The Things We Promise

by J. C. Burke

  The lightness I’d felt today, lying on the roof of the gymnasium, had disappeared. For the rest of the afternoon and evening I felt cranky. Everything and everyone annoyed me. I snapped at Billy because his Chinese herbs stank out the kitchen. I told Mum to get a life when she was dressing Neuta in a frilly blouse and talking to it like it was alive. Then, when it came to dinnertime, I had a spack-attack at both of them because they started to discuss if Dad should be told about Billy’s HIV status. To me that was about the dumbest idea my mother and brother had ever had.

  The next morning as I was walking to Nigel, I heard the hum of an engine behind me. It was Ralph in the lime mobile. I started walking faster, instructing myself not to turn around again under any circumstances.

  The car kept trailing me and now I was telling myself that even if my foot got stuck under the wheel I was to keep walking. People had lived with worse injuries.

  ‘Hey!’ I heard Ralph call. ‘Hey!’ he called again.

  I wanted to shout back that I had a name and it wasn’t ‘Hey’. But I didn’t. Instead, I repeated his words in my head, watching my feet stride out in front of me. AIDS in the burbs. Not everyone’s going to like it. AIDS in the burbs. Not everyone’s going to like it.

  ‘Gemma!’

  Now the lime mobile was idling right next to me. The front passenger window was open and Ralph was calling out to me. ‘Look, I’m sorry if I offended you. It came out wrong. I wasn’t saying that’s how I felt. Gemma?’

  I had reached the park. The sad park that had been my escape from Ralph once before. Walking through the park would mean taking a longer route to get to Nigel. The chances were that Andrea would think I wasn’t coming and leave and I’d end up in her bad books for the rest of the day.

  One more time I whispered Ralph’s words to myself, AIDS in the burbs. Not everyone’s going to like it. Then I turned, stepped onto the grass and strode through the park. Not once looking back.

  Mum and I came home from the grocery shopping to find Billy in the kitchen plucking Aunty Mame’s eyebrows.

  When we walked in, Mame jumped up out of the chair and took the armfuls of shopping bags from my mother.

  ‘Maryanne!’ Her deep voice was always a surprise at first, but you got used to it quickly. ‘You shouldn’t be lugging these up the stairs. You’ll break your back.’ Mame clicked her tongue and began to wag a finger with the longest nail I’d ever seen, painted bright purple. ‘Shame on you, Billy,’ she scolded. ‘You’re not sick yet.’

  I ignored the comment because Mame wasn’t the sort of person you could feel mad at.

  ‘Miss Gemma,’ she said to me. ‘You are getting gorgeous. Don’t touch your eyebrows. Do you hear?’

  Our eyebrows couldn’t be more different. Mine were thick and needed a bit of a comb each morning. Mame’s were thin and mostly drawn in with a pencil, which made me wonder why they even needed plucking.

  ‘Sit back down, darling,’ instructed Billy. ‘I haven’t finished and we don’t want you looking lopsided.’

  ‘Billy said you’re working on a new show.’

  ‘That’s right, Maryanne,’ she answered, hitching up her red skirt to show long, skinny legs with knobbly knees that reminded me of Vanessa’s. ‘There’s going to be a few Kylie numbers in this one and some other surprises.’

  Billy was chuckling and I wondered what those surprises were.

  I wasn’t usually so enthusiastic to help unpack the shopping but I wanted to hang around because Mame was always full of stories. Imagine if Louise suddenly knocked on the door? She’d never seen a transvestite in real life but I’d told her all about Mame.

  ‘Put this stuff in the fridge,’ Mum said, handing me a bag. ‘Carefully.’

  Today, the shop had cost almost double the usual amount because Billy needed special food from the health-food shop that was natural and free of pesticides. Evidently before HIV entered the flat, our mother had been quite content to poison her children with pesticides and preservatives.

  ‘Oh, these are so cute.’ I held up the tiniest milk bottles I’d ever seen to show everyone. I tried to read the name on the label. ‘Acidof … acidofool …?’

  ‘Acidophilus,’ Billy pronounced for me.

  ‘Good boy,’ Mame said. ‘He’s definitely got a bit of the old candida in the mouth. I did the tongue test, Maryanne.’

  ‘I bought some Nilstat mouthwash too. His T cell count’s a bit low.’ More and more Mum was breaking into this strange HIV language that I didn’t understand. ‘What are your thoughts on AZT, Mame? They’ve been talking about it at the clinic.’

  ‘Mum!’ Billy groaned. ‘Leave it.’

  ‘I can ask Mame’s opinion if I want.’

  ‘For a start Bill’s count is not low enough so they won’t be offering it to him yet. Personally, I hated the stuff and stopped taking it. Those AZT tablets made me feel terrible and you had to take them all the time. I couldn’t exactly stop in the middle of a show and say, “Sorry ladies and gents but I just have to take my AZT!” Not a fan, Maryanne. Sorry, but that’s my opinion.’

  ‘See,’ Billy said to Mum. ‘I saw what it did to Saul. Endless blood transfusions. Always feeling sick, even on his good days. It stole time from us. I’m not taking that shit, ever.’

  ‘But what if it helps?’ Mum said.

  ‘Please, Mum!’

  ‘Some people are fine with AZT,’ Mame offered, maybe because she could hear the desperation in my mother’s voice. ‘But it’s not for everyone, sweetie. It has to be a personal choice.’

  Mum went back to unpacking the shopping. But there was a noticeable shift in the atmosphere. Mame wouldn’t be belting out in song today or telling us funny stories, like about the time a fake boob popped out of her bra and she trod on it in the middle of a dance routine. I’m not sure I could’ve enjoyed it anyway now I knew Aunty Mame was HIV-positive too. Some days it felt as though half the world had it.

  So, it was just as well Louise didn’t knock on the door. The entertainment today was how AZT had done wonders for Gavin but killed Paul; the imminent release of a new wonder drug made with egg yolk; that Chinese cucumbers were a load of bollocks; and then came the big mother of all statements of Aunty Mame’s that had me wishing I’d been anywhere but in the kitchen.

  ‘You know why your T cells are nosediving, darling,’ she said to Billy. ‘It’s because of the trauma of losing Saul. Death of a partner is a sure way to give the virus a bit of life.’ She sighed dramatically like it was just a scene in a show she was acting in. ‘Opportunistic infections, here they come.’

  Before I knew it, I was at the sink singing out in a voice that sounded so fake, I surprised even myself. ‘How about I put the kettle on?’ it said. ‘Who’d like a cuppa?’

  Mum didn’t lift her head to answer. Her face was shielded in her hands. It was a terrible sight and it made me really, really scared.

  I woke up during the night. I didn’t bother to glance at my clock. I knew it was early. It was pitch black outside and the rumbling of the buses up on the highway hadn’t yet started.

  It was freezing out of bed. I wrapped my doona around me as I tiptoed to the bathroom.

  A sliver of light flickered from under the door.

  ‘You going to be long?’ I whispered to whoever was in there.

  The door opened to reveal Billy, standing by the basin in just a pair of undies. His skin glistened with sweat like he’d just returned from a run and hadn’t yet showered. He was staring at himself in the mirror.

  ‘You okay?’ I asked.

  ‘Yeah,’ he answered. But still he didn’t move.

  ‘I need to go.’ I pointed at the toilet.

  ‘Oh? Oh, sorry,’ Billy said and he slipped past me and down the hall.

  Whatever just happened in the bathroom had given me a case of the freaks and I couldn’t go back to sleep. So I took my Walkman and changed the tape from Fine Young Cannibals to one I’d made at home and labelled Trying to Sleep Songs.

 
; Maybe Billy was sleepwalking? But whatever justification I tried, it didn’t stop the ‘bad’ that I could sense creeping down the road towards us.

  13

  JUNE

  19 weeks to formal

  ALL THE WAY TO NIGEL, I CONCENTRATED ON avoiding stepping on the cracks and joins in the footpath. I had to keep my eyes on my feet and counting helped because there seemed to be some mathematical formula to how often a crack or join occurred.

  When I finally looked up, I was totally surprised to see Louise leaning against Nigel. She was shivering, which wasn’t surprising, because Nigel was possibly the coldest spot in the whole suburb.

  When she saw me, she waved. ‘It’s freezing,’ she said, breaking into a big smile that didn’t match her words. ‘I hope you don’t mind me turning up?’

  ‘Don’t be a dag.’ It was going to be interesting seeing Andrea’s face when she turned the corner. ‘We can all walk to school together.’

  That same smile was still pasted on Louise’s lips as though the wind had just changed and it’d be stuck there forever.

  Her face reminded me of Tweety Bird’s. She had the same enormous eyes. But Louise looked like Tweety Bird after he’d flown into a pole and now her beak was all squashed and flat on her face.

  ‘How’s Billy?’ Louise asked.

  ‘He’s given up coffee because he’s trying to be healthy. So Mum decided she’d give up too, and it’s like living with addicts going cold turkey. Not that I’d know,’ I quickly corrected myself, because I didn’t want Louise thinking my family was a total freak show.

  ‘He needs to take his mind off things.’

  ‘Exactly! Billy has to be busy all the time. You know what he’s always been scared of?’ I said. ‘Thinking! Crazy, don’t you reckon? He hates having too much time to think.’

  I was wondering if all the talk about Billy was really boring, because Louise was rummaging around in her schoolbag. But then she pulled out a Rubik’s Cube and handed it to me, saying, ‘Give this to Billy. It stops you from thinking.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘You get so lost in trying to match up the squares. It’s like magic.’

  ‘Wow.’ I twisted and turned the tiles of colour. ‘But this is yours.’

  ‘I have about five of them. It can be a thank-you present in advance for my hair and make-up,’ Louise said. ‘Except Mum keeps bugging me to ask you what Billy drinks because she wants to buy him a bottle of something.’

  ‘Does …’ I almost stopped, but I pushed myself along ‘… does your mum know he’s HIV-positive?’

  ‘No. I thought it was private and that you didn’t want people to know.’

  ‘It’s not a big deal anyway.’

  ‘Exactly,’ Louise agreed. ‘It’s not like we’re going to catch it from having our hair and make-up done.’

  Now I was smiling, just like Louise. It was as though we were speaking in a secret language that had no words, yet it said everything. Everything I needed to hear from a friend these days.

  ‘Well, heeeellloooo girls,’ Andrea sang. I was trying to read her face, to understand what secret language she was speaking to me in. Surprised but not pissed off, was my verdict. ‘I didn’t expect to see you, Louise Lovejoy.’ Andrea started laughing and pointing at Louise’s legs. ‘Your legs have turned blue. One thing you need to know about Nigel is that you never arrive early because you’ll freeze to death.’

  But Louise’s smile had vanished and I wondered if Andrea’s stupid joke had fallen flat. ‘I need to tell you something …’ Louise started. She’d begun to twist her fingers like she’d done the other day. ‘I came here because I want to tell you guys this thing. I haven’t told anyone. But I know I can trust you two.’

  Andrea reminded me of a dog waiting to be given a thick, juicy bone. I wanted to tell her to shut her mouth and push her eyeballs back in.

  Stretching out the time, taking every possible long cut and detour, the three of us wandered to school while Louise told us a story. A story that we and the whole school had got so wrong.

  Bronnie Perry had not rearranged Louise Lovejoy’s face, because Louise had never got off with Simon Finkler. He had tried to get it on with Louise but she’d pushed him away. But he wouldn’t take no. So he tried again, with force this time – and that’s when his girlfriend, Bronnie Perry, walked in on them.

  Bronnie went to help Louise fight him off. But all it took was one push from the enormous Fink and both girls went flying. Bronnie’s head smashed the once fine bridge of Louise’s nose. The only reminder of the night for Bronnie, apart from being scared of the Fink, was a tiny chip in her front left tooth.

  Of course they had promised Simon Finkler that they wouldn’t tell anyone and they had stuck to their word because Simon Finkler told them that if they did tell anyone he would kill Bronnie. Louise finished with, ‘It took her almost six months to get away from him. She was counting the days, making excuses every time he wanted to do it. In the end he dumped her because he wasn’t getting any. He’s too thick to figure out what was really going on. Poor Bronnie. She was a nervous wreck.’

  Andrea’s first reaction was, ‘Oh my God! I knew I was in danger on the bus that day!’

  Mine was to ask Louise what I thought was so obvious. ‘Didn’t you tell your parents? I mean, he wouldn’t really kill her, would he?’

  ‘He really scared us,’ Louise said. ‘I told my parents that I fell over. I was already in so much trouble with them because I was drunk. Actually paralytic by the time I got home. I just wanted to disappear into my bedroom and be left alone.’

  Every day of last year and probably a fair part of this one too, Louise had had to wear names such as ‘slut’ and ‘slag’. So why had she decided to tell us now? She’d already lost all her old friends. Wasn’t it a bit late for the truth?

  So I asked her. It was a simple question. Just like Louise’s answer. ‘Because you’re my friends.’

  Billy and the Rubik’s Cube had become inseparable.

  ‘It’s the best present ever,’ he told me.

  Now he was dying to meet Louise so he could thank her.

  ‘She’s so pumped about you doing her hair and makeup,’ I said.

  Mum had taken Aunty Penny to the airport. She was off on a girls’ trip to Bali. Billy and I were watching a repeat of Moonlighting because we both loved Bruce Willis. At least, I was doing the watching and occasionally Billy would glance up from the cube that he had no hope of ever mastering.

  ‘What about Andrea?’ Billy asked. ‘Is she still going for the Elizabeth Taylor look?’

  ‘She’s obsessed. She wants to have a meeting with you beforehand.’

  ‘That’s cute.’

  ‘No, it’s not. It’s annoying. Why can’t she just be normal?’

  ‘Because she’s Andrea.’

  ‘Billy?’ I began. ‘Can I ask you a question? Can you promise not to get mad or think I’m stupid?’

  ‘What?’ Billy teased, screwing up his nose the way I was.

  ‘Will you have to wear gloves when you do our hair and—’

  I didn’t get to finish because Billy started laughing. He was clapping his hands and thumping his fists on the couch like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard.

  ‘That’s too much, Gem!’ Now he’d run out of breath and was coughing. ‘That’s beautiful. The way you asked it …’ He was starting to choke and turn red in the face.

  ‘Billy? Billy!’

  ‘I’m fine,’ he spluttered. ‘It was just funny.’ He wiped his eyes and rubbed his chest. ‘Ah,’ he sighed. ‘It’s been a while since I’ve had a good laugh.’

  ‘It wasn’t that funny.’

  ‘Yes it was, baby girl.’

  ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Yes! I’m fine!’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  Billy reached for my hand then shook it with each word he delivered. ‘Please don’t freak out every time I do something like cough.’

  I nodded.


  ‘It’s bad enough having to deal with Mum,’ he said. ‘She’s turned into Polly Pessimistic. I need you to be positive with me. Polly Positive. For all of us.’

  ‘Okay. I will.’

  ‘Promise?’

  ‘I promise.’

  ‘Now about the gloves.’ Billy grinned and had another chuckle before I snuggled under his wing to hear the story about the ‘ever-beautiful Sam’ who’d featured in the sympathy card.

  ‘Sam didn’t look so beautiful anymore,’ Billy said. ‘People treated him differently. But he didn’t care. So it didn’t matter how bad he looked, he kept going out.’

  ‘He had AIDS?’

  ‘What else would steal your looks at twenty-five?’

  Dumb question. But surely there was someone in Billy’s world who wasn’t sick with AIDS?

  ‘So one day Sam caught the bus,’ continued Billy. ‘He wasn’t really a bus-catcher. It was always the subway. But it was the end of February, the snow had melted and the sun was out. Sam flagged down the bus, went to pay the fare and the bus driver said, “Wait a minute, sir.” ’ I giggled at Billy’s fake American accent. ‘Then, right in front of Sam, the driver took a pair of latex gloves out of his pocket. You know, like the ones you do the washing-up with? He put them on, then opened his hand to take Sam’s quarters for the fare.’

  ‘Because …?’

  ‘Because in New York City, if you’re a young male who’s lost half their body weight like Sam, then you must have AIDS. I mean, Sam actually had cancer but that didn’t count. It’s okay to have cancer-cancer. But it’s not okay to have AIDS-related cancer. Quite a few bus drivers started wearing gloves all the time. Ambulance drivers too.’

  ‘That sucks!’

  ‘Some doctors won’t operate on people with AIDS. Friends, gay and straight, stopped calling one another. Having AIDS is a big, bad disaster.’

  ‘Now I feel horrible for asking about the gloves.’

  ‘Don’t,’ Billy said. ‘Gemma, I’m fine talking about it. It’s Mum who’s not. That’s just the way she’s dealing with it. Whatever you want to know, you just ask.’