Snake Bite

by Christie Thompson

‘New job? What?’

  ‘I got a freaking PROMOTION!’ Mum squealed. ‘No more bar work. No more late nights. You are looking at the new bloody nine-to-five front desk receptionist at the club!’

  ‘Get FUCKED!’ I shoved her, feeling a jolt through my body. ‘MUM!’

  ‘I know, I know!’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me when I got here? Jesus, you had me worried.’

  ‘Sorry, sorry . . . I don’t get to give good news that often. I wanted to tell you properly.’

  ‘Just tell me next time.’

  ‘I think this is gunna be really good for us. You’ll be in Year 12—I’m so bloody proud of you by the way—YEAR TWELVE! And I’ll be working during your school hours, so we won’t be passing each other like ships in the night anymore. A whole new start, Jez. Things are really gunna change.’

  ‘When do you start?’

  ‘Straight after New Year’s! Second of January, baby!’ Mum was wiggling with excitement. ‘No more beer-soaked clothes. I might even have a new uniform! A nice little skirt and jacket with the club logo on there.’ She gestured towards her chest. ‘No more late nights . . . and Jez, I’m really gunna cut back on the drinking, hey? No time for hangovers anymore with this new job.’

  I nodded. ‘That’s great, Mum. So good.’ My mind had started to wander back to earlier that morning. Lukey. Melbourne.

  ‘The pay is so much better, too. We can finally fix this place up a bit. Get one of those pergola-shade thingos for the backyard, eh? You know what? Maybe even a dog, what do you reckon? That dog you always said you wanted!’

  ‘Yeah . . .’ my heart started twisting in my chest.

  ‘You know what? I didn’t even realise how sick of the bar I was. Those bloody drunks and sleazy old fellas. Greta whingeing in my ear about her divorce. Depressing. Funny, though, I didn’t even realise how miserable I was until Big Boss asked me if I wanted to work reception. Then suddenly I was like, yes! I’ll be behind a desk instead of on my feet. And the nights off to spend with my Jez!’

  ‘It’ll be weird having you around all the time. Good weird.’

  ‘Good weird. You’ve got a way with words, Jez.’

  I laughed. ‘I mean it will be weird at first, but it will be good. We can eat dinner together and stuff.’

  ‘I’ll have to brush up on my cooking skills, won’t I?’

  ‘You have cooking skills?’

  Mum and I both laughed.

  ‘Ooooh! Speaking of which, look what I bought on the way home yesterday!’ Mum hurried from the room and came back holding up a cookbook. ‘I bought this at the newsagent, see? Vegetarian Cooking.’

  ‘I’ve been thinking of going vegan, actually.’

  ‘Oh, bloody hell, Jez, I can’t keep up.’ Mum flipped through the pages. ‘Here we go, this pasta thing here. That looks yum, hey?’

  ‘That’s awesome, Mum.’ I hugged her. ‘Thank you so much.’ Another stabbing pain in my heart and sinking feeling in my gut.

  Mum heaved herself to her feet and shrugged out of her dressing gown. ‘I’m gunna go shower, Jez. Then we are going to clean. And I’ll pop to the shop and buy the ingredients for that pasta thing. A whole new start for the New Year, okay? Help me clean?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Make me one of those awesome coffees you do?’

  ‘Yeah, definitely.’

  I sank sideways onto the couch, pulling a cushion under my head and curling my legs up. Wow. This was big news. I never considered Mum might get an actual proper good job. She’d been working the bar at the club for so many years I’d always kind of pictured her still there at fifty, gasbagging with the regulars and staying after close for staffies. I thought she was happy bartending. I thought she liked it because she didn’t have to spend as much time at our shabby little house, with me. Stupid as it sounds, I never kind of realised she’d done it because we needed the money, that she’d done it for us.

  We cleaned all day, sorting stuff into various bags, some for the charity bins, some for the garbage. We dusted and polished and vacuumed and washed and swept and mopped until we were covered in grime and then, sinking into the chairs on the back porch, we sipped on cans of Pepsi Max, and watched the last of the sun sink over the Brindies.

  ‘Things are really gunna change, Jez,’ Mum said, gazing into the distance. ‘Really this time.’

  I forced a smile, but I suddenly I wanted to cry. I was thinking about Lukey and the bright city lights of Melbourne waiting for me just hours down the highway. My stomach lurched with nerves and guilt and gassy soft drink bubbles.

  ‘So I decided to cool things off with Jeremy.’ Mum was still squinting into the backyard. ‘We had a little chat at the club last night.’

  ‘Serious?! Why?’ I felt another sharp stab of guilt—guilty that I felt relieved and excited, so I tried to sound all sympathetic and concerned. ‘I thought things were good between you guys?’

  ‘I just was thinking, Jez. About me and you and how maybe I’ve been a slack mum and how it’s your last year of school coming up . . . and how you’re probably going to want to get out of here as soon as you can after that.’

  ‘Oh, Mum. You haven’t been slack.’

  ‘I have been slack,’ Mum said firmly.

  ‘No . . .’

  ‘I think it was you telling me about that crazy Melbourne idea. I realised . . .’ Mum twisted her hands in her lap. ‘I’m not ready to let my baby go.’

  ‘Mum —’

  ‘No, no, no. I’ve made up my mind, Jez. New job, a new life for us. We’ll get you finished up, get that Year 12 certificate. No distractions. It will be the year of Helen and Jessica versus the world.’

  ‘Mum, about the Melbourne thing.’ I took a deep breath. I had to tell her about me and Lukey. I had to tell her I was still going.

  But then I hesitated. Did I really still want to go? If things were gunna be good from now on, with Mum’s new job and a clean house and her not drinking, maybe I could stay just one more year. Get my—

  ‘Have you noticed I haven’t been staying at the club so late this week?’

  ‘Not really,’ I admitted. I’d been hanging out with Lukey most nights, dumping pills and wandering around the lamp-lit neighbourhoods, pashing on street corners. Fucking awesome times. Why’d she always have to make me feel so bad for having such awesome times?

  ‘Well I haven’t. Straight home to bed most nights.’

  ‘That’s really good.’

  ‘I feel better for it, too. Might have even lost some weight.’

  ‘Really? In one week?’

  ‘Well, baby steps.’

  ‘Yeah. Baby steps.’

  Mum took a swig of her Pepsi and gave a little burp. ‘Ooh.’ She blinked. ‘’Scuse me.’

  ‘Knock, knock!’ The front door flyscreen creaked open and crashed shut again.

  ‘I’ll go.’ I popped up and stepped inside.

  Shaz was already in our kitchen, loading a case of cans into the fridge.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I asked.

  ‘Drinks,’ Shaz replied, not bothering to look up at me.

  I stomped back out onto the back porch. ‘MUUUM! Shaz is here!’

  Mum met my eyes briefly and then hauled herself out of her chair. ‘Coming!’ she yelled.

  Shaz appeared at the back door holding up a six-pack of Bundy Cokes in one hand and a bottle of white wine in the other. ‘Hair of the dog, eh?’

  ‘What do you mean, hair of the dog?’ I asked.

  ‘Hair of the dog!’ Shaz emphasised, ripping a can of Bundy from the sixer and holding it out to Mum. ‘We had a few last night, eh, Hel?’

  ‘Only a few.’ Mum eased herself back into her chair and glanced at me, nervous-like. ‘To celebrate my job ’n that. I reckon I might give it a miss, Shaz. Me and Jez haven’t had tea yet.’

  ‘Just one, then.’

  ‘Nah, me and Jez are gunna cook some vegetarian stuff.’

  ‘Cooking?’ Shaz laughed. ‘I’ve seen your
cooking. Get some take-away.’

  Mum folded her arms defensively. ‘I really want to learn to cook better.’

  ‘Whatever.’ Shaz snorted and cracked a can of Bundy, plonking the rest of the booze on the table. ‘Don’t mind if I do.’

  ‘I do mind, actually,’ Mum said, her eyes lingering on the grog. ‘I was just gunna pop to the shop for some pasta.’

  ‘Sand in your vag today, Hel?’ Shaz slurped from her can.

  ‘I’ll just sit here and keep Jez company.’

  Mum sighed. ‘You know you never even apologised to me and Jez for wrecking Chrissie lunch.’

  Shaz raised her eyebrows. ‘Were we at the same party? I didn’t wreck anything. Now why don’t you just jump on the phone to Dominos, order some pizza, and we can all sit right here and enjoy the rum. My shout.’

  Mum looked at me; I could tell she was caving. ‘Up to you, Jez. Pasta tomorrow night instead? You feel like a rum?’

  I nodded, reaching for a can, the guilt that had been racking my body all day starting to lift. ‘Yep. Order me a vegetarian.’

  ‘Cheers to Helen’s job!’ Shaz lifted her can.

  Mum cracked open her drink and raised it, tinking it against mine and Shaz’s.

  ‘To my new job!’ Mum beamed.

  ‘And to things changing,’ I snuck in before we all drank.

  Mum looked the other way.

  TWENTY-NINE

  Shaz was as pissed as a newt. I don’t even know what a newt is, or how pissed they get. She was probably more pissed than a newt, to be honest, like, totally maggot. She lurched across our lounge room and threw herself facedown onto the couch.

  ‘Put some music on, Hel!’ she blathered into the couch cushions. ‘Put on some Pearl Jam!’

  ‘I better get you a blanket,’ Mum said.

  ‘Noooo!’ Shaz howled, struggling to raise her head to look at us. ‘We’re just getting started! Put a CD on!’

  ‘I reckon I’m about done,’ Mum called from the hallway, pulling a blanket out of the linen closet.

  Mum had taken it easy, sipping on her Bundy cans when she normally would have slurped them down. I was impressed. Maybe she really did want to get her shit together. I plopped myself down in the armchair opposite Shaz. I felt tired, dehydrated. Sick of Shaz and all the shit she talked. She’d gone oooon and oooon about Jeremy and how Mum was better off without him. You need a real man, Hel. Not some young boy. Still lives with his parents, dun he? Mum was quiet in her responses. Jeremy’s alright, she said. Still lives at home because he’s saving up for his own place.

  ‘There ya go.’ Mum threw the blanket over Shaz.

  ‘Have another drink with me!’ Shaz howled. ‘One more!’

  ‘Nah, nah. I’m beat.’ Mum raised her hand at me in a wave. ‘Night, Jez.’

  ‘Night, Mum.’

  Shaz humphed and pushed herself upright, grabbing her can from the coffee table.

  ‘You’ll have another with me, won’tcha, Jez? Keep yer Aunty Shaz company.’

  ‘I’ll finish this one.’

  ‘What’s with ya mum? It’s the silly season! That new job gone to her head already?’

  ‘The new job will be really good for her. It’s a really good opportunity.’

  ‘Ha! Well, as long as she doesn’t forget where she came from. As long as she doesn’t start thinkin’ she’s better than the rest of us.’

  Shaz worked part-time hours at a supermarket, in the deli section. She reckoned it was a good place to meet guys because all the meat made them think about sex. I didn’t reply to her comment because I didn’t think there was much chance of Mum ever thinking she was better than anyone. That was part of her problem, really. She honestly didn’t think she was good enough. I swigged the last of my Bundy, put the empty can down on the coffee table and got to my feet, a little shakily.

  ‘Stick a fork in me,’ I said wearily. ‘I’m done.’

  Shaz tightened her arms across her chest and narrowed her eyes at me. ‘And don’t you go thinking you’re better than the rest of us either, Jessica.’

  ‘What the fuck is that supposed to mean?’

  ‘Your mum told me. About you going to Melbourne and all that. You think you’re above all this, huh? I’ll tell you —’

  ‘I don’t think I’m better,’ I interrupted. ‘Just different, maybe.’

  ‘Different?!’ Shaz gave a hollow laugh. ‘Different! Jez, oh Jez, honey,’ she crowed with a condescending sneer on her face. ‘You are me.’

  ‘I’m nothing fucking like you.’ I felt like I’d been slapped.

  ‘You think you’re so different? You think you’re special? You’re gunna be old like me before you know it. I was you.’ Shaz laughed again, plumping up the couch cushion. ‘Helen, too. She was you. And in another fifteen, twenty years or whatever, you will be us. That’s just the way life goes. So go ahead to Melbourne with ya boyfriend, ’cos it’d be nice to have my best friend back. See the thing about me and Hel is, I’m always gunna have her back. You’re like a little parasite that’s been feeding off her for the last seventeen years and —’

  ‘Why don’t you shut the fuck up?’ I snapped. ‘Seriously. You are such a booze hag alco.’

  ‘Alco! Like you don’t drink?’

  ‘Not like you.’

  ‘Oh, you just do it for fun, right?’ Shaz slurred. ‘Yeah, it’s all just a bit of fun. Then you start wanting it.’

  ‘Sometimes I want a drink. So what. I’m not like you.’

  ‘Then soon you want it more days than not, right. Then soon you need it. And shit gets to the stage where you just gotta have it. That’s just the way it is. That’s like me and your old mum.’

  ‘Mum hardly drank tonight. She’s trying to change and you keep coming over and shoving shit in her face.’

  ‘She wanted it. I could tell.’

  ‘You’re a fucking bitch!’ I screamed. ‘You don’t want her to stop drinking ’cos that means you’ll be even more pathetic drinking alone!’

  ‘Look who’s talking.’ Shaz nodded at me.

  I shook my head. ‘No way. I’m not even —’

  ‘Ooooh. Reality bites, dunnit?’

  ‘You’re a twisted old mole and you’re full of shit.’

  Shaz lowered her head onto the cushion and her drunken eyes fell shut. ‘You are meee . . .’ she slurred again and cackled before passing out into a snore.

  Fuck you! I thought, but she really got to me. I was seventeen. I did drink a lot, but it wasn’t like Mum drank. I drank because I was young and dumb and bored and wanted a laugh with my mates. I took pills because it made me happy. I smoked weed because it made me forget, and sometimes even made the world look strangely beautiful for a spell. What else was there to do? But there was no way I was gunna end up like Shaz. She didn’t even have a life, that’s why she was always over at our house trying to leech onto Mum. Fuck her. I could go to Melbourne if I wanted and things would be awesome. I’d have Lukey. Suddenly my heart lifted and I felt pretty pleased with myself, smug even. Yeah! I had Lukey. I was only seventeen and I already had a guy who was totally into me. Fuck you, Shaz!

  The see-sawing of emotions made me feel dizzy. My head swam and I thought I was gunna puke. Lying on my bed with the electric fan aimed right into my face, I managed to keep from hurling, but the room spun round and round until I fell into a horrible nightmare-ridden sweat-fest of a sleep.

  THIRTY

  I woke up New Year’s Eve morning with a jolt and a sudden rush of excitement coursing through my veins. New Year’s! Party! Melbourne . . .

  It occurred to me that it could be the last time I woke up in my bed, in my bedroom, in this house. I looked around my messy room, strewn with clothes and comics and CDs, Mum’s laptop still open on the floor. Flopping back onto my pillow, I clutched the sheets up around me and stared at my posters, remembering when I had blu-tacked them to the walls. I wondered what Mum would do with my room if I left, if she’d pull down the posters and put my things into the
cupboards, or even out in the shed. Maybe she’d throw my stuff away. I wanted to take it all with me. It was all I had in the world, the contents of this one room. My trinkets and boxes and cheap jewellery. My clothes. My music. My cherry-red fender strat guitar.

  I sighed and flopped out of bed and took a couple of old school backpacks down from the top shelf of my cupboard. I didn’t even own a suitcase or a travel bag. I’d never been anywhere, never seen anything. I emptied one of the backpacks out onto my bed. An eraser, some pencils and pens, an exercise book—Year 8 Maths. On the cover of the exercise book was a conversation in blue pen—two different sets of handwriting, mine and Lukey’s:

  – Mr O’Brien looks like an emu.

  – Ha ha. His nose has its own postcode.

  – Soooo bored.

  – Me 2.

  – No fuckin’ idea what the answers are. You?

  – Lost.

  – Lunchtime bongz?

  – YES.

  – I’m gunna buy an iced donut for lunch.

  – Halfsies?

  – Nah.

  – Fatty.

  – Okay then, J.

  I smiled to myself, picturing us up the back of the Maths class, swinging on the back legs of our chairs, Mr O’Brien yelling, Stop swinging on those chairs or you’ll fall backwards and crack your head! And us ignoring him, smacking our gum loudly and then him yelling, Spit out that gum or you’ll fall backwards and swallow the gum and it will get stuck in your throat! What a wanker he was.

  I threw the pencils and exercise book into my waste basket and began picking out some clothes from my closet to take with me. That wasn’t hard. Two pairs of black jeans, four t-shirts, bras, undies, socks.

  ‘Yooohoo, Jez! Wakey wakey! Last day of 2009!’

  I shoved the backpacks under my bed just as Mum pushed open my bedroom door, and I could smell the instant coffee in the mugs she was carrying.

  ‘C’mon, let’s go sit out back, it’s not too hot yet.’

  ‘Just a sec, I’ll be there in a sec.’ I tried not to sound guilty.

  ‘Whatcha doin’?’ Even Mum, usually oblivious to everything but herself, noticed that it was a bit weird that I was kneeling on the floor next to my bed.