Snake Bite

by Christie Thompson

  ‘Have you seen my house? Dana and Joan eat that stuff up.’

  ‘Sorry, but if you pay more than two dollars it doesn’t count.’

  ‘Damn. I had to be born to the pseudo-yuppy-hipster family. You’re right. I will never fit in.’

  ‘It’s never too late to start collecting McDonald’s Happy Meal toys.’

  ‘Was I pretentious like that? When you first met me?’

  ‘Nah, you were fine.’

  ‘You lie! You thought I was so up myself.’

  ‘Maybe.’ I grinned. ‘Yeah, okay, I did.’

  ‘And I thought I would hate living here. It hasn’t been all that bad, thanks to you.’

  ‘Don’t get all mushy on me.’

  ‘Never.’

  We hugged tightly.

  When I got home a few hours later my house was empty. I went to the kitchen and pulled open cupboards. The tattoo had made me starving. Yeeeessss. Mum had done the grocery shopping. I pulled down a bag of cheese-flavoured corn chips and a jar of pasta sauce, then I went to the fridge and found a bag of grated tasty cheese. I tipped the corn chips into a bowl and poured some pasta sauce and cheese over the top and then took the bowl onto the brown velour couch in the living room and ate with both hands, licking the sauce off my fingers, just closing my eyes and smiling like the cat that ate the mouse. Om nom nom. But that wasn’t enough. I went back to the fridge and got a family-sized block of Cadburys and broke off two whole rows and crammed it into my face all at once. Yuuuuuum.

  I heard the front door open and slam shut. Mum appeared at the kitchen door in her work uniform.

  ‘Jez?’ She looked at me standing in front of the fridge, mouth brimming with chocolate. ‘My chocolate! Gimme some of that! What’s with you?’ she asked, eyeing me suspiciously. ‘You look happy! Where’s my daughter gone? Are you stoned?’

  ‘No! I jush hungwee!’ I choked out, grinning like a maniac, a big messy grin, chunks of melted chocolate stuck all through my teeth. Mum started laughing.

  ‘You look like a hobo!’ she crowed, baring her own chocolatey teeth at me.

  ‘So do you!’ And we both fell into helpless fits of laughter.

  I threw my arms around her neck and gave her a big hug. ‘I love you, Mum.’ I looked in her eyes. They were the same shade of dark blue as mine. I could feel a lump rising in the back of my throat.

  Mum looked hesitant. ‘Are you sure you’re not on something?’

  I shook my head and swallowed my mouthful of chocolate. ‘Nah, I swear.’

  ‘So did you get that tattoo today?’ Mum asked, popping some more chocolate in her mouth. ‘What were you going to get again? A snake like Lukey’s?’

  I shook my head. ‘I changed my mind at the last minute,’ I told her.

  ‘Oh, thank God. That’s gunna be on there for life, you know. Piercings are one thing, but I wasn’t heaps keen on you getting that tat.’

  ‘I got a different one.’ I lifted my t-shirt sleeve and held out my arm, still wrapped in plastic.

  ‘C’mon, then! Show me!’ Mum hopped up and down impatiently.

  I peeled off the plastic. The tattoo was still moist and slimy with blood and ink, but the design was really bright, and really popped against my lily-white skin.

  ‘Oh!’ Mum drew in her breath. ‘Oh . . .’ Her eyes filled with tears.

  In beautiful red, gold and black ink, on my arm, a big heart with a scroll that just said ‘MUM’.

  Mum started to cry. ‘What are you doing to me, Jez?’ she said, wiping her eyes, laughing and crying at the same time. ‘You never stop surprising me.’

  And we stood like a couple of mentals in the middle of the kitchen, laughing and crying and hugging and cramming more chocolate into our faces, and it was the closest I’d felt to Mum in, well, maybe ever.

  Later that night I sat on the back porch and cracked my birthday six-pack of rum and Cokes, a present from Jeremy, and lit a Winfield, enjoying the sounds of Mum and Jeremy in the kitchen, cooking dinner, laughing and joking. Jeremy was thinking about moving in soon, too. It would be a full house. It felt like more than a house lately. It felt like home. I took a long swig from my can. Things are gunna be different now. Things are finally gunna change.

  In a place like Tuggeranong, the season’s change creeps up slowly, then, bam, it’s colder than a nun’s fanny. The gums don’t change colour, so autumn came and went. After the frosts set in, and the Brindies were speckled with white snow, summer seemed like an age ago, a different time and place. It seemed like years had passed since that night sitting on the hot roof of the school with Lukey, sweating out pingers, sharing sunset kisses. I missed Lukey, but I missed the feeling more: falling in love.

  ‘Jeeeez!’ There was a voice from the darkness. ‘Jez, whatcha doin’?’

  Under the moonlight I could see Casey’s white-blonde hair glowing around her shadowy face. I walked over to the fence that separated our properties.

  ‘Having a few rums.’ I held up my half-drunk can.

  ‘Drinking alone?’ Casey asked. ‘That’s kinda sad.’

  ‘What’re you doing?’

  ‘Having a fag.’ Casey exhaled a cloud of smoke and butted her cigarette out on the fence. ‘Hey, isn’t it your birthday soon?’

  ‘Yeah.’ I nodded, sort of pleased she’d remembered my birthday. ‘Today.’

  ‘Naaww. Happy birthday, Jezzy!’ Casey put on her best sugary voice. ‘What you been doin’? Haven’t seen you in ages. I’ve been sooo bummed.’

  ‘Yeah? How come?’

  ‘The parents found out about me stripping and Dad totally flipped balls. They said I had to quit or move out. So I quit. Fuck paying rent, such a waste of money.’

  ‘Yeah.’ I nodded. ‘So what’re you doing for cash?’

  ‘I get by. Selling dexies and stuff. Doctor reckons I’ve got ADD so I get all these pills and then just sell ’em to people. Hey, you want some? I’ll do you a cheap deal.’

  ‘Nah.’ I held up my hands. ‘I’m good.’

  Casey lit another smoke.

  ‘You heard from Cash lately?’ I ventured, all causal.

  ‘Naw. Probably won’t see him for another few years. He’s like that. He liked you, y’know. But he’s just —’

  ‘Yeah, that’s cool,’ I cut her off. ‘I get it.’

  ‘So what’s new? What did you do for your birthday?’

  ‘Stuff,’ I said, guardedly. ‘Got a tattoo today.’ I couldn’t resist showing off a little.

  ‘No waaay,’ Casey drawled. ‘Show me! I’m heaps into tatts now, too! Come over! Mum and Dad are down the coast. I’ve got Cruisers.’

  I hesitated.

  ‘Aw, c’mon, Jezzy. You don’t still have your panties in a bunch over that Lukey shit, do ya?’

  ‘Nah . . .’

  ‘What’s the problem, then?’

  ‘Mum and Jeremy are cooking dinner for me and —’

  ‘Laaaame,’ Casey groaned. ‘C’mon over! We’ll have mad hangs, fuckin’ mayhem, fuckin’ whatever.’ Her eyes glinted and she tossed her hair. ‘C’mon! Bring your rum. I’ll ring up some hot guys.’

  I felt a shiver of anticipation in the pit of my stomach and, in spite of myself, could feel a slow smile creeping over my lips.

  But then, over my shoulder, I could see Mum through the kitchen window, smiling and laughing. And I knew it’d be warm in there, I’d get a good feed, and I could cosy up on that old corduroy couch in the lounge room and hug the heater and watch Mum cry over Dirty Dancing for about the bazillionth time.

  ‘Maybe another night,’ I told Casey, and smiled so she’d know everything was cool. Then I turned and went back inside.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  I’m most grateful to my incredibly loyal parents, Bill and Marg Thompson. I love and respect you, and want nothing more than to make you proud of me.

  Thanks to my supportive family—Justin, Erin, Dan and Sarah Thompson, Greg Murrie and Claire Murrie (Gran)—and the rest, extended, around the world
.

  Special thanks to my amazing friends Jessica ‘Jess Mess’ McQuade and Laura Conlon, for your unwavering friendship, and for lending your names to my characters (who bear no resemblance to the real women). My close friends Scott Rutar, Dan Hanford, Katie Saarikko and Komala Kyme—you all rock. And cheers out to the rest of my friends for all the shows, laughs, beers and good memories.

  For your belief in my writing, and guidance in the early stages of drafting Snake Bite, thank you to Dr Adrian Caesar and Lucy Neave. Very fair to say my writing wouldn’t have come this far without you both spending considerable amounts of your time helping realise my potential.

  Professionally, thank you to Lyn Tranter, my agent, for taking a chance on an unknown writer, and Jane Palfreyman, my publisher, for the same reason. Belinda Lee, Alissa Dinallo and everyone at Allen and Unwin, you are a pleasure to work with. Much respect to Alex Nahlous for doing the hard yards copy-editing the manuscript. Thanks Holly Granville-Edge, friend and incredibly talented photographer, for helping realise my vision for the cover of this novel, and to the models Alanna, Rhianna and Sarah.

  Finally, thanks to my writing companion and beautiful little dog, Bettie.