the flat, slid one arm around my waist, spun me around and kissed me. I pushed him away.
'Get off me, you fucking jerk! What do you think you're doing? That's assault you know!' I yelled, and ran out of the building, frightened and shocked. 'I don't want the flat!' I shouted back at him, and kept going. James and Sylvia had been right.
I was relieved to be sleeping at Aunt Nell's that night, and let myself drift off without having to worry about renting for the next few days.
When I woke in the morning and turned my phone on there was a message from James asking about the flat. I sent him a text from the train on the way to work. I didn't want to fib, but I didn't want him to worry about me any more than he already was.
Owner wanted more $, can't afford. No worries. Call later on train. Px
He texted me back straight away:
I can help with the money if you like. Love you babe, x
That was generous James. And grammatical James: he always spelled everything out, even when he texted. Nothing was too much for his 'babe'. I could never take his money, though, it went against everything I said and believed in about women losing their independence when they hooked up with men.