Manhattan Dreaming (7 page)

‘And I bet they don't have a Big Poo like Kiama either,' Max said, which made us all laugh – except for Dad, who took a deep breath and just kept going. ‘Oh and they wouldn't have a Big Prawn, would they? They'd have a bloody shrimp, which doesn't even sound big.' Dad waved his arms in the air with frustration.

Max was laughing hard and even I had to chuckle. Being his favourite, I always took Dad's side, but this time he was just too outrageous, and Max seemed to be supporting his case anyway.

‘Gray … stop it, please …' Mum looked concerned that he was going to completely overheat, but he wouldn't give in.

‘There's the Big Mushroom in Canberra, and there's a Big Cow somewhere and a Giant Kangaroo, but ah, no, you women want to go to some Big Fancy Apple in America.' Dad stood up and took his cup to the sink, running water into it as he spoke. ‘I'm sorry, love, but the Big Merino has been good enough for our mob for the longest time – no big piece of fruit is going to make me let any daughter of mine go to New York.'

‘Gray, Gray, don't be so silly.' Mum went over and put her arms around Dad's belly. It was what she always did to make him calm down. It mostly worked. ‘Gray, come on, this is something we should be happy about. Our only daughter gets the kind of opportunity we worked all our lives wishing we could give her. This is what she studied for.'

All of a sudden Max stood up, as if to give himself more authority, and put his hands on my shoulders. ‘I'm with you, Dad – I'd rather the Big Merino.'

Dad tried to wriggle out of Mum's embrace. ‘You know I can't think straight when you get that close to me, woman. Give a man a chance.'

That night Dad took us all to the Goulburn Workers Club for dinner. I felt sick the whole time, because it was where I had first met Adam.

As we queued at the bistro Dad ummed and ahhed about whether to have the barra or the lamb's fry.

‘Sit down, Gray. You know you always have the mixed grill.' Mum knew Dad better than he knew himself. ‘Go grab table number forty-two, and, Max, you get the drinks.' My mum always had everyone organised and kept the family together.

‘I think it would be good for you to go to New York, Lauren, to see the world, to meet new people, to move on from Goulburn and Canberra, at least for a little while.' That's all Mum said before she placed our orders and we settled into a night of keno and catching up with friends who were also at the club.

It was karaoke night at the Workers, or what we liked to call Koori-oke night. Mum had a great voice so we both got up and sang
New York New York
, laughing at Dad's reaction to our singing and the song. But everyone cheered us as we did the high kicks and I could see the pride on his face for his two Koori roses. I'd miss the fun we had at the Workers if I went to New York. I was starting to feel homesick even though I hadn't decided to go yet.

When Mum and Dad went to bed that night, Max and I sat in the lounge room watching telly. I had a favourite chunky olive green velvet chair I would just mould myself into.

‘Mum and Dad haven't asked me any
personal
questions,' I said to Max as he flicked through a car magazine.

‘They saw that jerk in the papers,' is all he said, without looking up.

‘But they don't get the
Canberra Times
,' I said, confused.

‘It was in the
Goulburn Post.
'

I gasped with shame.

‘And not that it's any of my business,' Max said, looking straight at me, ‘but I'd prefer it if you stayed away from the Canberra Cocksuckers altogether.' And that was the end of the conversation. Max rarely got involved in my personal business, but when he did, he was serious.

I didn't sleep at all, confusion only adding to my usual insomnia. I got up early and had breakfast with Dad.

‘Come on, Dad, let's go to see Rambo.' That's what the locals had always called the Big Merino. We hadn't been much since it was moved closer to the highway. I had loved climbing up into Rambo's eyes when I was a kid, and did it nearly every weekend if I nagged Dad enough to swing by there. When I was little I didn't have a problem with small spaces. Now, as a grown woman, I felt much more enclosed, but it was a familiar space, a safe space. I wanted to climb into the eyes once more as Dad waited for me in the car park. He couldn't take the metal stairs any longer – he got puffed a lot easier these days. His days of climbing Rambo had ended years ago. This was the first time I'd climbed into the eyeballs for a long while, because they had closed them down for a month when they moved him closer to the highway in 2007 in an attempt to get more visitors.

There wasn't a lot of room in there, it was ‘cosy', as Adam had said when we pulled up at the massive structure one Sunday afternoon. He had wanted to shag in Rambo's eyeballs, but as they were shut to the public he was happy for a grope at the barrier to the stairs. I didn't feel comfortable at the thought of either and started feeling claustrophobic just thinking about being in Rambo's cosy eyeballs.

On the way back home in the car, Dad said, ‘What about Nick? How are we going to tell him his sister is leaving the country?' He was worried about my older brother, who was serving time in Goulburn Correctional Facility for driving unlicensed and unregistered and then running into the back of a police vehicle at a set of traffic lights. Nick worked on a farm out of town and they never worried about a licence for the tractor. He'd never had lessons and shouldn't have been behind the wheel. I visited him once a month, wrote to him once a week and he always seemed okay. He promised Mum he was never going to drive again when he got out. Nick never mentioned that he couldn't get a licence now anyway. He was the tough one in the family. I was the spoilt girl and Max was the baby.

‘Nick lives for your visits, even though they're not that often,' Dad said.

I felt a pang of guilt; he wasn't due for release until next year, and all I could do was hope that he would understand if I chose to go to New York.

‘I'll make a special visit if I decide to go.'

Back at home Dad put my bag in the Charade and with little sentimentality said, ‘Do what you need to do, love. It's just I worry about you. That's my job as a father. And I can tell Nick if you want me to. Your mother said I shouldn't have made you feel bad about your brother. And you know, your mother is nearly always right.' He rolled his eyes.

‘I know.' We hugged and I pulled out of the drive and headed towards Canberra with tears streaming down my face. I couldn't imagine what it might be like to have to say goodbye and leave. Just leaving Goulburn for Canberra was emotional enough.

‘Welcome to the Manhattan Movie Marathon,' Denise said as I walked in the door and collapsed on the lounge. Libby was there drinking coffee and reading the weekend paper.

‘What are you on about?'

‘Libby told me about the amazing offer to go to New York and we thought that some fabulous films might help you make up your mind. I asked at the video shop for all the movies they had set in New York.' She handed me a couple of DVDs and a couple to Libby. ‘But I didn't think you'd want to see
The Godfather
and
Godzilla
.'

‘You were right.' I thought of Dad.

‘Now we just need to sit back and relax. I've cooked veggie lasagne for lunch, and Libs brought some of your favourite goodies from Divine and Delicious, so we're all set for the rest of the day.'

We started with the classic
An Affair to Remember
, first screened in 1957.

‘This is one of my mum's favourites,' I told the girls. ‘I think she likes the handsome playboy Nicky Ferrant and fancies herself as Terry McKay. They meet on a cruise from Europe to New York and have an affair, even though they're both engaged to other people. They decide to meet up the top of the Empire State Building six months later. It's such a romantic story.' I stopped myself as soon as I realised I was getting carried away.

‘Oh, I agree, of course – stories about people cheating are always romantic, as we know,' Libby said sarcastically.

We watched the movie in virtual silence, munching on popcorn that Denise microwaved. When Nicky and Terry planned their reunion it gave me an idea – I would go to New York and Adam would meet me at the top of the Empire State building – it would be far more romantic than shagging in Rambo's eyeballs – if I could keep the claustrophobia in check. Even
he
would have to appreciate that.

As the credits rolled I lay back on the lounge and envisioned Adam waiting for me when I got out of the lift at the Empire State Building. He'd be looking hot in a suit – it was my fantasy so I could have him any way I liked – and a cashmere scarf because I knew he couldn't make it until after the footy season was over, so it would be cold in New York. I'd walk towards him wearing a little black dress, black boots and a red coat – I'd always wanted a red coat – and we'd kiss without speaking and then just nuzzle into each other as we watched the sun set. There would be no-one else there to disturb us. It would be the perfect moment, and perhaps he would even propose.

Libby broke my private reverie. ‘Hey, wake up. Ready for another movie?' she asked as she poked me.

‘Yes, I was just resting my eyes. I'm good to go,' I said, with new interest in the movies and New York.

‘I know you love
Breakfast at Tiffany's
, Lauren,' Denise said, putting the DVD into the player.

‘It's more that I love Audrey Hepburn's style. I may have mastered accessorising my department store numbers to look high class, but I still dream about wearing Chanel and Dior clothes and Cartier jewels.'

‘And now you can dream about someone like Paul Varjak moving into your building and becoming fascinated by you – you're just like Holly Golightly – and then he'll sweep you off your feet.'

‘As if I'm like Holly Golightly! For a start, I'm way smarter than she is! And as if some hot sexy writer would be interested in me.' I couldn't even keep a footballer interested lately.

‘Why not? You're pretty, sexy and sophisticated,' Denise told me.

‘And a naive neurotic just like Holly, too.' Libby was joking but there was truth in her words, at least when it came to Adam.

‘Maybe if I went to New York I could learn some style like Audrey,' I said, taking a bite of the chocolate cake and remembering the jewellery box at Kingston Markets.

‘What are you talking about? You've got plenty of style! It's not what you wear but how you wear it. And, tidda, you'll be able to buy designers so cheap there. We won't even be able to hang out with you when you come back.' Libby shovelled some Moroccan date cake into her mouth, catching crumbs in her lap.

By the end of the film I didn't think I could consume any more cakes, or New York couture, culture or courtship.

‘I'm ready to call it quits,' I said, yawning. ‘I had a late one last night at the Goulburn Workers, if you can believe that!'

‘I'm done too,' Libby said. ‘I've got to get home and feed the cats, anyway.'

‘What time should we resume the marathon in the morning, then?' Denise asked, picking our coffee mugs up from the floor. ‘I'm thinking brunch with
Barefoot in the Park
at ten.' Libby and I nodded in agreement.

Next morning the wind howled outside and the sky was grey as we sat in our trackies, eating almond croissants that Libby had picked up from ArtOBakery. Denise made us all homemade mochas.

‘This is the perfect Sunday morning. How could I leave this and go to New York? Do they even have mochas in New York?'

‘Jesus, you really
are
a country bumpkin. They'll have a million coffee shops there and so many choices of coffee you won't know what to order,' Libby said, shaking her head.

We watched
Barefoot in the Park
and I was intrigued by Corie and Paul Bratter's adventures living in a tiny walk-up brownstone apartment. I wondered what Greenwich Village looked like forty years on.

‘I want to run barefoot in Washington Square Park too!' Libby said when the film was over, reaching for the last almond croissant. ‘
And
I want to live in a tiny walk-up brownstone apartment in Greenwich Village.
And
I want to go to the Comedy Cellar to see who the newest stand-up comics are too,' she added.

‘You want a lot,' I accused her jokingly.

‘Not really, I just want what you're being handed on a plate, Loz. So don't be wasting it.'

We watched the cheesy eighties hit
Ghostbusters
next. I took particular notice of the exorcism scenes in the New York Public Library.

‘That's somewhere I'd really like to go, I mean,
if
I went to New York. The space looks so grand, like a sacred site for the literary. I wonder if they have any books on Aboriginal art in their collection. I would definitely suss that out.'

I noticed Libby leaning awkwardly off the lounge into her bag.

‘Now, this wasn't on the official bill for this afternoon's viewing, but before we hit movies of the nineties, I have one more eighties fave for us to watch,' she said, laughing. ‘Tadaaaaah!' Like a magician she pulled a film from her bag of tricks and waved it around in the air so fast I couldn't see what it was.

Denise grabbed it from her and said, ‘Oh God,
Crocodile Dundee
? You can't be serious.'

‘Yes, yes, yes. I know we've all seen it but it's a classic – the stereotypical Aussie from the bush who hits the Big Apple. Sounds a little bit like our friend here, don't you think?' Libby laughed as she put the DVD into the machine.

‘Excuse me, but I am nothing like Mick Dundee. I have far better fashion sense, and I may be a country bumpkin as you keep pointing out, but I'm
sure
I could work out how to use a bidet quicker than he does.' We all laughed.

We watched the movie, cringing as Dundee asked an African-American limo driver his tribal background and touched the genitals of a cross-dresser to verify his gender.

‘Anyway, I don't have a big knife to keep the baddies away.'

‘I could probably rally up a red thong cozzie to scare away almost anyone, good or bad,' Denise said.

The last film the girls had chosen to assist my decision-making was
Sex and the City
. Libby concluded I was the most conservative so I was Charlotte. She was Carrie because she had the most pairs of shoes and as Denise was a party girl but also most likely to settle down first and have kids, she was a mix of Miranda
and
Samantha. We watched the film with only a platter of fruit to nibble on, to make up for all the cakes and chocolate we had scoffed.

The movie made me laugh
and
cry, especially the stood-up-at-the-altar wedding scene, the moment of absolute heartbreak and humiliation for Carrie. Perhaps New York would
not
be the place for Adam and me to reunite. I could feel Carrie's pain and wanted to hit Big
and
Adam with more than the wedding bouquet.

‘Earth to Loz!' Libby said, clicking her fingers in front of my eyes as she picked my mug up off the ground. ‘You all right?'

‘Yeah, just dreaming.'

‘Manhattan Dreaming?'

‘Yeah, Manhattan Dreaming.'

‘I don't blame you, tidda, it's such a wild thought, you going to the Big Apple.' Libby held out my cup, asking if I wanted another. ‘Your Dreaming is present and future, not just the past, and the spirits will take care of you over there too.'

‘You sure?'

‘Of course, they'll take you from your Wiradjuri country, right over the ocean to another land. And my theory is we're the First Peoples of the planet, so no matter where we are, we'll be taken care of, sis. Even Manhattan.'

‘I like the way you think.'

‘See if the spirits can help you with some men too, Lauren, because it certainly looks like New York is the city for dating – the theatre, all those classy bars and restaurants,' Denise said. ‘You don't have to fall in love either, Lauren – dating is different over there. My sister Georgie lived in Brooklyn for a year and said a date can be just going to a sporting event, or whatever. You can even have three dates in a night if you want: a drink, then a show and then maybe a coffee. Three men, three dates, zero commitment – sounds good to me. No heartache necessary. I'd move to New York just for that.'

‘You make it sound like all the men in New York are wonderful,' Libby said cynically.

‘No, there are bastards everywhere, it's just the dating culture in New York is different to here, where, in fact, there is NO dating culture. You know what it's like here – people are either married, or single, or they just hook up when they go out. Do you know anyone who actually dates?'

‘I don't,' I said.

‘At least sporting dates in New York would be more interesting than here – they have ice-hockey and baseball,' Libby said.

‘You think ice-hockey is interesting? It's just men with sticks hitting a rubber disc.' I wasn't a fan of any form of hockey.

‘It's a puck,' Libby said, disgusted by my lack of knowledge. She knew much more about sports than I did – other than rugby league, of course.

Denise entered the debate. ‘Ice-hockey, no way, they'd have to be nude to make that interesting. Now baseball – that's a game to watch; men in tights with big round bums. Yeah, Yankee Stadium – you
have
to go there, Lauren. There'll be plenty of male action.'

I smiled at Denise and to lighten the mood said, ‘Mental note to self: tights, round bums, Yankee Stadium. Got it!'

Maybe New York would be the place for me after all.

With the movie marathon over, Libby went home to her cats in Ainslie, Denise went to visit her parents, and without a second thought I went to tell Adam I was going to New York, even though I hadn't really made up my mind. I needed to see his reaction, how he felt about me moving to the other side of the world. I felt like a child sneaking out of the house when I'd been grounded, because both Denise and Libby would be disappointed in me. But what if losing me, perhaps forever – because twelve months could become twenty-four months, could become thirty-six months or even more – would make Adam want to settle down?

I pulled up at his house slowly, creeping along the dark, tree-lined street, peering hard through my glasses to see if there were any cars outside his place aside from his own Range Rover. The lights were on in the living room, so I guessed he was probably watching the replay of the match from yesterday. He often did that; he said it helped improve his game. Libby reckoned he just liked looking at himself run the length of the field, and loved hearing the commentators rave about him. She was probably right, but who doesn't like to be praised for something when we do it well?