Eve & Adam

Try to think back to the date you
were born, it’s hard but try.

When you were one
second, two seconds, three, four. Five
fingers and toes checked.
Ten, you were there.

One month earlier inside
growing, two months before,
three, six and nine. What were you then,
waiting, dormant? We all came from women
spiked by men. We all came from a woman,
who came from a woman who came from
a woman who came from a woman who
came from a woman who came from a

Lunar Glow

The tiny hairs in my ears are pulled to attention, forced beyond my control, to unwrap the infuriating sound. My brain feels like a rubiks cube, scrambling for a solution. Bottles and jars are fighting and I clamp my eyes closed. It must be that morning. I forgot to put the garbage out again. My diary pages are trying to turn behind my eyes but I slam them shut and put a pillow over my head. If only I didn’t wake up then I wouldn’t have to go through this. I feel punctured and drained. The thought of getting out of bed sends a burning trail up my throat. My eyes open and I slam them shut. I want to go back to sleep but I saw a shirt-sleeve dangling out of my wardrobe and now I can feel the collar pressing on my neck. I picture myself with a lit match, standing over a pile of all my clothes, soaked in petrol. If I burnt them all then maybe the memories would smoulder with them. I feel my thoughts slowing and a numbness creeping up from my fingers and toes and I pray that next time I won’t wake up.

The alarm is screeching and vibrating the room. The least she could do is turn it off already.

“Roxy”, I try to scream. I try again, “Roxy!”.

I move my hand to tap her but my arm just keeps on sliding till it is fully stretched. I hold my eyes closed and move across the sheets. My hand eventually reaches her bedside table and I fumble her clock-radio, pressing all the buttons, but it continues. The plastic clock makes a crunching sound as it cracks on the hard-wood floor. I can’t believe it’s still going. Shit! What happened? My hand is all wet and I half-open one eye. The vase is lying in a puddle on the carpet. I think it’s cracked. The alarm is still going but it’s not Roxy’s. It’s coming from the apartment next-door. I want to bang the wall but my arm feels paralysed. I peer over at the water which is turning the carpet grey. I’m so tired.

The air in the room smells musty and it holds me down on the mattress. I hope today is the day that they release a virus to wipe us all out. I know it’s out there. Somewhere. Over time the other creatures will regain control and everything we have made, all those buildings and machines, will keep breaking in half and in half again, and again, till they are all in tiny pieces and returned to their resting place. I feel calm when I think of how the silence would be broken, only by the ‘krri-krri-krri’ of a cricket or the ‘twee-twa-twi-twot’ of a bird.

The wide, blue, velvet curtain is struggling to keep the day outside. The light is stabbing through the perimeter and onto the pale walls. I want it to be night again, I want to sleep.

The phone. Stop already. If I had no phone and no door I’d be free. Why can’t people just leave me alone? I’m going back to sleep.

The hazy room crawls into my eyes and I see jagged streaks of light creeping further across the walls. I start to feel the sheets on my fingers again and then on my palms. I can feel my breath touch the bottom of my chest again and the prickles are disappearing. I feel lighter. A warmth is trying to seep into my mind and my toes are tingling. I should have a shower. I reach over and press the button to open the curtains. The small motor sounds like a film reel at the cinema but without the raw flaps and clicks. I wait for the movie to begin and it starts with a rectangle of sweeping blue sky. I have to get up. Roxy must have gone for a walk. Maybe she’s right. I saw Roxy’s friend, Dr Fields, once but she over-prescribed me and I flat-lined. Roxy thinks I can’t deal with it but I can; you’ve just got to ride it out.

The light coming through the window is warm, almost hot, and I can feel it on my skin. I fling the sheets off and walk over to the rays of sunlight radiating through the window. There are sailboats gliding across the harbour, travelling with the wind and turning at their discretion. The ferry drivers are so set in their motions, traveling from departure to destination and back again. If I was a ferry driver I would just keep going and take my passengers out to sea. I should shower. I see that Roxy has left me another one of her notes on the coffee table.

Hey Mikey,
So sorry sweety, have to go into
the studio earlier than I thought
this morning...
Love you, Rox xxx

Only one more day and I’m out of here. I wonder if she actually did go into the studio; she can’t break up with me first. I move into the sun on the balcony and absorb more rays. I feel like a drink. The phone rings again.

Hello Mike speaking. Who wants me? Come on, talk to me. What do you want?

Hi Mike it’s Nicky, how are you doin’?

This girl has an energy that bubbles up from her soul and climaxes in her voice. I feel my eyelids rest as I imagine the sharp corners of her mouth rising into those soft cheeks.

Nicks, hows my American All-Star? I sound so sexy this morning.

Another day in paradise here Mike. Are you coming in today?

I was just about to leave. Everything okay? Tell me you want to see me and that you dumped your nasty boyfriend last night and that you can’t hold back any longer.

Yeah, all’s fine. Kate couldn’t come in and Ed’s whinging a bit; nothing I can’t handle. James wants to discuss the new menu with you too. I thought you said you were coming in at ten but I guess I’ll see you soon?

I know you can handle it baby. Let’s forget the café and just drive. We can go anywhere you want; the beaches, the mountains, the country-side. Just you ad me in a red convertible with the roof down on a long road.

I’ll be there in about half an hour. Sooner if I can, I need to see you.

See you then Mike.

You sure will.

Phones make things so easy sometimes. There was something in Nicky’s voice this morning, maybe she got some action last night but I hope not. I could kill him. It would be great, me and Nicky. She grows on me everyday, sliding past me with her tight black pants and cute sneakers; taking orders in-between seductive glances. One day we’ll just go into the store-room and get it over with already. Maybe today. I have to place another order with Frank for the function on Sunday afternoon. My towel smells like a wet dog. I think it’s the vase-water that stinks.

Hello.

She always sounds so clueless.

Hi Martha, it’s Mike Bramton calling from Potts Point. Let’s just get to the point and finish this conversation quickly.

Hi Mike, how are you?

Good, good. Would you be able to come around today?

Today? You want me to come today? I was you the other day.

You wish you were me.

I know, I had a little accident in the bedroom and I would be very happy if you could come again today. Tick, tick, tick.

Okay Mike I come for you.

Thanks Martha.

Okay Mike, bye-bye.


What if I slept with her? Maybe if I didn’t kiss her. I can’t believe how bad I felt this morning, like that first bottle emptied into the garbage truck and everything else piling on top, shrill after shrill. I’m glad it’s all over now. I catch a glimpse of my bicep in the bathroom mirror. It’s no wonder that everyone is staring at my arms all the time.
The shower feels so good. The earth’s life source flowing all over me. What a great way to start the day.

I look in the mirror again as I shine and polish my teeth. My hair is looking a bit long. That guy in that movie I saw last night shaved his head. Roxy’s scissors are all I can find and I make my way across my head cutting twists of hair. I cut it short and I am looking more like the guys on the cover of those magazines. I go for the razor to finish it off but I leave it; hair is always a work in progress anyway.

I need new clothes. This wardrobe isn’t fitting for someone like me. I have to get rid of these old clothes; they’re so worn and dirty. The sunlight is still pouring through the window. I open the sliding door to the balcony. It isn’t as smooth as the wardrobe but I like seeing the lines of muscles in my forearm as I pull it open. A sense of relief comes over me as I grab all my clothes and walk towards the balcony. I cast my clothes out towards the horizon and watch them falling and turning in the wind. Most of them find their way onto the road but some land on parked cars and get tangled in trees. Maybe I should have taken the hangers off. I am becoming more of an artist everyday. I think it’s about time I had an exhibition.

There’s nothing like a smooth blend of aged grain on the balcony to start the day. My crystal tumbler smiles rainbows as I fill it half way. I stretch my toes out towards the harbour and feel the soft ropes of the hammock on my back. A small white box catches my eye and I can’t remember seeing it there before. I look closer through the glass door at the box behind the couch. There is some sort of sticker on it. I put the glass down and go in to see what’s inside. It’s like a shoe-box with its tight fitting lid. There is an initial powdery floral top note, moving to a well-rounded, rose and citrus middle note, and holding on with a fruity base. I unfold the white tissue paper and see white lingerie with lace and soft stitching. Roxy must have something planned. They smell so good. She better not be seeing someone else. I wonder who it could be. It can’t be. There’s no way. It would be way too hard if we had to break-up and get back together again. Only one more day to go.

My hands feel full as I lock the front door. I’m going to create a line of boxer-shorts with pockets. There is nowhere to put my wallet, my phone or my keys in these things. They would be perfect to go shopping in and trying on clothes would be so much easier, you wouldn’t even need a change room.

The elevator in this building has great mirrors. Look at my muscle structure. I am a perfect specimen. I should go to the sperm bank this afternoon, you never know what’s around the corner. What a firm stomach, perfect symmetry. Yeah baby, you’re the man. That’s right, point right back at me, you know you want to be me. Great boxer-shorts sexy, they should call you Calvin. Bing! Ground floor, menswear.

An old lady is checking me out as I leave my apartment block. I think her husband is too. There you have it Mike Bramton, proof that you are really, really good looking. My clothes looked so much better when I was looking at them from the balcony. It loses it’s effect up close. I need pockets in these boxers. I think Claire could design them and Ben could help me do all the promotion and distribution.

Ascension Securities, Phil speaking.

Good, sounds like he’s been doing some work today.

Phil it’s Mike Bramton here. I want to liquidate thirty thousand dollars now.

I need a name for them and a motto. Maybe, ‘Shorts & Sweets’? That’s a great one!

Hey Mike, that won’t be a problem, I’ll just bring up your account… you’ve been doing well this week Mike, everything went up except DRT which remained stable. You have almost thirty-five thousand in WAM stocks at the moment and they’re peaking right now if you want to sell?

WAM-bam-thank-you-mam. I only bought them for ten grand.

Sell them all and put the funds into my bank account.

Time to rock and roll.

The shops around here are so ordinary; I don’t even feel like trying on any of this crap. I need more selection, more variety. Where do kings go shopping? They probably don’t even shop. Everyone is trying to catch a glimpse of me. A yellow Mercedes is parked and I look at myself in the side mirror. The car tells me to stand on top of it and pose like a trophy ornament. It prompts me, beeping and flashing its lights, so I stand on the roof with my arms pointing to the sky. It’s such a beautiful day. I can feel the warm breeze soothing my skin. I wish I had a sample pair of my new boxer shorts up here. I could be promoting them. Ben would be so impressed. There is a lady in her forties, who thinks she is in her early twenties, jingling her keys and staring at me with her mouth wide open. I think she recognizes me. I jump down off the car and walk over to her; maybe I’ll give her an autograph or perhaps a kiss if she’s lucky. As I’m walking towards her she freaks out and runs away. Some people are way too shy. I want to run after her but she disappears into a crowd of people who also seem to recognise me.

Madelaine’s is almost open. I keep away from the crowds in back lanes till I get to the small red bulb on the side of the door that whispers to me and sends a throb to my knees. The little silver button has just been polished and clicks under my finger. There’s not much of that woody amber glow left so I finish off the bottle and throw it onto a pile of garbage bags nearby. The door opens and hollow eyes stare at me through false lashes.
“Hello”, she oozes and peels the door open. I walk into a puff of air that smells moist and rosy. It’s making my teeth feel numb. There are only four to choose from today and they are all staring at me, checking out my rock hard abs. I run my hand through my hair to make it look like it’s a tough decision but I know who I want today. Last time she called herself Bambi and the time before that, she was Candy. My hair feels so stylish and I can’t wait for her to grab it and pull it. She introduces herself as Nicolette and she thinks she is so much more sophisticated now. Her white vinyl boots have long, tapered heels and I can see her ankles sway as she holds my hand and escorts me up to the room. The boots have white laces that criss-cross up the back of her leg to an exposed patch of skin, about a hands width from her little white dress. Her cheeks crease, at the top of each thigh, with every step. She turns to me and giggles before guiding me through her door.

Her pupils fill her eyes as she slides her naked body against mine. Her skin looks softer than it is. I run my hands over her back and squeeze her. I’m sure she is enjoying it more than I am. She is so wasted that she doesn’t realise it when I pull off the rubber she had rolled onto me earlier. Finally it feels a bit better and she whimpers and moans, between short gasps. I don’t think she realises how lucky she is to be riding me. I look at the clock and the big hand says it’s time to finish things up. I roll over on top of her and dominate her while I stare at those shallow blue eyes. She groans and my body warms and tightens. She looks at me and her pupils adjust slightly. She swears at me and starts hitting me. I grab my things. I really need pockets in these boxers. It won’t be long before they are ready for sale. She runs off and two big guys come in, take my money and push me to the door.

Everything looks bright yellow as I stumble outside. It’s so hot and I can feel the ultra-violet light penetrating my skin. It’s too hot to walk and a guy like me shouldn’t have to work up a sweat unless he intends to do so. These cab drivers are blind. None of them are stopping. I step further out in front of the road until I am standing in front of a taxi and he skids to halt. That’s the way it should be. I open the door and he starts driving. I jump in and he stops. He seems pretty upset about something but I can’t understand a word he’s saying. I tell him the address of my café and he’s still shouting. Maybe someone started a war with his country today because there is some foreign radio station blaring. He is shaking his sweaty forehead and I look at the clock on his dashboard. It’s almost one. Roxy will be on soon.

“Hey buddy, do you mind if I change the station”, I ask but he’s still steamed up about something and he’s looking around a lot. “You know Paradise FM, last stop on the dial?” He’s still not answering me so I try once more, “You know Roxy Sinclair with ‘all the news and traffic clues’?”

I reach out to change the station and he hits my hand away. Without really thinking about it I backhand him in the nose. He flips out, starts trying to hit me back and screams at me. He gets out and runs around to my side of the car. I lock the door. He starts banging the window so hard that I move over and into his seat. I see him running back around so I put the car into gear and release the handbrake. Maybe it’s not such a bad job after all. I look around to see if anybody needs a lift. In the rearview mirror I see the driver. He’s crazy. I’m glad I got away from him. I switch over to listen to Roxy but I just missed her. Billy D. stamps another reminder that we are listening to Paradise FM and then fades into some eighties pop song I haven’t heard in a while.

There is a prime parking spot at the front of the café. There are so many beautiful women around today and they are all looking at me. I greet a few of them but they are all so shy. I hope I don’t have to resort to ‘catch and kiss’ to give them what they want. This one dresses to be seen and I really like that; displaying her desire to mate and making herself look as attractive as possible.

This one dresses to be different, with an individual style. She wasn’t that good anyway. Okay, this one’s a sure thing, hardly worth the effort. Dressing to blend in? Just don’t care?

Maybe it’s those dark clouds crawling into my light and hiding the shadows around my abs. I look up at the sky and call out hoping to push the clouds back.

“Mike, what are you doing?”, Nicky asks.

“Nicks! So good to see you”.

“Is this some sort of promotion or what?”

“They’re almost there Nicky. I’m going to be very rich soon. Who told you about them?”

“Mike I think you should come out the back, some of the customers are asking questions”.

I walk around the side of the café and towards the storeroom with Nicky. I wanted sparks to be flying and I wanted her to be looking at me with lust in her eyes but it’s not there.

“Mike, are you feeling okay? Have you been drinking?”.

I can smell James’ beef lasagne sizzling in the back oven. My stomach starts to hurt and the smell makes me feel nauseous. My back is feeling stiff and I sit down.

“Mike! What’s up? Why are you running around in your underwear and what happened to your hair?”.

She keeps looking at me but I feel too tired to speak. I don’t know why she cares anyway.

“Just sit here for second Mike. I’ll be right back. You’re going to be okay”.

I wish she would just leave me alone. I wish everyone would just leave me alone.

It’s almost one-thirty and the Paradise FM news will be on after the ad break. More disasters, rapes, murders and people having their lives destroyed. I don’t know how Roxy does it, every hour on the hour, continually reminding herself of the worst the planet has to offer. I think she’ll be on after this ad.

Hi, I’m Roxy Sinclair with all the news and traffic clues on your last stop on the dial, 108, ParadiseFM. It’s half past one.

And Roxy, there’s been an abduction in the suburbs.

That’s right Billy. An eight year old boy has been abducted from his school playground in Botany earlier today. Staff didn’t see or hear anything but some students reported seeing a blue Falcon station-wagon with NSW license plates leaving the scene. Police believe it may be the boy’s father who has recently been involved in a custody dispute over the child.

And a rather unusual car-jacking in the city.

Yes, a report just in that a man stole a taxi after assaulting the driver in William Street. Authorities aren’t yet sure of the motive but they believe the man was wearing only his boxer shorts.

Boxer shorts? Well it certainly was hot this morning. And I hear we are going to have to fork out more at the check-out Roxy.

That’s right Billy, bread manufacturers have today said that they had to raise the price of bread due to the increasing cost of wheat. The drought-related increase will see the average price of a loaf up ten cents.

Hmmm, I guess there’ll be no more toast for breakfast. What about this rain?

I’m sure management will leave us some toast Billy. And yes, clouds have rolled in, bringing with them some light showers. They are expected to clear up later this afternoon and tomorrow we should have clear skies and tops of twenty-nine in the city and a whopping thirty-two in the west.

Good to hear. Maybe you can cover for me and I’ll hit the beach tomorrow?

And can someone fill-in for me too?

Anyone? Don’t worry listeners, we wouldn’t just leave you like that. So Roxy, tell us what’s happening on the roads.

Well there was an accident on the M5 earlier which delayed southbound traffic but everywhere else it’s looking like a clear run. If you have anything to report on the roads please call us on 1500 PARADISE.

Thanks for that Roxy. I think it’s time for another little tune. I’m Billy D. and you’re listening to the last stop on the dial, 108, Paradise FM.


Paul walks into the storeroom. He pulled himself from his bench-seat at the front of the café, sipping coffee and doing deals on his mobile phone. He would probably think my boxer shorts idea is a waste of time and money and he’s probably right. I don’t know what I was thinking.

“Hi Mike, how are you doing?”. He is looking at me like he is the school principal.

“Hi Paul, did you hear the news?”

“What happened?”.

“Didn’t you just hear Roxy?”

“No I was on my phone. What did she say?”

“I need to borrow your car Paul”.

“Mike, I don’t think you should be driving right now but I am happy to take you somewhere. Where would you like to go?”

Across the table I see one of James’ paring knives. I grab the knife and hold it with the point pressing to my jugular. I could almost keep going, sliding it deep into the vein to free myself from this pain. It would be such a relief.

“Paul, I don’t have time to mess around. They’re coming for me. They’re all against me. Just give me your keys”.

He hands over his keys and tells me it’s parked around the side. I run out the back and around to where his car is parked. I slump into the front seat and think about just waiting for them to get me. I deserve whatever punishment they give me and maybe it’s better for everyone if people like me just died in prison. I hear the promo for the show that Roxy and Billy are doing tomorrow. Roxy is okay for a few minutes but not for hours.

Do you and your love have that special song? Was it your wedding song or the song you heard on your first date? Tomorrow, from ten till four, you can make your requests with Roxy Sinclair and Billy D. Ten lucky couples will win a weekend fabulous weekend away. So, take your love to Paradise this Valentines Day, starting at ten on the last stop on the dial, 108, Paradise FM.

Over six months of torture and I don’t know if I can be bothered going through with it. I don’t even think they will let me talk to Roxy live on air. My foot is starting to go numb and I can’t really feel the brake-pedal anymore. I haven’t gone far enough and they are probably chasing me but I see a place to pull the car into and I stop. I feel like I’m in a cocoon. If I had a hose it would be a good time to stick it onto the exhaust pipe and pull it through the window. No one would even care. I deserve to be outside, wet and cold. My head hurts and the rain drips on my face. An annoying looking couple are walking on the edge of the park giggling to each other under a red umbrella. I try to tell them that relationships are a waste of time but I don’t think they can hear me. There is a branch on the ground and I pick it up to support myself.

I move to a bench in a hut. There is a rustling sound behind me. On the bench is a pile of blankets covering a homeless man. I think about taking him out with my stick and ending his misery but I feel too weak. I look at his face under his worn woolen cap and start to feel sorry for him. I shuffle towards him. The smell makes me feel like vomiting and I try but nothing comes out.

I poke him with my stick and his eyes open wide and then slump, along with him, back onto the bench. He mumbles, “They are after me. They’re coming to get me. The government. Help me”. He pauses, “He will save you”. He stares at the roof of the hut, nodding.

“What are you looking at?”, I ask him as I force my eyes away from his nostrils. He doesn’t answer me but I continue anyway, “You’re right. They’re all out to get us. They tell us the sun rises and the sun sets, like we are the middle of the universe or something. They brainwash us”.

I look at him and he is nodding again at the roof .

“He loves all of us”, he says.

“He, he, he. All the ‘he’s’ all promising a reward. Did ‘he’ put you on this bench? I think ‘you’ did. Life is what ‘you’ make it not what ‘he’ makes it. And after this life there isn’t an after-life so wake up to yourself already. Ever seen a dead bird on the road?”

He’s still looking up, fascinated by something.

“He loves us all”, he grumbles.

“I’ll tell you about love; it’s the biggest waste of time ever. I don’t know if you ever listen to the radio but there’s this newsreader called Roxy Sinclair on Paradise FM. I used to listen to her. I met her, we dated, we moved in together, then I got home one afternoon and she’s in bed with another guy. I flipped out and smashed the crap out of him. She left. Then she kept calling me, crying and apologising, so eventually I moved back in with her and I just had to put up with it for a few months, till Valentine’s Day. She’s doing this Valentine’s Day radio show. I’ve been priming her up for the last few weeks, telling her I’m going to call her live on air”.

“He’s going to save me”.

The sun’s rays warm my legs. The trees and the ground are covered in sparkling raindrops. I grab my phone and wallet and bid farewell to the park dweller. I wish these boxer shorts had pockets. I see a shopping mall across the other side of the park. It’s time to buy some new clothes.

I think a man like me needs a suit - white, single-breasted; a blue shirt with a big collar and some white leather shoes. The staff in ‘Metropol’ are all checking me out and I feel like they know me from somewhere. A young guy approaches me and is standing firmly upright and speaking clearly. I show him my gold credit card and I tell him what I want. He likes my assertiveness and some of the sales-girls can’t help themselves and come over to assist me as well. I feel like a king as they escort me to a change-room and bring me the clothes and shoes I requested to try on. Within a few minutes they have me dressed and ready to go. I tell my boxer shorts idea to the manager and he seems impressed. I just have to get them made and he will sell them for sure. I have to get myself a car, a nice car.

As I walk towards the car dealership I see my reflection in a shop window and I see the most powerful man on earth. I think it’s time for a new hairstyle from that hairdresser across the road.

The hairdresser asks me what happened to my hair and I tell her it’s a fashion thing, avant-garde. She laughs awkwardly and I think she has already developed a bit of a thing for me. I tell her I approve of her suggestion to shave it all off even though I know it isn’t really the only option.

I see myself beaming in the mirror. The hairdresser agrees that it’s the best haircut she’s ever given anybody and I think I’m ready for my new set of wheels. There is a pair of black sunglasses on the table next to me and they complete my image. I thank the hairdresser and walk to the car dealership. They are calling me back, probably for an autograph or a picture but a man like me doesn’t have time for things like that.
There is a red Ferrari convertible on display and it’s going to be mine. I hope they take credit card. I go in and chat to the guy who is jumping around my ankles like a puppy dog. I am a little dissappointed to hear that it’s only available to rent, but for only three thousand dollars a day I tell him I’ll take it for a week. I don’t want to mess around with paperwork and signatures and he can see that I’m a busy man so he takes my credit card and license and comes back a few minutes later. He asks me for a few autographs then gives me the keys.

People are having trouble keeping there eyes off me. I just want to give this baby a chance to fly. The steering wheel is so small and responsive. I could listen to the sound of this engine accelerating for the rest of my life. My spare seat is waiting to be filled. There is a modelling agency somewhere around here.

I pull into a bus-stop outside ‘Platinum Modelling Agency’. These girls love fast cars and white suits. I don’t like waiting so I look through my wallet for any phone numbers I got recently. I turn one card over and on the back, in swirly handwriting, she wrote her private number and a little message ‘Call me anytime Mike, Vanessa’. Sounds promissing.

Hello this is Dr Fields.

What a seductive voice she has.

Hi is this Vanessa?

Yes it is.

Hi Vanessa, this is Mike Bramton. I think we met recently.

Mike, I was thinking about you today and wondered how you were doing.

I’m doing great. I was wondering if you had any plans for this evening.

I don’t usually do consultations after hours but I think it would be good to meet this evening.

Sounds kinky, I think I like this doctor.

I’ve had a look at your mother’s history and it seems she had similar symptoms.

My mother? What does she have to do with anything?

Mike, your mother’s disorder developed what they call ultradian cycling. I think I may have mentioned it to you last time, it drastically effects your…

Wait! Are you Roxy’s friends that was trying to push pills into me?

I really think you should come and see me Mike. If…

I guess she’s out of the question. I’m not dating a quack. Where are all the girls? I haven’t seen any yet. A big billboard is plastered with Roxy and Billy D. and the details of their show tomorrow. I can’t wait any longer.

Hello.

Hi Rox.

Hi Mikey! I haven’t spoken to you all day. Sorry I missed you this morning. How has your day been?

I’m on top of the world, I’ve never felt better.

Sounds good…

Look Roxy, I was going to wait till tomorrow to call you live on your big show but it can’t wait any longer. I’ve been planning this since we got back together and I thought Valentines Day would be the perfect day. Roxy, it’s over between us. Over, finished, done.

I look across and see a gorgeous, tanned brunette with a yellow singlet, little denim shorts and yellow stilletos. She looks perfect. My phone rings and I press the ‘reject’ button. She is striding over towards me. As she gets next to the car she stops and does a pose as if she is still in the studio. I wait for her to say something but she just checks her watch and tries to hail a cab. She must be playing hard-to-get.

“You got to watch those cab drivers out there, can I give you a ride somewhere?”, I ask.

She looks at me for a while and then breaks into a practiced smile.

“Hop in”.

She eases the door opens and slides into the cream leather seat. “Where can I take you?”

“Anywhere!”, she says.

“I want to drive and just keep on driving”, I tell her.

“Let’s take it as we go”, she says as she pushes her brown shoulders against the back of the seat.

“What’s your name?”

“Erica Lovelle”.

“Sure you are, I’m Lars”.

“Nice to meet you Lars”, she says and I can smell her chewing gum.

She gasps and then smiles as I ease my foot onto the accelerator and drive towards the freeway.

“You see the moon Erica?”, I say and she looks up. “You can see the whole thing even though it’s daytime. They call it ‘earthshine’, the sunlight reflecting off the earth and lighting up the shaded side of the moon”.

“You’re quite a guy aren’t you Lars?” she says.

My phone rings again and I throw it behind me, out of the car. I look over at Erica and she holds her gaze for a moment, then flicks her hair back into the wind. I slip the car into fifth gear and head straight for the sunset. It doesn’t get much better than this.

Behind the Cupboard Door

Emily knew little about her uncle but having him nearby was like the carefully wrapped crystal in her pocket, providing her with an invisible layer of protection. Though she had only been there a few times, his cottage was close and offered an escape from the threats of detention and regimented hours. She tried to forget about the chequered linoleum floor and the firm grey bed in which she had slept the last two hundred and thirty-seven nights. The air in her dormitory room smelt of balling, unhemmed blankets, and when she thought of her room-mates, Sarah and Megan, that same scent came back to her. They became her friends more by proximity than anything else. During the week, the three girls wore the same dark green dresses, with white collars, and with thin, jagged, blue and yellow stitching. Emily was glad that her white socks concealed the bracelet tattoo around her ankle. On the weekends most of the girls gathered in small groups to leap around strings of elastic in the park, discuss boys, both real and imaginary, and paint intricate designs on each others’ finger-nails, until they wiped them clean on Sunday evenings. Emily often felt the urge to take a scissors to the elastics or to fill the niggling bottles of nail-polish with the permanent black ink she had found in a forgotten storeroom. Megan proved to be useful as she knew a girl in one of the other buildings whose brother used to visit and bring her wine and cigarettes hidden amongst clothes. Sometimes they would creep out to a small, rocky clearing behind the school and lure the prohibited goods to their curious lips.

Often in the evenings, Sarah and Megan would discuss their hometowns and tell stories of their exagerated pasts, aware that Emily was in the room but content to leave her listening on her bed. The lights vanished each night on the strike of nine and Emily always pictured the boarding mistress, stiffening her neck to line her glasses up with the ornamental clock perched on the wall behind her desk, with her stubby finger lingering on the light-switch. After this time, all that could be heard in each of the many rooms, were light whistling breaths and ruffling sheets.

As Emily walked towards the cottage, snapshots of her previous visits to her uncle were flickering in her mind like the flash cards she saw one time in a psychological examination. The test was administered by the school and made her feel, at times, like she was in amongst the cover of her Beatles album that lay silent in her room at her parents’ house. Her bedroom used to be her sanctuary where some familiar faces, pinned on her walls, were her support, showing signs of a life greater than her own. She would ask them for guidance and sit, cross-legged in the middle of her room, waiting for a smirk she hadn’t previously noticed or a beaming gaze of assurance and sometimes some she was sure she heard a few words. There were candles, and an oil burner, carefully placed around her room and lit in a particular order. First she would light the candle next to her bed and then move around her room in a clockwise direction lighting all the other candles. The glow was comforting and the tranquility took her body out of the room and away from her parents’ house to a place where she was with her dreams. She was sure, that by her first day at Pettington Girls’ School, her mother had taken pleasure in entering her bedroom with big, black garbage bags and doing what she had always reprimanded her for not doing.

Emily walked away from the edge of the unmarked bitumen and continued along the road that made most vehicles slow down. She kicked a dandelion and watched the spawns travel along the wind’s current. Her mother’s voice was echoing in her head, like the bat that was recently trapped in the roof above the dormitory. The middle of her throat had sunk down and tingles had pulsated along her skin, as her mother stumbled and paused on the phone.

“Emily, something terrible happened to your uncle Toby yesterday”.

His eyes never squinted when he lit a match and he would always finish a sentence with a wide, relaxed smile. There was a purpose in all of his actions. He grew many herbs and spices in a fenced patch behind his cottage. The minty, green aromas would seep into the air as the plants hung to dry, pegged to a freyed twine between beams on the verandah. His hardened fingers would carefully break off small quantities of the dried plants and place them in his yellowed teapot.

She followed the path her uncle had driven her on her first Sunday at the school, then every few Sundays after that. He would arrive at ten to pick her up and they would spend the day at his cottage. She remembered the first time he drove up the driveway to the school, in his brown utility, followed by an orange cloud that rolled out from under his tyres. She was glad that the boarding mistress had never met him.

Emily’s mother had told her that she would be arriving at the school at nine to pick her up and take her to sort through the cottage. Her mother had also said that she had phoned the boarding mistress to tell her of the loss and that she would be returning to the school later that evening. Emily’s father was unable to come as he was away again at a business meeting interstate.

The first time Emily’s mother had been late to pick her up was after a tennis lesson when she was seven. Emily remembered sitting on the grass beneath the thick branches, poking red berries onto twigs and constantly thinking that each car approaching must be her mother’s. On that evening the sun eventually fell behind a fence and she walked home alone from the tennis courts. Emily could almost feel the monsters returning as she continued towards the cottage. She had this feeling most times when her mother was late and it was often accompanied by the tangy smell of those berries and the feeling of stickiness on her fingers.

Emily watched a cow behind a fence tearing at the grass. With mild interest, her calf watched and tried to mimic its mother’s movements, raising it’s head awkwardly from the ground with a few green strings falling from it’s mouth. Emily watched the grass fall to the ground and thought of her mother’s phone call. He was found, lying on the floor of the cottage, by the owner of the property who lived in a nearby house.

Toby had no children and was never even married, but his image seemed to fit one of a man with a family. He had travelled to many countries and often said that he spent time living in the cities that had a message for him. He seemed content with being alone but Emily knew that she hadn’t ever seen him in his truly ‘alone’ state as she was always there when she saw him.

Emily spied the cottage over the bend. It was a wood-panelled, one bedroom cottage sitting next to a narrow stream. Emily walked through the gate at the boundary fence and followed the parallel lines that were etched by her uncle’s utility vehicle. The brown vehicle sat in the distance, waiting by the stream. Emily noticed that her mother’s car still wasn’t there so she walked across to the stones that lined the bank of the creek. The stones ground against each other under her careless footsteps. The hypnotic rhythymn entranced her and it wasn’t long before she saw the imported pebbles that covered the area around her uncle’s vehicle. Emily peered into the car and saw his street directory on the dashboard and his mirror-ball lying still under the rear-view mirror.

Emily saw herself in the window of the utility. The muscles under her cheekbones had fallen and were weighing down the corners of her mouth. She sat down in a thin chair next to a rustique table. The chair-legs penetrated the grass and sank into the earth before finally resting unevenly. Sitting between the river and the house, Emily began to recall Mr Willard’s lesson from a few weeks earlier.

“Death is what happens at the end of life. The vital functions in a biological organism completely cease, stop, finish. It is generally considered permanent and all living things are believed to eventually die somehow. In mammals, including humans, rigor mortis initially takes hold and muscles gradually stiffen. The body then begins to self digest, driven by its own enzymes. Bacteria and fungi continue to digest the remains and eventually small organisms, microorganisms, begin to decay hard tissues like bone and teeth”.

Small clouds rolled away behind the top of the hill in the distance and a string of birds flew under the clouds towards Emily. She felt like a blade of grass, calmly absorbing the sunlight, the river and the soil. She started to wonder where all the items in the cottage would eventually rest. She lifted herself out of the chair and walked over towards the cottage. There were flakes of rust and wood-chips of on the ground where the garden tools lay and the smell of moist soil rose from half-empty plant boxes.

The four windows were all closed. It was so quiet that Emily could almost hear her uncle’s final groans echoing inside the cottage. She pulled at a window and one of the panels of glass in the frame fell out and shattered next to her foot.

Emily heard a slow shuffle of feet on the pebbles around the corner at the front of the cottage. She kept her feet still and turned her ear towards the sound. The shuffling stopped but she could hear a slight crunching of pebbles. It couldn’t have been her mother as she didn’t hear a car. Emily stiffened and eased out past the corner. She jumped and a lady with white hair and a walking stick almost fell over.
“Ooh, deary me, I didn’t think anyone was here”, the lady said as she held her free hand on her chest. “Can I help you with something dear?”

Emily looked at the lady, confused, “I’m waiting for my mother”.

“Are you a relative of Toby?”, the lady asked, gradually regaining her breath.

“Yes, he is, was, my uncle”, she replied.

“I’m so sorry for your loss dear. He really was a lovely man”. She paused and looked more closely at Emily, “Oh, are you Amanda?”

“No, Emily”.

“Ah, yes, Emily. I’m Mrs Edson. Your uncle told me about you. He told me you are going to Pettington. It’s a wonderful school you know”.

Emily looked up, “How do you know my uncle?”

Mrs Edson smiled, “I live in that house up on the hill over there. This cottage used to be my husband’s workshed. He built them both you know, with his own hands. He passed away many years ago and I’ve been letting out the cottage ever since. Your uncle was here for almost a year. I can wait with you for your mother to arrive if you like. There’s no need for you to wait here alone, especially…”.

“That’s okay”, Emily said as she looked around for an excuse. It came, “Here comes my mother now”. An older model, white, BMW came towards them slowly, swerving from side to side as Emily’s mother clenched the steering wheel, and her jaw, trying to keep the car straight. Emily noticed that her mother had recently had her hair done. Any occasion seemed appropriate for her to have her hair styled and to have those brown roots stripped back to a copper shade of blonde. Emily could see her mother shaking her head as she pulled the keys from the ignition. She tossed the door closed and walked towards Emily, thrusting the heels of her new shoes into the ground with each step.

“Emily, how could you just run off like that without telling anyone? The whole school has been looking for you. I better let them know I found you”, her mother snapped.
Emily’s mother held her gaze to reaffirm her annoyance with the situation. When she looked across at Mrs Edson, Emily’s mother exhaled.

“Hello, I’m Jacqueline Maddison, Emily’s mother”.

“Sylvia Edson”, she replied and tilted her head, “my sincere condolences”.
“Thank you, and thanks for all you did for Toby”, Emily’s mother said as she stepped towards Emily and embraced her with wide arms and a tight squeeze. Emily wasn’t sure if it was a show for her or for Mrs Edson or for both of them.

Mrs Edson leaned on her stick for support and opened her mouth a few times as if to say something but she just looked at Emily’s mother and gave her a hint of the smile she had given Emily earlier.

“I won’t keep you, I’m sure you both have quite a bit to do. If you need anything please don’t hesitate to come over and see me at the house”. Mrs Edson slowly circled around her stick to face back towards her house. “Once again, my sincere condolences”, she said with a rattle and she began her walk back up the hill.

Emily’s mother stepped back but kept her hands on Emily’s shoulders and inspected her from the top of her head down to her shoes and back up again.

“They seem to be taking good care of you at Pettington. Look at how your cheeks are losing their puffiness and I think you’ve grown”, her mother said as she looked her up and down again. “We were all very worried about you. You knew I was picking you up didn’t you?”

“When you didn’t show up I thought you must have meant to meet me here”, Emily replied.

Her mother sighed and hugged Emily again as she looked at the cottage from side to side.

Emily eventually pulled away and gawked at her mother. “Do you have the key?”, she asked.

“No, I don’t”, her mother replied with a stammer. “Mrs Edson would have one. Be a darling and ask her won’t you? She couldn’t have gone far”.

“It’s okay, I can get in”, Emily said as she walked back towards the open window.

“What do you mean? How?”, her mother asked as she watched Emily walk away. “No. Emily! Wait”. Her voice trailed as Emily stepped up and through the partly broken window into the cottage. Emily unlocked the front door and pulled it from its cramped frame. Her mother came to the door shaking her head and holding back a smile.

The cottage was much smaller inside than Emily had remembered. She stood with her mother and they peered around the room almost as if they expected to have someone come out and greet them. Emily’s mother went to open all the windows, complaining that the room smelled. She stood and stared at the couch. She turned to Emily and snapped herself back into the task that lay waiting. There wasn’t much furniture in the house. In the main room was the couch, two chairs, a leaning bookcase, an old trunk and a thin coffee table. The bedroom had a single bed, a clothes rack and a small cupboard.
“I think the furniture came with the cottage so it can stay for now. All this other stuff has to be sorted through. Most of it looks like it can go straight in the bin. Emily, you start in the kitchen. There are some flattened boxes in the boot”. She dangled her car-keys out towards Emily.
The box took up most of the room in kitchen and Emily walked around, opening and closing cupboards and draws, not knowing where to begin.

“Emily, just do it one cupboard at a time. Keep it or toss it, you decide”, her mother called from the other room.

Most of the items in the kitchen Emily had seen before but everything seemed to radiate as if each item had a story to tell. She found herself fiddling with all the metal and wooden implements and stared at them waiting for some kind of answer.

“Emily? How are you going in there?” her mother called out from only metres away.

“Yeah, okay”, Emily mumbled back.

“It sounds very quiet in there. I don’t want to spend all day in here you know”, her mother responded.

Emily soon heard that her mother, too, had become quiet and Emily stepped towards the door to see what she was doing. Her mother was sitting against the wall next to the open trunk, leaning heavily against it with a piece of paper in her hand.

“What are you doing?”, Emily asked, peeking her head around the door-frame.

Her mother sat up startled, crunched the paper into a tight ball and threw it into a black garbage bag.

“It’s nothing Emily, just an old letter to your uncle. I probably shouldn’t be reading it anyway”.

“Let me see”, Emily said as she walked quickly towards the black bag.

Her mother grabbed the bag before Emily could reach it and glared up at her, “Emily, we don’t have time for all this. Let’s just get finished already”.

“Ooh, touchy”, Emily pronounced.

Her mother’s head fell into her hands and Emily walked back into the kitchen with an envelope that she had spotted. She sat on the scratched bench-top next to an array of dried herbs and spices in hand-labelled glass containers.

Emily looked at the hand-written envelope. The writing was swirly but consistently large, ‘Emily’. It wasn’t sealed and she pulled out the letter inside.


To my dearest Emily,

It is only part of me that hopes this letter finds you. If your mother or father read this letter before you do, there is a good chance it will never reach you. If so, to you, Will and Jacquie, I’ll leave it to you to decide.

Emily, it troubles me greatly to write this letter but I feel there are some things that you have to know. Even if this letter doesn’t reach you, then at least I will know that I tried but as much as I want you to know, I don’t want you to know.

It has been amazing, spending time with you over the last few months. Missing your life up until this point was hard but only became harder once we met again. I am left to imagine what I was never able to see. It leaves me with a heavy chest when I think back to those times I missed.

I’m not sure how much you know about my past, perhaps even your past, but from what you have told me over the last few months it doesn’t seem like much. Some say beauty is in the eye of the beholder but I think that truth, too, lies in the eye of the beholder.

During the times we spent together I told you about some of my travels around the world but there is still a lot about me that you don’t know. I doubt your parents ever talk about me in front of you. They may have told you I was in jail and it is true that for most of your life I have been living overseas.

Many years ago, I had an affair with a married woman. She had been trying for a baby for years. We weren’t trying, but it worked. I didn’t know what to do. After a few days she came to me with an aeroplane ticket to South America and told me to go and that she would follow. We were going to start a new life. It didn’t sit well with me, but at the same time, it seemed like the best option. I packed my life into a suitcase and left.

Her mother’s voice sprang from the other room, “Emily, what are you doing in there?”

“I’m packing”, Emily replied, folding up the letter. She held it tightly in her hand and looked out at her mother who was concentrating, deep in thought and looking through old papers and photographs.

“I’m just going to get some more boxes”, Emily called out. Her feet crunched across the pebbles and she looked for a good spot, eventually sitting at the table and chair near the creek. She put the envelope on her lap, unfolded the letter and continued to read.

I had a ten hour stop-over in Los Angeles and that is where I experienced one of the worst moments of my life. Airport customs officials were waiting for me and I was quickly escorted to an interogation room and shown a bag of illicit subtances they found in my luggage. I assure you Emily, as I told them, that it wasn’t mine. She planted it in my luggage hoping to get rid of me, she was at my apartment when I was packing. In one instant I lost everything. I thought a lot about my daughter while I was serving time Emily, I thought about you.

After years of being away I felt that I had to see you. It took some months for your mother to agree for me to see you and when she said you were going to be attending Pettington School, she suggested that I look for accomodation nearby. If this reaches you then the promise has been broken and you know what your mother has been hiding from you.

Emily, from the time I first met you, I saw how similar you were to me, strong-minded, quick-thinking and truly an individual. I want to tell you about the man who has been your father and my brother. I always hated how he treated your mother. Even to this day he flies around the world attending his business meetings. It was probably his cocaine that your mother put in my luggage. He had a nasty habit. Perhaps it was all part of her grand solution to get rid of me as well as his addiction all at once. Maybe it would be better if you never knew any of this.

Emily turned the page over but saw nothing. She looked in the envelope for more but there was nothing there. The skin on her head tightened and tingled. The pages felt stiff and dry in her hands and her eyes shot between the paragraphs, searching for something she had missed. Emily had waves racing up and down her body as she ran into the house.

“I can’t believe you! How could you? Why didn’t you ever tell me?”, Emily yelled at her mother.

“What? What are you talking about Emily?”, her mother asked.

“You and uncle Toby. How could you? Does dad know?”, Emily screamed.

“What? I don’t know what you are talking about Emily”, her mother replied.

“I read a letter from uncle Toby. He told me everything. You and him, his time in jail, meeting me. How could you?”, Emily exclaimed.

“I don’t know what he told you but I hardly ever saw him and his jail time was unfortunate but he took a risk and got caught”, her mother said and settled back into her chair.

“He said he’s my father and that you set him up to get him away from us”, Emily snapped.
“What? I don’t know where you got that from! Show me the letter”, her mother said and faced her palm upwards at Emily.

Her mother read the letter and giggled, “Your uncle sure had an imagination. It looks to me like one of his scribbles. There’s lots of them here, you can look. Toby liked to mix his teas and potions and sometimes they took his mind to some wild places, and ten years in jail couldn’t have helped either”.

“Why don’t I have any brothers and sisters”, Emily asked.

“Your father and I never felt that it was necessary to have more than one child. Would you have wanted a brother or sister?”, her mother asked.

Emily looked at her mother’s brown eyes closely, trying to glimpse the thoughts behind them but at the same time Emily knew that she had never seen much in those eyes.

Her mother stood up and walked towards her with a tilted chin. By the time Emily’s mother had called out to her, Emily had slammed the front door and run down the path. Emily ran back up the driveway, along the road, through the school gates and up to her room. For the first time in two hundred and thirty seven days her blanket felt warm and she couldn’t wait for Sarah and Megan to return.