The Other Madonna (10 page)

‘What?'

He closed his eyes and nodded. ‘Bushka said you can heal people with your hands. That means fix them.'

‘No.'

‘Yeah. You can,' he said, and pulled his hands free. ‘Look.'

He rolled up the leg of his tracksuit pants and pointed to a spot dimpled with pink scar tissue. ‘When I fell my insides came out through that hole and after you carried me back home it was nearly better.'

He stood up suddenly and stomped his foot. ‘See. You fixed it.'

I shook my head. ‘No, mate. That doesn't happen. I don't think your insides came out. It was just a scratch.'

Red stared at me. ‘Nah, all my guts came out. Promise.'

The lift bell chimed and the hallway filled with laughter. It was Dad. Dad and Rosie. Red hid beside me. When he realised Dad and Rosie were heading for the door we were leaning against, he scrambled along the hall and into his flat.

Dad stopped as the boy bolted past, his head cocked, watching Red like he was more rat than boy.

‘Hello, lov,' Dad said, and kissed my cheek. ‘I thought you'd be at work.'

I bit my lip and shook my head.

‘You okay? What happened?'

‘It's a long story.'

Rosie smiled and touched Dad's hand. ‘See you tomorrow, Tricky.'

‘Oh. Okay then. Sure you won't stop in for a coffee, Rosie?'

She shook her head and smiled as she disappeared into her flat.

Dad jangled his keys and I stepped out of the way. ‘Where are your keys?'

I pointed at the door. Dad grunted. ‘You eejit. How'd that happen?'

I shrugged as he opened the door, the dam behind my eyes threatening to burst again.

‘What's that in your mouth?' he asked.

I poked my tongue out as I stepped past.

‘Bloddy hell. Did it hurt?'

I sighed. ‘No.'

He had a bewildered look on his face. ‘It looks nice, lov.'

‘Ta.'

He sat me down on the couch. ‘You might as well tell me that story. I've got all night.'

I told Dad the story. I told him about Jiff and his cut finger and how it looked worse than it was. I told him about the DiFrescos setting me up, Nonna stepping out of her wheelchair and busting her hip. He smiled the whole time but didn't say a word. Smiled and shook his head.

‘What?'

‘Nothing, lov. Finish your story.'

‘It's finished. I lost my job.'

‘Good.'

‘What?'

‘Good. It's good that you lost your job. Excellent in fact. Means I can start paying you back.'

He emptied his pockets on to the table. A great wad of fifty-dollar notes, some twenties and some coins. The most cash I'd seen at once in my lifetime.

‘Where'd you get that?'

‘Earned it. Selling flowers for Rosie. See, I had this idea. Turned out to be a good one . . .'

He told me how he'd got Rosie a mobile phone and had some cards printed at a vending machine. He started visiting office buildings and giving them great bunches of flowers. With Rosie's card attached. The phone hadn't stopped ringing and Dad hadn't stopped delivering. Sold more flowers through deliveries in one week than Rosie sells from the cart in a month. Dad offered to make me eggs on toast when I told him I hadn't had any tea.

‘You let me down,' I yelled from my room.

‘I did?'

‘Yeah. There was a note on the bench that said you'd bring tea home. I waited.'

‘Oh. So there was. Old note. Was from the other weekend, I think. Wasn't today. Sorry anyway, lov.'

I ate my eggs in silence and had an early night for a Thursday. I lay in my bed and screwed the sheet in my fists. Angry. At Bruna and Pepe and Lucia and Paolo. Angry at Dad. Angry at Jiff for being so gorgeous.

Underneath all that, pissed off at my mixed-up life.

As I was nodding off I remembered Bianca's lunch
invitation. Remembered that I'd forgotten to ask Jiff if he wanted to come. I got up and phoned Colin's place but there was no answer.

Dad had gone again when I woke on Friday. He had been part of the furniture in my mornings since forever and it still came as a shock when I found he'd slinked off before I woke up. I grumped my way through breakfast, grumped onto a tram and grumped my way down Brettas Street to the white and lavender terrace. I rang the angelic doorbell and it made my stomach tighten. Bianca wrenched the door open and looked around me wildly.

‘Where's Jiff?'

‘He couldn't . . . he had other things to do today.'

She pulled me inside with a smile for a greeting. She dragged me down the hall into the kitchen and pushed me into a chair opposite my sister. Evie was smiling. The two of them looked like they'd been sniffing glue.

‘What?'

‘Tell her,' Bianca barked at me.

‘Tell her what?'

‘Tell her about Jiff.'

‘What about him?'

Bianca gestured for me to speak. It was a theatrical swirl of her hand in front of her mouth and it made me smile.

‘Well, Jiff is a friend . . . he came to work at the restaurant and . . . we hit it off.'

‘Have you kissed him?' Evie asked, her lips pulled tight in a smile.

I looked at Bianca. Her eyebrows had crawled up her forehead and sat expectantly under her fringe. Her mouth hung open.

‘Once. Once or twice. Yes, I kissed Jiff.'

Bianca punched the air.

Evie was stone-faced. ‘What was it like?'

‘Give me a break!'

‘Come on, Maddie, what was it like?' Bianca crooned.

‘It was . . .'

‘Yes?' they both asked together.

‘It was bliss. I loved it. I'd do it again and again only he's going back to New Zealand next week.'

Evie rubbed her eyes. Bianca danced across the kitchen punching the air.

‘What?' I asked. I didn't really want to know. Some sick lesbo in-joke. Was it a crime to like boys?

‘Nothing,' Evie grumbled into her hands.

‘Tell her about Jiff's finger, Madds.'

‘What about it?'

‘Come on. He told me you fixed it.'

I crossed my arms. ‘Yeah, that's his story. He ran over his finger with the pizza cutter. I grabbed it to stop it from bleeding and it stopped bleeding. We didn't have a Bandaid.'

‘Yeah, totally stopped. He said his finger was hanging off and you could see the bone and everything. After Maddie hung on to it for five minutes, the bloody thing was healed. He showed me the scar. Looked like he'd had surgery ten years ago but there were no stitch marks.'

Evie got up from the table. She slid her chair back suddenly and stood beside me. Her eyes were wet and she bit at her bottom lip.

She hugged me around the head.

‘What?' I mumbled into her elbow.

Her body shook with sobs and her boobs threatened to smother me. I got up from my chair and hugged her properly. She smelled like home and I cried with her. We rocked and held each other. Bianca clomped up the hall and came back with a box of tissues. She honked her own nose and dried her eyes then offered the box to Evie. Evie blew her nose and, in the quiet that followed, her sinuses squealed. It made a noise like an eagle from the cartoons and we brayed laughter with tears in our eyes. It didn't stop. We just kept laughing in spastic waves. We had to take turns running to the toilet before we pissed ourselves. Just when we thought we'd got a grip, the silliness crept out of nowhere and the three of us laughed with open mouths uttering no sound. Panting and clawing for breath and sighing and begging for mercy, we collapsed around the kitchen table again.

‘What was all that about?' I asked.

Bianca moaned.

Evie shrugged. ‘Just miss you, that's all.'

We laughed through a lunch of open sandwiches with exotic cheeses and meats and semi-dried tomatoes and avocado. Evie hugged me goodbye. She held me close to her for a long time and it wasn't long enough. I felt like I wanted to camp on their couch. I felt safe with them only I didn't know if my laughter glands could handle the onslaught.

‘Next time, bring that boy,' Bianca said as I stepped onto Brettas Street.

I retraced my steps and realised that the grumpiness that had shadowed me all morning had been stomped into oblivion by my crazy beautiful sister and her wacko lover–boss.

I
hurried home the last hundred metres or so to the block of flats with the thought of being late for work ticking away in me.

I didn't have to go to work. I sighed, and then punched the air.

‘Madonna,' came a little voice from the stairwell.

Red ran at me and grabbed my hand. ‘You've got to come quickly. A man came. A man came to your place and he left something. Quickly.'

He jiggled as he held my hand and pounded the up arrow beside the lift.

‘Steady, Red. What man?'

‘Big man. Bigger than your dad. Bigger than my Uncle Karl.'

‘What did he leave?'

‘A present. A little green man . . . I think. I don't know. It's all wrapped up and there's a card and everything.'

Jiff? I wondered how he might have found out where I lived. Red didn't stop talking. He couldn't wait for the
lift. He took my hand and dragged me to the stairwell.

‘He asked me if that was where Madonna lived and I told him nothing. I thought he wanted to hurt you or something. He was huge and muscles! He was like Stone Cold only bigger.'

The stairwell was empty except for the tattooed guy smoking on the eighth-floor landing. He sat in his plastic chair and perved at me as we ran past, his pasty, half-dead-looking skin totally creeping me out.

Red opened the door on the twelfth floor and pulled on my sleeve. ‘Come on. Here, look,' he puffed.

There was a shopping bag hanging on the doorknob of our flat.

‘In there. It's for you. Could be a present. Could be a little green man. I . . . I don't know. It's all wrapped up and everything.'

I looked in the bag. The present had been opened and roughly wrapped again but the tape hadn't stuck. I looked at Red from under my brow.

He stepped back. ‘I didn't . . . I . . . Open it! Could be a present for you.'

The flaky little brat hadn't opened the card. It hadn't been stuck closed but the fold showed no signs of having been opened and closed by a seven-year-old. I doubted he could read so the card would have been useless.

Big sunflower on the front.

 

Madonna,

 

Really shocked to hear that you got the sack from
Pepe's. I hope I didn't contribute to that. Sorry if I did.

I bought this card to let you know that I thought yesterday was one of the best days of my life.

Love Jeff

 

The skin on my hands tingled. I had to hug something. I grabbed Red and hoiked him off the ground. He squirmed like a feral cat but when I dropped him on his feet, he was smiling and dusting invisible girl germs off his clothes.

‘What was that for?' he asked.

‘Ahh, just a thank you for looking after the things the man left for me.'

‘Aren't you going to open it?'

‘Looks like you've already done that,' I grumbled.

His face flushed and matched the colour of his jacket beautifully. ‘Could have been a bomb or something.'

Mmm, I thought. One of those gift-wrapped mini bombs.

It
was
a little green man. A tiki on a leather necklace. It looked plastic but it was cool to the touch. Probably carved from some precious stone or something.

‘Oh, it
is
a little green man,' Red sighed, and clawed at my hands for a better look. ‘It's beautiful.'

I put it on. It was the first piece of real jewellery I'd ever been given by a boy. I tucked it inside my shirt and the coolness quickly faded against my chest. I let myself inside and closed the door on Red's smiling face. He laughed. I heard him charging up the hallway, his beaten old runners slapping on the concrete. I phoned Colin's place again. No answer.

When Dad arrived at 6.22 pm, he frowned and sniffed at the air.

‘What have you been up to, lov? The place smells divine. Cardamom? Star anise?'

‘Koftas. I think I made enough for a week. The recipe says enough for four. I think they meant four sumos.'

He grabbed my head and kissed me between the eyes. ‘You're a wonder.'

He dropped his keys beside the phone and disappeared into his room. He came out two minutes later in a T-shirt, fluffing his non-existent hair.

‘So, am I allowed to invite a friend over for dinner or is this a romantic meal for two?'

I nodded towards Rosie's wall. Dad smiled.

‘Of course,' I whispered. I burned myself on the pot and sucked my finger.

Dad made a fist and pounded on the bricks then slid open the balcony door. I heard Rosie's door rattle open and they talked in hushed tones. Balcony to balcony. They weren't talking about the weather.

In time, Rosie arrived with a bottle of red wine and three glasses, dressed in a rainbow of Guatemalan cotton and smelling like . . . like freesias. Dad hugged her and, when she stepped into the kitchen, she hugged me, too. Well, she put her arms around me and I patted her shoulder.

Jiff rang. Just as I was serving dinner. Dad answered it and handed the phone to me with a puzzled look. ‘It's a boy.'

‘Did you get my present and that?'

‘Yes, thank you. I've got it on now. I love it.'

‘So, what did you get up to today?'

‘Umm, I caught up with my sister and Bianca.'

‘Yeah? How are they?'

I laughed. ‘Mad as ever. They're great.'

He laughed and it rumbled into distant crowd noises.

‘Are you at work?'

‘Yeah, Pepe's. I really should go.'

‘Oh. I've just served dinner, anyway. Rosie and Dad are waiting for me.'

‘Sorry, Maddie. I just . . . do you want to go out or something tomorrow?'

‘Yes!' I shouted into the phone. ‘I mean, yeah. That'd be cool.'

‘Great,' Jiff said. ‘I'll come to your place then. About eleven?'

‘Perfect. See you then.'

I hung up and wondered again how he'd found out where I lived and whether anyone offered him any drugs as he was looking for our pad.

We shared the food and the wine. I watched Rosie toying with her wine glass, her fingers stained and calloused by a life of juggling flowers. I thought that some people take on the personality of their work. Rosie handled flowers all day and she beamed with an innocence and grace that was like a flower. And since Dad started working with Rosie . . . well . . . he'd blossomed! They smiled all night and laughed easily and when it came time for Rosie to leave, Dad hugged her and kissed her cheek. I went to the toilet.

Dad and I plonked at the table again after Rosie left and I asked him about his day. He never thought he'd enjoy working so much but flowers and Rosie made everything fun. He could do it seven days a week but Rosie would have nothing of it. So, he told me with a grin from earlobe to earlobe, they were spending the day together tomorrow but not picking up any flowers. I grabbed his hand and shook it. I wished I could get excited for him.

‘So, who's the boy?' Dad asked.

I laughed. ‘Jiff. He's Colin's cousin. He works at Pepe's.'

‘Ah yes, the boy with the finger. Sounds nice enough on the phone.'

‘He is.'

‘Should invite him over, lov.'

‘What, so you can check him out?'

‘Well, no . . . and yes. You get excited for me and . . . Rosie. Only seems fair.'

‘He's going back to New Zealand on Tuesday.'

‘What? This Tuesday?'

I nodded.

‘Ahh shite. That's a bummer.'

I shrugged. I could feel a whirlpool of emotion in me, set off by the red wine and Dad and Rosie. I didn't know how I felt about Jiff. Nah, that's not true. I knew how I felt. How could I fall in love with someone who was leaving the country in a few days?

Easily. Too easily. I struggled to what I thought was safer ground. ‘I went and saw Evie today.'

‘Yeah? I wish I'd known. I would have . . . How is she?'

‘She's good, Dad. Really good.'

A siren howled on the street below. Even from twelve storeys up I could see flashes of the red and blue lights. Dad got up and had a stickybeak from the balcony.

‘Cops,' he said. ‘Pulled over a car or something.'

He sat at the table again and fidgeted with his wine glass. Rosie had left the glasses behind.

‘Dad?'

‘Mmm.'

‘What happened to Mum?'

He swallowed. ‘She died. I've told you before. Complications after you were born.'

‘There's no chance she's hiding out somewhere? Like, just couldn't handle being a mum anymore so she just left?'

Dad shook his head. ‘No, lov. No chance.'

‘Didn't go back to Ireland?'

‘No, lov.'

‘How do you know for certain?'

‘Pardon?'

I looked at his eyes.

He shook his head. ‘Let's just say I know, okay?'

‘No,' I said. ‘Let's not. Let's just put Madonna's mind at rest. I can see something going on with you and Rosie. I don't want a mum. I've already got a mum. I'm stuck with this feeling that she's not really dead. She's living somewhere else. She can't handle us. She's ashamed or something. I need to know the details. I have to fill in the picture.'

A tear raced across my cheek and plopped into the wine
glass in front of me. A cup of tears. Sometimes, I thought, I could fill a cup of tears and still feel sad.

Dad sniffed and rubbed his eyes. ‘It's hard for me, lov. I don't want to remember.'

I put my hand on his.

‘She was sick. You were about five weeks old and she didn't stop crying. I'd go to work in the morning and she'd be crying. I'd come home at night to more tears. I took her to see a doctor and he gave her some pills. Told her to get some sleep. Said she had depression. She'd be okay. When I . . . when we went to bed that night she said she felt better. I was so relieved. When I . . . oh god . . .'

He put his hand over his mouth. He closed his eyes and his body shook. He bowed his head and moaned into his hand. The sound made me hold my breath. My poor dad. I shouldn't have asked. I shouldn't have pushed him.

‘Ohh god . . .'

My stomach bunched and I huffed with my own tears. I kissed his hand.

He stood up from the table and went to his room. I closed my eyes and expected to hear the door slam but it didn't happen. He came back. He sat down again, honking into a blue hankie.

He took a huge breath and sighed.

‘When I woke up . . . the next morning . . . she was there beside me in bed. Cold as concrete. She'd taken all the pills the doctor had given her. She killed herself. She took her own life while I was sleeping next to her. I was in the same bed and I couldn't do a thing!'

He thumped the table and one of Rosie's glasses toppled and smashed on the floor.

‘So when you ask me . . . how do I know she's dead?' He stood up and his chair toppled. ‘I never want to think about her. I don't want to remember but . . . I can tell you to your face. I set her ashes free off St Kilda pier.'