Beautiful Monster (7 page)

‘I went outside to do some gardening. She seemed fine. I shouldn't have left her. I should have known better. But she made like she wanted—no, needed—to do it on her own. So I gave her space. It was Brodie's certificate that did it.' He gestures towards the lounge room. ‘I came up from the shed. She was curled in a ball on the floor, clutching the certificate to her chest.'

‘God, Dad.' Tess sits rigid in her chair.

‘I couldn't get her to speak. Or let go of it.'

She hears tears in his voice. She can't bear it.

‘I had to call Dr Simpson and Mrs Olsen. I couldn't leave you a note, kitten. I couldn't let go of her. I had to get her help. I'm so sorry.'

‘Don't, Dad,' Tess says, putting an arm around him. ‘Thank God for nosy neighbours, hey?'

She gets a small laugh from him, and it lifts her heart. ‘Yeah, Mrs Olsen certainly came in handy,' he agrees. ‘Kitten, are you all right? Mum is sedated and safe now. We can go tomorrow and see her. But are you okay?'

‘Yeah.' Tess tries another smile. ‘Are you though, Dad?'

They sit up for hours talking. She knows her dad is struggling, but he wears a stoic face and she realises this is what she must do too. She can't cause him any more anguish, not when he's so worried about Mum.

‘Tomorrow when we go to see Mum, I'd like you to see Dr Simpson too.'

‘Sure,' she says, although the idea terrifies her. ‘If that will make you happy, Dad. Of course I will.'

Her mum is sitting up in bed when they arrive the next morning. Tess notices that her hair has been brushed—probably by a nurse—and pulled back into a tight lacky.

She smiles at them as they walk in the room. ‘Tessa, baby,' she says, holding out her hand.

Tess rushes to her, scared of losing it. She smells the warm lavender of her mother and only just manages to hold back her sobs.

‘I'm sorry if I gave you a bit of a fright.'

Tess shakes her head against her mother's chest. A bit of a fright? How about scared shitless, she wants to scream. Scared shitless that you'd end up a demented hollow woman, shuffling the corridors of a loony bin. But Tess stifles the thoughts.

‘Are you okay, Mum?' she asks finally.

‘Better,' her mum says slowly, and Tess hears the medication in her voice. ‘Dr Simpson has changed my meds.' She pauses, thinking it through. ‘But I should be home today. I'm so sorry.'

‘Mum,' Tess grabs her again, ‘there's nothing to apologise for.'

‘Things will get better,' her mum says, this time her eyelids drooping, ‘I promise.'

That's the thing though, Tess thinks: it's hard to believe anyone's promises because nothing ever gets better. The only one she can trust is Ned. When she listens to him—and it's tough love—things go right for her. When she loses weight, or reaches a goal, she always feels better. She watches her mother sleeping in her hospital bed and resolves not to turn her back on Ned again. Ever.

Her mum comes home the next day, weak and shuffling, exactly like an invalid. The vision frightens Tess. She tries hard not to show it and busies herself by making everything right.

‘I've made lunch, Mum. You hungry?' she asks, bringing in a tray of soup and warm bread rolls. The smell makes her own stomach wail.

‘Looks lovely, Tess. Thanks. You're such a good girl.'

Her mum reaches up to touch her face. Tess feels warmed.

‘Eat something Mum, you're so thin,' she says. She sits back and watches her mother carefully lift the soup spoon to her lips. Her actions are so measured—completely medicated. Thank God Dr Simpson was too busy to see me, Tess thinks.

‘What's going down then?' Ned asks her that evening. ‘Anything to report?'

Tess tries not to make eye contact, because if she does, he'll see all the way into her soul. She could report files' worth. But she shakes her head. Last night she overheard Aunty Sue talking to Dad. Like a trespasser, Tess sat on the stairs behind the turned posts, breathing as quietly as possible.

‘I know she looks okay Liam,' Aunty Sue said, ‘but I think she's covering her feelings. She's alone so much.'

‘I do my best, Susan,' her dad said resignedly and, Tess was sure, with a hint of irritation. Silently she pleaded with Aunty Sue to stop. ‘I don't think you understand how hard it is.'

Aunty Sue's voice became even softer. ‘Liam, my darling, I'm not blaming you. I'm worried about her. She's a girl, on the threshold of...' Aunty Sue trailed off. ‘At a time when a girl needs her mother. And Annelise can't be that, right now. I'm scared for her.'

‘Okay,' her dad said, so tiredly. ‘Like I said, I'm doing my best.'

Tess sat silently and invisibly, listening to them take their tea into the lounge room where she couldn't hear anymore.

And she's pulled out of the tennis team, because she can't be around Jordan and his inquisition. He's always asking how things are, if she's okay, is she eating right—and, frankly, she owes him no explanations. Anyway, his company displeases Ned, who warns her that she can't trust Jordan, that like all boys he's interested in only one thing. She hears the jealousy and anger in his voice. She won't hurt Ned, or let anyone come between them again. Better to withdraw. She can't burden her dad—he's trying his best. She must, too. So she's focusing on her school work, although at night it's hard—she's so hungry all the time.

Food is all she thinks about, but it would be weak to give in to her body's craven demands. So she blocks them out, smiles and gets on with life. She wants to be 45 kilos—and Ned has told her that once she's achieved that, she'll be happy. It's a simple equation.

‘No,' Tess says eventually. ‘Nothing to report.'

Things seem to settle down. Tess has focus, for the first time in a long while. Sure, she's dismissed her tennis mates—who can't understand why she's pulled out of the team and are constantly trying to suck her back in. But like Ned says, they don't really care about her—they just want to win pennants. And she'll be nobody's lackey. Mum seems a lot better too—back to her old ways, or at least the ways she's had since Brodie. And Tess has been getting excellent marks at school—all As. She is flying.

One night she steps on the scales, fear and trepidation in her heart.
Just be 45,
she begs, because if it is—she's done everything right. She watches the red line anxiously. Wills it to hit 45. Can barely hold back the elation when it does.

This is it: 45! She's done it. Made it. Achieved the seemingly impossible. She hugs herself tightly.

Silence follows. Days filled with jogging, morning and night. Taking Nero for a walk is the excuse she uses to her dad.

‘He's getting fat,' she says, pointing to his Labrador paunch. And her dad laughs, grateful she's looking after the dog. One less concern for him.

Rowing is over and she can't go back to tennis. She eats what she has to. An apple some days is enough; others, when she's so hungry it makes her weak, she'll have carbs, but on those days she spews them back up before they stick to her ribs. She studies all the time—at school, in the library and at home at night. She has to wear the winter uniform, even though spring has struck with the vengeance of summer, because she's so cold all the time. She shuns company—doesn't want to talk or socialise.

Some kind of equilibrium has been struck in their house and Tess will not be the one to shake it. So, given everything, she's surprised when Jordan finds her in the library one lunchtime.

‘Tess?'

She is startled at the sound of his voice. It's been four weeks since she dropped off the team, and every time he texts she presses delete.

‘Hi Jordan,' she says, because what else can she say?

‘What you doing?' He shifts anxiously next to her and she's sorry for the way she's made him feel.

‘Studying,' she says slowly.

‘The Year 11 dance is coming up.' He leans towards her. ‘I thought—maybe, if no one else has asked, if you'd want to go with me. If you like?'

She thinks for a moment. It's a dance for the year group above hers. She had no aspirations of going—she barely knows anyone in Year 11.

‘Look Jordan, thanks.' She pauses, thinking—how can she avoid hurting his feelings? ‘But I'm not really into it at all, to tell you the truth.'

‘Oh.' He looks embarrassed and it makes her feel terrible. ‘Sorry, I just thought—well, I heard about your mum and figured you needed space. So I kinda understand why you dropped off the team. But I thought that, well, we were getting along real well before that. And,' he makes eye contact, ‘I really like you, Tess.'

She drops her eyes. He sounds so warm and she feels so cold. ‘Oh.' She's not sure what to say.

He touches her hand through her jumper, where her hands always reside these days. ‘You're smart and funny. I liked spending time with you. I thought you liked me too. Maybe I was wrong.'

The silence lingers: she
has
missed tennis. Skimming across the surface of living, to keep the balance even at home. Would this be so bad? He moves to leave. Then she surprises herself by pulling her hand out of her sleeve and grabbing his arm. ‘Wait,' she says. ‘I would like to go with you. Yes.'

As soon as he's gone, she starts regretting her decision. What on earth was she thinking? She'll have to face Ned, and he'll be furious with her—the stress literally makes her stomach groan. She puts her hand over it in the quiet of the library. There's no one around; they're all outside enjoying the sunshine, not sitting among books and dead writers' thoughts. She gets up angrily. No. Why shouldn't she go and have some fun? Be a normal person, instead of some introverted freak. ‘Like your mum,' she hears Ned whisper.

That does it for her: time to reconnect with the world. She picks up her books and walks out the library doors. There's still fifteen minutes of lunch left—she needs to find some real people. She searches the schoolyard for Chloe and Maddie and sees them sitting together on a bench. She approaches slowly, not sure what to say. She's ignored them for so long; she won't blame either one if they ignore her now too.

‘Hi,' she says, aiming for brightness.

‘Hi,' they say in unison.

‘What's going on?' Tess asks awkwardly, her eyes searching for blame, or anger, but she sees nothing in either one's eyes.

‘Well,' says Maddie excitedly, ‘I was telling Chloe how Brian's ordered a Hummer for us, to go to the dance...'

‘But,' interrupted Chloe, ‘Maddie knew he'd already asked me; she's going with Jake. And so she figured he'd got us mixed up.'

‘So then I told him I was wearing a pink dress with purple flowers and Mum had leftover fabric to make him a matching tie.' Maddie's laughing loudly. ‘You should've seen his face. What would the footy guys think?'

Chloe's laughing too. ‘She's so mean. She hasn't even put him straight—the poor guy thinks he has to wear floral.'

They both laugh hysterically at their party trick. Tess joins in, even though her laughter isn't as free as theirs. But she's relieved to know they've both been asked to the dance too.

‘Jordan asked me,' she says.

‘No way,' they chorus. ‘What did you say?'

‘I said yes,' Tess says slowly.

They both jump up and grab Tess's arms, dancing around her. ‘Oh my God, this is so cool. We can all go together.'

‘Me and Brian,' says Chloe.

‘Or me and Brian in floral,' says Maddie.

‘And you and Jordan.' They're laughing even more hysterically.

This time Tess is really laughing too, grateful the girls have accepted her so easily and now excited by the idea of going to the dance.

The next day at school she decides to join the crew in the canteen, like she used to do, before she became a hermit. Tess hopes the other girls are as easy as the twins. She senses indifference from Lisa, and Debbie is her usual morose self, but the others seem excited to have her back. As though they really like her and have maybe even missed her the last few months.

‘You're actually going to go?' Sharla squeals with delight at Maddie's news that totally hot Jordan has asked Tess to the dance.

Tess nods, bites her apple and chews it slowly. ‘I wasn't, but Jordan asked and I figured it might be fun.' She still gets anxious thinking about it.

Sharla grabs her arm. ‘It'll be awesome, Tess. There's a few of us Year 10s going. We're having before-dance drinks at Julie's house. There's a party after at Jack's. This'll be totally cool. Hey, what are you going to wear?'

Tess shakes her head. ‘God, I don't know. I haven't even thought of that. What are you wearing?'

‘Mum bought me this awesome dress. I've got two others, from last year's dance and stuff—if you don't have anything I can lend you one of mine.'

Tess looks at Sharla's slender body, feels fat and grimaces. ‘Do you think they'll fit?'

Sharla bristles. ‘Well, you can try them. I just thought you might be running out of time to get something. If you don't want to borrow mine, fine. Go and look for one in the shops.'

‘I'd love to try them,' Tess says nervously, unsure why Sharla's suddenly hostile. There's no way her fat arse will fit into a dress of Sharla's. No way. ‘Thanks.'

Sharla nods, but her enthusiasm has gone. ‘Okay—after school?'

Tess stands in Sharla's bathroom, turning to look at herself in the dress. It doesn't seem to hang right, it grabs in all the wrong spots. In fact, it looks so bad, she's too embarrassed to show Sharla, who waits patiently outside the door.

‘Is it on?' Sharla shouts.

Tess smoothes her hands over the blue satin. It's horrible and it makes her look so fat. She undoes the zipper quickly. ‘Hang on.' She pulls her school uniform on and comes out of the bathroom holding the dress.

‘Oh.' Sharla looks at her, surprised. ‘You didn't like it, then.'

‘No, it's beautiful,' Tess says, putting it back on its hanger. ‘It just didn't fit me. I'll have to find something else. Thanks, though.'

Sharla shakes her head and pulls a strange face. ‘Sure.'