The Year I Went Pear-Shaped (14 page)

Realisation, clarity and sadness swept through me as my whole world seemed to tilt slightly. What was that noise? Oh it was the foundations of my life crumbling away beneath my feet. In just five minutes, Gordon had forced me to realise the horrifying truth, which was that I had let my insecurities be a self-fulfilling prophecy. I had built my own prison.

But at least that meant I could bloody well kick it down too.

I looked up to find Gordon staring at me with ‘that look’ again.

“What!?”

“Darla Manners. I like you a lot.

“Oh piss off Dorkon, don’t flirt with me,” I laughed. “You just want to make your high school score a perfect 100 per cent!”

“Well,” he smirked, “I do hate to leave a job unfinished...” bam! Smile nuked again “... so if it weren’t for Brad ‘Perfect’ Timberlake, you wouldn’t be safe sitting that close to me on a night like this.”

Ah, the turn of the Karma wheel. I should’ve known Brad would end up biting me in the arse. It was laughable really, the goddamned fictional boyfriend I’d invented as part of my ploy to seduce Gordo the Gardener had turned into the one thing stopping me from a night of carnal lust. It was time to come clean.

“Look Gordon, about Brad...”

“No, it’s ok,” he interrupted. “I know that there’s chemistry between us but I think it’s beautiful that you’re not willing to do anything about it because you want to be faithful to him. You’re not a cheater Darl and I really respect that. He’s a bloody lucky guy.”

He paused to take another drag from his cigarette while I sat there for a moment, speechless.

“Y’know, I’m not proud of it,” he continued, “but you wouldn’t believe the so-called ‘happily married’ women I’ve managed to get in the sack with very little effort. God, a lot of the time it’s them that are dragging me into the nearest laundry closet or wherever.”

I can’t believe I’m hearing this. This is like my worst nightmare and ultimate fantasy all at once.

“God, I’m sorry Darl,” as he saw the look on my face and mistook it for distaste. “I shouldn’t have said all that. It’s the bloody wine talking. Look, lets just forget it and go back inside for some Tiramisu. I’m sure Tim has finished ‘helping’ Sonya by now,” he joked.

“Sh-sure. Yep. Absolutely. Time for tiramisu. Just what I was thinking.” So not.

Chapter 26: Mad About the Boy

The next morning Gordon woke up to the sound of the phone ringing. His head was pounding and his mouth felt like a small animal had died there thanks to at least two bottles of Tim and Sonya’s Hunter Valley booty. He checked the clock. 10.30am. ‘Who the hell phones on Saturday before midday?’ He grumbled to himself, reaching over for the phone on his bedside table.

“Hello, Gordon speaking.”

There was a pause at the other end of the line.

“Hi Gordon. It’s me.”

“Sorry? Who’s me? I don’t recognise the voice, it’s a bad line.”

“You know who I am Gordon. We’re soul mates, remember?”

A cold shiver ran up Gordon’s spine. He swallowed.

“Who the hell is this?”

“Gordon!” She chided. “Stop playing games, you know it’s me. The woman whose been writing you letters for about three years now, I’ve told you my whole life story in those letters, you know everything about me and you know that I love you.”

“Ok, listen to me,” Gordon said coldly. “I do not want you to call me or write to me ever again. Do you understand?”

The woman laughed.

“Oh dear Gordon, I’m going to have to punish you for that. I really wish you hadn’t pushed me that far but you’ve got to know I’m serious. There’s something else I need to tell you as well, I keep seeing you in the paper going to some party or bar with that little magazine slut. That’s going to have to stop Gordon...”

But Gordon didn’t hear what else she had to say because he’d hung up the phone. He stared at it for a moment. His hands were shaking and a bead of sweat snaked down his forehead. The phone rang again. He picked it up and slammed it back down. Picking it up again, he slammed it back into the cradle over and over again.

“Fuck off! Fuck off! Fuck off!”

Finally, taking a deep breath, he lifted the receiver again, and dialled 000.

Chapter 27: Breaking Up With Brad

“Jesus Christ, he said what? That he’d have shagged you right there on the balcony if it weren’t for your fake boyfriend Brad Timberlake? Ohhhhhhh Stop! I can’t stand it! Haaaaaa haaaaaa! That is fucking hilarious Darla!”

At that point Anita fell off the sofa and rolled around on the carpet howling with laughter.

Even though it was almost lunchtime, we’d only been out of bed for half an hour. Apart from an appointment with Tobsha at 3pm that afternoon, I had a gloriously empty weekend stretching out in front of me and Anita and I were engaged in our traditional, Saturday morning ‘what did you get up to last night’ chat over a strong cup of coffee, or warm, flat Cola, depending on the hangover factor.

Anita was wearing her pyjama bottoms with a t-shirt that had Muff Diver written across the top. In brackets underneath that, it read, ‘we go down for longer’.

“Oh for godssake, it’s not bloody funny!” I wailed. “I had my chance to get the Gardener into the sack and I’ve blown it! This is an utter disaster.”

After a couple more minutes of snorting on the floor, Anita calmed down, sat up, crossed her long legs, and wiped the tears from her eyes.

“You idiot, it is so not a disaster. All you have to do is tell him you and Brad have broken up, say it’s been on the cards for a while, you’d grown apart, nothing in common anymore, bla, bla, bla.”

Hell, she was right of course. It was easy. I’d created Brad and I could destroy him too. Sorry Mr Timberlake but I’m going to have to rock your body right outta the picture! Cry me a river Babycakes.

I sat up straight in my chair and put my thinking face on.

“Ok, what’s the best way to get rid of him do you think? Fatal car accident on Pacific Highway? Some strange Asian virus?”

“Noooo!” She said reaching for her packet of cigarettes and lighter. “Nothing fancy Darla, turn your damned imagination off for a second, that’s what got you into this mess.” She paused to light her cigarette. “Look,” she said, through the side of her mouth, her hands cupped around the cigarette as she held the end in the lighter’s flame. “Keep it boringly simple and clean. He met someone else and just finished things with you. It’s over.”

“Brad dumps me? Why can’t I dump him? I don’t want Gordon to think I’m the dumped one, that’s not very sexy.”

Anita rolled her eyes and blew her cigarette smoke at me. “God, you’re an idiot! There is no Brad Darla, no-one has dumped you, you’ve just got to kill Brad off as quickly as possible and I think that’s your best bet.”

I reached over for her cigarettes and lighter, “Gimme one of those bloody things, you’ve made me all stressed now...look, I just don’t think it looks very good if I’m the one who gets dumped. I think I’ll tell Gordon that I finished it with Brad because I just didn’t think we had a future. I’ll say I couldn’t talk to him anymore, the magic had died, he’d become someone I didn’t know, our paths had stretched in different directions etc etc.”

“Alright, fine, pull out every cliché in the book. That should work as long as you leave it at that. Just don’t go inventing any long winded stories...”

“I won’t!” I said, interrupting her before she could lecture me anymore. “I’ll keep it simple and then never mention bloody Brad ever again.”

“Ok. Good. Anyway!” She said, changing the subject. “Enough about you, lets talk about me for a while, I have exciting news. Guess who sent me flowers at work then called to ask me out on a dinner date?”

I shrugged. Knowing Anita it could have been one of about 20 men.

“Adonis!” She said, with a little squeal, clapping her hands and bouncing up and down on her crossed legs.

“Not the big hunk in the toga that you dragged home from the party the other night?”

“Yes! That’s him! He’s taking me out to Rokpool for dinner this evening, how cool is that?”

“That’s so brilliant Nita! So, do I take it from your very uncharacteristic enthusiasm that you might quite actually like this guy?”

“Well, it’s kinda hard to know for sure because we were both so drunk the other night but he’s a total hottie so that’s not a bad start and I think we really clicked, I just have to see him again to tell whether we really did have a connection or if it was just the drugs and alcohol. And Darla...” She said, lowering her voice, “...just quietly, you have got to see the size of that man’s feet!”

Chapter 28: Daddy’s Girl

“Darla, let us begin vere ve left off last time. I vant you to tell me about your Farzer.”

I took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly while continuing a rigorous inspection of my well-bitten fingernails which involved picking and chewing the little bits of skin around the cuticles off.

“Whaddayouwannaknow?” I said sullenly, my eyes still fixed on my left thumbnail as I picked at it with what was left of the nails on my right hand.

“How old vere you ven your parents divorced?”

“I was seven. He left us, me, my brother and mother, to go off with a woman he met through our local theatre group.”

“Vhat do you sink of zat now?”

“I think it fucking sucks. It makes me very sad and angry. He abandoned us. He walked out and never looked back.”

A ball of anger starts to burn in my gut.

“I don’t know what’s different about men, Tobsha but that’s one thing they all seem to be able to do very easily. Dump their families. I’m never gonna let a man do that to me.”

The rage. The rage was coming. Rumbling up from the pit of my stomach.

“How Darla? How vill you make sure you are never hurt? By never letting a man get close to you? Is zat vhy you have had so many one-night-stands? Because zere is no love so also no chance of getting hurt?”

I couldn’t speak.

“Have you ever asked him vhy he left Darla?”

The anger was so hot and big now that it filled up my whole torso and was rising up my throat. I was taking small, shallow breaths to try and keep it from overwhelming me.

“Well, I would’ve thought it was pretty bloody obvious.” I spat. “He got fed up with us. Bored. We weren’t good enough for him so he pissed off with some tart.”

I was breathing heavily now and could feel my heart pounding in my chest. The anger felt good. It felt hard and real. But my eyes were hot with the threat of tears and I knew that if I let the anger go the pain and sadness would engulf me. The anger was easier to deal with than the grief.

“If you have never talked wiz him about it Darla zen you do not know. You must let him tell you his side of ze story. You are an adult now. You can understand better zan you could vhen you vere a little girl who only knew zat her Daddy had gone. It iz time for you to face zis. You vill never move forward until you do. Zis iz at ze core of vhy you can never really be happy. I vant you to go home, sit down and write a letter to your Farzer, I vant you to just write and write and write. Do you understand me Darla?”

I nodded.

“Keep writing till you are exhausted wiz it. Get everything that is in your heart and gut out onto the paper. Ven you have done zat, you must read it back. Zen you must talk to your Farzer and ask him to give you his side of the story.”

Chapter 29: Crazy Cat Lady

The woman was crouched down to stroke the big fluffy cat. It was purring loudly and lifting its head for the woman as she ran her gloved fingers down its throat and over its ears.

The cat knew this woman. It had found her sitting in the darkness in the backyard of his house on many nights and she always brought a tin of tuna or herrings. Every time she would sit quietly for hours in the shadows of the house, almost motionless, watching through the big window at the flickering colours of the television within.

The big cat wound its body round her legs rubbing itself against the woman’s calves. It had finished all the tuna. The woman stroked it along the length of its back and down to the tip of its tail, gently pulling the tail straight. She murmured softly in its ears but the cat didn’t understand her words.

Then the woman reached into her pocket and pulled out something long that glinted in what little light the moon gave. She stroked the cat between the ears a few more times before gently raising its head and, with one quick movement, drew the razor sharp blade along its throat, so sharp that just one stroke sliced halfway through the creature’s neck before it even knew anything was wrong. A second stroke and the head was completely severed. The lifeless body left lying in the pool of its own blood, the fur wet and sticky. Wiping her finger through misshapen circle of blood that was expanding around the carcass, the woman stepped over to the window and drew a love heart on the glass.

The cat’s head was still in her other hand. She walked round to the front of the house, opened the back of the letterbox and placed it inside. She looked up and down the street. Silence. Nothing stirred. She started walking.