Zigzag Street (28 page)

I take her to the phone and while she's making the call I rinse the coffee cups, and I'm sure I have never felt a bigger loser in my whole life than I do at this moment. I can hear her talking to Kathy and saying,
No
,
no
,
it's been great
,
really
, and laughing and saying,
Nothing
,
nothing. I'll tell you later
.

She comes into the kitchen and says,
She'll be here in ten minutes
, and then she starts laughing again.
Stop looking like someone died. Leave the cups till later and sort out that look on your face
.

And the car's there soon enough, driving slowly down Zigzag Street and pulling up outside.

Better go
, she says.
It's been a lovely evening
. And then she bursts out laughing again.
Sorry
.

Kathy honks the horn.

We have another pause when no-one moves, then Rachel leans forward, kisses me quickly on the mouth, smiles. Says,
I'll call you
. And she's gone.

So, I'm telling Jeff, the only time I ever take your fucking advice and I end up bathing some babe in toxic waste.

He drinks a mouthful of coffee.

I must admit I didn't think it was the most dangerous piece of advice I'd ever given you. Eat more beans. Who would have thought that eat more beans could be the thing that would bring you down. From Krapmeister to Fartmeister
.

I can't believe it. I really like this girl and this is what I do. What a debacle. She doesn't turn up for coffee. We go back to my place, and I haven't hidden any of the things I'd like to, I get tense and make a fucked remark about desiccated llama since it actually seems appropriate, right up to the word Bolivia, but once you've said Bolivia you're history and you're committed to the desiccated llama remark, however completely obviously fucked it is. Then I fart all over her.

Hey
,
she farts too. This'll be fine. She's not such a babe she doesn't fart
.

I bet she doesn't fart. She's such a babe I bet she has no waste products at all. Anyway, what's all this reassurance? What about that girl you vomited on in grade twelve? You didn't go out any more.

That was grade twelve
.

Yeah, but …

Context. Context is everything. That was an example
of something completely different
,
whatever it was an example of. You're making this unnecessarily complicated. Anyway
,
she should never have gone out with me in the first place. I was a real dork in grade twelve
.

So what do I do? I don't know if I'm crazy about her, or just fucking crazy.

They're not mutually exclusive states
.

Why am I like this? Why am I flatulent and bewildered? Why is this not easy?

What's ever easy for you? What ever comes without the pain of deliberation? Look
,
it's a timing thing. Rachel Vilikovski happens to have come along at a time when you're going through a crazy patch. It's a shit
,
but that's when she came along. It would have been great if the two of you had been able to get down to diaries about it. If you'd been able to say
,
well
,
maybe late April I'll have my head together
,
and pencilled her in. But it's not like that. A couple of months early
,
you throw a shoe in her face
,
and it's hard to turn back from there. But everyone's life is like that. You've got to stop thinking this is unique
.

The shoe isn't unique?

The shoe is very uncommon. The timing is typical. Years ago I had a friend who got trashed
,
pretty badly trashed. And I wasn't having a great run either. Have I told you this one? Hungry Jacks at Taringa?

I don't think so.

Okay
,
I remember driving out of Hungry Jack's at Taringa one night with this guy. We were each feeling pretty bad and we'd just got ourselves Bacon Double Cheeseburgers. And as we drove out
,
back onto Moggill Road
,
he said to me
,
Mate I think we're going to be doing this for a long time. And he didn't say it like a good thing or a bad thing
,
just a thing. Within a week of that he'd met a girl. And we all thought
,
fine
,
he's trashed
,
this is a rebound. Three months later they were engaged. In less than a year they were married. And Hungry Jack's at Taringa
,
the thing the two bachelor boys were going to be doing for a long time
,
we never did it again. Never
again was it just the two of us. And the night they announced their engagement we drank a lot and I fell asleep on the sofa and he woke me at about three am and he said
,
I just wanted to say thanks for not calling me a fucking hypocrite. And I would've
,
if he hadn't seemed so cheery about everything. I thought it was crap. I thought it was all bullshit. Not the two of them getting engaged
,
but the idea that these sort of things can happen so quickly. And then
,
a few years later
,
I met Sal. I was involved with someone at the time. A very reasonable person
,
and it was all fine. I got to know Sal as just another friend
,
and then something clicked in my head so loud I almost heard it. So I trashed Louisa
,
just like that. My head was filled with Sal
,
and nothing had happened between us. She was all I could think about. And at Louisa's brother's engagement party
,
I trashed her
,
I trashed Louisa
,
and I left. I trashed her in the kitchen
,
and everyone thought it was the onions when they came in and saw her crying. And I told her it wasn't her
,
but she wouldn't believe it. She kept calling me saying
,
What have I done? What have I done? Even weeks later. And it took about three weeks for Sal and me to realise this was it. Three weeks. We suddenly worked it out
,
that we would be together
,
that we didn't want it to end. Of course
,
we couldn't tell anyone. People think you're crazy if you tell them that at three weeks. And Louisa was still calling me
,
still saying
,
What have I done? Still wanting to sort it out. And it seemed as though she was talking about some other life
,
not about the month before
.

So what are you getting at?

You're not very bright are you? Okay
,
one step at a time. Me
,
not a known risk taker
,
not a known romantic
,
okay? And it happened to me. That means it can happen to anyone. It doesn't mean
,
necessarily
,
that it's happening to you now. But just because the timing's fucked
,
and you'd like to be a bit more ready
,
a bit more together
,
a bit more cool
,
a bit less likely to fart on her
,
or play thousands of versions of crap songs
,
or expose her to the
bizarre excesses of your home life
,
just because the timing's not the way you'd like it to be and you have almost no judgement at all doesn't mean it's not happening
.

What?

Look
,
sometimes these things just happen
,
and that's the way it is. And you can't pick when they happen and the level of control you have is surprisingly little
,
even if you had any before. I'm not saying that's what this is. I can't know that. But if it is
,
or if there's even the possibility
…

What? If there's even the possibility, what?

Just don't close your mind to it. That's all I'm saying
.

So what do I do?

What do you think you should do?

I'm the last person I'd go to for advice.

That's probably a good start. Okay. I suspect that this is a lot less complicated than you believe. I suspect it may even be quite simple
,
and farts and sock friends and insights into indigenous Bolivian cultural practices may be far less meaningful than you think. If this is a chance worth taking
,
and I leave the ‘if' issue up to you
,
it's you who's going to be taking it. And that's it. That's really all there is to it. If you think this might be a chance you don't want to miss
,
then it's a chance you've got to take
.

Good advice. That's good advice.

Yeah. Sometimes the best advice says nothing at all. All this advice
,
and all you've ever done is eat beans. How do you think it makes me feel?

When I get back to work Deb says,
Your friend Rachel called again. She'd like you to call her at home
.

And there is much lifting of eyebrows, seeking knowledge.

Okay, I tell her. I'd better call her then. You'll excuse me if I shut the door, won't you? Confidential matters may be discussed.

Oh Ricky
,
they're my favourite. This isn't fair
.

Life's not fair, babe.

Hi
, she says.
So I take it you've managed to avoid naked flames since I last saw you?

Yeah, thanks. But my real concern is for the ozone layer.

That's good. I like someone who's aware of their global responsibilities. You could be on my TV show
.

Thanks.

Are you doing anything tonight?

Tonight?

Tonight's a problem? I'm sorry
,
is this a mistake? You need some space or something?

No. I hate space. I live in the inner city. Space scares me. Tonight is great. I'm very enthusiastic about tonight, and it just happens to be one of the seven available nights in my diary over the course of the next week.

What about work things? Those work things that might have been a problem later in the week?

I'm on top of them now. So what's tonight? Have you got any ideas? Or a plan even?

Ideas. No plan. Kathy's now gone up north doing some secret story on foxtail palm smuggling
,
so it's just me at home. So I thought maybe you could come over. We could have something to eat
.

Good. That's a good plan.

It's not a plan. It's just an idea. A plan would be like
,
be here by seven and bring a bottle of that wine you
brought on Friday and we'll get takeaway from Qan Heng's
,
pork balls followed by chicken with ginger and shallots and rice for two. Now that'd be a plan. But why don't you just come over after work?

Yeah. Good. I've got to get my stitches out, so I'll head home and do that and then I'll come over.

So for three hours I work hard. I focus and I deliver. Sure, my mind wanders, but only among pleasantries. I am forgiven all three farts, and I shall be with Rachel Vilikovski before the sun sets.

I tidy up several minor tasks that have needed tidying for some time. I go through three tapes dictating responses to things and when I give them to Deb I ask her if we shouldn't be taking more of an interest in Barry G, sending a card or something.

We did that last week babe
, she says to me gently.
So that one's covered. But I think it's nice how you put in a couple of hours of actual work and you think you're really on top of everything again. Couldn't be your Rachel friend
,
could it?

Now, Deb, you know me. I just love my work. And I don't need some Rachel friend in order to be able to function.

Sure babe. Whatever you say
.

So, three hours of quality in the workplace and then I'm running to catch the bus. Even as I run I know it won't mean anything to the bus that I get there eight minutes before it leaves instead of three, but running is just what I do.

And when I get off I run from the bus stop, down Waterworks Road, down Zigzag Street. I give Greg an early dinner (otherwise I'll forget to feed him at all) and I dive into a room full of boxes and search till I find another bottle of chardonnay. I put it in the freezer and then I panic, thinking I might get caught up having my stitches out and the bottle might explode (I have no idea how long that takes), so I go and find another one and
put it in the fridge. And I drive down the hill to the medical centre.

Just stitches, I say to the receptionist. Just two stitches to come out.

Do you have to see doctor?

He said no. He said to just drop in and someone would whip them out. He seemed to think it was no big deal.

She tells me to take a seat, and in about two minutes a nurse opens the door of the treatment room and calls me in. She looks at the wound, says,
That looks fine. I think we can just take those out
.

So in another five minutes I'm back at home, and the wine bottle in the freezer is barely cool.

It's still peak hour when I'm driving to West End, and I find this incredibly frustrating and I drive quite badly. It takes me nearly twenty minutes to get there, five whole songs and some talking on Triple J.

She's wearing jeans and a vaguely see-through white top when she comes to the door.

I think the wine should go in the freezer, I tell her. It's not cold at all.

She puts on her shoes and we walk down the road for coffee. And she doesn't say much on the way there and she's thinking hard as she cradles her cup and looks out at the traffic.

I'm sorry about last night
.

You're sorry about last night. What have you got to be sorry about? You and your impressive sphincter tone.

I'm sorry about turning up late. Leaving like that
.

Like what?

You know. Kathy at midnight
.

Yeah, well she'd had some problem. You told me that.

Yeah. She did want me to be home. She doesn't sleep well when it's just her in the house
.

Yeah. You said that.

Yeah. But earlier on. Not turning up
.

It's no big deal. Is it?

I got a call. I haven't told you any of this
,
and I should have told you. I got a call from a guy I was going out with
,
well
,
when I say going out with
,
it was maybe more than that. About ten months ago we were going to move in together. I actually left the place I was living in and I moved my stuff to his place
,
and he just didn't cope. He said the commitment freaked him out. It was like he saw me putting my toothbrush next to his in the bathroom
,
and that was it. So we had a really bad weekend and
,
since it was his house
,
I had to leave. So that's how long I've been living in Drake Street. We tried to sort things out
,
and I'm still not totally sure what his problem was
,
but it never worked from there. Last night he called me to tell me he was getting married. To someone I'd never heard of before. And
,
don't get me wrong
,
I don't want anything like that with him
,
not any more
,
I'm pretty sure of that
,
but I wasn't totally ready for the news either. That was about seven. Seven o'clock that he called. So Kathy was concerned about my welfare. She wanted to make sure I got home. She said
,
this is not the night to do something with a man that you might regret later. So we agreed midnight
.

Okay. I understand. That must have been tough.

It shouldn't be tough. You don't know how angry I was that it was even slightly tough. I was really annoyed that he could still get to me
.

Yeah, but it's like that.

So that's okay? All of that?

Sure it's okay. And it's nice of Kathy to think of me as a man that you might regret later.

That's not what she meant. You know that's not what she meant
.

Yeah, I know. This is all fine. I can't expect you not to have some kind of past.

We walk to Qan Heng's and by the time we get back to Drake Street, both the dinner and the wine are cold. I open the wine while Rachel microwaves the pork balls.

We sit on the small back deck looking over the untidy
grass of her garden and someone else's neat vegetables just beyond the fence. And we eat and drink and talk.

And I find that for some reason I'm telling her about Anna, about the trashing, and this is different to any other time I've told it. It's not as much like revisiting it, it's not like being trashed again just by telling it. So I tell her what it really felt like. The months of paralysing uncertainty, of wondering what I'd done. And I tell her there have been times when I've thought I might be going crazy, and it just shouldn't be like that. There should be some rational, linear process, where you progressively get over it. But it's not like that either. Some days you're okay, other days it's all back again. And you have no idea whether anything you're feeling is quite the same as it used to be. You're spinning out of control, and you wonder if you can possibly make a right decision any more.

You're such a theorist
,
aren't you?
she says.
You have such a chaotic
,
busy brain
.

I do. I know. I'd like to think less. I'd like to be the kind of person who thinks less and just does things. Does crazy things on impulse and doesn't get hurt by them.

She laughs.
Why? Why do you want that and why do you think it's possible? And aren't you already the sort of person who picks up girls by throwing footwear in crowded places? Relax Richard Derrington. Relax if you can let yourself
,
but don't change all this. As if I haven't done more than enough thinking in the last ten months myself. I thought I knew what was happening with my life
,
and suddenly I didn't. I was depressed for quite a while. Hardly an entertaining housemate for Mel and Kathy. And they were worried for me when I told them I wanted to bring a boy round for dinner. We had big talks
.

I know big talks. I bore my friends stupid with big talks.

Hey
,
I'm not saying I bored mine. I'm just saying we had big talks
.

So what did they say? What's the last thing Kathy said to you before she left town?

Be careful. She told me to be careful
.

Yeah, I get that too.

They mean so well
,
don't they?

Yeah. And sometimes they don't have a clue.

At least mine have met you
.

Yeah, but mine are really impressed with you. I'm sure they feel like they know you.

I can't imagine what you've been saying to them. I have no idea what you actually think I'm like. I bet it's nothing like me
.

As if you're in any position to judge.

It's cooler now, and quite dark, so we go inside.

Just dump the plates by the sink
, Rachel says.
I'll get to them some time
. And she piles up the plastic takeaway boxes and says,
Hey you could use these for your kind of art. You want to talk about the late twentieth century? You get a few thousand of these
,
used takeaway containers
.

Yeah, yeah I can see it. All kinds of arrangements, neatly geometric and haphazard, a whole room of them, built up like a decaying city. All kinds of residual stains and smells. And you could just call it
Eat Out
.

She laughs.

You were bullshitting me, weren't you?

Maybe
.

Great. Completely suckered. Tricked into thinking I was a genius, just for a second. I thought I was going to get a government grant to eat a shitload of takeaway. I thought my life was about to have meaning.

Such a theorist. Looking for meaning. Some days you've just got to live
,
boy
.

And she makes the move.

She puts her arms around me and kisses me, right there in the brightly lit kitchen next to the sink. And it seems infinitely more sophisticated than Tim Tams and a dark verandah and flatulence. But maybe that's just
her. And maybe I'm thinking too much right now, maybe this isn't a time for thinking at all.

She leads me into the lounge room and we sit on the sofa and she says,
No dog ever sat on this
,
just so you know
, and she kisses me again, before I have any chance to reply.

And she looks at me, biting the end of her lip and smiling at the same time.

I'm not sure I was planning this tonight
, she says.

It's not a plan thing.

No. I'm just feeling vulnerable
,
that's all. Last night's call and things
.

It's okay.

It's okay?

Sure it's okay. You think I don't feel vulnerable?

Okay. I just … maybe you can understand this. I hope you can understand this. I really like you. I want you to be here. And I want you to stay
. But … And she takes off her glasses, wipes her eyes and starts to cry.

She leans against me and cries into my chest, and I can feel it moving right through her, every difficult breath. And I find myself stroking her hair and telling her it'll be all right, as though that's any use.

She stops, clears her throat, sits up and laughs at herself and leaves the room to find a tissue and blow her nose.

Okay
,
glad I've got that out of the way
, she says.
I have no idea what happened then. I think I just let myself go and it suddenly felt a bit risky. You have this theory
,
well
,
I have this theory
,
and I expect that you
,
as a big fan of theories
,
have something quite like it
,
that if you take things slowly
,
you're not going to put as much on the line. You just edge along
,
one step at a time
,
and you can back out at any second and you've lost nothing
.

I have that theory, but at least I realise it's ridiculous. At least I know it's only a theory you believe in at really crazy times. The theory of elegant slowness, where you
have a plan, and it's one step at a time and no-one gets hurt.

Yeah
,
that's the one. So can we just take it easy
,
as much as we can? No plan
,
no one step at a time
,
no agreement to back off a bit
,
cause that only scares everybody and before you know it it's all messed up. I want you to stay tonight
.

I think I can do that.