Shampoo (33 page)

The way he said usual. Cracked me
up. Like Mr Sheffield and Fran Fine in ‘The Nanny,’ when he copies
her pronunciation of ‘future’ (FEW-CHORE).

“
Sara said she had ten
drinks or more,” Gerry continued.

Wow. Way to go, Sars. That’s
loyalty for you.

If Joy had drunk that much, then
yes, worrying. And even I had questioned her decision to
drive.

(and since I’m permanently
hammered, if I’m questioning something, you know it’s gotta be
worrying)

But nobody was supporting her
here, they were all attacking, and even if you do something stupid
or wrong

(I should know),

there should always be someone
there, supporting and loving you.

I was gonna go down as a liar and
possibly go to hell, but I was going to go down damn well loving
and supporting whoever needs me!!!

And if she’d consumed ten drinks
then drove, I was not gonna be the one to throw her under the
bus!

Apparently that is what Sars is
for!!

They’ve never got along, Joy and
Sara…in fact, I joined Sin in time to witness the most epic
screaming match by those two.

I’ve lost respect for Sars now,
after a great night out with her, for doing that to Joy.

Everyone knows Joy is
picked on at times, labelled. She’s the ‘emotional’ one, the
‘alcoholic,’ the ‘unsuccessful’ one out of her and John Cash, the
‘boss’s sister,’ like it’s something less than just being his
sister.

I’ve heard it all in reference to
Joy.

No one needs to attack her some
more.

I see myself in Joy, and respect
her and love her.

I feel for her.

I look up to her, too, while the
judgemental are looking down on her.

She’s a great woman. Greater than
these bitches at work!!!

I hate how people label others.
I’ve been labelled emotional, too, by my own family and loved ones!
They say emotional but mean nutjob.

It’s not nice. Really pisses me
off.

So I was all in protective mode
over her.

I came out of Gerry’s office with
Joy at her desk, attempting to work while tears streamed down her
face. I wanted to hug her but knew the whole office was
watching.

Later I went to the kitchen for
water and Joy came in, glancing over her shoulder for anyone coming
in behind us.

“
What happened?? What
did he ask you??”

“
How many drinks you’d
had, all that crap,” I replied, filling up my glass with sweet,
sweet water.

Joy was doing her over-the-top
gestures, like hurry up, tell me more!!

(I love her dramatics…I love
dramatic, expressive people. I also strangely love calm, still
people)

“
And, AND?? What did
you say?”

I grinned at her. “I told him you
had one or two drinks at most the whole night.”

Her whole face relaxed. She
wrapped me in a big bear hug. “I love you, girl. Thank
you.”

“
No worries, babe. I
love you too.”

“
I betcha Sara didn’t
say that though.”

“
No. She threw you
under the bus.”

“
Bitch! No surprise
though.” Joy laughed her big laugh.

(that I love so much)

Drama averted, thanks to
moi.

Joy not in jail, thanks to
moi.

Perhaps me in jail, cause I wrote
it all down.

Oh, well. Pink is the new
orange.

And then straight after THAT, I
was madly typing in reps’ orders, and one of my Red Rooster Barbies
I have lined up on the invoicing printer

(blu tacked, so safe
like)

decided to take a suicidal LEAP
into the printer as all these orders were trying to print. I saw
her out the corner of my eye, but kept typing madly…

And the whole office SURGED and
the power went out. She went fully through the printer. Gerry had
to fish her out.

Oh, man. Gerry was NOT
HAPPY.

“
Pinky, this was a
THREE THOUSAND DOLLAR PRINTER,” as he pulled my Barbie out, all her
hair ripped off and missing.

“
Oh my GOD! Look at my
poor Barbie!!!” I screamed.

Gerry gave me this
LOOK.

(scary)

“
She’s BUTCH BARBIE
NOW!” I cried.

Julia fell about laughing. “You
just created the first Lesbian Barbie ever!!!”

Oh God, was funny. Despite Gerry
wanting to kill me.

He even walked off, once resetting
the power, shouting, “No more Barbies, Pinky!!!”

Oh yeah?? Who is gonna enforce
that? The Barbie Police??

Wednesday 25 October
2000

9.00pm

Sick.

Got a sore throat. I feel
miserable.

I went to Evvy’s last night and
had a terrible time. He was in one of his “Don’t touch me,” “You’re
crowding me!”, “Why are you even here?” moods, even though he
called me and invited me round.

Was awful. I was too defeated to
even argue with him about the way he was acting.

Nothing is ever going to change,
so why am I putting myself through more pain?

I feel done.

I feel like I long for a life
where I don’t have to wonder what he’s up to, and whether he cares,
and drill Nat and Dan for info all the time.

It’s exhausting!! Down to the
bone!

I just don’t want to care anymore.
I just don’t want to hurt anymore! I don’t want boys
anymore!

I don’t want any of them. I’m sick
of dating, I’m sick of being exhausted all the time, I’m sick of
pretending to be interested in them, just so I can say I have a
life.

I’m done.

I want to stay home and watch
videos and hide away for awhile. Possibly forever.

He’s just hurt me so much. Hurt,
on top of all I’m trying to forget about abusive guys, just hurt on
top of hurt on top of hurt.

I’ve got to move on.

I just adore him and that’s the
whole problem – I adore him, but he doesn’t adore me.

Friday 27 October
2000

6.26pm

Still sick. Went to work yesterday
but left early to go to the docs.

I’ve been doing SO WELL too –
about 8 weeks since I’ve been sick. My body has to shit itself
now.

All I’ve done is lie in bed all
day and watch Foxtel and be miserable.

Richie’s rung a couple of times,
and Graham.

No Ever. WHAT A
SURPRISE.

I’ve watched Moonlighting and
‘Romancing the Stone.’

God I love that movie. I watch it
and just LONG for that adventure, that romance, that life!! Being a
bestselling romance novelist.

I’ve wanted to be Joan Wilder
since I was 8.

I want it so bad it
hurts.

You know when you want your life
to be like it is in the movies?? It seems so close, like I could
just reach out and touch it –

Alas, this is my life.

So, okay, I’m SO
PISSED.

Evvy rang, and Dan had just
arrived home, so Dan picked up the phone, and Evvy asked for me,
which was a surprise

(I expected him to just talk to
Dan and hang up…it would be his USE-YOU-ALL M.O.)

and said straight away to me, “I
hear you’re sick, woman.”

Cough, cough. “Yeah,
well.”

“
Aw, poor baby –
”

“
Shut up, you –
”

“
No, you shut
up!”

“
No, YOU – ”

“
I will if you
do.”

“
HOW ABOUT YOU BOTH
SHUT UP!!” yelled Dan.

Ever and I cracked up
laughing.

Then Evvy was all, “Too bad you’re
sick,” and I was all Bloodhound Gang, ears pricked up, a scent
noted in the air. “What, what??” I asked.

And Evvy went, “I’m going now,”
and I was all, “Hang on a minute. Are you going to ask me to do
anything?”

“
I did. Just then. But
you’re sick.” He said it with relief. He may as well have been
saying ‘Thank God. She’s sick. I’m free.’

“
Hello! YOU said I’m
sick and determined I’m too sick to come over. I never said I was
too sick to come.”

“
I don’t want to get
sick! Keep your germs to yourself, Sicky!”

“
The compassion and
love…it’s overwhelming.”

He laughed. “I do my
best.”

“
You know there IS
another 48 hours to the weekend – ”

“
Ahuh.”

“
So you COULD ask me to
do something in that time.”

“
AHUH.”

I’d lost him. “You know –
”

“
I DON’T WANT TO HEAR
IT!!”

“
You don’t even know
what I’m going to say – ”

“
TRUST ME. I
DO.”

“
But – ”

“
GOODBYE.”

And he hung up!!

The motherfucking bastard hung
up!!!

Next minute, Nat was home from
work. She took one look at my face, and me standing beside the
phone, all frozen like, like I was about to work up to something,
and went, “Uh-oh.”

“
Yeah, Kerry’s working
herself up to one of her epic meltdowns,” Dan added from the
lounge.

“
Let me
guess…Evvy?”

I made her drive me up to the
bottle-o. She did so under much duress. “You’re a fucking alco, you
know that, right??”

I rolled my eyes next to her in
the car. “That’s the pot calling the kettle black all
right.”

“
I mean, you’re SICK
too. You can’t be all Mary J. Bliging it up.”

“
I don’t even know what
that means, sister of mine.”

“
It means you’re
all…GETTING JIGGY WITH IT.”

“
Did the warehouse boys
slip something into your drink or what today?”

“
You know what I
mean.”

“
If I was black, yeah,
I WOULD.”

Nat: “SIGH.”

“
You’ve gone all Will
Smith on me.”

“
Woman – ”

I groaned. “Please don’t call me
woman. HE calls me woman.”

“
Can you just DUMP THE
FUCKER?”

“
I would, if I could,
but technically we’re not even going out.”

“
You’re too good for
him, you know that – ”

“
Clearly I don’t, or I
wouldn’t be begging my baby sister to drive me to the bottle-o so I
can get plastered in the hopes of making this pain go
away.”

“
SIGH.”

(my sister sighs A
LOT. Especially in my presence)

“
You’ve gone through
much worse than this. You can get over this fucker.”

I wanted to cry then. My heart
felt like it was absolutely RIPPING. I closed my eyes and willed
the pain to stop.

“
I just want you TO
STOP DRINKING,” she continued.

“
You can talk,
Cadbury.”

“
You’re gonna get
sicker – ”

“
No, I won’t –
”

“
You get DEATHLY SICK,
EVERY TIME you drink – ”

“
What!! No I don’t –
”

“
Yes you do!! Cool it
on the drinking.”

“
Okay, Mary Street, The
Victory will close when you do.”

Nat suddenly laughed. “Did you
just call yourself The Victory?”

I got suddenly sulky. “I couldn’t
think of any other clubs.”

“
Why the hell not?? You
frequent ALL OF THEM. While spreading your germs.” A pause. “I’d
rather be Mary Street than The Vic any day.”

“
You know, for an Irish
twin of mine, you’re really rather annoying.”

“
See I don’t know what
you’re talking about now – ”

“
Never
mind.”

“
You been – ” Nat mimed
the universal gesture for drinking “ – GLUG GLUG GLUGGING the cough
syrup again?”

“
Yes, but it wasn’t
enough to dull the pain. Or my ears, from listening to
this.”

“
Is an Irish twin some
reference to Bailey’s or something?”

“
UGH. NEVER.
MIND.”

“
I seriously don’t know
what it is!”

“
Is this what Dan has
to put up with?”

“
YES. Cause he’s AS BAD
AS YOU.”

Ten PAINFUL minutes of a drive
later, I had a precious bottle of pink champagne.