Almost a Mirror Read online

  In the end the woman laughed so hard her family couldn’t help but join in.

  It was Jimmy who reached in and hauled her out.

  While she’s eating Kaz’s meals, Mona can imagine she’s still a child, rather than feeling the child tucked deep inside her.

  But all night she turns the pillow over until it’s patterned wet like some Rorschach test. Her mum changes the pillow cover every day.

  Mona picks up Where the Wild Things Are and starts reading to the baby, floating off on that ragged boat to where the wild things gnash and roar. Those terrible eyes.

  She can hear Kaz’s voice as she reads, the rhythm and the tone. The gaps where her mum took a breath and Mona would fill it with her scary faces and monster noises. The times when they would swap and Mona could read back.

  Mona wanted to be fierce and monstrous like those wild things. Dancing at the moon. Caught between two worlds.

  Her mum let her do that.

  But her favourite part was always coming back to the bedroom, knowing that the warm meal would still be waiting.

  At the funeral, Mona’s face forgets how to be public.

  The kind words and pitying words and no words.

  The men don’t look her in the eye and she in return stares at them without seeing.

  She looks around the standing-room-only space. She wonders where they have been in Jimmy’s world.

  Trapped in a Dr Seuss speck, a little voice out of the dust.

  At the funeral, she stops drifting when she sees the girl. More familiar than her own family somehow.

  The girl takes a photo of the coffin.

  The girl thinks she was the only girl.

  Mona plays out the different ways Jimmy might have landed.

  She wraps her arms around her belly. Only one of them can get into the foetal position now.

  She plays the game Jimmy always loved.

  If she was an artwork, Mona would be that one. Morning Sun. The only thing that’s missing is a window. She needs a window.

  A friend, she can’t remember which one, says that Jimmy got his wings. That he’s with the angels now.

  The pressure, already.

  No one holds on to anything.

  No clutter, no baggage, no memento mori.

  Except a photo of a coffin on Instagram, hearted and sadfaced and replaced on the hour.

  She wants to hang on to the coat-tails of death.

  She wants to dig deep down into the earth to find Jimmy, his flesh sagging, his bones breaking.

  The ruins of him.

  She wants to make demands.

  SHOUT TO THE TOP

  Spain, 2009

  On the day they leave, Jimmy throws a couple of T-shirts, jeans and a jumper into Mona’s suitcase and that’s it.

  But when they get to Barcelona, he slots right in. Learns to find his way following patterns in the pavement.

  As she fumbles with her phrasebook at the counters of pensiónes, he listens to voices. Picks the language up, gestures, comprehends, until the proprietors look past her and hand him the key.

  She plans the daytrips.

  Montserrat with its savage steep edge and little grotto hanging out from a cliff. The saintly offerings. Alien to her but seductive. She stands in a line for hours to touch the Black Madonna.

  In Sitges, a man builds sculptures out of sand. As one gets licked by the waves he starts another. Mona orders tapas and they come freshly shucked out of a tin. Smoked oysters slimy and strips of capsicum in sharp vinegar with a packet of potato chips on the side.

  On Dalí Day they share gazpacho and anchovies at a whitewashed cafe near the beach at Port Lligat, where rocks form landscapes surreal as any of the bodies that Dali imagines. The stones transform into new shapes in the imagination, porous as clouds. In Figueres, Jimmy sits on Mae West’s red lips when the guard goes around the corner.

  She moves through a fog even though the sun is always shining.

  She plans how to tell him.

  Everywhere they try the Crema Catalana.

  Early morning they stand in the small village square of Valls, alone in shadow. When the locals start to gather for the tower-building competition, Mona and Jimmy become wedged in.

  As each team takes its turn, the crowd surges as the villagers move through. They start to build castles of human bodies in the middle of the square. Balancing on the cold blue cobblestones.

  First the men with wide stances and strong shoulders to form the base.

  Then those with smaller frames, women.

  They climb on each other’s shoulders.

  The children monkey up last.

  Two, three, four storeys. More. Precarious.

  The musicians speed up the tempo as the bodies build.

  And as the human tower gets higher, Mona looks directly above and the tower starts to sway.

  The tower shudders and swings and the crowd moves with it.

  When it collapses, it showers bodies on top of them all, falling through to the hard stones below.

  The children fall first.

  And each time a tower falls, Mona pushes her way further out of the square to escape the push of bodies, hands protecting her stomach, while Jimmy stays where he is.

  She sits on the cobblestones.

  Older women stoop to check how she’s feeling, offering comfort, glasses of water. They seem to know.

  She watches the men from the bottom come out bleeding. Pale shirts sweat-stained. Those caught in the crush carried through.

  Kids broken and crying.

  But then the mood of the crowd changes. A small girl, four years old, she clambers up the human bodies. She’s quick as she races against time. When she gets to the top of the tower, it starts to lean, and the crowd starts to moan.

  She can almost reach the spire of the church.

  She stands and raises her hand as if to wave.

  And as the girl reaches up the crowd gasps.

  As her hand touches the first rays of sun to hit the square.

  Mona wraps her arms around her stomach and feels seasick on solid ground from holding her head up so high.

  She feels seasick anyway.

  She can’t watch them build towers.

  Each time she looks up, she waits for them all, for all the children, to fall.

  TOTAL CONTROL

  Melbourne, 1986

  The girls are lined up when Dodge drops Mona off. Charcoal duffel coats hooked. The gaps between bone pegs letting in the sharp pain of cold.

  Michelle is taller than the rest, a weeping willow.

  Tony the guard is smoking at the gate, looking at the girls one by one. None of them have tickets. A high mesh fence separates the car park from the ABC studio. It’s flimsy. Mona’s seen it knocked down a few times but she’s never climbed over it.

  Michelle has a broken mirror in her satchel which they take turns to use.

  Silver eyeshadow. Purple lipstick.

  Mona leans forward and holds strands of fringe out in front of her face, teasing with fingers, until her hair bounces off her forehead like a swirl of smoke.

  Red lace, shiny satin at the front, see-through at the back. A red bra.

  Mona takes her coat off. Too cold. Puts it back on.

  The wool scratches, making her neck sore. Violet blobs in the shape of Jimmy’s mouth.

  Her patent leather shoes crisscrossed with laces. They have a leopard-skin tongue, rough against her ankles.

  She pulls her lace headband down and puts it around her neck. It’s black, stretchy, but too big.

  Michelle looks at her sideways.

  What are you hiding there, M-m-m-m-o-n-a? The best thing is to rub toothpaste in.

  It didn’t work. Here, smell.

  Michelle moves in and there’s the faint trace. She licks Mona’s neck with her tongue darting at the last minute.

  Mmm, peppermint. I’m hungry.

  Hey, cut it out! Have any cars parked yet?

  We’re early.

>   Do you think they’ll stop?

  Michelle smiles, her purple lips fat like someone’s just punched them.

  They did last time.

  They sit on the lip of the gutter and Michelle’s hands are blue. She buries them in Mona’s coat pockets to get warm.

  Michelle puts a thin cigarette in her mouth. It’s brown and looks like a dead beetle.

  What’s that?

  Bidi. You want to try?

  The end is wet and it tastes like Michelle’s lipstick. Fake grape. Flakes of dust fall onto her tongue.

  You can have the rest if you want.

  Mona holds it down beside her as the leaves burn away, the taste of dirt in her mouth.

  Did you see Kids in the Kitchen on the Countdown Awards? Mona asks.

  Michelle rolls her eyes back as she lifts her face to the clouds.

  God, I love them so much.

  I’m hungry. Do you want to ask Tony if he can bring us some two-minute noodles?

  Just like he might let us in to the cafeteria.

  Mona gets a silver glitter pen and starts drawing on her satchel. She makes a peace sign, draws over it, an anarchy symbol. She sketches out a love heart and draws Jimmy’s face in it.

  Do you think Scott will look at us this time? she asks.

  Remember soundcheck at Rocking the Rails? He definitely looked at us then.

  I’ve got to get his autograph. I’ll kill any girl who pushes in front of me. Mona stabs with her glitter pen.

  You could start with Juliet. She showed me her toothbrush again.

  Do you think she really gets to sleep over?

  She does always seem to disappear at the right time.

  Michelle leans against Mona and pats her knee.

  They watch Juliet at the head of the line, laughing with friends. She has black boots and stripey socks that stay up above the knee, showing a white slash of skin under her skirt.

  It’s hard to look away. Her body steams with it. She’s there for the taking.

  I’ve got those socks. They always fall down, Mona says.

  I wish we were at Queen Vic market.

  Michelle lies down on the concrete, bidi out one side of her mouth. Mona wraps the coat around herself hard.

  Then I could have a hot jam doughnut.

  I’ve never been to the market.

  Where do you live again?

  Castlemaine.

  Michelle puts her head in her hands.

  You’re out in the sticks.

  You’re in Frankston!

  I didn’t have any breakfast. I need a Big M. Iced coffee. And a pie.

  Mona’s autograph book is frayed around the edges, with flowers on the front. It looks like a little girl’s and she wishes she could tear the cover off.

  Michelle flicks through and stops at a drawing done in red pen of a happy man with a red nose and glasses, scruffy hair and a beard. She traces the outline of the letters. The MONA is done in bubble writing.

  That’s a good one, Michelle says.

  To MONA, with love, from Rolf Harris.

  I met him on a plane. The air hostess came and got me and took me up to first class to meet him. He was really nice.

  That must have took ages.

  He did it really fast.

  Mona paints a ghost in the air.

  Did you see him on The Goodies? He was hilarious, Michelle says.

  They both sing the theme tune.

  God, your bag is like the Tardis, Mona. What’s in this exercise book? Your drawings?

  She holds it just out of Mona’s reach.

  I heard that these girls from PLC wrote I LOVE DURAN DURAN a million times and they sent them off to the fan club and they got to meet them when they were in Melbourne, Mona says.

  Do you think it would work for Kids in the Kitchen?

  They’re not even international.

  They take turns writing lines, alternating silver and gold pens. The edge of the pen gouges an indent into the skin on Mona’s finger and she stops. Mona’s writing is curly, above the lines, Michelle’s meticulous, tiny, like perched birds on a wire.

  Mona does her next line copying Michelle’s style.

  Michelle holds her hands up in the air like she’s surrendering.

  This feels like I’ve got detention. We’ve only done a page! What else have you got here?

  1. Half-eaten apple. 2. Cigarettes – Marlboros. 3. Cassette tape – INXS. 4. Sunglasses Case – Raybans.

  That’s what was in Scott’s car last time. Glove box, Mona says.

  You got in? You never told me!

  Yeah, he forgot to lock it.

  You should have hidden in the back.

  I did. Tony chucked me out. But I’ve still got the apple core.

  Not him.

  Not him.

  Michelle roams the car park, sprinting when she hears a car coming down the street. She’s brought her rollerskates.

  I’m busting for the loo, Michelle says.

  Go and squat behind the bin. I’ll be the lookout.

  Michelle edges her wheels around the broken beer bottles.

  He’ll probably get here just as I pull my pants down.

  You couldn’t ask for better than that.

  Mona raises her eyebrows so they form a straight line.

  Stop making me laugh! I’m trying to get the wind direction right so I don’t get any blowback.

  Michelle pulls up her skirt and unstuds her bodysuit and jiggles on the skates. A stain like a butterfly grows on the concrete.

  Quick, there’s a car coming! Mona says.

  Hang on!

  Mona races around to get a better look.

  Nope. Only Pseudo Echo.

  Do-do-do-do-do, do-do-do-do-do.

  Michelle sings as she studs herself up. She reaches into her bag and pulls out a clasp purse and shakes it upside down.

  Shit, I don’t think I’ve got enough for the train. Do you have any money?

  I need it for the train too.

  Let’s look for a phone booth. I could check for coins.

  Mona shakes her head.

  This place is a hole.

  Looks like it’s the cop shop for me, Michelle says.

  The what?

  I do it all the time.

  Since when?

  Michelle brushes the hair back off her face and Mona braids it over the top of her head. Michelle kisses the lipstick off onto a tissue and puts it under the wiper on a windscreen.

  She tries on a cute voice and casts her face down, little diamantes blinking in her hair.

  I go to the cop shop when it gets dark and say I’ve lost my purse and haven’t got any money to get home. They always give me a lift.

  To Frankston!

  Just to Flinders Street station with money in my pocket for a ticket. Do you want to come?

  I’ll wait. He might still show up.

  Michelle gives her a hug and waves without turning back. Her skates do a wheelie goodbye.

  Mona sits on the bonnet of the last car in the car park, dangling her legs. She gets out Flowers in the Attic and reads, glancing up every now and then when she hears the swish of a car on the street.

  LOVE MY WAY

  Castlemaine, 1986

  Jimmy helps Mona open the window in the bungalow and change the sheets and empty the ashtrays and pick up three months of cups half filled with coffee and bits of toast. She puts on Heaven 17 and they sing in falsetto. Higher and higher. He flings her on the bed.

  Temptation!

  We don’t have time, Mona says.

  He gets up on the pillows and starts to dance like they do at the Underground. His hands nearly sweep the ceiling, writhing at angles in front of his pale chest. He keeps his expression blank, shifting from foot to foot and raising a knee every now and then, sinewy.

  His dark spiky hair falls into his face.

  She tries not to laugh and dances away from him.

  She takes the Dodge prints down off the wall and hides them behind the
wardrobe.

  What are you doing?

  They’re just for us.

  They head to the Theatre Royal with Kaz’s video card. The boys in Holdens scream out the window at Jimmy.

  I wish we had a car. Then we could go out to the waterwheel, Mona says.

  Jimmy stops to look at the posters out front to see who’s playing.

  Mum said we can get one overnight and three weeklies.

  How about Halloween? Jimmy asks.

  I don’t want horror. I spend most of the time hiding my face. The covers are bad enough.

  Apocalypse Now? Deer Hunter?

  Have you got your fake ID? Steve will never give them to us.

  She traces her finger along the titles. She’s seen nearly everything in the store except the foreign language films upstairs.

  When her mum first hired the video player, the only movie Mona had was Grease. She watched it every day after school for a year.

  Maybe we should go to True Sound? They’ve got more of a selection there, Jimmy says.

  You just want to say hello to the cockatoo.

  He likes my hair.

  Maybe when he sees you, he thinks he’s looking in a mirror.

  She heads to Musicals.

  How about this?

  She holds up Rocky Horror.

  I’ve already seen it.

  We can dress up!

  What will I wear?

  I’m sure we’ll find you some stockings. Come on, it’s nearly my birthday!

  She rubs her hand up and down his leg until he has to readjust himself behind the video shelf.

  She takes the movie up to the counter, picking up Lolly Gobble Bliss Bombs on the way.

  What else can we eat? Jimmy asks.

  We could get some Doritos.

  What are we gonna drink?

  Fluffy Ducks.

  Your mum has some Bundy rum in the cupboard.

  Mona waves the video cover at him.

  We could buy some frankfurts and make hot dogs!

  Michelle steps onto the platform with a guy who has a shaved head, an army jacket and steel-capped boots.

  Don’t worry, he’s harmless, Michelle says.

  My hair’s only like this because I’m in cadets.

  Danny has a gentle voice, posh.

  He’s from Melbourne High. We’re in the musical together.

  Mona waves the video in front of their faces.