She plucked Tilley off the ground and held her in her arms. She rarely picked her up – she was too big for that sort of thing and usually protested she wasn’t a baby anymore. Today she didn’t. She clung to her shoulders.
“Come and sit at the table with me Til’,” she said softly into her ear, walking her over to a seat, and letting her sit in her lap.
Tilley played with her hair for a moment, wrapping a strand around a finger, her face concentrated, deep in thought.
“Mummy, why are you sad?” she asked, her smile still tugging downwards.
She thought about how she would answer this one. Usually she would brush it aside and pretend everything was ok. That she wasn’t sad at all. But Tilley would know she was lying. She had to open herself out to Tilley and treat her with the respect she deserved. She was a child, but a clever one, and she was well aware that children were capable of understanding and experiencing adult emotions too. She knew that much.
“Mummy was thinking about her brother, Ben, and it made her sad,” she said choosing her words carefully. Tilley knew she had a brother, but she rarely spoke about him. That made her sad too. It was like he had disappeared from everywhere.
“Why did it make you sad?” Tilley continued, her face perplexed now.
Again, Evie had to think about this one. Why was she sad? Because it had been such a tragic lost? Such a violent end? Such an unwarranted one? Because he should still be here with them at this time?
All of those things. But mostly because
“I miss him,” she said. That was honest. That was true.
Tilley looked sad, she looked down for a moment like she was trying to compute the sentiment. Then she put her arms around her tightly and squeezed so hard Evie thought she might take the wind out of her.
“That’s okay Mummy. Now you have me, and I have you. We don’t have to be lonely.”
Those words, expressed in the child’s voice, made her want to cry again, but she bit back the tears and squeezed her daughter back in return.
Children could always surprise you. They had a way of understanding things in such an intimate way. Fresh from the universe, they gave their opinions in such an un-biased way. Like the world hadn’t stripped them of everything that was real and authentic and replaced it with a fake narrative – one that wasn’t their own.
Evie wanted to return to that place – where Tilley was. She knew she could, she had to keep digging, and she needed G. That was certain. Something about him made her wanted to rediscover those stories, maybe even rediscover herself.
26
Finding him
(2017, Redfern)
Cross, cross, jab, jab, cross and again. Cross, cross, jab, jab, cross.”
She listened to him saying the words. His voice low and direct. The man he was sparring with danced around him, while he made small movements, holding his hands up, as the fists flew in his direction. His eyes fixed on the man he was training.
“That’s it – keep going. Upper-cut, upper-cut and then cross.”
The formations kept coming – they had practised them before. It was like a series of synchronised movements that he was prepared for. But his focus was complete. She was about a metre away from them, and he still hadn’t noticed her presence. He was single-minded.
He was wearing a t-shirt which was cut off at his shoulders and revealed his lean but muscled arms. He was sweating, beads running down his forearms, dropping to the ground gracefully. His tattoos formed more intricate lines, dark against his even darker skin. She wondered what it might be like to be held by those arms. If he would hold her tightly, or carefully like she was something precious. She’d never been held like that before.
His eyes focussed on hers.
He smiled at her and winked an eye.
“Cross again, jab, jab,” he called – like he could do the things both at the same time. The boxing came to him so effortlessly, like a quiet meditation.
“Hold up, mate,” he said to his sparring partner in between sequences.
The man turned to look at her, like he had sensed a third presence all along.
“Take five,” G said, authoritative, direct.
He headed over to her, and they awkwardly went to say hello. What was the right thing to do in such a situation? Nod her head, smile at him, hug him even? She wasn’t sure what the protocols were. She had shared more with him than anyone in a long time, maybe ever, but physical contact had always been difficult for her. It didn’t come easily.
Finally, he brushed her cheeks with his lips, his hand pressing the inside of her arm. He smelt of sweet sweat and flesh. The movement and the sensory association unsteadied her.
He kept his hand on her clutching her arm, as though to hold her up.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, his dark eyes soft but confused.
“I came to say hello,” she said slightly sheepishly.
“You have my number, you could have called me,” he said with a laugh.
She wanted to tell him that she wanted to see him. Face-to-face, in person. But she couldn’t. The phone conversation wasn’t enough. She needed to see his broad dark face. She missed the sight of him, the smell of him, his tone. Too soon. She couldn’t reveal that.
She shrugged her shoulders and made a joke of it.
“I came to see you in your natural habitat.”
“Is that so?” he raised an eyebrow, like he didn’t quite believe her but was willing to go along with it.
“Yeah,” she murmured. His hand was still clutching her arm.
How did it go with your old man?” he asked, so close to her she could barely breathe.
“Not great,” she managed. “Not ideal. But I asked some questions. That’s something right?” she said.
“Yeah – yeah, it is.”
He nodded his head and kept his eyes fixed on her.
Momentarily she wondered if he was just helping her. If he was the kind of person who felt for a lost soul. A guru of sorts. An emotional savant. Someone who was just willing to lend her a hand. Maybe he didn’t really feel anything else for her. Maybe he wasn’t attracted to her. At least not in the way she was attracted to him. Maybe she had imagined the whole thing. Her heart skipped a beat at the revelation. Of course he didn’t. He was too good for her. Too kind.
“Listen, I’ve just got to finish up this session, and then maybe we can catch up. I want to hear all about it.”
She nodded her head, still perturbed by the thought that he might just be being kind.
“The boys are training this evening at Redfern park,” he said. She knew what he meant by the boys, the Rabbitohs. The local NRL team. In Redfern they were like brothers. Part of the family. When they trained the locals went out to watch. “Why don’t you come with me?”
She hesitated for a moment. Was she making a mistake about him? Was she investing too much in this relationship emotionally with no hope for return?
Don’t be ridiculous Evie, she told herself. Stop imagining a future with this man. Stop it. It wasn’t possible. She could never be that person – she couldn’t just step into a loving relationship. She couldn’t step into any relationship. Her past was enough indication of that. She wasn’t built for that sort of thing. She wasn’t wired for it.
But she could accept his friendship. Baby steps.
Baby steps, she repeated.
She nodded her head. “Sure, where should I meet you?”
And that was enough. That was a step forward.
27
All things take time
(2017, Redfern)
They sat down on the bottom step of the bleachers with the rest of the locals. She felt nervous, skittish. She wasn’t sure why. Men made her uncomfortable. Relationships made her uncomfortable. Kindness made her uncomfortable.
This place was starting to break her down, and open. She wasn’t sure what she would find on the inside – if anything at all. Maybe it would just be hollow, empty, eroded.
She hoped not.
“So, how did it go with your dad?”
She sighed loudly. Tough first question.
“It was painful,” she said finally.
“What do you mean?”
She breathed in deeply, wondering how much she should tell him. All of it? Maybe, she could share that with him.
“I managed to ask him four questions. Not in a row or anything. I just picked whichever seemed right. He denied all of it. Like it never happened.”
He nodded his head.
“You don’t seem surprised.”
“Should I be?”
“Yes! I mean it was your idea to ask the questions. You weren’t expecting an honest response?” They had never talked about what the responses might be, they’d only talked about the questions. Maybe he had always thought the pursuit would be futile. Surely not?
“I wasn’t expecting him to just answer. If he’s the type of man you’ve described him as being he’s not going to just come clean. That would mean he was wrong,” his eyes darted from her to the field, where one of the players was threatening a try. The home team was divided in two and playing against each other. His eyes swooped up to meet hers.
“He was wrong,” she responded bluntly.
“I know – but he won’t be able to admit that was the case.”
“Do you think he knows it deep down?”
She hated speculating about him. It made her feel like she might understand his psyche – and she didn’t want to understand it. She wanted to keep him unfamiliar. Unknown. Where he belonged.
“Probably. He’s probably trying to cover it up though. Make himself feel like it was all okay. I dunno,” he added with the shake of head. Maybe he was telling her more about him than her dad.
“It didn’t work,” she finally said.
“Give it time. Sometimes you have to chip away at the ice for a long time to discover something,” he added, eyes back on the field.
“Like a sculpture?” she mocked. He was back to his poetic self.
28
Brief and fleeting happiness
(2017, Redfern)
He walked her back to her place that evening. They didn’t say much as they followed the path back home. It was like some sort of ominous preamble. Like when they got to the gate they would finally discover what each other thought. And while the signs had all been good it was hard to tell. It was always hard to tell. Knowing someone’s heart and mind was virtually impossible. Sometimes it was even hard to know your own. Most of the time.
They stopped at the grey gate. It was dark out now, and despite the street lamps it was hard to see the expression on his face. To discern what he might be thinking.
Silence. Nothing but the traffic, the tooting horns, and the strains of semi-drunk people and a car alarm.
“You didn’t have to walk me home. I can fend for myself,” she said quietly.
“I wouldn’t expect otherwise,” he responded. That familiar twang, a little hard around the edges now.
“So you’ll go and see him again?” he asked her, eyes searching for the response.
She nodded slowly.
“You’ll get more out of him next time, I’m sure,” he added.
She wasn’t sure if that was the case. But he was a man, maybe he understood men better than she did.
“Do you want me to come with you?” he asked again, soft, honest, authentic again.
“No, he wouldn’t appreciate that,” she said flatly.
“Why? He a racist?” Straight-up, no preamble.
She owed him the honestly, and nodded her head.
“That’s ok. I get it. Fuck, actually, I don’t get it.” He laughed.
Now, he was more close to her than ever before. It was like the honesty had drawn him in. She could smell his salty skin. He smelt wonderful.
“Maybe I’ll take you to see my old man instead,” he laughed softly — eyes on her lips and then flicking back.
“Is that right?”
“I haven’t seen him in years.” Eyes back on her lips.
“Is that what you want?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe.”
Moment of hesitation and then his lips brushed hers. She hadn’t kissed someone in a while. Years to be exact. She hadn’t felt that emotion for anyone. Except him.
He tasted sweet and tangy. His lips were firm against her own. His hand was pressed against her back. With him she felt safe. She felt warm on the inside. Like she could open out to him and it would be okay. He wouldn’t take advantage. She opened her lips slightly and felt his tongue scrape the bottom of her lip. Soft. Demanding nothing at all. Just his warmth in return.
So she let him have it. She needed him. She wanted him.
She’d never wanted anyone at all.
Not at all.
Except him.
The kiss continued, more urgently now, until finally she snapped back.
Slowly, she thought to herself. Slowly.
They were both learning.
She caught his expression. Off guard. Watching her lips.
Intimacy. She didn’t know the meaning of the word until this moment.
She breathed deeply. “I should go inside,” she said to me finally.
“Of course,” he said, nodding a few times. Like he wasn’t sure himself what had happened.
“You’ll call me then,” he added.
“No,” she said cheekily pushing the gate open. “You’ll call me.” She had never been cheeky before. She couldn’t afford to be.
“Yeah. I will.”
She let herself into that blue door and then closed it promptly behind her.
She stood there for a moment, back pressed against the door. Knowing he was still outside.
She smiled to herself.
Momentarily, she felt happy. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever felt that way.
She liked it.
29
Love
(2017, Redfern)
Something about that kiss made her think of her mother. Love had always perplexed her. Maybe it was because she couldn’t quite understand the relationship between her parents. Why her mother had stayed. Why had she endured him? Why had she lasted it out till the bitter end? There were hundreds, actually thousands of times in her childhood when she had wished her mum would just split. That she would take off – with Evie and Benny. Sometimes, she would think about it for so long and so hard that she imagined all of the details of their getaway. She had thought they might go to some remote location just outside of Sydney like the Blue Mountains. She had been there once on a school excursion to visit The Three Sisters. It seemed like the type of place where people would go to disappear. They would have to vanish, the three of them. Her dad would come after them if they stayed in Sydney proper, she was sure of it, so they would have to sneak off, like bandits. She’d liked the idea as a child. Of the three of them hiding out together. Now, she couldn’t understand why. As a rational adult she couldn’t imagine Greg pursuing them at all. It seemed highly unlikely. In fact he would probably have been pleased by their departure. Less mouths to feed. Less shit to worry about.
Why had she stayed? Wide awake in her bedroom in Redfern — she thumbed over the thought in her mind. Her mum had been a young mother, she would have been a whole of twenty-one when Evie was born. She was barely an adult – she had her whole life ahead of her. She wasn’t a stunner, but she was pretty enough. She could have made a go of it alone.
The thought stung. She didn’t know much about her mother at all. She was pretty enough – that was the only thought that crossed her mind about Lilly. She fumbled through other details about her. She liked old movies. Romances in particular. She was consumed by a fantasy world. She was likely a manic depressive. There were high highs and then there were low lows. And she was a recluse. She didn’t like to go out. In the end, she never left the house. Only for her dose of chemo at the hospital. Even then it was hard to get her to go.
That was it.<
br />
That was it.
It was so little. A miniscule amount to go by.
She wished she had known more about her. That she knew who Lilly had been as a girl, before she had met Greg. She remembered those bags full of make-up, and the artful way her hands had danced across her face as she had done Evie’s make-up for the formal.
As a kid though, she’d always just considered her as her mum ... and then as a teenager she had started to turn away from her. She’d started to see faults in her behaviour. Fissures in her person – and after Benny died, well Evie could never forgive her.
Now she wished she knew more.
It was another one of those boxes from her past that remained permanently closed. There was no key to this one. Lilly was long gone, and there was no-one other than Evie herself who held onto any of those memories. No siblings, no parents, and no friends ... and Greg, well, his opinion of her was not one likely to be accurate.
She closed her eyes now and tried to recollect one of the final memories of her — when she was physically sick. Lilly had only been thirty-nine when she was diagnosed with cancer. Breast cancer to be exact. It wasn’t long after Benny had passed, and by the time they’d found it, it was everywhere. It had mestastasised. It was in her lungs, and her liver, and her brain. For a while the doctors had treated it aggressively. Radiation therapy, chemo, everything – her hair had fallen out in massive chunks and she was constantly having nose bleeds in the bathroom. But nothing seemed to halt the steady progress of that beast as it colonised her body completely and soon she was on palliative treatments. It was the end. All they could do was try to make her feel comfortable.
Lilly had insisted on being returned to her home. Evie could never understand why. It was a place filled with terrible memories. Wouldn’t she have preferred to stay in the hospice? Where everything was clean and sanitised, where people were kind and tended to your needs? Where that man didn’t lurk about, just waiting for you to say the wrong thing so he could put a hand to your neck and squeeze hard? It was another mystery to her.
Pretty Girls Page 13