‘Do you hear me?’
I nodded dumbly; it hurt to breathe.
She glanced over her shoulder. Lots of kids were heading our way. ‘Crazy bitch.’ She let go of my shoulder; I felt the marks her fingers had left.
I picked up my sneakers and rushed to the girls’ dunnies, where I locked myself in a cubicle.
Voices’ words were usually nonsensical. They seemed to like blood, the river, and the colour red. I had become used to them the way you might become used to mild tinnitus, a dull backache, an irregular heart rhythm. But in the cubicle, Voices did something new — they attacked me. They grew louder, criticising me, calling me names.
I sat on the toilet, pulling at my hair, trying to release some of the pressure Voices were making in my head. I rolled up my sweater sleeves and scratched at my forearms until they bled, but that brought no relief either.
Girls came and went. The sounds of peeing, of changing pads and tampons, the occasional splosh of a shit. Taps running. Smoking. Giggling. Gossiping. All mixed up with Voices.
At the lockers again at the end of the day, I couldn’t remember if I’d been to my afternoon classes, or spent the whole time in the toilet. Voices had quietened to background mumbles. I hurried to the school bus bay.
‘Piss off out the way!’ Somebody pushed me from behind on the bus steps, and then raced past inside.
‘Lucky,’ said the bus driver, scowling, as he closed the door — locking in the smell of sweat and snot and Impulse body spray and ripe bananas. ‘I was about to leave without you.’
A ball bounced down the aisle, and the bus driver shouted at everybody to settle down.
Donna Doherty and Marie Caruso (Petra’s new best friends) were sitting in my second-row-from-the-back seat. They whispered to each other and giggled as I turned and did the walk of shame to sit down the front with the nerds.
SATURDAY 8 APRIL 1989
I just got home — it’s not even midnight.
I didn’t feel like it, but Kim & Mahersy convinced me to go to The Exchange with them tonight (nobody goes to Jay Jays anymore). Every time Kim looked away Mahersy was staring at me with his husky-dog eyes. Creep.
Speaking of creeps — Fricky was there. He asked me how Christos was. How should I know?
I didn’t see Petra until she pushed in front of me at the bar, standing on my foot with one of her pointy little heels. She asked how I & my adult friends were going. She snatched at the diamante bracelet she’d given me for my birthday, but it didn’t break. The cherry on top (I bet that’s how he thinks of me) was Mr Haigh snaking in between Petra & me, an arm around my waist. He squeezed me & offered to buy me a drink. I said no thank you & pulled away from him. He asked if everything was OK, & I told him I was waiting for my boyfriend. ‘Christos Loukas?’ he spat the S’s drunkenly at me. His twinkly eyes stopped twinkling then. Petra gave me a condescending look & hissed ‘Slut’ as she bumped past, spilling her drink on me. Mr Haigh was acting all pompous & offended, when I looked towards the door & — just like a story, like a song — Dean Cola walked in.
He said he’d been looking for me, had tried Jay Jays first. Coke ordered a Coke (if nothing else, I still have my sense of humour), & a West Coast Cooler for me. We took our drinks to the sofas in the corner. Dean wasn’t drinking because he was still on painkillers for his bruised rib. Plus he was driving. I’d never talked to him sober. He was nice. Polite. Maybe a bit shy? A gentleman, Pop would have said.
He sat gingerly & thanked me for the night Pop drove him home. He had a bruise on his face where he’d copped the accidental kick from Christos’s footy boot that had knocked out his mouthguard & chipped his tooth.
We talked about the books we were reading — he’s reading Patrick White.
When I finished my drink, he offered to return the favour of Pop’s lift & drive me home. It was early, but I agreed. I presumed he wanted to do more than just drive home. I looked for Kim to tell her I was leaving, but couldn’t find her. I saw Christos join Fricky at the bar, & I hurried back to Dean so Christos wouldn’t see me.
It was cold out, cold that burns inside your nose and head. Dean gave me his denim jacket to wear. An arm around me would have been better, but he didn’t offer that; I thought his rib must have been too sore. The seats were freezing in the Cola Hardware pick-up truck. As we drove the dark stretch home to Broken River Road, he told me he was moving to Melbourne soon. That’s why he wanted to see me: to say goodbye.
My heart emptied out. ‘What about Tasmania?’ I said.
He said that was still his dream — but after uni. I told him I wanted to go with him. I was serious, but he laughed like he was an adult & I was a child.
He parked at our gate & turned the car off, & the interior light on. The windows started to fog up. I tried to think of something intelligent to say, but I suddenly had nothing. The engine ticked as it cooled, & Voices filled the quiet with their mumbles. I was sure Dean was going to kiss me. I started worrying about haemorrhaging after sex. When he didn’t kiss me, I undid my seatbelt, slid across & kissed him. I felt the white stuff on my undies, & this — I can’t explain, a wanting, an aching, swelling inside me about to burst if he didn’t touch me. It was like nothing I’ve ever experienced before, not even on New Year’s, & I didn’t care if I bled to death, or got pregnant. For a moment I stopped being ashamed of my feelings, of my body. It’s what must have happened to Mum. Uncontrollable desire for however many minutes, which led to a lifetime of regret. I think I felt an erection through his jeans. I pulled his hand urgently up under my top to my breasts. I didn’t even care if he saw my bruises. But he pushed me away. He said he liked me too much. I felt more ashamed than ever. Such an idiot, thinking he would want me. Stupid tears came, I couldn’t help it. Humiliated, I think, not sad tears. I blurted something I shouldn’t have: that I knew what his family did back in Italy.
He half-smiled (I saw his chipped front tooth) & asked if I’d heard that from Christos. &, get this, he warned me to be careful of Christos. I understand everything now — these 2 guys have just been playing off against each other for my attention.
Mum flicked on the porch light from the inside. Dean said something else I didn’t hear because I slammed the car door behind me & Barky barked. I hurried through the gate towards the house. I didn’t look back.
Fuck you, Dean Cola!
MONDAY 10 APRIL 1989
Just stuffed myself with grilled cheese on toast. Now sitting on the floor, wearing Dean’s denim jacket (I still have it from Saturday night). It smells of him, of male & Fruit Tingles. I don’t understand him (or his sister). What did I do wrong?
Catsby is playing with the toy mouse I bought him. He makes me smile through my tears as I rock. I ache, I ache, I ache.
WEDNESDAY 12 APRIL 1989
I understand why Fitzgerald called it The Great Gatsby.
Mr Haigh gave me a C for my English assignment. I feel sick. I’ve never had a C before for anything — not even maths. I can’t believe I actually thought Mr Haigh respected me & my work. None of his flattery was genuine; he was just tricking me. I’ve been skipping his classes — reading books in the laundromat across the road from school instead.
I am so stupid. Thinking I could be a writer, or even get into uni! I asked Mum to put my name down for a job at Target.
I’ve realised why Dean played ‘Suzanne’ for me — he was making fun of me (or it wouldn’t surprise me if he’d forgotten my name again). I snapped that record in half & threw it in the bin (Mum won’t notice — I can’t imagine her ever listening to Leonard Cohen).
MONDAY 17 APRIL 1989
Christos’s mother fell down the stairs at her house. She’s hurt pretty badly. Christos has gone to Melbourne. He rang me just before he left, really upset. He’s not that bad.
WEDNESDA
Y 19 APRIL 1989
Poor, poor Christos. He rang from Melbourne to tell me that his father died from a heart attack last night. & his mother is still in intensive care. I feel so sad for him. Maybe I’ll go out with him when he gets back.
THURSDAY 20 APRIL 1989
Went to Kim’s after school. Drank vodka & orange juice & smoked some bongs.
Mum has not been looking after the bonsai. They have all dried out. I think that’s why Joey Wild & Christos’s mum got hurt & why Christos’s father died. It is my job now to tend the bonsai — Jesus in the stained-glass door says it is my mission from God, & he has made me immune to their poison.
FRIDAY 21 APRIL 1989
I don’t remember writing that entry last night. Shouldn’t smoke dope. So much worse for me than alcohol.
Mum finally got the black paint, and I’ve painted my room.
?DAY 1989
I’m not sure of the day. Jesus in the door says it’s not important. What is important, He says, is the bonsai. I got a book from the library on bonsai care, & Jesus watches me, making sure I am tending them correctly. But if He is watching Me or I, is He also watching She?
I’m becoming more & more confused about whether I am ‘I’ or ‘She’. & whether I/She really exists or is just a character in a story somebody is making up. & if so, am I Me or She Her? I/She keep/s going over & over this, & it’s doing my/her head in. From now on I/She will refer to the self as ‘She’ as it seems less confusing.
?DAY 1989
Why didn’t she see the pattern, the connection, before?
Suzanne (Leonard Cohen)
Suzon (A Bar at the Folies-Bergere)
Sylvia (Plath)
Sidney (Madsen)
Jesus in the door says the answer is in Bon Jovi’s ‘Slippery When Wet’ album.
SUZANNE
SUZ_N
SYL_IA
SI_NEY
SLI_ _ E_Y _ _ EN _E_
OVDPPRWHWT is the question.
?DAY 1989
She has decoded the ‘Slippery When Wet’ album: the first & last words of each song. It has something to do with Joey Wild. She knew it!
The rock shot love
Once a prayer
Doctor cure
It’s alive
You, your hands
— She, if you
As I say goodbye, Joey Wild
?DAY 1989
Now that she knows the code she keeps this diary hidden, with other secret things like her address book, in a box beneath a decoy box, in the monsters’ cupboard. ‘DO NOT OPEN’ written on the side is a trick because the box is turned to face the back of the cupboard. Only Jesus’s subjects will know where to look.
?DAY 1989
She thinks it’s true that Bon Jovi is right & she might have had something to do with the attack of Joey Wild & Christos’s mum falling & Christos’s dad dying not physically but by not tending the bonsai correctly but she understands it all now the process watering pruning trimming wiring watering the Satsuki Azalea & the Silver Birch Voices were roaring before in her head She tried scratching & pulling out her hair to release the pressure She tried banging her head against the wall but Faye yelled at her to stop making so much noise have to watch that one she is on the wrong side Voices are quieter now just mumbling in the monsters cupboard & taking care of the boxes & Jesus is taking care of her & Suzanne & Suzon & Sylvia
FRIDAY 28 APRIL 1989
She’s feeling better today. More focused. Voices quieter. Smoking dope makes her paranoid, that’s all. Nothing wrong with her mind.
She’s definitely given up on the idea of university. It would be too hard to concentrate on study — with Jesus, the monsters, Bon Jovi & Voices annoying her. Plus her bonsai job takes up so much time. They need a lot of watering, sometimes 5 times a day. & constant monitoring. A job at Target will be less mentally draining. More energy for the bonsai.
She rang Joey Wild, but got a disconnection message. Not sure what to do now. Go back to consult Bon Jovi?
Keep the bonsai alive so Dean Cola can live. Keep the bonsai alive so Dean Cola can live. Keep the bonsai alive so Dean Cola can live. If the bonsai dies, Dean Cola dies. If the bonsai dies dean cola dies. IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI DIES DEAN COLA DIES IF THE BONSAI
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THURSDAY 4 MAY 1989
She has almost finished her villanelle for Dean Cola. She’ll write it in here tomorrow. Phone. Hang on.
It was Dean Cola on the phone! Dean Cola! She can’t believe it. A sign. A reward for tending the bonsai correctly. He asked for one last chance. He invited her to Sandro D’Angelo’s party with him tomorrow night. He said
SIDNEY WIPED her eyes, and took The Poem, faded and scraggly, from her pocket. She unfolded it, and smoothed it gently as she placed it back where it belonged, before steeling herself and reading on.
WEDNESDAY 8 NOVEMBER 1989
I’ve been in hospital for a long time (as you can see from the date). Not the general part, but the psychiatric Cuckoo’s Nest part. It’s locked off with an alarmed security door. Mum had me admitted. I wasn’t allowed to take this diary with me because of the metal-ring binding. You can’t take anything sharp, or glass, or belts — nothing that could be used for self-harm, or cutting killing yourself. I ripped out the last page on which I’d written a poem. I was obsessed with it and kept it with me as a talisman to keep me safe. That, and (even more weirdly) my ‘Handbook of Art’ textbook, which apparently I studied compulsively.
I don’t remember what happened right before my hospital admission. Mum, Auntie Stella, Nan, and Pop had gone up to the pokies for the weekend and they said that when they came home, I wouldn’t leave my room. I refused to talk or eat. Not sure how long I was like that. When I finally came out and spoke, I apparently said that Jesus had told me to get the poison out of me — I’d cut my wrists with a broken glass. Not badly. I didn’t faint. But there was enough blood for Mum to take me to the hospital. The doctor said I was suicidal and recommended I be admitted to the psychiatric unit, and Mum signed the papers.
All That I Remember About Dean Cola Page 19