Beautiful Monster (4 page)

She clings to that night as she pushes herself around the lake every evening and pulls hard on the oars every morning. Her mum is proud of her. She hoards that image of her mother, hair and eyes glowing, that beautiful smile, her musical laugh. If they could win this final, maybe she'd help her mum to stay like that. The perfect woman she once was.

‘She was quite something, your mum,' Ned says one evening when she's finished musing over the fine details of that wonderful family dinner. As they run through the misty twilight, he is just a voice near her ear. ‘A real woman. Strong and determined. You could learn a lot from her, Tess.'

Tess nods but doesn't look at him. The comment seems slightly barbed. Is Ned saying she's not as strong as her mum? ‘I know. She's what I'd like to be like. Aside from the madness.'

Ned slows and she slows too. In the gloom she feels the scowl, his pleasantness evaporated. ‘Why do you have to do that, Tess? Always bringing her down about something she can't help. Can't control.'

‘I don't know.' Tess is mortified. Why
does
she do that? ‘It slips out. I don't mean it. I just wish that things were the way they used to be.'

‘You want too much.' Ned pushes on. She hears his words float back. ‘Try fixing your own faults before you look at your mother's.'

She sprints but Ned is too far ahead to catch—and anyway she doesn't want to. Sometimes she wishes he'd shut up. Lately he's been getting on at her about everything. About her clothes, her hair and always, constantly, about her weight. It's beginning to feel like she's not good enough for him. Yesterday she weighed 52 kilos. She was so happy. Thin means fit. But it's more important than that: it means reaching the goals she's set herself. But Ned wasn't happy for her.

‘Pleased with that, Tess?' he'd asked.

She stood stiffly in front of him and nodded, already feeling the joy slip away from her.

‘Thought you wanted 50?'

She inhaled slowly and sat on her bed, pushing aside a celebrity magazine. ‘I do, but it's not that easy. Some days I feel so tired if I don't eat enough. I drink water but it's bloating my stomach.' She lifted her top to show him, her stomach round and shiny. Her lip turned up in disgust.

‘You need to do something about that. That's gross.' There was a shudder in his voice. ‘What's the point of getting thin and fit if your stomach looks like something out of Africa?'

Tess dropped her top quickly, embarrassed and disgusted with herself, desperate to get his admiration back.

‘I read somewhere that taking a type of enzyme helps with digestion. Maybe I should try it.'

‘Try something, Tess. Or I'll have to call you Big Belly Bertha,' Ned said.

Tears stung her eyes and Ned, sensing her distress, immediately softened. ‘C'mere.'

She snuggled gratefully into his embrace, her heart racing. She couldn't lose Ned, too; he was the only real thing she had left in her weird life.

His voice was soft against her ear. ‘I only say it cos I love you.'

‘I know,' she said.

The morning of the finals Tess is up and dressed by 4.30. She creeps quietly around the house. Her mum and dad are still sleeping. She'd heard them up late last night. Dad's soothing voice to her mum's softly weeping one. Tess prays they're all right this morning.
Please, this morning, let Mum be normal.
She goes for a brisk walk. Striding out long and fast. She wants to feel happy, but the nerves are getting to her. Even her goal weight of 50 hasn't elevated her spirits as much as she'd hoped. She tries to remind herself that today is the day: 50 kilos and the trophy. She'll have made it.

When she arrives home her dad is making tea.

‘Hi honey.' He looks weary, the bags under his eyes dark.

‘Where's Mum?' Tess feels her stomach drop. Please, Mum, not today.

‘She's in the shower, babe.' Her dad squeezes the teabag. ‘I'll take her this and hurry her along. She wouldn't miss today for anything.'

Tess sits in the back of the car, in the driveway, waiting. She watches the front of the house, such a normal suburban home, limestone brick and blue Colorbond roof. She stares at the timber front door. Waiting for it to open and for them both to appear. It remains firmly shut. She knows her dad is employing every persuasive technique to get her mum out of the house. It's a familiar scene. Her mum still in her dressing-gown, hunched over in front of her dressing table mirror, her long jewelled fingers covering her face. ‘Liam, I'm so tired,' her mum is saying, ‘just let me sleep.' So she's surprised to see them both finally walk out the door.

‘Ready, kid?' Dad says with the false joviality he reserves for times like these, and reverses out of the driveway, winking at her over the headrest. Tess gives a small smile and nods, sips her water and stares at the back of her mother's bowed head.

Out on the water she watches them on the river bank. Her mum sits in a camping chair Dad has brought for her. He's tucked a picnic blanket over her legs and she looks like an invalid. No sign of Ned yet. Dad waves, points the camera and shoots. Tess smiles, but her grin feels like the carved mouth of a Halloween pumpkin.

The boats line up. Tess's gut tightens. She grabs the oar hard, knuckles popping white. She barely hears the gun. Barely hears Debbie's order, ‘Full slide and on one...' Tess hauls the oar with all her strength and the boat surges forward. They are bow to bow with St Brigit's. One boat noses in front, then on the next pull the other boat pushes forward. They are so close to each other, matching stroke for stroke.

They pull harder. Maddie grunts with effort. Tess bites her lip so hard she tastes blood. They edge in front of St Brigit's on two hard pulls. The roar from her team's supporters on the shore is deafening. The girls from St Brigit's glance their way, their coxswain screaming for more effort. The cheers from the shore get louder. Debbie bellows, ‘Full slide and one...'

They pull even harder. They nose a half boat length into the lead. Every muscle screams, but Tess ignores the pain. Push harder, pull faster. One, two, one, two. Another roar from the supporters swells through Tess, feeding her strength. They are going to win. She knows it. She can feel it. They're going to win! But St Brigit's comes back defiantly, sidling up from behind. Tess's team hangs on desperately. St Brigit's noses in front. And crosses the line a millimetre before them.

Tess sees red and white everywhere she looks, leaping across the river bank and bobbing up and down in the boat next them. Red. And. White. Screams of victory. She sits still, the boat gently rocking in the water. Maddie has her hands over her face. In front of her, Chloe massages her own shoulder. Nobody speaks. Nobody moves. They are paralysed with pain and the effort they've exerted. And then Tess hears the sound of sobbing. She looks around in bewilderment. It's Debbie. Her head hangs low. Tears run down her face.

‘I called wrong,' Debbie wails. ‘We could've hung on if I'd called better.'

She is looking directly at Tess. Tess flinches. No one responds.

‘I was nervous. I didn't do it right. I lost us the trophy.'

Debbie weeps loudly now, and several of the other girls join her. But Tess is dumbfounded. She knows it was her fault. If she hadn't tasted victory—hadn't thought they'd won—she would have worked harder. Her ego lost them the race. She hadn't stayed focused. Tess opens her mouth to speak, to admit to her error, but the girls are ready to lift the boat out. Mr Mycock stands on the shore, watching them, his smile not making his eyes. Tess glances towards her parents. Her mum is half obscured by a weeping peppermint; her dad gives her a sympathetic smile and shrugs like it's no big deal. But it is a huge deal. She knows Ned will be disappointed too and the shame sweeps over her as she keeps her mouth shut.

Mr Mycock hides his disappointment and embraces them all. He spends ten minutes with his arm around Debbie, trying to console her, but she is inconsolable. ‘You called well, Debbie. Girls, you have to be proud, the effort was enormous. St Brigit's is the top team—we've always got next year.'

Tess feels his eyes on her. She can't escape her shame.

Her dad puts his arm around her. ‘It was a terrific effort, Tess. We're so proud of you.'

She feels the tears in her eyes.

‘It's okay to be upset,' he concedes, squeezing her hard. ‘I know kitten, but imagine how strong you'll all be next season. Look at how far you've come.'

She nods, still unable to speak, too scared of what words might spew forth. She glances towards the bank where her mother still sits in the chair, and suddenly hears a ringing noise in her ears. It gets louder and louder. She squeezes her eyes shut, then opens them again. Black spots dance across her vision. Her dad is speaking, but suddenly his words sound like they're being played in slow motion.

‘Tess ... are ... you ... all ... right?'

She says, ‘Dad?' but can't hear herself over the ringing; her voice sounds tinny, like it's coming out of a speaker miles away. She says it again, ‘Dad?'

Worry creases his brow; he quickly grabs her arms above the elbows and the sky around her goes blindingly yellow.

She opens her eyes, thinking she's going to be late for school, to find her dad leaning over her.

‘Tess, Tess,' he says. Behind him she hears Mr Mycock saying, ‘The ambulance officers are coming over.'

‘Ambulance?' she says weakly, trying to sit up.

‘Shhh.' Her dad puts his hand on her arm, holding her down. ‘You fainted. I want to have you checked out.'

She lies on the damp river bank, horrified. How could she pass out here, in front of everyone? The ambulance officers wrap her in a foil blanket and sit her on the back of the ambulance to take her blood pressure.

‘It's a really low reading,' the woman says. ‘Have you eaten today?'

Tess shakes her head. ‘Too nervous, I guess.'

‘Low blood sugar,' her father says. ‘Sorry, I'm a doctor.' He shrugs apologetically.

‘Get her some juice,' the ambo says curtly. ‘We'll watch her.'

Tess sees her dad go to the van and buy juice. He stops quickly to talk to her mother, pats her shoulder and walks back to Tess. ‘Seems I've got two unwell girls to take care of today,' he says. More false jollity.

The ambulance officer observes Tess taking small sips through a straw. ‘I'm a bit worried that you're displaying signs of malnutrition,' she begins slowly.

Tess's dad laughs loudly. ‘Malnutrition? You've got to be kidding.'

The woman glares at him and turns to Tess. ‘How tall are you?'

‘About 168 centimetres.' She looks at her dad, puzzled.

‘And what do you weigh?'

‘I don't know.' Suddenly she feels panicked, realising where this is going. Instinctively she pulls the blanket around her tightly. ‘I don't weigh myself. We don't have any scales.'

‘Okay.' The woman puts her hand on Tess's arm, but looks at her dad. ‘I'd guess Tess's body mass index is too low. She looks underweight to me. It could be too much training, and stress. But you'd know that—you're a doctor.'

He bristles at her words, but tries to control his anger. ‘Too much training. I'm sure she's within the normal range. But thanks anyway. We'll watch it.'

The woman seems slightly mollified by his change of tone and laughs lightly. ‘Of course, I wasn't meaning to imply anything.' She waves her hand towards the river bank. ‘She'll probably put on weight now the season is over.'

That night Tess feels her dad watching her eat. She tries to put as much as she can on her fork but every mouthful makes her sick. She hears Ned's voice whisper, ‘Think of the calories, Tess. Your dad made those potatoes with butter and milk.' She tries not to gag as she swallows. Eventually, when she feels she's eaten at least half her meal, she tries to spread the rest around her plate.

‘C'mon, Tess, you can eat more than that,' her dad says, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

‘I don't feel well, Dad. Maybe it was the race and fainting, but I can't eat any more.' Silently she curses the nosy ambo.

‘Okay.' He looks worried. ‘Are you feeling any better? I think maybe you should come to the clinic with me tomorrow and we can do a full check-up.'

‘No, I'm much better. I'm tired. And I hadn't eaten.' She pats her stomach. It feels gigantic. ‘But now I'm full.'

He shakes his head doubtfully. ‘We'll see how you go over the next few days, hey? If you're not back on track, I'll get you in with Marie.'

Tess gets up from the table. ‘Okay, but I'm fine. Honest. I guess the training and stress kinda got to me. That ambo is probably right: now the season's over, things will even out.' She pushes her chair in. ‘I'm going to get some sleep.'

In the bathroom she roughly strips off her clothes and stares at herself in the mirror. Her stomach is disgusting. She turns side on. Ned is right: she does resemble an African kid. She thinks of what he said before, when she told him she'd overeaten. ‘Get rid of it,' he'd said in that matter-of-fact voice. ‘That's what heaps of chicks do. You eat too much, you throw it up. Then the calories don't count.'

The idea of doing that scares her. Does it mean she has a problem? She peers at herself.
Of course it doesn't.
The face in the mirror is reassuring.
It means you made a mistake and you need to fix it.
She would do anything to take away this full feeling. Anything.

She locks the bathroom door, turns the shower on hard and kneels in front of the toilet bowl. She shoves her fingers down her throat. The sensation immediately makes her gag. But nothing comes up. There are tears in her eyes. She can't do it. But then she hears Ned: ‘No one will love you if you're fat, Tess. You were weak for eating all that food. Get rid of it. If you don't you'll get fat.' The thought of seeing the disapproval in his eyes makes her grit her teeth.
You can do it, Tess,
she tells herself.
You can.