Dessi's Romance (17 page)

‘These days if
someone wants to say something’s bad, they say it’s ‘gay’.’

We reflect on
this.

Before leaving
the casino, I go back into the shop and buy that gorgeous glittery top.
Aquamarine. Just right for Dessi. After that big win, spending $175 on one’s
very best friend doesn’t seem over the top.

Sacha appears at
my side. ‘Want to go back? Casinos are pretty boring if you’re not winning.’
We stroll back along the beach towards our apartment. Surf ripples towards us
and retreats. The moon is high. Shadows like beached seals are spread over the
sand. Most appear to be Schoolies. A couple of Toolies stagger towards us. There’s
just enough light to take in their tatts, piercings and leathers.

I move closer to
Sacha.

‘Cute chick,’
says the taller one. ‘Wanna come along with us?’

‘Nah’ says
Sacha, his voice rough. ‘Sorry guys,’ he says grabbing me around the waist and
sliding his hand into my top. ‘She’s with me.’

They have lots
to say about that. But as we’re careful not to antagonise them, they decide to
let us go. Watching them try to muscle in brings out my cubist woman. Once
they’re at a safe distance, I say, ‘You have to wonder what makes them head for
Schoolies.’

Sacha’s laugh is
humourless. ‘Guys with too little self confidence to look for women their own
age.’

We pass several groups of
drunken kids. I feel sorry for them. Haven’t I been there and done that? Don’t I
know from bitter experience how sick they’ll feel in the morning?
Our stroll towards them takes us towards some phone booths. As for
some reason my cell phone no longer works, I decide to use one to call Abdul.

‘Won’t be long,’
I tell Sacha and duck inside. I hope he thinks I’m calling home. So far I
haven’t really talked much about Abdul to Sacha. Partly because he might tease
me, another part suggests that he might be jealous now that he knows he’s into
women.

I can’t believe
how nervous I am when I dial. When Abdul answers, my mouth goes dry. ‘Hi. It’s
me…Emma.’ Am I imagining or does he sound frosty? When I ask him how Dessi
is... has he seen her...? he says ‘Got to go…’ and that’s it. Now I wish I
hadn’t phoned. I glance outside to where Sacha waits patiently.

I decide to
phone Dessi and find out if she’s heard from Abdul.

Hannah answers.
‘Sorry love; Dessi’s out.’

‘Oh… where’s she
gone?’

There’s a faint
pause before Hannah says, ‘I’m not sure, Leila’s I think. Why not call her cell
phone?’

‘Oh, I don’t
want to intrude. Tell her I’ll phone tomorrow night, please Hannah. You won’t
forget will you? I’ll be at my dad’s place,’ and I give Hannah the number.

‘Being with your
dad, you okay with it?’

‘Sure,’ I say
quickly. Right now I don’t want to go into my confused feelings about Robert
and Laura.

‘I’ll tell Dessi
soon as she gets in,’ Hannah promises. ‘She’ll be sorry she missed you.’

On the walk to
Broadbeach, Sacha puts his arm around me. But he’s casual, friendly,
non-threatening. After Abdul’s rebuff, I find the contact consoling and snuggle
into him.

When we walk
into the apartment, there’s no sign of the others.

Sacha flops on
the couch and grabs the remote. ‘Want to watch TV?’

I shake my head.
‘I’m going to have a shower. Have an early night. We’ve got the cruise
tomorrow, remember?’

He nods. But
there’s unexpected tension in the air. As I’m not sure how to cope with it, I
shower, slip on my PJ’s and flop onto my bed with only a sheet as cover. The
frangipani’s scent envelops me and I realise that I haven’t thanked Sacha for
the flowers. Just as I’m tossing up whether to or not, he comes into our
bedroom.

‘I’ll have a
shower as well,’ he says and self-consciously goes into the bathroom. Five
minutes later, he comes into our room, wet haired and gorgeous. He has a towel
tied around his waist and I have to try very hard not to think about what is
under it.

Then he comes
and sits on the edge of my bed. The next minute he’s kissing me. He might be
inexperienced. But instinctively, he’s a good kisser. I find myself unable to
pull away as I should, as I certainly intend. But it doesn’t seem to be
happening. The next thing, he’s in the bed beside me and somehow, the towel has
disappeared.

‘We’re not going
to do this, Sacha.’ I wish I sounded more convincing. ‘Besides, I haven’t got
any…‘

‘I have,’ he
whispers and snuggles against me. His body is warm and hard. The kissing starts
up again and his hands are all over me and I’m falling…falling...

He is so sweet,
so…so grateful. What can I do? As I gather him closer, feel his hands all over
me and direct him to where I want him to be, my last thought is of how Abdul
sounded on the phone. Cold. There is nothing cold about what is happening
here. Quite the contrary. Sacha’s need is even more than mine… we’re both so
lonely and confused.

So needy.

So why… why not?

After, we sleep
like the dead.

I sleep like the dead only waking at
dawn to ponder over the night before. Falling asleep again, I dream I’m in a
Magistrate’s Court. The judge is pointing an accusing finger. ‘Desiree
Lawrence-Cowan, we find you guilty on three counts. One, of stealing your best
friend’s boyfriend; two, of extreme disloyalty; and three, of telling lies. You
are sentenced to a lifetime of loneliness.’

I lie there staring up at
the ceiling. I know what this dream means. But why must I always worry about
Emma? I’m quite sure Emma doesn’t worry this much about me. The thing is,
we’re just too different. Where I haven’t a clue about my future career, Emma
knows exactly where she’s going and she’s sure to be a success. But if she
doesn’t, I know it’ll be because of Abdul, because she’ll be totally
devastated, and get sick, and draw knives sticking into her chest, and it will
all be her best friend’s fault. Is there anything I can do, apart from giving
up Abdul, to stop this happening? If only Emma had more confidence. She’s
always saying, ‘Okay for you, Dessi. You’re pretty and brainy and your family
cares about what you do.’

‘That’s ridiculous,’ I retort.
‘You’re prettier than me, your scores are just as good if not better, and you
know how much Julie worries about you.’

‘Yeah? Sometimes it doesn’t
feel like it.’

But she’s always been so
insecure, even before Robert left home. There was the time I invited Belinda
from our Year 3 class, home and Emma hid Belinda’s doll in the laundry. Though
she kept claiming it was a joke, I never did know if she did it out of spite.
And what about her unreasonable attitude towards Leila? Isn’t it because she
hates the idea of someone else being my friend? I’m far more generous about her
closeness to Sacha.

So last night with Abdul…
when I chickened out at the last minute, how much was it because of Emma? Was I
telling myself that if we didn’t actually have sex, that I wasn’t being
disloyal? I wish I knew. At the same time I’m so much in love, I can hardly
bear to live inside myself. I really understand why Romeo and Juliet killed themselves
rather than be separated.

A buzzer sounds. I grab my
crutches, hop into the hallway and open the front door. Nanna Pearl enters in
her usual whirlwind fashion. ‘Darling how are you?’ I follow her into the
kitchen where Hannah is working. Nanna talks non-stop, ‘Picked up a lovely
Calabrese sausage and here’s something for this poor sick girl…’

‘Nanna, it’s only a broken
ankle...’

‘Pearl, you spoil the
children outrageously...’

Nanna flows into a chair
and says to Hannah, ‘Darling, you look exhausted. You
must
get yourself a housekeeper.’

Hannah grimaces. ‘No point
with all this mess going on…’ Left unsaid is, ‘We can’t afford it.’

‘Why aren’t the children
helping?’

‘Well, Dessi can’t do much.
And if I didn’t have to tidy up after Jeremy, that’d be a help.’

‘Then I
insist
you take work a little easier.’

Hannah manages a laugh. ‘I
haven’t been there long enough.’

I study my mother. Since
the accident I’m able to view my family somewhat dispassionately. Those dark
circles around Hannah’s eyes are a reminder of how hard her new job is. Maybe
she should have stayed with her old branch, not been so ambitious. Though
Hannah’s new boss is impossible, sometimes when she keeps on and on about him,
I say impatiently, ‘Why not report him for being sexist?’

‘Women who report their
supervisors get labelled as difficult. Anyway, it’s not as if he tries to grope
me. It’s more like he thinks females can’t be trusted.’

‘Apply for another branch?’

‘I need to stay six more
months, otherwise I look unreliable...’ and this closes the conversation.

Nanna hands me a small
parcel wrapped in newspaper with an unusual typeface.

‘Nanna, what writing is
this?’

‘Tibetan.’

I unwrap the parcel and
examine the cylindrical metal object. ‘What is it?’

‘A Tibetan Prayer wheel.
Offer a prayer. Make a wish.’

I close my eyes and twirl
it above my head. The wheel makes a faint whirring noise.

I wish... I wish...I
wish for Emma to meet a new man.

The end of the wheel falls
off.

Nanna is furious. ‘Told
that stall holder to make sure it wouldn’t break.’

I smother a grin. ‘Nanna,
you’ll have to go back and complain.’

‘Darjeeling summers are colder
than Melbourne winters. Anyway, I’m planning my next trip. Next summer, Dessi,’
she casually adds, ‘you might like to be my companion.’

Hannah’s cup stops in mid
air.

I actually feel my chin
drop. Oh, no. That means leaving Abdul…

Nanna waits for a response.

‘Awesome,’ I manage.
‘Sounds great, Nanna. Where are you going?’

‘Europe’s always been my
first love. We’ll fly to London first. Then I want to look at Berlin and spend
more time in Prague and Paris. And you’ve never been to Italy, have you?’

‘Nanna. It sounds awesome,’
I repeat.

Hannah carefully places her
mug on the table. ‘Sure you’ll want a teenager along?’

‘Teenager?’ Nanna’s
eyebrows rise. ‘Dessi will be nearly twenty. The thing is, will she want to
travel with this old dinosaur?’

I lean over to hug Nanna.
Europe! How fabulous. A succession of picture postcards run through my mind:
myself in front of the Colosseum, the Eiffel Tower, Buckingham Palace…

‘You ever been to the
Middle East, Nanna?’

‘Course. Why you asking?’

‘The girls have found a new
flame,’ Hannah answers for me. ‘He’s Lebanese.’

I round angrily on her. ‘Do
you mind?’

‘I’m only telling your
grandmother.’

‘If I want to tell people
about Abdul, I’ll do it myself.’ If only I could storm out of the room. I do
the next best thing by hopping through the doorway and nearly knocking over
Graham. I hear Nanna’s, ‘Who’s this boy who’s arousing so much passion in our
Dessi?’

‘Shhhh,’ says Hannah.
‘You’ll only make things worse.’

I stop to listen.

‘Trouble is both she and
Emma are keen.’

‘That’ll put a spanner in
the works.’

‘They’ll just have to
figure it out between them.’ Graham is, as usual, placatory.

‘That accident came at such
a bad time. It’s hard with so much else on your plate.’

‘We’re managing.’ Hannah’s
tone is terse.

‘I’d already met my future
husband when I was offered a fantastic job,’ Nanna reminisces. ‘That job would
take me away from George, so I picked marriage. At twenty-one I was all emotion
and hormones. But try and tell that to someone Dessi’s age. When you’re young
you rarely consider options.’

‘I’ve got a terrible
feeling this is going to create a problem none of us will have the energy to
handle.’ Hannah sounds worried.

I don’t wait to hear more.
Instead I head for the safety of my room and collapse on the bed. As I stare at
the ceiling, I drift into a pleasant daydream where Abdul and I are in a
gondola floating to the strains of ‘O Sole Mio’.

Unexpectedly our Year 11
end-of-term party pops into my mind.

Our class went to a
recording of ‘Karpet Kapers’. What made this event memorable was Kaz chucking
Emma’s bag onto the stage. To the accompaniment of boos and cheers, Ben
McDermott pulled out her cell phone, purse, lipstick, hairbrush and a packet of
condoms. I recall how angry Emma was, how many months it took her to forgive
Kaz for ‘that total invasion of privacy.’

How will she react to what
I’m doing now?

I climb off the bed and
begin sorting through the wardrobe for something halfway decent to wear.