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Authors: Tammy Robinson

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BOOK: Charlie and Pearl
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It was a dare, so I threw everything inside, lift
ing
my dress over my head and
throwing
it inside too, (don’t worry, I know for a fact the neighbours on one side lived in the city and only came down every other weekend and the other neighbour was blocked from view by a trellis on the side of the deck) and you know what I did? I danced naked in the rain
. Well, n
aked apart from my
bra and
knickers that is. Self consciously at first but then I decided I didn’t care if I looked stupid because no one could see me and I just went for it.
The kids couldn’t see unless they too felt the inkling to spy through the fence posts, and even if they did I wasn’t wearing anything more risqué than a woman wearing a bikini.
T
he neighbours
on the other side were
a corporate couple who
lived in Auckland and barely used their beach house
, working long hours instead just to cover the mortgage
.

I moved my hips
in a way I hoped
was rhythmic
and waved my arms, singing along
to the song inside my head, one of those free-spirited bouncy Katy Perry ones about
true
love and teenagers and skinny jeans, or something like that.
I turned circles and skipped like I had when I was a child and I let the
water run down my body
.

It probably only lasted for ten or fifteen minutes before the rain stopped as sudden
ly
as it had started. The clouds
drifted on down
to the next beach, the sun
squatted
fat and high in the sky, shining down determinedly as if to protest
its
innocence that it had never left at all.

I lay down on the bank where the grass meets the sand and the driftwood collects in bundles
at high tide,
and let the sun evaporate the water from my skin.
With my eyes closed I opened my other senses. I could smell the bark of the nearby Manuka tree. In summer the breeze would disturb its tiny white flowers and the petals would float to the ground like a blanket of confetti. When we were younger Tania and I would pretend we were at a wedding and take turns being the bride; a handful of baby blue Hydrangeas our bouquet, a veil fashioned from fluffy toi-toi.

I could feel scratchy grass against my back; not entirely unpleasant.

Opening my mouth I could taste the salt in the air.

I don’t want to call it a cleansing, but that’s what it was. A cleansing of my body, mind
, spirit
and soul.

And I
normally
hate
talking
spiritual crap
like that.

 

--------

 

I didn’t even know anything was wrong with the baby. I blithely went about my every day business, assuming that everything in my body was doing everything it was supposed to.
After all,
I am a woman, it’s what our bodies are designed
to do isn’t it
?

I didn’t tell anyone I was pregnant, apart from Adam. It was my secret, a focus.

I know now but wouldn’t admit to it then that I was hoping when he saw me, radiant with his baby, Adam would want me back. I made up scenarios for how it would happen, (bump in to each other in the supermarket, his new girlfriend looking hideous and ugly beside glowing, gorgeous me) I really believed it would happen like that. So I smiled smugly when people asked me how I was
coping with the break up, telling them I was “ok thanks”, and enjoying their puzzled expressions. Wasn’t she supposed to be heartbroken? You could actually see them thinking it.

I was
beyond
excited the week leading up to my 12 week scan. I couldn’t wait to see the little person inside me for the first time, and post the grainy black and white picture of it as my profile picture on Facebook like others I had seen. I knew from the magazines what to expect, what the baby should look like; all alien like with big head and little arms, so when the pictures came up on the screen and I didn’t see it I knew straight away something was terribly wrong. And then they told me that from measuring its size my baby had died three weeks previously and every fantasy I had went poof! in a flash of smoke and I was left cold and dazed and going through the motions of treatment for miscarriage but even that my body couldn’t get right, because it refused to let the baby go naturally so I had to suffer the indignity of a nurse wearing lubricated gloves pushing pills up my vagina and watching the baby fall out 7 hours later in a gush of blood that just wouldn’t stop gushing. Surgery, blood transfusions, needles shoved into my hands and arms. My Gran rubbing my back while I cried and cried and cried, always crying.

How is a person supposed to get past something like that?

It was a question I tortured myself with at night when I didn’t sleep, during the day when I didn’t eat. I took sick leave from my job and
I
never went back.

How do people comfort you when they don’t know what the problem is?

I had no words for it.
When people asked me how I was I didn’t say
, “Oh crap, actually, thanks. I just lost my baby and about a million tons of blood. My entire reproductive system feels like it’s been grabbed and shaken and squeezed and twisted and then stomped on but, other than that, I’m doing alright
!
All things considered.” 
It wasn’t what they wanted to hear, s
o I couldn’t expect
them
to understand or offer comfort when I couldn’t even tell them what was wrong.

I called Adam and told him and he was genuinely sad and sympathetic. He came and saw me and we hugged and the feel of him made me want to cry with the memories but he had so obviously moved on that I had to accept it, or at least start to.
N
ow here I was, months later, dancing in rain and letting the water wash my body and my memories clean. I relegated Adam to the past and the baby to a place in my heart.

I was far from healed, but
maybe I wasn’t quite as broken.

 

CHARLIE

 

Yes!

Pearl came into the shop today. Half an hour before closing, just pushed through the door and walked up to the counter, as clear and as real as could be, just as I’d imagined it oh, a thousand times.

“Hey” she said, and she smiled.

She actually smiled. At me!

“Hey!” I beamed back. Ha! She was here! I felt like doing a little jig. Could I be any more of a geek?
Don’t answer that.

“Do you have any Marian Keyes books?” she asked.

Ok so she was here for a book rather than popping in specifically to see me but what the hell, I wo
uld take it.

“Sure” I said, “right this way”, and while I led her over to the
fiction
shel
ves
I tried quickly to think of something cool to say, anything
simply
to prolong the conversation. “So...you, um, you like Marian Keyes then?”

Nice one.
Smooth.

“What’s not to like? She’s
funny
, I always read her when I need a laugh”

“Yeah, my mum likes her for the same reason. She’s read them all at least twice.”

“Me too”

“Really?”

“Yep, I’ve read some of them more, especially the ones with this family, the Walsh sisters, they’re hilarious.”

“I’ve never understood reading a book more than once. You already know what’s going to happen. Where’s the surprise in that?”

“Life doesn’t always have to be a surprise. Sometimes you just need something you know is going to end well.” She looked serious for a second then seemed to shake it off
, her smile returning
.
“Something you know will make you laugh” she smiled.

I wondered what sort of laugh she had. I went out with this girl once who had the loudest laugh, like a machine gun. The first time she did it we were at a bar and everyone turned around and stared at us. I thought she was joking at first, but not at all sure why she would do that because it sounded awful and I get nervous being the centre of attention, but
after a few hours and a few more drinks and a
whole
lot of stares from other people, I realised it was her real laugh
. That was our last date.

Call me shallow.
And i
t’s not like I can afford to be picky.

I
was
bet
ting
Pearl had a beautiful melodic laugh.

“I bet I could make you laugh” I told her.

She gave me a look that said she seriously doubted it.
“Go on then”

“Why did the chicken cross the road?”

“Why?’

“To get to the other side”

She rolled her eyes.
“Like I haven’t heard that before”

“Wait, there’s more, why did the chewing gum cross the road...”

She sighed, “Why?”

“....because it was stuck to the chicken!”

“Man, that’s crap”

“I haven’t finished.....why did the turkey cross the road...?”

“I’m sure you’re going to tell me”

“...to prove it wasn’t a chicken!”

“Ok enough already”

“One more” I grinned at her, “It’s a good one I promise”

She raised her eyebrows, “fine, go on then”

“Why did the chicken cross the road...?”

“You did this one”

“No no, it’s different”

“I don’t think I can handle anymore”

“Last one...guess, why did the chicken cross the road...?”

“I have no idea”

“To prove to the possum it could be done!”

She laughed and I was right, it was a beautiful laugh, delicate, like her, but honest. It made me want to hear it again and again and again.

“Hey, I was wondering,” I said, “Do you want to go out for a drink sometime?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

PEARL

 

Ugh.

An interesting night. More fun than I’ve had in a while certainly, but that’s not exactly tough competition. I’m
just
drunk enough that the room is spinning which I
hate
and which every time it happens I swear I will never
drink ever again
.
And I fully mean it, until the next time.

Charlie suggested we get a drink sometime and I thought, why not now? It’s not like I had anything to rush home for, and the baked bean
toasted sandwi
ches
were getting a bit boring night after night, I wouldn’t mind a nice restaurant meal. I
do enjoy
cooking, when it’s for someone else. When it’s just me I can’t be bothered. 

“Give me 10 minutes” he said, and his excitement was obvious.

“Charlie,” I wanted to be honest right from the start, couldn’t let him get his hopes up, “please don’t think of this as like, a date, I’ve just come out of something pretty heavy and I’m not looking for anything right now. I probably won’t be for a long time”.

If he was disappointed he hid it well.

“Sure” he smiled, “friends it is”.

So how is it that I am not in my own bedroom?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

BOOK: Charlie and Pearl
2.01Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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