Well-behaved Women

by Emily Paull

  ‘He used to sit behind me in one of my uni classes. History.’

  ‘That explains it.’

  ‘Our first date, we went to the movies. Alex picked me up.

  I was so nervous that I nearly got into the driver’s seat.’

  Paul laughs. ‘Cute.’

  He walks me back to the station entrance and hugs me goodbye without letting his torso touch mine. As he turns to go, I realise he knows that Alex is going to break up with me.

  I miss my train by a minute. There isn’t another one going towards home for thirteen minutes, but on platform six, the doors of the Armadale line are yawning. I speed up to a jog and slip through the doors as the final warning sounds. In my head, I practise the things I want to say: worried things, loving things, angry things. But I am filled with the nothingness and the silence that has begun to stretch between us, and in the end, when I get to Alex’s house, he isn’t home anyway.

  * * *

  The next Sunday, I ask Dora about the diet books. She tells me about this man she loves, Kurt. They work together. Everything she does, she thinks about what Kurt would think of it, right down to buying bed linen and bath towels. Every Friday night, the whole office goes out. Sometimes it’s bowling, other times it’s just drinks. Four months ago, Dora and Kurt got drunk, and she told him how she felt.

  ‘He told me he could never feel the same way unless I lost some weight,’ she says, smiling as if this is something to be proud of.

  ‘He sounds like a charmer,’ I say.

  Her eyes narrow. Just like that, sparkle gone. ‘It’s for my own good.’

  ‘Why? You’re happy, aren’t you?’

  She hands me her credit card and the book she’s chosen, The Fast Diet. In silence, I ring it up. She thanks me, and I watch as she crosses the road and sits at her usual table under the yellow Lipton umbrella.

  * * *

  For a while, both Dora and Alex are absent from my life.

  Then one Sunday, a few months after my break-up, Dora walks into the shop. She smiles at me like nothing has happened. The relief is like a cool balm on my skin.

  ‘Hey, how are you?’ I call out, as she positions herself in front of the diet section.

  She looks up. ‘All right, thanks. You?’

  ‘Okay,’ I nod. She doesn’t need to hear my sob story. I’m just the girl behind the desk.

  Her lips twitch and she tilts her head, then goes back to the book. Satisfied, she brings it to the counter. ‘This one, please.’

  I glance at the title. French Women Don’t Get Fat. I want to say something, but I force myself into silence.

  Dora looks at me with her sparkling eyes, and she laughs. ‘Go on,’ she says. ‘Tell me that I shouldn’t let a man dictate my life.’

  My stomach is unsettled. ‘I just don’t understand why we choose people who want us to change.’

  Dora blinks at me as if she can see the evidence of heartbreak on my body, a look of great empathy and understanding on her face. ‘Maybe we like the idea of becoming the people they think we could be. I don’t think there’s a woman alive who’s never tried to change herself for a man.’ She laughs and winks at me. ‘But not this time. This one’s just for me.’

  A THOUSAND WORDS

  S ome people say that high school never really ends. That the things that happened to you there stay with you for the rest of your life. Up until that weekend, I had thought my high school friends would be my friends forever too. Those two tall boys, Jack and Cameron, were my bookends, and had been since the first day of Year Eight, when we’d found ourselves the only three without partners for the first group project. Together, we’d survived bullies, PhysEd and the end of year exams. Though we went to different universities, nothing felt like it had changed between us until that weekend. But as it turned out, we had already stopped being friends. We just didn’t know it yet.

  * * *

  It was the weekend of Groovin the Moo, and the sky was a petulant grey. Jack and I were in charge of packing the car, mostly by virtue of the fact that we were the only two ready to go.

  Jack’s car was a beat-up maroon station wagon, and the carpet in its footwells was sprinkled with sand and broken chips. I hated sitting in it, hated the lingering boy smell of fast food and BO that never quite came out of the seats. Not that I had much scope to criticise, given that I had no car of my own and had to do odd jobs around the house in order to earn the right to borrow Mum’s.

  As I stood behind the open boot with my hands on my hips, I wondered when exactly it was that Jack had got so skinny. As teens, we used to tease him because his mum called him String Bean, but watching him shift the pillows and esky to make more room for our bags, I finally understood where the name had come from.

  A car pulled into the driveway behind me. I turned to see a girl in a floral dress and leather jacket hiking her backpack up higher as she leaned through the passenger side window to say goodbye to the driver. She waved to us as Jack unfolded himself from the boot and adjusted his jeans.

  ‘Hey,’ she said, sliding her sunglasses onto the top of her head. ‘Sorry, I’m late.’

  Jack had been frowning all morning, but now he looked relieved. He hurried over to take her bag from her, and wrapped his arms around her in a hug.

  ‘This is Kira,’ Jack said, steering her towards me. ‘And that’s Sigmund.’ He gestured towards the DSLR camera slung around her neck. His cheeks swelled with pride as if it were their child.

  Kira smiled at me, her red lipstick creasing. She was Chinese, I thought, or maybe Indonesian. Her skin was flaw-less. I raised my hand to cover the blind pimple that had started forming on my cheek overnight.

  ‘As in Sigmund Freud?’ I asked, bumping my own bag higher on my shoulder.

  ‘Who’s that?’ said Jack.

  Kira took a step closer to me. ‘Yes! I’m a psychology major. I love his dream theories, even though they’ve all been disproved.’

  ‘Who’s Sigmund Freud?’ Jack said again, louder this time. He angled his body so the three of us were standing in a circle.

  ‘A famous psychiatrist. You know, the guy who said that all boys want to marry their mothers,’ I said, glancing at him.

  Kira nodded.

  Jack’s eyes were wide and confused. ‘Oh,’ he said. ‘I thought he might have been a musician.’

  Cam emerged from the house at that moment, nudging the door closed and locking it behind him. His jagged front-sweeping fringe, dyed black, hung in his eyes. He pushed it back with a hand covered in rings.

  Like Jack, Cam was extremely tall, but unlike Jack, he’d become quite muscular since high school. He’d joined the university’s social rugby team, and was ninety per cent shoulders as a result. The night before, he’d told us that he had got into a prestigious art program, like it was no big deal—even though the program only took four new students Australiawide every year.

  Seeing us all congregated on the driveway, Cam paused. ‘Oh, sorry, were you all waiting for me?’ His grin was toothy and deliberate.

  Earlier that morning, Cam had managed to sleep through an argument I’d had with Jack over the bathroom. He’d been intent on getting in there to shave, even though he’d already taken a forty-minute shower and used up all the hot water. Eventually, I had given up and taken my makeup bag through to the kitchen, where I attempted to put on mascara with the help of a compact mirror. I hadn’t seen Jack pay so much attention to his appearance since he’d invited Naomi Simpson to the Year Twelve Ball—he’d been just as insufferable then too. What did it matter if I put on eyeliner, I had thought to myself. It was just a weekend with the guys—I wouldn’t need to look perfect.

  Then, I saw Kira’s impossible lashes, and I felt grimy. Invisible. Ugly.

  What was worse, I could feel Jack looking at the two of us, side by side, making comparisons.

  I set to work, piling the sleeping bags and backpacks into the boot, smooshing them down hard so that the hatch would close.

  ‘Eas
y!’ said Jack, pretending to laugh. He reached past me and began reorganising everything, then closed the boot with care.

  Cam and Kira had already climbed into the back seat. I took a deep breath and slid into the passenger’s seat, balancing the map on my lap.

  ‘We’d better get on the road if we want to beat the traffic,’ I said.

  Jack slid on a pair of wrap-around sunglasses that made him look like a robot. ‘Don’t be so impatient, Amy,’ he muttered. ‘I have to get petrol.’

  I saw him glance at Kira in the rear-view mirror as she buckled her seatbelt.

  ‘If we’re stopping, I’ll run in and grab a Red Bull,’ she said, rummaging in her bag for some money.

  ‘I’ll buy you one,’ said Jack.

  A few weeks earlier, he had told me that he liked this girl, but it wasn’t until I saw her smiling politely in the back seat that I realised she knew.

  Cam yawned. ‘Me too, dude, if you’re buying.’

  ‘Anyone else?’ Jack asked.

  Kira smiled towards her lap, towards her camera, as she screwed on a lens.

  Jack swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.

  * * *

  The papers had been advertising the festival for weeks with full-page, full-colour ads. Grinspoon, Lisa Mitchell, Vampire Weekend—it seemed like all our favourite bands were playing.

  ‘Did you guys want to go?’ Cam asked. ‘It’s going to be awesome.’

  ‘Sure,’ I said. ‘If I can get that weekend off work.’

  ‘By the time the concert’s on, we’ll all be eighteen. We can make it a road trip. Maybe Shelley could drive us. She told me earlier she’d bought a ticket,’ Jack said.

  I looked at Cam, who was studying his glass of Southern Comfort and Coke. Shelley was Cam’s older sister, and he always went quiet when Jack brought her up. Over his shoulder, I could see her just inside the patio door, talking to someone on the phone.

  I measured my response, looking at Cam. ‘I like the bands. It could be fun. But we don’t have to if you don’t want to go with Shelley.’

  Jack swigged from his beer bottle and turned to Cam. ‘That’s stupid. Why should it matter if his sister is going or not. You don’t care, do you, Cam?’

  Cam shrugged and put his glass down a little too hard. ‘I don’t know why you’re so keen. The only thing you listen to are science podcasts.’

  Jack’s face flattened, and he picked at the label on his drink.

  I looked at each of them and sighed. ‘You’re right. It will be awesome. Let’s do it.’ A few weeks later, Cam and Shelley’s parents went away, and Shelley threw a party at their house. The three of us got to come along, on the condition that we wouldn’t rat her out.

  Cam, Jack and I spent most of the evening sitting in an inflatable kiddy pool, eating Cheezels off our fingers. Things between the boys were peaceful again, though a few times Jack suggested we go over and talk to Shelley and her friends.

  ‘Pass,’ said Cam, filling a water pistol from the pool next to his hip and shooting a stream of water onto Jack’s glasses. I stifled a laugh behind my hand.

  When I went inside to the bathroom later that night, I found Jack sitting with his back against the wall in the corridor. Beside him, Shelley’s bedroom door was closed, and the low, slow bassline of a song was audible from within. Jack had a beer in his hand, but he was just staring into it. He looked so crestfallen that when he glanced up at me, I pretended not to have seen.

  * * *

  ‘I can get us as far as Mandurah, then we’ll have to rely on the maps,’ I said, offering Jack the pages I’d printed off Google.

  He pushed them away and shook his head. ‘Just give me fair warning when there’s a turn coming up. I won’t remember these.’ The idea of getting lost made me feel tense. I looked at the notes I’d scribbled. ‘It’ll take about two hours to get there,’ I said.

  ‘Got my iPod,’ mumbled Cam, already threading the earphones into his ears.

  Next to him, Kira was sitting cross-legged with a copy of Lolita open in front of her. I wondered how she could sit like that on the tiny seat.

  ‘Hope you don’t get carsick,’ Jack said to her, leaning around to put his hand on her knee. ‘I have a no-vomit policy in my car.’

  She raised her eyebrows and kept reading, but I noticed she moved her knee back a fraction so it was further away. ‘I’m fine.’

  I turned the volume up on the radio and started scanning through the stations. I could see Jack watching me out of the corner of his eye as the car rolled out of the driveway and bumped onto the road.

  At the petrol station, he took his time, leaning against the car before he jogged in to pay. I shuffled down in the passenger seat and sighed. I could hear the scratch-scratch of Cam’s weird techno music and, every so often, the rustle of a page being turned.

  After five minutes, when Jack still wasn’t back, Kira unclicked her seatbelt and went in. I peered after her, and over the tops of the gas cylinders and the ice freezer, I saw Jack arguing with the man at the register, his hands gesticulating above his head.

  Kira put her hand on his arm to stop him waving it, and handed her card over to the man.

  * * *

  I’d arranged for us to check in at the Ocean Motel at midday, two hours earlier than they usually allowed. My father always said I was a stern negotiator. My mother said I was pushy. I didn’t really care either way; at least we wouldn’t miss the first sets. We were lucky to get a room at all, let alone two.

  We’d almost missed out entirely. Back in February, Jack had called me, worried because Shelley still hadn’t organised any accommodation. He wouldn’t call her, he said. He couldn’t. I didn’t tell him I knew why.

  ‘What if she doesn’t book a place in time? We know how unreliable she is.’ His voice came down the line mingled with the background noise of South Park.

  ‘Yeah,’ I said. I was trying to read the brief for my journalism class at the same time, so my voice was flat.

  He sighed. ‘We need to find somewhere to stay. It’s not like we can sleep in Shelley’s car.’

  ‘I know.’ I did a quick sum in my head. ‘And it will be too far to drive back after. We’ll need to sleep somewhere.’

  ‘Could we camp?’ I screwed up my face. ‘You can, but I’m getting a bed. And a shower, preferably. Think about it, Jack. It will be May. It will be muddy and freezing.’

  ‘Yeah …’

  I looked at the time on my phone. ‘I’ll organise somewhere, okay?’

  ‘Okay,’ he said, his voice triumphant. ‘That’s great, awesome. Thanks, Amy. And make sure you book space for Shelley, too.’

  ‘I will.’ ‘You’re the best. Thank you!’ He hung up without saying goodbye.

  I stared at the phone for a moment, eyebrows narrowed, unable to shake the feeling that I’d been tricked.

  By nine that night, the accommodation was booked, but we only had two beds. I would deal with who slept where later.

  * * *

  ‘We’re looking for Fremantle Road,’ I said.

  ‘Does that turn into Baldivis Road?’ Kira asked.

  I looked up from the map and craned my neck to read a passing sign. My stomach contracted. ‘Are we on Baldivis Road? Oh shit, we are. We’re way off course. When did that happen?’

  Jack’s jaw tensed up. ‘I’ll pull over.’ He found a housing development, abandoned for the weekend, and pulled into the car park at the sales office. I flipped through the pages of maps, trying to find where we were. Jack watched me, his lips pressed together.

  ‘I’m not good with directions,’ I said.

  Kira patted me on the shoulder, and I flinched.

  ‘They probably didn’t update the maps since the freeway was extended. We’ll be okay,’ she said.

  I nodded, blinking back tears of embarrassment, trying desperately to get the internet to work on my phone. Nothing would load. Jack made a grab for the maps.

  ‘I’ll ring someone,’ I said. �
��I’ll get my dad to look it up, or something.’

  Jack got out of the car, slamming the door behind him.

  ‘I am so sorry, Kira. She told me she knew where she was going,’ he muttered. He stalked over to the other side of the car park, his posture suggestive of a smoker without a cigarette.

  Kira blushed and excused herself. She stood in front of him while he gestured at me. She put her hand on his shoulder, and he folded his arms.

  The home phone rang out, so I called Dad on his mobile.

  ‘Hi, sweetheart. Are you there already? That was quick.’

  ‘No … We’re a bit lost. Can you tell me what exit it is to get to Bunbury from the freeway? I can’t get the internet to work on my phone.’ My voice was shaking, and I clenched my other hand in an effort to keep from bursting into tears.

  ‘You don’t take an exit. The road just ends, and there’s a roundabout.’

  I wiped my face, shame gurgling in my gut. ‘Right, okay. So I’m in Baldivis, I think. I just get back on the freeway?’

  ‘Yes, you’ve got a way to go yet. Call me if you get lost again, okay?’

  Cam put his hands on my shoulders, where Kira’s had been, and I felt calmer. He didn’t say anything.

  ‘Thanks, Dad,’ I said, and hung up. Taking a deep breath, I turned to Cam. ‘Back on the freeway.’

  He nodded. ‘I’ll tell Jack and Kira. And hey—don’t worry about him. You know what he’s like around girls.’

  While I was alone, I rooted around in my bag until I found my sunglasses. I hoped no-one would be able to tell that I was crying, but just in case, I stared out the window for the rest of the way.

  * * *

  A week out from the trip, I’d had yet another confusing phone call from Jack.

  I’d been in the shower, and the sound of my phone ringing was just loud enough for me to be unsure of whether I was imagining it. I wrenched the taps and wrapped a towel around myself, sticking my head out of the cubicle.

  The phone was on the bathroom counter. I picked it up and held it away from my wet face.

  ‘Hello?’