Looking for Alibrandi (8 page)

When the door opened, Ron Bishop walked out first, looking red-faced and defensive.

“Well, I think we’ve got that settled,” Michael Andretti said, putting his glasses back on.

“Get your things, Carly,” her father ordered.

“Are we suing, Dad?”

“Get your things.”

I looked at them both and then up to Michael.

“Anything else?” he asked.

I nodded.

“He has my
Concepts of Science
.”

“My daughter’s book, thank you,” he said briskly.

When the Bishops left, Sister Louise adjusted the chairs and gave us room.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Andretti.”

“Likewise,” he said with a smile. For once his dimples served the right purpose. “By the way, Josie informed me she was looking forward to suspension so she could have a holiday. I hope you won’t give her that satisfaction.”

I seethed with embarrassment and avoided looking at both of them.

“Josephine, dear, come here.”

I wonder why nuns always sound so sarcastic when they say “dear.”

Sister Louise opened a drawer and I looked in.

“What do you see?”

“Applications.”

“Yes, dear. Dating back to 1980. Every lunchtime till the job is complete you’ll come in and put them into alphabetical order. You’ll find it good for the soul, dear.”

“Thank you, Sister.”

“You are suspended for the rest of the day, though.”

I nodded and walked out with Michael Andretti at the same time that the bell rang.

Everyone walked past me taking great interest.

“So how was court today?” I asked at the top of my voice.

Michael Andretti looked around, seeming uncomfortable with the attention, and gave me a great spiel about his day in court. I heard the whispers of excitement, knowing how impressive he sounded.

I walked past my classmates with Michael Andretti beside me and for a few minutes I knew how it felt walking alongside one’s father.

It was a great feeling.

Nine

USUALLY ON FRIDAYS
Sister Louise calls Poison Ivy and me into her office to keep us up-to-date with what’s going on. Sister Louise and I don’t get on very well, as you’ve probably worked out. Nothing verbal, though. That’s the trouble, I suppose. We just look at each other untrustingly and don’t say a thing. But I do respect her.

She’s not like the nuns we had in primary school. I don’t think any nun is like that anymore. We call them the penguins because of them wearing wimples and all that
Sound of
Music
gear. Except they really don’t look like that anymore. They’re liberated. I think that during the seventies when women were burning their bras, nuns were burning their habits.

They no longer go around saying, “Bless you, my child,” or, “God will punish you for your sinful ways,” like the nuns of my kindergarten year did. I mean, how can a five-year-old have “sinful” ways?

I remember when I was young I used to wonder if they had parents like us or if they’d hatched out of some church. I wondered all kinds of crazy things, like did they go to the bathroom or did they think bad thoughts.

The first time I saw a nun without a habit, I prayed for her, thinking that she’d go to hell. But I think Sister Louise made me change my mind. I’ve never met a more liberated woman in my life and I realize now that these women do not live in cloistered worlds far away from reality. They know reality better than we do. I just wonder whether she was ever boy-crazy.

After our usual boring discussion during which Poison Ivy crawled to Sister and Sister took it all in, Ivy was excused and I wasn’t. I sat there for five minutes trying to work out what I had done wrong since punching Carly the week before.

“Josie, Josie, Josie.”

I looked up at her and then it clicked.

“Sister, I only got on that bike because I needed to get home. I also think that my private life is my own.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Certainly not a motorcycle.”

“Oh.”

“And for your information, young lady, I used to own a motorbike myself when I was your age.”

I almost laughed aloud.

“Then what was the ‘Josie, Josie, Josie’ about?”

“I heard your father is defending a very prominent businessman.”

I rolled my eyes and shook my head.

I don’t know what it is with that woman. She finds out every single thing about us. She knows who we go out with, what we did over the weekend, if we’re on diets. Probably even who sleeps with their boyfriends.

“It’s not a rumor. It’s the truth.”

“I’m sure it is.”

“Does that mean I’m off my scholarship because my father holds such a high position?”

“No, it only means that I’d like to know how you’re coping with the situation.”

She made me feel ashamed that she cared after I was being so catty.

“I’m coping pretty well.”

“I hope there are no hostilities between your parents that affect you, Josephine. I know that you hadn’t been in contact with your father when he lived in Adelaide. Your mother told me.”

I sighed, looking out the window.

“I found it very necessary to lie last week, Sister. I gambled and I won.”

“I’m sure of it.”

“I don’t know him well, but he seems like a nice person.”

“Good.” She nodded. “And this job at McDonald’s?”

“Sister,” I said, exasperated. “Is there anything we do that you don’t know about?”

“Of course there is, Josephine,” she said, annoyed. “I only know minor details about you girls.”

“Well, the job is going fine and I’m going fine.”

“Any sign of your marks going down and I’ll speak to your mother.”

“Sister, I’m getting As.”

“Well, after six years of promise it’s about time, isn’t it, young lady?”

I looked sheepish and nodded.

“You can go. I just wanted to check up on you, that’s all.”

“Thank you for the concern,” I said, picking up my bag and walking to the door.

“And I hope that if you decide to go out with the captain of Cook High, you’ll behave in a Christian way.”

I gritted my teeth and walked out. Forget what I said earlier about nuns changing. They’re the same old tyrants who terrorized children in the sixties.

Christian way?

That means when the Romans feed us to the lions we sit around with passive looks on our faces and smile. Like hell I will.

“Don’t hover by the doorway, Mother. It makes me nervous,” I said, helping Nonna Katia set the table in the living room that afternoon.

“You, nervous?”

“And check out the oven, Queen Christina. I actually made dinner. Meat loaf, which I might add is your favorite,” I went on in a smug tone.

Nonna Katia was beaming proudly. She thinks it reflects on her how well I cook.

“I showed her, Christina. Jozzie said she wanted to cook for you, so I came over.”

Mama seemed to look from Nonna to me with dread and I began to wonder what we had done wrong.

“Mama, could you look after Josie tonight?”

Nonna Katia looked up in surprise and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand.

“You are going to one of Jozzie’s parent-teacher nights?”

“No. I’m just going out.”

“I do not understand, Christina,” Nonna said, shaking her head. “Where are you going?”

I shut the oven door and waited for her answer.

“Just out, Mama,” she snapped, both nervously and angrily. “I’m just going out with a man at work.”

“Do not yell at me, Christina. Jozzie yells at me enough.”

Mama was holding a shaking hand to her forehead. She always does that when she’s upset about something.

“Well, if you didn’t have to ask so many questions I wouldn’t yell. If you didn’t have to treat me like a baby, I wouldn’t yell,” Mama argued.

Nonna Katia was shaking her head.

“Well, I do not like it when you neglect Jozzie.”

“Neglect,” Mama shouted incredulously, clenching her fist. “You have the hide to say that I have neglected Josie? I have devoted my whole life to her, and the one day that I want to go out with people my age, you tell me I’m neglecting her?”

She looked at me, shaking with rage. It was as if she had worked herself up for a fight before she even got home.

“Have I ever neglected you, Josie?”

I looked bewildered and shook my head.

“Are you going out with a man?” I asked.

“People will talk, you know,” Nonna Katia said angrily. “They always talk and it is always me who suffers because of their talk, Christina. Always me.”

“Forget it,” Mama sighed, shaking her head. “Just forget I asked, Mama.”

“No, I will not forget it, Christina. Why do we always have to fight? All the time we fight and fight and fight,” Nonna Katia cried. “I am an old woman and I am tired of fighting.”

“And I am a young woman and I’m tired of being old,” Mama cried back. “I don’t need your permission to go out, Mama, but it’d be so good one day to do something without you making me feel as if it was wrong.”

“You are Jozzie’s mother. How do you tink Jozzie will feel that people are talking about her mother gallivanting around the place?”

“People? What people? Italians? Mama, I have already disgraced myself in their eyes and there will never be anything to change that, so who cares if they talk about me?”

“Christina, you always had to make tings more difficult for all of us. For once, tink of me.”

Mama walked into her room and Nonna Katia quickly followed.

“Don’t make tings worse, Christina. Do you tink I don’t know?”

“Know what?” Mama asked, swinging around.

“Michael Andretti, Christina. Do you tink I didn’t see what happened at my house the other day? I know who he is, Christina. I know it was him.”

“ ‘It was him’
what,
Mama? Say it. You know that he’s Josephine’s father. Why can’t you say it?”

“Why? Why him?” Nonna pleaded. “Why Pia Maria Andretti’s son? Why did you have to disgrace me wit Pia Maria Andretti’s son?”

I thanked God at that moment that I wasn’t named after my paternal grandmother.

“Does it matter whose son fathered Josephine seventeen years ago, Mama? Does it?” my mother yelled.

“I will never, ever have him in my house again,” Nonna spat out.

“Good, Mama. Now let me get dressed.”

“People will talk. They will talk for sure.”

“You know what I think?” Mama shouted. “I think you’re jealous, Mama. I think you’re jealous because you didn’t go out there and make anything of your life when Papa died. Because you didn’t mix and you wanted to so much, but you were scared that people would talk. Well, I’m not going to run my life by their rules. Things have changed. I remember when I gave birth to Josie you told me that I would never get married because no respectable man would marry a girl with a baby. Well, you’re wrong, Mama. Women with babies do get married these days. Women who are widows do go out and have better lives.”

“You don’t understand,” Nonna said.

“No. It’s you who doesn’t understand,” said Mama. “You never have understood what I feel or want in my life. Everyone’s opinion has always come before mine. Why can’t you understand how I feel for once, Mama? Just once.”

Nonna Katia had this strange, tired look on her face. She shook her head in despair.

“I understand, Christina, more than you tink I do.”

They didn’t say a word after that and Nonna Katia drove home, leaving Mama looking at me as if I was a dragon to slay.

“I’m going out tonight, Jose.” She swallowed.

“I heard. What’s got into you?” I asked curiously.

“Well, Paul Presilio . . .”

“I hate that man. He always stares when I walk into the office. I don’t like the fact that you’re going out with him again. The Christmas party was one thing, but I don’t understand this, Mama.”

I began to get really edgy and scared. Although Mama had gone out with a few guys in the past, this man seemed different. I’d seen the way he looked at her. It was the look of a man who didn’t want to play games with women anymore. The look of a man who wanted to settle down. Mama and I had always sat around talking about why she never married. It was always because she hadn’t met the right man and I was always so relieved. Yet now things seemed to be changing so fast.

“He is a very nice man and . . .”

“I don’t care,” I shouted. “Since when have you become so social, anyway?”

“Since tonight, young lady, and don’t you dare speak to me in that tone,” she said stiffly, walking back into her bedroom.

I followed at her heels, not quite sure why I was so furious.

“Is it a work thing? Is it a going-away party for anyone? Are other people going to be there?”

“No. No. No. I am a single woman, Josie. Socially it is very acceptable to go out with men.”

“Socially it’s bullshit. You have never been very interested in going out with men and the only reason you probably are going out with this Paul Presley shithead is because Michael Andretti is back on the scene.”

“Don’t you speak in that bad language, Josephine, and if you have nothing nice to say, get out.”

“
No
. This is my house.”

“This is
my
house. You live here because you are my daughter. This is also my room.”

“Oh, great. She starts going out with men on a regular basis and she’s ready to kick me out.”

“
Get out,
” she said, pushing me out the bedroom door.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Go next door and stay with Mrs. Sahd.”

“Are you kidding? What, and tell her that my mother is on a date?” I spat out.

“Does me being your mother make me less human, Josie?” she yelled, grabbing hold of my shoulder. “I have needs like other people, and once in a while I like being with people my age.”

“Oh, great. So now I find out she regrets having me and I’ve stopped her from being human,” I yelled, walking to the kitchen and opening the oven.

“Well, just remember that he won’t just want to hold your hand,” I said, throwing the meat loaf down the sink.

“How dare you say that to me?” she said, shaking her head almost sadly.

I stood by my desk and stuck my fingers in my ears so I could ignore her but she walked over and pushed me back.

“You are such a selfish, unreasonable child, Josephine. One day you’ll understand.”

“Screw your understanding,” I yelled, throwing my books across the room angrily. “Why should I understand you when you’ve never understood what I’ve gone through? I’ve suffered in my life, you know, and you’ve never understood.”

She walked away in disgust.

“I hope I die during the night and you regret it for the rest of your life,” I yelled.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” she said, shaking her head.

“I can tell you what you did with . . .”

She pointed a finger at me, furious. “Don’t-you-dare-say-another-word.”

We stood staring at each other, but neither of us would look away.

“You break my heart, Josie.”

She left me at home alone. I hated her for that. I’m not sure why. All I know is that I never ever want my mother to marry anybody. I never want it to be anything but her and me and I’m angry that she’s even thinking of letting anyone else in.

She came home at twelve thirty-nine and opened my door.

I pretended I was asleep and she knew that I wasn’t.

“I had a good time tonight,” she told me. “I realized that I knew more than I thought I did. I have a know-it-all daughter and that’s made me a know-it-all mother. He’s attracted to me and for once someone found me interesting, not because I was Josie’s mother or Katia’s daughter but because I was me, and there is
nothing,
Josie,
nothing
you can do to take that away from me.”

She slammed my door and I wanted to cry. Because I didn’t want to take that feeling away from Mama. I just didn’t want him to give it to her.