Pretty Girls

by Pretty Girls (retail) (epub)

  “I won’t go,” Tilley screamed dramatically from the ground. Evie was avoiding eye contact. Another person she couldn’t look at. Tilley’s face was bright red, sticky tears glued her pretty hair down. She was a mess. Evie didn’t want to think that she was the person that had caused those tears. The thing was, she was doing it for her own good. Tilley just wasn’t old enough to realise that was the case. She would at some point in time. It was short term pain for long term gain. But she still couldn’t look at her now.

  “I won’t go with you Mummy,” she continued, with a stamp of her foot. “I’ll go and live with Chris and his family,” she yelled.

  “I don’t think so, baby. You’re coming with me,” she said, keeping it short, removing the emotions from it.

  “Why? Because I’m your daughter? Does that mean you just get to drag me around like I’m a possession? Something that goes in one of your boxes?” Tilley continued. She was getting older, and harder to argue with. Clever. Switched on.

  “Sort of,” Evie responded – and it was sort of true. “The thing is, Til, Redfern’s a nightmare. We never should have come here. It was a mistake.” She lifted the final box out of her bedroom. Done. They could make a move shortly.

  “You said it was the last time we were moving!” Also true.

  “I was wrong,” Evie responded simply. She suddenly felt a cold shiver. Straight down her spine. She wrapped an arm around herself like there was a chill. But it wasn’t cool. It was humid. Thirty degrees, and the old terrace had virtually no ventilation. She tried to ignore the sensation, but it sat in her mind, refusing to be done away with.

  “No, you lied. You always lie. You always say things are going to be better and they never are. You always do things for yourself. We moved here because you wanted to see your dad before he died, and now you don’t care about that. Now, we’re moving to Brisbane because you think this is a bad place or something. Why did you bring us here in the first place!” Tilley got to her feet now. Her fists were clenched by her sides, and her face was pulled into a grimace. She was so articulate, and she could run an accurate argument. It was too hard. Too fucking hard! She didn’t respond. It was easier not to respond.

  That’s when there was a knock at the door. A hard knock. Fuck, let it not be G. She couldn’t deal with him now. She’d barely had the strength to deal with him this morning.

  “Leave it,” she told Tilley harshly.

  A second knock. Bloody Redfern, it would never leave you alone.

  “Evie!” Rosie’s voice. “Evie!” She called again.

  Evie hesitated, what to do? Should she go to the door, or was it just another hurdle? Don’t go, her mind told her. But something in her heart told her to open. She owed the woman a goodbye. She’d looked after Tilley that many times, and sometimes when Evie wouldn’t have been able to herself.

  She stepped over the box, and opened the door. Rosie’s concerned face greeted her.

  “Hey darlin’,” she said. “What’s going on here?” she gestured with her chin towards the boxes. She was large and took up the door frame almost completely. Substantial. Of this world. She wasn’t the type of woman that had to keep on running.

  “We’re leaving, Rosie,” she said directly. Like she said, better to do these things faster.

  “You’re leaving? That’s what G told me. Pardon the French, but what the fuck?” she said hands on hips.

  She shouldn’t have opened the door. Rosie wasn’t the type of woman that took shit. And this was shit – lots of it in fact. Heaped high.

  “We’re going, up to Brisbane.”

  “Something to do with your old man?”

  Evie shook her head even though everything had to do with her old man. Maybe not on this occasion, not quite.

  “He’s pretty sick. He’ll probably pass this week. But it’s not that,” Evie responded.

  “Well, what is it then?” Rosie demanded to know.

  Evie shrugged her shoulders. What line was she going to run this time? Which one would work? “Redfern isn’t for us, too many bad memories. It’s not good for me,” she wanted to say us, but me toppled out. Tilley was right, she was being selfish. She had to be. Like she said, self-preservation.

  “G said it was something about the kid. Josh, the one that committed suicide down the road,” Rosie continued. Fucking G, why did he have to go and say that?

  She shrugged her shoulders. “Like I said, bad memories.”

  “So what, girl? They’re just memories. What you doing taking off so suddenly? You got a nice place, a good job, Til’s got friends at school, and you got a good man. The stars have bloody aligned for you. Why you tearing it all down?”

  She really shouldn’t have opened that door. She’d been so close.

  “Rosie, I know you mean well. But I just can’t do this right now,” she went to shut the door, but Rosie was not having a bar of it.

  “Now hang on. I’ve come to talk some sense to you.” She pushed the door back open and stood her ground. Strong. Real. Genuine. “You got it good here, Evie. Don’t let some shit from your past stir things up and make you think otherwise. Leave those ghosts behind. Don’t close the door on me, close it on them. Otherwise they’ll keep on chasing you and ruin everything good in your life.”

  Evie stared at those dark eyes. Wise eyes. Maternal ones. But it wasn’t enough. She’d come too far with this now.

  “I can’t, Rosie.”

  “Evie, that man loves you – and he’s a good man. He’s a good man. Don’t do this to him,” she pointed a finger to her, stern, like she was giving the kids a scolding.

  “Rosie, that’s completely fine. But I can’t live my life for a man.”

  “But don’t you see ... that’s what you’re doing right now. Your old man, your brother ... whoever it was made those memories for you. Just men.”

  It was her coup de grace, and Evie let it settle on her, covering her completely. The phone rang in the background a couple of times. Leave it Evie, another distraction. But the phone never rang. Not at all. It was about her dad. It had to be.

  She went to answer it.

  Sometimes you know exactly what’s going to happen, right before it does. Someone spiritual might call it intuition. Someone pragmatic might say you’ve just read the facts and know the next step in the sequence. What Evie would say is, that her and her father were deeply connected, on some sort of violent, bloody umbilical cord, and when her blood ran cold, she’d known on a molecular level that he was dead.

  She answered the phone. The fine hairs on her arm stood on end, and she held her breath.

  “Hello, is that Evelyn?” Came the woman’s voice on the other end.

  “Yes,” she managed, barely, her voice was just a whisper.

  “It’s Susie from the hospice. I’m just calling to let you know that your father passed earlier on this afternoon.”

  A strange sound escaped her lips. It was guttural and unfamiliar. A shriek of sorts.

  He was gone.

  41

  Benny's return

  (Liminal)

  It was the evening her father died. It was the evening Tilley disappeared. Consequently, it was also the evening that Evie had to call her own shit out. Things always come in threes, never as a pair.

  Rosie drove her to the hospice, and told her not to worry about Tilley. That she’d most definitely gone to hide with Chris somewhere. Probably somewhere behind the blue tennis courts she’d added.

  “Something terrible happened to me there once,” Evie had vomited out.

  “Well, no matter. It’s all finished now. And those two can look after themselves.”

  She hadn’t responded. She thought she might be in shock. It was hard to tell. She always felt like she was kind of in shock. It was a constant condition in her life. People said that lots of stress would give you cancer. But she was as strong as an ox. Always had been, always would be.

  “Now, I don’t want you spinning out again because your dad’s died, ok
ay?” Rosie had told her gently but firmly in the car. “He was always going to die. You had months to prepare, and like you said, he wasn’t a nice bloke. So best he goes on his way.” She was so pragmatic, so forthright. She was the type of person that Evie felt she could just fall into and agree with. She was the type of person who made you feel like everything was okay. Like a parent should, Evie thought.

  Like she should have done with Tilley.

  Evie nodded, and didn’t say a word.

  It was dark out by the time they’d arrived at the hospice and the sky was knitted with stars. Evie stared up at them momentarily, and wondered where he might be at this very moment. That tough old bastard. Was he up there? Where had that dark soul departed too? Had it ever existed? She wasn’t sure.

  A thought entered her mind as though divinely inspired, sometimes you’re not supposed to know the answers.

  She followed Rosie inside, and let her do the talking. It was nice feeling like someone else had control. Someone else was steering the ship – it didn’t always have to be her.

  Dad was still in the bed. They hadn’t even covered his face. He looked the same as he had yesterday, only paler. As she peered at him, she semi-thought he might still open his eyes in that deranged fashion of his. That he might still say something rude and unnecessary.

  “Not dead yet, Evelyn,” he’d sneer.

  But he didn’t say a word. His chest didn’t rise and fall. He was most definitely, dead.

  She sat down in the chair she’d used on a number of occasions previously as she’d waited for him to divulge information she’d so hungrily desired. She’d wanted him to be a changed man. She’d wanted him to explain. She’d wanted him to beg forgiveness. But he’d done none of those things. He’d been unrepentant till the end.

  She smiled to herself. He was gone. She shivered again, and drew a large breath.

  She could feel him next to her, Benny. Even though, he couldn’t be. She could sense his skinny frame, his concave abdomen, his hands buried deep into his pockets. She looked up at him, and he turned his face down towards her and winked.

  “He’s fuckin’ gone Evie,” he said with a tiny laugh. “Can you imagine? I thought he was the devil himself and he’d never go. But everyone’s got to go.”

  She reached out and took her brother’s hand. It was cold, like it always was and long with spindly fingers.

  She smiled at him.

  “Now you can go live your life sis’. Like you always wanted to,” he said.

  “But I can’t Benny,” she responded. “Not without you.”

  He laughed, his gregarious old laugh. The way he laughed before things got bad. When things were still okay. Like that day on the beach. She felt her chest seize at the sound and her eyes fill with tears.

  “Don’t be silly, sis. You don’t need me. I’m okay now. I’m all good,” he winked at her and squeezed her hand.

  “Are you?” she asked, her throat choked.

  “Yeah, of course I am. I was always tougher than you thought,” another squeeze of the hand, and then nothing.

  When she looked up again, he was gone. That was hard. She wished he could have stayed forever, by her side, like old Benny. Not the terrible one from her final memories of him. The kid she’d grown up with. The one she’d held tight at night and horsed around with at the beach. The one who told silly jokes and ate peanut butter out of the jar with a dirty finger. The Benny who made her feel safe and happy. The Benny who she loved.

  Yeah, she’d keep him close to heart forever.

  Now she could, because they were both gone.

  All of their violence had seeped out of them, and what was left? Their original forms before the world had gotten in the way and made them someone else.

  42

  Deciding to stay

  (2017, Redfern)

  Tilley was at home with Chris when they got back and G. They were sitting at the table eating vegemite sandwiches. It was 11pm, but it was nice to see the light was still on. It was nice to know they were all there, that Evie didn’t have to worry anymore.

  Tilley ran to her and hugged her hard. “I’m sorry I ran away,” she mumbled into her stomach. “I won’t do it again, and I’ll come with you if you like.”

  Evie held her hard, and felt a tear roll down her cheek.

  “And I’m sorry about Grandad,” she added. Her angelic face was so perfect and so genuine it ripped a tiny hole in Evie’s heart.

  “Thanks my darling,” she responded. “Where did you go?” “We just went and hid at the tennis court,” Tilley said quietly, sheepishly, like she might be reprimanded.

  Evie wanted to tell her to never go there ever again. But then she remembered that was her memory and not Tilley’s.

  “It’s okay sweetheart,” she repeated.

  “Do we still have to leave tonight?” Evie asked.

  “No, no we don’t.” She responded. She caught G’s eye over Tilley’s head. He looked down like he hadn’t been watching. She’d hurt him, she knew that much. She didn’t know whether she could repair the damage. She’d never had to repair damage, she’d always just walked away from it.

  “Why don’t you go to bed now and Mummy will talk to G? You can sleep in my room tonight,” she added. “And don’t worry, you can see Chris tomorrow.”

  Tilley rubbed her eyes, tired and still melancholy and drifted off slowly to her bedroom. Usually, Evie would insist that she showered and brushed her teeth. But tonight just didn’t seem like the right evening for all of that. Everyone was visibly tired from that mammoth day and creeping into bed and getting some rest seemed to be the only option.

  “Okay darlin’, well we’ll head off then,” Rosie said, enveloping her in another hug. For once she didn’t resist the physical intimacy of it and instead she sank into that large frame. Aware that it was virtually propping her up, and had been doing so all afternoon.

  Rosie led Chris outside into that dark night – and Evie heard the door open and shut. She’d wanted to be alone with G again, but now she felt desperate, anxious, she didn’t want to be alone with G. Would he be expecting an explanation? Would he even been interested in hearing her out? She was embarrassed about all of it. All of her behaviour 24 hours later seemed erratic and ridiculous. How could she ever acknowledge that to him, or hope that he would understand?

  She looked up at him quickly trying to gauge his expression. He was on his feet, eyes downcast. He wasn’t even looking at her. It was worse that she thought.

  She could hear the clock ticking in the background and outside a siren. The silence of the room made her want to fill it with noise – but she wasn’t quite sure what that noise should be, and she was sure it was up to her to utter the first words.

  But it was him who spoke first, “I’m sorry about your dad,” he said.

  She nodded her head, she was sorry too. It was hard to comprehend why, but there it was, sadness nonetheless.

  “Are you still leaving?” he continued. He was good at communicating. Good at saying his side of the conversation. Good at soliciting the responses he needed. The only problem was sometimes the other party wasn't honest. She hadn’t been honest. And that made it virtually impossible to have a two way dialogue. She had to stop doing that. If they were going to move forward, she had to commit to honesty. Did she want that? A relationship with G? Yes, she thought simply. Yes, she did.

  “No, I don’t think so,” she responded. He looked away. She felt like a small child. Blundering against things – making so many mistakes – and then hoping that the adult would understand. Hoping the adult would understand that they were new to this world and still learning.

  “I should go,” he finally said. Staring to collect his wallet and keys from the table. No, she didn’t want him to go like this. Thinking that things were over between them. More time would pass and the rift would grow deeper, and that’s not what she wanted. She needed him to understand, tonight.

  “Listen,” she blurted out. “I wanted to
talk to you about before ....” She grabbed onto his arm now. It was warm and smooth like she remembered it. He didn’t turn towards her instantly, just kept collecting his things, and stacking the plates on the table.

  She had to keep going, she had to be honest. Come on, Evie you can do this. You have to do this to make this right.

  “I didn’t mean any of those things I said earlier today. I just ... I just needed to hurt you. I needed to hurt you so that you would let me go. So you wouldn’t think about coming after me, so that you wouldn’t remember me as someone who wasn't important to you,” she held onto his arm as she uttered the words, she squeezed his skin softly. Still he said nothing.

  “It was all bullshit. Whatever went on between us – you’re right, we connected. There was more to it. A lot more to it. I needed to close it all down to keep moving – for me too. Self preservation I guess,” she continued. Still he said nothing.

  She dropped his arm – maybe it was too late. Maybe she’d hurt him too much. It was his decision to make and she would have to live with that. She swallowed hard.

  “I hope you can forgive me,” she said finally. “I like you a lot. More than a lot. I mean ... I think I could love you.” She’d never uttered the words to a man before, and the sound of them surprised her, they weren’t as foreign as she had expected them to be, especially within this context and with G. “I can’t guarantee you that I’ll never make another mistake again. I might. There’s a lot of history for me, a lot of stuff that I need to work through.”

  That was it, she wasn’t sure what else she could add to this. She’d told him everything she needed to. Now the ball was in his court, and she would just need to accept the outcome. Is this how love worked? Did you have to put yourself out there without being assured a return – an outcome?