Lost & Found (21 page)

1
0:37
A
.
M
.
: The blond woman helps Agatha off the train at Kirk Station.
Just sit tight, Agatha
, she says.
The train back to Perth will be passing by in the next few hours. They know to look for you
. She smiles reassuringly.
Make sure to remember to get off at Kalgoorlie. There’s a bus connection there that’ll take you back to the south coast. You’ll be back in your own home sooner than you think. Take care, won’t you?

Agatha nods and watches her walk away.
Home
, Agatha says, bringing her handbag in close to her chest.
Yes
. She adjusts her glasses.

10:39: A man approaches her.
Excuse me
, he says.
Do you have the time?

Agatha puts a hand over her watch.
Do I have it? Do I OWN time? No, I don’t! I’d like to talk to the person who does, though! I don’t know what the time is. I’m on Agatha Standard Time now!

Whoa, lady
, he says.
Sorry I asked.

Yes!
Agatha says.
You are!

10:41: The train is still there and people are milling about, waiting to be told when they can reboard. A woman walks past Agatha. One of those uppity types, wearing her hair in a bun on top of her head, as though it were a topping.
You’re not a dessert, lady
, Agatha says, leaning forward. A man walks past wearing a pink jumper.
Jumper too pink
, she says a little louder.
Walking too wide
, she says, raising the volume a little more. She holds on to the edge of the bench with both hands.
Clouds shouldn’t be doing that!
she yells, coming to stand.
Unreasonable nose! Serial-killer haircut! Sunglasses too big! Too many children! Eyes too close together!

She’s interrupted by a young boy running up to her. He has a black mustache drawn on his face.
You dropped this, miss
, he says, handing her the Age Book. She takes it, and then he runs away, his neckerchief catching the wind. She watches as he jumps and kicks at the air and then disappears onto the train.

Not a real mustache
, she says. She opens the book and runs her eyes over her careful measurements of Cheek Elasticity. Arm Wobblage. Distance From Nipples To Waist. Number Of Times I’ve Almost Kissed Karl.

What?
she says.

In handwriting she doesn’t recognize, it continues. Snore Graph. Smiling Moments. Number Of Times Karl Has Wanted To Kiss Me. My Favorite Agatha Faces. Buses I’ve Attempted To Steal. She turns the page. Boozy Men I’ve Beaten Up. She
laughs at this and keeps turning the pages. Number Of Insults I’ve Yelled. Dead Things I’ve Seen. Distance I’ve Traveled By Bus/Train/Foot. People I’ve Loved.

After the last one there’s a big question mark.

A map is stuck onto the next page. Someone else has written,
Hello. You Are Here
, with a red cross and a drawing of a car.
They Are Here.
Another red cross and another drawing, this time of a building with
The Great Australian Pub
scrawled along the top of it. A black arrow from one red cross to the other.
Yours sincerely, Captain Everything.

The book shakes in her hands.

10:54: She stands in front of the mirror in the train-station restroom.
They shall grow not old
, she says. She pinches her cheeks.
As we who are left grow old
.

Forearms too spotty!
she yells suddenly. She unbuttons her jacket and tosses it on the ground.
Man hands!
she yells, holding her hands up in front of her. She kicks her shoes off into the wall.
Fat feet!
She unbuttons her blouse and drops it on the ground.
Boobs too long!
She unzips her skirt and pushes it down from her waist, wiggling it over her hips to the ground.
Belly button too high up!
And she stands there, in her bra, undies, stockings, her glasses still firmly on her face, looking at herself in the mirror, breathing heavily from the effort of looking at herself like this.
Nostrils flare when speaking!
She links her hands together in front of her, resigning herself to something, trying to lend some sort of sophistication and dignity to a
situation that has neither.
Too old
, she says. She takes off her glasses and rests them on the sink.

She puts her palm on her face, against her cheek, and leans into it.
Too old
,
s
he says, looking into her eyes. It occurs to her that Ron’s face will never age again. She will never get to see what he looks like as a really old man. It doesn’t seem fair somehow, that she has to show the world what she looks like as an old person, and he doesn’t. Like he’s got away with something.

She’s hating herself, her body, and she’s crying now, tears that dribble down her face so pathetically, and she is an old old old sad sad sad woman and she hates herself, she hates herself so very much; more than anything else, this is what she feels the most.

And then a toilet flushes and a woman walks out of the stall.

The woman walks straight to the mirror and washes her hands in the basin. She’s skinny and muscular and has a long, thin nose that draws attention to itself. Agatha stops herself from yelling it, and stands there in her underwear, unsure of what to do. There’s an awkward silence as the woman washes her hands.

Then.
Where you headed?
the woman says.

Um. The southwest coast
, Agatha says, feeling her body around her so hugely.

Perth for us
, the woman replies, smiling at Agatha and then pulling at the skin around her eyes.
Just trying to get away.
She
pokes her tongue out at herself in the mirror.
You know how it is.
She straightens her shirt, winks at Agatha, and walks out.

11:12: Dressed again, Agatha stands near the train station café counter, gazing longingly at all the fried food, feeling her stomach grumble. She stands a few meters away from the counter.

The man behind the counter looks back at her.
You all right?

Yes!
she says, but doesn’t move.

D’ya want something?

Yes!

He sighs.
What is it, then?

One of those!
She points to a spring roll.
And one of those!
She points to a meat pie.

The man behind the counter puts them both in a brown paper bag. He slides it along the counter toward her. He nods at it.
That’ll be six twenty-five, thanks.

Agatha is very, very hungry. She thinks about grabbing it and running. People do that, don’t they? She has never wanted anything more. But then her mouth says,
I can’t.

You can’t what?

I don’t . . .
She sighs.

He grabs the bag.
Not a charity shop, lady.

I’ve got it
, a voice says behind Agatha. She turns around to see the woman from the restroom waving a twenty-dollar bill in the air. She smiles at Agatha and breezes up to the counter.
I’ve got it.

Just trying to run a business.

Grow a heart.

Just gimme the money.
He grabs the note and dumps her change on the counter. He holds up the bag and shakes it, looking at Agatha.
Yer lucky day, eh?

The woman snatches the bag from him and walks off. She motions for Agatha to follow.
I’m Karen
, she says, and puts the bag down on a table where a man sits.
This is Simon
, Karen says, brushing a hand affectionately across his shoulder.

Simon is noticeably younger than Karen. He has strong, dark features.
Son?
Agatha thinks. Simon smacks Karen playfully on the bum.
No
, Agatha thinks.

Hey
, Simon says to Agatha with a wave and a smile. There are chunks of pastry in the gaps between his teeth. Karen pulls up a chair and pats the table gently.

Agatha takes a seat and watches the bag, as if waiting to see what it might do next.

You got a name?
Karen asks.

Yes
, Agatha says.

Karen smiles.
The quiet type, I see. Well, go on. Eat up.

What do you want from me?
Agatha says.

Ha
, Karen says.
What do I want from a woman who can’t pay for a meat pie? Who yells at herself in her underwear? Just eat yer pie, lady.

Did someone say underwear?
Simon says. He flicks the band of Karen’s trousers.

Karen nudges him with her shoulder.
Jesus, Sime
, Karen says, stroking his cheek.
You got a whole lot of shit in yer teeth
. The two of them stifle giggles.
Go get yerself cleaned up, would ya?

Simon stands.
Your wish is my command
. He grins, bows, and walks away.

Agatha fishes the pie out of the bag and places it on top. She grabs some cutlery out of the stainless-steel holder in the middle of the table, cuts the pie into small squares, and begins to eat it, one square at a time. She feels Karen’s eyes watching her.

Want to talk about what happened in the loo?
Karen asks.

No
, Agatha says.

Can I tell you a secret, then?
Karen asks, leaning in closer.

No
, Agatha says with her mouth full.

Karen laughs. She leans farther forward in her chair. She glances behind her, then turns back to Agatha.
I’ve done something terrible
, she whispers.
I’m trying to, you know, get all that karma shit realigned. I dunno if I believe in that, but
. She winks.
Just to be on the safe side. Good?

Agatha nods.
Thank you
, she says. And then,
You haven’t killed anyone, have you?

No! Of course not
. Karen shifts in her seat.

Drugs?

No.

Guns?

No.

You’re a sex worker, aren’t you?

No!

How bad?

Really, pretty bad.

Out of ten?

Eight.

Agatha swallows and looks at Karen.

And a half.
Karen wrings her hands.
Ten. Definitely ten. It’s ten. I’m . . . I’m . . .
She puts her elbows on the table and interlocks her fingers. She looks Agatha in the eye.
Not a good person.

Agatha picks up her spring roll and takes a bite of it from the side of her mouth. She watches Karen as she chews. Agatha swallows, wipes her mouth with a napkin.
I’m, um . . .
Agatha clears her throat, and says, loudly and clearly,
I’m not a good person either
.

Karen lets out a shaky noise, as though Agatha’s words have pulled this sound out of her mouth. She shoots her hand across the table and grabs Agatha’s.
Do you think anyone is?
She squeezes Agatha’s hand.

Agatha looks at the hand on top of her own. She can see Age settling like Glad Wrap over the surface of this woman’s hand, and she doesn’t feel happy about another woman experiencing the ravages of Age, like she normally might, but she doesn’t feel sad about it either, as she does about her own body; she only feels connected to this woman, like she is Agatha, and Agatha is her, that they’re the same.

Well?
Karen says.
Do you think anyone is good?

Ron. She thinks of Ron. And then Millie’s face appears in her head and hangs there, so strong and still. And Karl? Is he good?

I’m Agatha
, Agatha says, because she doesn’t know how to answer the question.

Simon wanders back toward them.
I peed on the urinal cake
, he says.
It was pretty awesome
. He bares his teeth at Karen.
All gone?

Karen reaches for his hand.
All better, hon
, Karen says. Agatha looks at their hands fondling each other like it’s the only thing in the room. She can’t imagine having someone around with whom she’d be so familiar.
Look, Sime
, Karen says, checking her watch.
Would you go fill up the car? We better get going
.

Yes, Mum
. He winks.

Simon walks off and Karen turns to Agatha.
I left my husband yesterday. Simon left his wife.

Agatha stares at her.

I got kids. Not too little. But not too old, either. We didn’t tell anyone. We just left
. Karen stretches her arms up over her head and back down again.
God, it feels so good to get that out. Hope you don’t mind.

I do
, Agatha says.

Karen laughs.
Fair enough. Anyway. I just want to be with Simon. I love my kids. But I love my life. I want one. A life, that is. The kids’ll understand one day.

Probably not
, Agatha says.

Karen nods.
Well, I sure hope you’re wrong.

Agatha thinks of Millie’s mum. Of how she left Millie. Agatha feels her body flushing with anger. It’s rising up her body, is blotchy on her skin. She wants to see Millie’s mum, to say:
Who do you think you are? She’s just a child
. And she wants to say it to Karen now,
Who do you think you are?
But instead Agatha says,
It’s a ten
.

Karen slumps back in her seat. They sit in silence for a few moments. The cash register pings and fridges open and close and people around them have inaudible conversations.
Look, can we give you a lift anywhere?
Karen asks finally.
We’re heading pretty much the same way. We’d be happy to have the company
.

No
, says Agatha tightly.
I’ll be taking the train back. Thank you.