Girl in Between Page 8

  Rosie laughs half-heartedly. ‘I’m not so sure you’d be doing it for you, Luce. You always said he wished you were tougher, or more assertive, or driven, or whatever it was. But you don’t have to prove anything to him. Do medicine if that’s what you really want to do, but is it what you really want to do? Is it?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I say, starting to feel upset.

  Rosie reaches over and puts her hand on my wrist. ‘Sorry. Sorry, I just want this all to be over for you.’

  I look into my lap as my eyes fill with tears. ‘So do I.’

  She moves to sit beside me and puts her hand on my shoulder.

  ‘I just … want … to run away … with Glenda,’ I sob.

  The café door slides open. ‘Oh shit! Here, pop these on,’ Rosie whispers, handing me her massive Jackie Onassis sunglasses. ‘Hi, Oscar,’ she says, waving cheerily.

  ‘Hey, Rosie, hey, Lucy, how are you going?’ He walks over to our table with a petite woman with strawberry blonde hair close behind. She’s wearing the same navy-and-white-striped dress I admired recently—but couldn’t afford—in Witchery.

  ‘This is Kate, my girlfriend,’ says Oscar, placing his hand on the small of her back.

  ‘Hello,’ she says, and smiles at us. ‘Oscar said we might run into you around town somewhere. Nice watch,’ she adds, gesturing to Rosie’s wrist and raising her arm to reveal they both have the same blush pink and rose gold-coloured watch. We smile back at her. She seems lovely.

  Oscar looks at me. ‘You okay?’

  ‘Yeah,’ says Rosie firmly, ‘she’s okay.’

  I smile and nod. ‘Yeah, I’m okay.’

  ‘I might see you around. Katie and I are up for the next ten days, so …’

  ‘Sounds great,’ enthuses Rosie. ‘Well, we’re about to take off.’

  ‘Oh, sure,’ says Oscar, moving aside. ‘Well, see ya.’

  ‘That was fairly embarrassing,’ I say to Rosie as we drive along Gladstone Road, passing the double-decker cattle trucks and bull statues.

  ‘No, what’s embarrassing is that I just realised I left that bloody top five list there,’ she says.

  ‘You didn’t!’

  ‘Yes, I fucking did. And they sat down at our table when we left—I saw them.’

  ‘Oh shit—Rosie, that’s gold. But they don’t know which one of us wrote that list.’

  ‘I’ll just have to pretend I know nothing about it, or that it was there before we sat down,’ she says.

  ‘Oscar won’t make a fuss about it. He’s too nice for that. God, I hope he doesn’t think I wrote it.’

  ‘Yeah, now your mind’s on something else, isn’t it?’

  ‘Rosie, wind your window up! These cattle trucks stink.’

  She laughs. ‘You’re not in Melbourne anymore, Luce!’

  A week later, when I get back from taking Glenda for her morning walk, my heart soars at the sight of Max’s new black Subaru Outback in the driveway. He’d been vague on exactly which day he and the kids would arrive, and as I bound up the front steps to the sounds of little people playing in the front yard, I realise his visit couldn’t have come at a better time.

  ‘Lucy! Lucy!’ call Jack and Isla, my seven- and five-year-old niece and nephew, who race towards me and run into my arms.

  I swing them around. ‘Oh, you two! It’s so good to see you!’

  ‘Can you take us dinosaur hunting?’ asks Jack, wide-eyed, latching onto my leg as I lower him down.

  ‘Please!’ pleads Isla, jumping on the spot.

  ‘Alright! Go and get your hats and put some shoes on.’

  Max walks out onto the verandah and the kids scoot past him as he envelops me in a bear hug. ‘Come on in, mate, we’ve just boiled the kettle!’

  In that moment, all seems right with the world. Mum is in the kitchen, making tea, two little sandy brown curly heads are tugging on their shoes, and Max is standing at the open fridge door, scanning for chocolate, like he always did.

  When we were growing up, I idolised Max. He’s only fifteen months older than me, but when you’re seven, fifteen months is a lifetime of cool, and I used to shamelessly copy his every move. If Mum and Dad took us to a restaurant, for example, I’d wait to see what drink Max would order before ordering mine. He soon cottoned on, and I remember how devastated I was one time when he ordered a lemonade, which I duly requested too, and then as the waiter walked away he called out, ‘Can I please change that to an orange juice?’

  As we got older, I copied him less and less, and now, in our early thirties, our lives couldn’t be more different.

  ‘I won’t have tea yet, Ma,’ I say as Jack and Isla take my hands. ‘We’ve got a date with the dinosaurs.’

  ‘We’re going dinosaur hunting,’ Isla whispers to Mum.

  ‘Dinosaur hunting? How lucky are you!’ exclaims Mum, looking down at them. ‘You be good for Aunty Luce.’

  They nod earnestly and then we all walk hand in hand out the back of Mum and Dad’s house and down the gently sloping green fields of the outer botanic gardens, which lead to patches of rainforest, hoop-pine-lined pathways and—our ultimate destination—a playground shaded under a canopy of weeping figs.

  ‘What would you do if you saw a dinosaur?’ asks Jack as we walk along.

  ‘I’d stand very, very still,’ I reply solemnly.

  ‘But what would you do if the dinosaur still saw you?’ persists Jack.

  ‘I’d run very, very fast,’ I reply.

  ‘I would run so fast that the dinosaur would be like, “Hey! Was that even a person?”’ says Isla.

  ‘Yeah,’ I agree, ‘that would be really fast.’

  ‘Did you know I’m the fastest boy in grade two?’ says Jack.

  ‘Really?’ I say, looking down at him.

  ‘Yeah, Mum said so.’

  ‘Cool,’ I reply. ‘I was pretty fast when I was little, you know.’

  ‘How many years are you?’ asks Isla.

  ‘Thirty-two.’

  ‘Thirty-two!’ exclaims Jack. ‘Gee, mate, that’s even older than Mum!’

  I chuckle; he sounds like a mini-Max.

  ‘Are you really that old?’ he asks.

  ‘Yep, I’m really that old. But I’m still totally awesome!’

  ‘You’re thirty-two and not married! You don’t even have a boyfriend! Are you going to have babies?’ he asks, and I can almost hear his little mind ticking over.

  ‘I hope so one day,’ I say.

  ‘Well, you’d better hurry up and get married, mate, because then you could have babies, or else you get older and soon you could be dead!’

  We walk in silence through the grass, listening for dinosaurs, then Isla asks, ‘Do you want to get married?’ She peers up at me intently, her tiny voice piercing my heart.

  ‘Yeah, I do, Isla,’ I say, squeezing her hand and smiling to myself. I can’t believe I’m being held accountable by a five- and seven-year-old. The crazy thing is, their interrogation is so devastatingly, touchingly effective. As I let go of their hands and watch them run into the playground, I sit on the grass, and realise they’ve made me acknowledge two things out loud that I rarely admit to anyone. Yes, I want to get married and yes, I want to have children. I watch as they wave to me from the top of the climbing castle. The little buggers.

  ‘Hey, Luce,’ says Max, handing me a cup of tea on our return and settling into the couch, ‘tell us your news.’

  ‘I don’t really have much news.’

  ‘Finished your book?’

  ‘No, still going.’

  ‘She’s broken-hearted, Max,’ says Mum frankly.

  ‘I thought you looked a bit sad. Who is it this time?’

  I don’t reply.

  Max looks to Mum. ‘Not Jeremy still?’

  Mum nods.

  ‘No! Luce, I thought you were over that. What happened?’

  ‘She was doing so well,’ says Mum. ‘And then he suddenly turns up on the doorstep about a month ago.’

 
; ‘He didn’t!’ exclaims Max.

  ‘He did,’ says Mum. ‘He came here and they had a chat and he told her he’s still with his new girlfriend. Then he left again.’

  ‘Shit, he could have just texted you that.’

  ‘That’s what I said,’ says Mum, sighing. ‘So of course now Lucy’s dropped her bundle again.’

  ‘Oh shit, Luce.’ Max looks at me sympathetically. ‘Well, you’ve just got to dust yourself off again, don’t you? There’s no alternative, is there?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘How are you going for money?’ he asks.

  ‘Not great,’ replies Mum.

  ‘Mum! I can answer questions for myself,’ I say. ‘I’ve still got a grand left.’

  ‘You’ll be right, Luce,’ Max assures me. ‘You’ve always landed on your feet. You’ll land on them again.’

  I take a deep breath. ‘I think I want to do medicine.’

  ‘Ha-ha!’ Max laughs and claps his hands in delight, as if it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard. ‘Now there’s a good one,’ he says, grinning.

  ‘No, I’m serious—I want to be a doctor.’

  ‘Medicine! At thirty-two! You’ve got to be crazy!’ cries Mum, looking over to Max for support. ‘Say you did get in, you wouldn’t start until the following year, which would make you thirty-four! Thirty-four, studying without an income for at least five years! Well, you could forget having a family. There’s no way you could have kids.’

  Dad walks into the lounge room, having overheard the tail end of the conversation. ‘Lovey, you’re as much a GP as I am a ballerina,’ he comments before leaving again.

  ‘What sort of medicine interests you, Luce?’ asks Max, causing Mum to shoot him a dark look.

  ‘I wouldn’t mind being a geriatrician.’

  ‘A doctor for old people?’

  ‘Yeah, we’d probably all be the same age by the time I graduated, so I’d relate well to my patients.’ Max and I laugh, though Mum doesn’t see the funny side.

  ‘Why not do teaching, Lucy?’ says Max. ‘You’ve already got a BA, so you’d only need to do a DipEd for nine months and then you’d be on eighty grand a year, have heaps of holidays to travel. You’d make a great English and drama teacher.’

  And though I think I would be an okay teacher, I don’t want to be. I don’t want to listen to commonsense advice when I still think I have options.

  Before I can say anything, Jack and Isla run into the room and jump on my lap.

  ‘Can we sit on your back and you walk like a dog?’ asks Jack, his eager blue eyes anticipating a positive response.

  ‘Okay,’ I reply, getting down on the floor. They clamber onto my back and I crawl around the furniture.

  Max watches us. ‘See, look how much fun you’re having! Don’t you want to have a few tin lids of your own, Lucy?’

  ‘Woof woof,’ I reply.

  ‘Or at least think of us, mate; Jack and Isla need some cousins.’ He sips his tea. ‘You know what I’ve learnt?’

  ‘What, love?’ asks Mum.

  ‘I’ve learnt there’s no right time to do the big things in life. There’s no right time to get married or to have kids, you just have to do it or you never will.’

  We hear a knock at the door.

  ‘Come in!’ yells Mum.

  The weight of Isla on my neck makes it impossible for me to see our visitor.

  ‘Oh, hello, Oscar,’ says Mum, beaming. ‘Let me get you a cup of tea.’

  ‘Sorry, you’ve already got a big gang here, I didn’t mean to interrupt,’ says Oscar. ‘I can come back later.’

  I wiggle my back until the kids slide off. ‘No, no, you’re right, Oscar. This is my brother Max, and his kids Jack and Isla.’

  Isla scurries behind my legs and Jack eyes him curiously.

  ‘Hello, Jack, I like your Star Wars t-shirt,’ says Oscar.

  I smile, and wonder why he’s here and not with Kate.

  Mum bustles back in, determined not to miss a second of the lounge room banter, and hands Oscar his tea. He sits beside me on the couch, and Isla settles herself in my lap.

  ‘Hello, Oscar,’ says Dad, striding into the lounge again and shaking Oscar’s outstretched hand. ‘Isn’t it lovely to have both Max and Oscar in the same room, Denise?’

  Max looks across at me and I feel my stomach churn, knowing there’ll be twenty questions from him when Oscar leaves.

  At Dad’s insistence, Oscar explains the Bev’s Buffet business model to Max, and I busy myself with Isla and a colouring book on the floor. It’s actually quite meditative, shading between the lines of Peppa Pig, and as conversations about State of Origin referees, house prices in Brisbane and Sydney, and the lucrativeness of selling bamboo-based nappies to China swirl around me, I feel more relaxed.

  Mum chortles with delight at Oscar’s every second comment; if I didn’t know better, I’d say she was flirting. Despite Oscar being a cockroach and a Manly supporter, I can tell Max likes him.

  Hearing the theme song for Teen Titans Go! Isla races into the TV room to join Jack, and Oscar stands, saying he promised he’d fix his mum’s clothesline after Ben broke a few spokes swinging on it at their housewarming, and that he’d better set off to Bunnings. He nods at Dad and Max and lightly hugs Mum when she insists he ‘give her a squeeze’. I follow him onto the verandah and down the path to the front gate, where he pauses with his hand on the latch.

  ‘You going okay, Luce? You looked a bit upset at Bits ’n’ Pizzas the other day.’

  ‘Oh, that.’ I laugh. ‘No, I’m right. I’d just dropped my bundle. Needed to get back on the horse.’

  ‘Ha! You sound like my grandma.’ He grins and pushes the gate open.

  ‘Have fun at Bunnings.’

  ‘Do you need anything?’ He turns to look back at me.

  ‘Nah, I’m right for ladders and chainsaws.’

  We wave goodbye and I am walking back along the verandah when I hear Mum, Dad and Max discussing me in conspiratorial tones.

  ‘He wouldn’t come around if he wasn’t keen,’ Max says, to which Mum replies, ‘You’re right, Max, there’s definitely something there. I just hope she pulls herself out of this rut …’ ‘Well, I think Oscar’s a very capable young man,’ says Dad. ‘And if Lucy had any sense she’d—’

  I walk inside and their round table discussion about me immediately ceases.

  ‘You know he’s got a girlfriend,’ I say, annoyed by their presumptuous matchmaking. ‘I met her and she’s nice.’ I drop onto the couch.

  Dad crosses his hands behind his head and says, ‘Did you see Tiffany Bloxsom’s been nominated for a Logie?’

  ‘Has she?’ asks Mum. ‘You know, it doesn’t surprise me.’

  ‘No, it doesn’t surprise me either,’ says Dad. ‘Remember that first night she presented Sportsbet all those years ago at half-time between Canterbury and Cronulla and I said to you, “That girl’s got talent.”’ Dad looks across at Max. ‘You know, they asked Lucy to present Sportsbet.’

  I feel my heart thumping hard and fast against my chest as Dad turns to me and says, ‘That could have been you, Lucy.’

  I stand up and stare him down. ‘Dad!’ I exclaim. ‘I would rather shoot myself in the head than present Sportsbet!’

  ‘Well, maybe you should!’ he retorts.

  I storm out of the house, slamming the screen door behind me like a ten-year-old. I search for Glenda, and when I can’t find her I march back into the lounge room, my body trembling, my blood boiling, my heart racing, and Mum, Dad and Max swivel their heads to stare up at me.

  ‘You can all get fucked!’ I yell.

  Their jaws drop.

  ‘I didn’t really mean that, but fuck you all!’

  They look at me like I might be about to fit.

  ‘Okay, what I’m trying to say is, enough’s enough. I’ve had it. I’ve fucking had it! I’m going to Broome on a holiday!’ I then burst into tears.

  Max starts clapping. ‘Well,’ he says,
‘I think this is just wonderful. Lucy’s finally snapped! I’ve been waiting over a year to hear you say that, and you’re finally there. Congratulations, Lucy!’

  ‘Yes!’ agrees Mum. ‘This is a day to celebrate! I’m so glad you’ve officially cracked!’

  ‘I hoped to push you over the edge with my Tiffany Bloxsom comment, love,’ says Dad. ‘I didn’t really mean to tell you to shoot yourself in the head, that was a step too far and I apologise for that, but regardless, you got there in the end.’

  I look at them in disbelief. ‘What are you talking about?’ I gasp through sobs.

  ‘Today’s the beginning of a new chapter,’ says Max. ‘Finally, you’re going to get off this couch, and get out of this house, and go on an adventure, and figure out what you really want to do.’

  ‘This is a real breakthrough,’ says Mum, dabbing at her eyes. ‘A real breakthrough.’

  I stagger back to the couch, bewildered yet smiling. Bloody hell, I think, all I’m doing is booking some flights to Broome.

  There’s nothing like the sound of monks running on floorboards to jolt you out of a Zen-like state. I’m sipping green tea and admiring the beautiful gardens outside my room, when their heavy footsteps remind me I’m in a Buddhist temple, atop a forested tableland, in the sacred monastic village of Koya-san. The temple, Eko-In, sits high on a mountain on the Kansai region’s rugged Kii-Hanto peninsula, south of Osaka.

  A fortnight ago, Mum and Dad decided to shout me three weeks in Japan. They said they were sick of the sight of me, and Broome was still too close. Besides which, Mum had asked Rosie where I’d go if I could choose anywhere, and Rosie had immediately replied, ‘Japan.’ Mum had then taped a copy of the ticket to the top of Roomba, and set her off outside my room at 5.30 am. I flew from Rockhampton to Brisbane and on to Tokyo the very next day.

  I’d hugged Mum at the Rockhampton terminal, and she’d cried into my neck, telling me all she wanted was for me to feel brighter. She then blessed me with oil, which she claimed to be holy but I think was canola.

  The temple I’m staying in now, Eko-In, is a beautiful wooden building of several levels and with staircases that twist and turn around a delightful central garden. The rooms are simple yet elegant, with cane chairs, a glass table, and floor-to-ceiling windows with garden views.