False Advertising

by Dianne Blacklock

  ‘So what are you going to do now? Will you buy a place of your own with your share?’

  ‘I don’t know. Sydney real estate is so expensive. And I’m not sure I want to be tied down. Besides, I may have to live off the money for a while – I might even do a little travelling.’

  Gemma was confused. ‘I’m not following you.’

  Phoebe heaved a big sigh. ‘I put in my resignation at work.’

  ‘You didn’t!’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘What did Mum and Dad say?’

  ‘Mum and Dad are just going to have to get over it,’ said Phoebe. ‘This is my life.’

  ‘What’s happened to you, Phee?’ Gemma marvelled. ‘You really have become the evil twin. And it’s freaking me out.’

  ‘Don’t be freaked out. I’m okay, I really am. It’s a little weird, actually. It’s made me realise how much I was kidding myself before.’

  They were interrupted by a knock on the door.

  ‘Ooh, do you think that’s him?’ Phoebe gasped.

  ‘Only one way to find out,’ said Gemma, getting up. ‘But we’re going to return to this later,’ she added.

  This time it was Helen at the door.

  ‘Sorry, I gave Tony my key,’ she explained when Gemma let her in. ‘I keep forgetting to get another one cut.’

  ‘No problem. You didn’t need to hurry back as it turns out,’ said Gemma as they started down the hall. ‘Phoebe’s here.’

  ‘I don’t mind,’ said Helen. ‘You moved the crib in here?’ she said, noticing it in the corner of the front room as they passed through.

  ‘Lola’s asleep, so I thought I’d receive Luke in the front parlour,’ Gemma said airily. ‘I don’t really want him snooping through the whole house. Not till I see what he’s up to.’

  ‘You don’t have a whole lot of faith in this guy, do you?’

  ‘Do you blame me?’

  ‘Hi, Helen,’ Phoebe said as they walked into the back room. She leaped up from the sofa and gave Helen a rather demonstrative hug. ‘How are you? Is everything okay?’

  ‘I take it Gemma’s been filling you in?’ Helen said wryly.

  ‘It hasn’t all been about you,’ Gemma defended. ‘In fact, it’s hardly been about you at all because I don’t even know what’s going on with you.’

  Helen didn’t say anything.

  ‘Anyway Phoebe’s got much bigger news,’ said Gemma.

  ‘Oh?’ said Helen as they all sat down again.

  ‘Cam and I have separated,’ said Phoebe.

  Helen took a moment to compute. ‘I’m so sorry, Phee,’ she said, putting her hand on Phoebe’s knee. ‘That’s awful, are you all right?’

  ‘It was pretty devastating at first,’ she admitted. ‘Until it occurred to me that I was never going to have a baby if I stayed with him. And it’s more important for me to be with someone who wants the same things as I do. And I don’t just mean a baby.’

  ‘What else do you mean?’ Helen asked.

  ‘Everything. I finally realised how unhappy I’ve been. Things had been bad, really bad, for months, longer. People live in loveless marriages for the sake of the kids, but if we weren’t even going to have kids, then what was the point? I was living this totally empty life, existing in a void, all style and no substance.’

  ‘So, you didn’t love him any more?’ asked Gemma.

  Phoebe sighed. ‘I don’t know, and I don’t know whether Cam ever really loved me. I think he had a mental check list of everything he wanted in a wife, and I filled it. He had a check list for his whole life. The right kind of friends, the right apartment, career, wife, tick tick tick tick. So when I started going off the script, wanting something messy like a baby, he just wasn’t prepared to go along with it.’

  Gemma was strangely relieved to hear Phoebe talking like this. Not that she wanted her sister’s marriage to end, but at least she wasn’t such a bitch for never liking Cameron after all. He really was a king-size dickhead.

  ‘Hey Gem,’ Phoebe went on, ‘I know you’ve said this to me before, but I didn’t listen, or I didn’t want to hear it. But I’ve been working so hard all my life doing what other people wanted me to do, I’ve never worked out what I wanted. I’m shit-scared, but maybe now I’ll get a chance to do that.’

  ‘That’s very brave, Phoebe,’ said Helen quietly.

  They both turned to look at her.

  ‘Thanks, Helen. I don’t know if I’m feeling all that brave right now.’

  ‘But moving on,’ said Helen. ‘It’s so hard, I don’t know how people do it . . .’ Her voice trailed off, and they waited to see if she would say anything else, but she didn’t.

  ‘Come on, Helen,’ said Gemma, ‘you’ve moved on, you’ve done some amazing things.’

  Helen looked over at her. ‘Oh, sure, you’re talking about work . . . and that . . .’

  Her head was obviously somewhere else altogether.

  ‘Myles seems like a pretty great guy,’ said Phoebe carefully.

  ‘He is,’ Helen agreed. ‘He really is . . . it’s just . . .’ Her forehead creased in deep concentration. Finally she gave up. ‘It’s hard to explain.’

  ‘You could give it a try,’ said Gemma. ‘We’re not going anywhere.’

  They were interrupted by another knock at the door.

  ‘Or maybe I am.’ She looked apologetically at Helen. ‘Sorry, I have to get that.’

  ‘Of course you do,’ said Helen. ‘Go ahead.’

  Gemma got to her feet and took a deep breath. ‘Wish me luck.’

  ‘Just remember you’re too good for him,’ said Phoebe. ‘And he’s really bad for you.’

  As Gemma walked up the hall to the front door, she realised she was nervous about seeing Luke in the flesh after so long. But when she opened the door, she got a shock: her heart didn’t jump or miss a beat or any of those callisthenics it was supposed to do at a time like this. In fact, looking at Luke now, Gemma honestly had to wonder what she’d ever seen in him. He was a scrawny, stringbean of a man, with straggly hair and an even stragglier goatee, in grubby jeans and a ripped T-shirt. Not that she cared about any of that, really. Though if he wanted to touch Lola he was going to have to wash those hands first.

  ‘Hey, Gem, lookin’ wicked, babe.’

  God, had she really fallen for corn like that?

  ‘Thanks, Luke, good to see you too. Come on in.’ She stepped back and he walked inside, taking a good gawk around.

  ‘Cool digs.’

  ‘Yeah, well I’m only boarding here,’ she said, making her situation perfectly clear. ‘The baby’s just through here.’ Gemma led the way into the front room and over to the crib. She stood aside and Luke walked closer, peering down at the baby.

  ‘I named her Lola Helen,’ Gemma went on. ‘Lola after my grandmother; I don’t know if you remember me talking about her? And Helen’s my landlady; she ended up delivering her, right here in the house, she came so fast. She was 3.4 kilos born, but she’s put on stacks of weight since then. The clinic sister is really pleased with her progress.’ Gemma didn’t know why she was talking so fast.

  ‘She’s awesome,’ Luke said, nodding. ‘Looks like you.’

  ‘Do you think?’

  He shrugged. ‘Sure.’

  He didn’t seem inclined to touch her, much less hold her. Gemma was relieved, although she had expected a bit more than a passing interest. What was he doing here? She offered him a seat.

  ‘So are you happy, babe?’ said Luke, dropping into an armchair opposite her.

  She really wanted to tell him to stop calling her that, but she didn’t want to seem snippy.

  ‘I am happy,’ she said.

  ‘You’re glad you kept her then?’ He cocked his head towards the crib.

  ‘Of course.’

  He nodded. He was getting to something. ‘You know I would’ve been a really fucked dad.’

  He wasn’t going to get an argument out of her.

  ‘I’m no good at settl
ing down, never have been. I reckon it’s better I leave you to it, Gem. You look like you’re doing a real good job.’

  ‘Thanks,’ she said, guardedly.

  ‘So you don’t have to worry, I won’t bother you again. If you find yourself another bloke, let her call him Dad, tell her whatever you like.’

  This was plain weird. Why go to the trouble of making contact to tell her he didn’t want to have any contact? His total lack of contact had made that pretty obvious.

  ‘So you really are happy you had the baby?’ he persisted.

  ‘Yes, Luke, I really am happy.’

  ‘Then I’m happy I got to do that for you.’

  Gemma looked at him. ‘What do you want, Luke?’

  He laughed, nodding, like she’d caught him out. ‘Yeah, you’re right, there is something,’ he said. ‘The thing is, I heard on the radio that the government gives you a handout for having a baby, like four grand, they said.’

  Gemma was confused. ‘And?’

  ‘Well, I was thinking,’ said Luke, ‘seeing as you wouldn’t have had her without me, that maybe it’s only fair that we, ah, split the prize money, you know?’

  Gemma blinked. ‘What?’

  ‘Split it. My sperm, your egg, I reckon fifty-fifty’s fair.’

  ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘Okay,’ he relented. ‘Can’t say I didn’t try. Fair enough, you gotta look after her, so I’ll accept sixty-forty.’

  Gemma was looking at him, dumbfounded, and then without warning there was an explosion in her chest and she burst out laughing. She couldn’t stop. She laughed so much she started to cry, and every time she tried to speak, the laughter welled up again and she couldn’t get the words out. Luke just sat there, looking bewildered. Gemma finally ran out of puff. She wiped her eyes, sniffing. ‘Oh, Luke, thank you so much. You don’t know what a gift you’ve given me.’

  He was still frowning at her.

  ‘Come here,’ she said, standing up. ‘There’s something I want to show you.’

  Luke followed her out of the room and up the hall to the front door.

  ‘What is it, what do you want to show me, babe?’ he asked.

  ‘The front door,’ said Gemma, opening it. ‘I’m showing you the door, Luke. Please never come anywhere near me again.’

  He stared at her for a second, till the penny dropped, and then his expression became a little less amiable.

  ‘Crazy bitch,’ he muttered as he walked past her and out the door.

  Gemma closed it behind him and turned to hear Lola stirring. She hurried back to the crib and scooped her up in her arms. ‘Come on, Mummy’s little cash cow,’ she cooed, kissing Lola on the nose. ‘Wait till the girls hear this.’

  ‘You know what the worst part of the whole thing is?’ said Gemma, after Helen and Phoebe had expressed first shock, then disbelief, then hilarity.

  She was sitting cross-legged on the floor next to Lola, who was lying under a mobile, kicking her legs. ‘The worst part is I was actually in love with him once.’ Gemma shook her head. ‘Or I thought I was.’ She looked up at Phoebe and Helen, who were sharing the sofa. ‘I just want to state for the record that you both have my permission to do an intervention if I ever turn up with another guy like that.’

  ‘Luke had better be the last in what has been a very long line of losers and misfits,’ declared Phoebe. ‘The guys she used to bring home,’ she said to Helen, rolling her eyes. ‘Talk about dregs: they were the fish John West didn’t even consider for rejection, not even for cat food, not even –’

  ‘Okay, Phoebe, I think she’s got the picture,’ said Gemma. ‘So tell me, what is my problem? Do I choose them or do they choose me?’

  ‘I reckon you choose them,’ said Phoebe, ‘because you don’t think you deserve any better.’

  ‘Charlie said something like that,’ said Gemma, wrinkling her brow. ‘But I don’t get it. I don’t know whether I deserve better, but I’d certainly like to have better. Why would I intentionally choose someone who was no good for me?’

  ‘Self-loathing,’ said Phoebe bluntly. ‘You’ve never thought you were good enough, because you didn’t think Mum and Dad loved you as much as Ben or me. You are sporting the classic middle child – otherwise known as “chip on shoulder” – syndrome.’

  ‘Are you thinking of writing a self-help book, Phee?’

  ‘I get to watch Dr Phil now that I’m home in the daytime,’ she said airily. ‘He makes some interesting points, you know.’

  ‘Maybe, but I still don’t reckon I choose losers because I think Mum and Dad don’t love me,’ said Gemma. ‘I have worked out that they do, in their own peculiar way.’

  ‘Yeah, but this stuff is buried pretty deep, Gem,’ said Phoebe. ‘Even after we’ve rationalised it as adults, it’s still there. And it’s a classic defence mechanism against rejection to pick someone who can’t really love you.’

  Gemma was frowning. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You pick deadheads so you’ve got someone to blame when it all goes pear-shaped. I picked a robot who is probably incapable of love, so I can reassure myself now that it’s over that it wasn’t because I’m not lovable.’

  Helen winced, waiting for Phee to cast her x-ray vision on her.

  ‘You’ve got it all worked out, haven’t you, little sister?’ said Gemma.

  Phoebe shrugged. ‘It’s not rocket science. I mean, let’s face it, how scary is the idea of someone getting really close, loving you, right deep down to your soul?’

  Helen was just taking a sip of her tea and she coughed, spluttering it everywhere. She put her cup back on the coffee table and grabbed a tissue, mopping up the spills on her T-shirt as she coughed repeatedly to clear her throat. When she looked up, both Gemma and Phoebe were staring at her, clearly bemused.

  ‘You right there, Helen?’ Gemma drawled. ‘Phoebe touch a nerve?’

  ‘It just went down the wrong way,’ Helen mumbled.

  ‘Did Myles find you at Brookhaven today?’ Gemma asked.

  Helen nodded faintly.

  ‘So, what happened?’

  ‘He, um . . .’ She cleared her throat again. ‘Actually, he wanted to let me know they’ve found a permanent MD, so he’ll be heading back to Melbourne. He’s put in a good word for both of us though.’

  ‘Hold on,’ Gemma interrupted. ‘He’s going back to Melbourne? He didn’t say anything about that.’

  ‘Well, it is where he lives.’

  ‘What kind of game is he playing?’ she cried. ‘Just when I’d started to think he wasn’t so bad after all, it turns out he’s just another bastard –’

  ‘Gemma,’ Helen had to stop her. ‘He said it’s up to me.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Myles, he said it’s up to me whether he goes, that the ball’s in my court.’

  ‘You mean he won’t go if you ask him to stay?’ said Phoebe.

  ‘I guess,’ Helen said in a small voice.

  ‘So what are you going to do?’ asked Gemma.

  ‘I don’t know.’ Her voice was almost inaudible now.

  Gemma was watching her closely. ‘What are you so afraid of, Helen?’

  She shrugged. ‘It’s hard to explain.’

  ‘I understand better than you probably think,’ said Gemma. ‘David died young, so he’s going to stay forever young in your memory, always the good guy, never disappointing you, letting you down. I’m not suggesting he would have done; I’m just saying that’s bloody hard for anyone to compete with.’

  No, she didn’t understand at all, Helen sighed inwardly. ‘That’s not the problem,’ she murmured. ‘In fact, it’s probably the opposite.’

  She looked at their expectant faces, waiting for her to spell it out. Helen steeled herself. ‘I’m afraid . . .’ she began, ‘that Myles might be a better partner, a better lover, more compassionate, interesting, intelligent . . . that he might turn out to be the love of my life.’

  Gemma and Phoebe took a moment to process that. />
  ‘I’m struggling to understand the problem here, Helen,’ said Gemma. ‘Myles loves you, and you’ve obviously fallen hard for him, and the sex must have been pretty mind-blowing –’

  ‘Gem!’ said Phoebe.

  ‘She’s right,’ said Helen glumly.

  ‘You needn’t look so miserable about it,’ said Gemma. ‘Half your luck, Helen. You should be dancing on the rooftops and singing hallelujah.’

  ‘That my husband was run over by a bus and I got to meet Myles?’

  ‘Oh, Helen, no, is that what’s bothering you?’ said Phoebe. ‘You can’t think like that.’

  ‘But I can’t help it,’ Helen insisted. ‘The way I feel about Myles . . . well, I keep thinking that maybe I didn’t love David enough. That maybe if I’d got up to see him off that morning, things would have been different, he might have been more . . . present in the world somehow, and he might not have stepped off that kerb. And now I have this albatross hanging around my neck, and I don’t see how I can ever be happy with Myles because it’ll always be tainted by the fact that we’re only together because David did step off that kerb.’

  Gemma and Phoebe stared at her, speechless.

  ‘You didn’t push him in front of that bus, Helen,’ Gemma said finally.

  Now it was Helen’s turn to be speechless.

  ‘Could you be more blunt, Gem?’ Phoebe rolled her eyes.

  ‘Someone has to say it like it is,’ she declared. ‘You have no reason to feel guilty, Helen. You would have stayed with David for the rest of your life, wouldn’t you?’

  She nodded. ‘Of course.’

  ‘Even though the picture I’ve been getting is that things were pretty ordinary between the two of you?’ Gemma suggested. ‘Not bad, just ordinary. But you would have been loyal to the end. And the thing is, you were. This is the end, Helen: David’s gone, till death you did part. Sure, you wouldn’t have met Myles if he hadn’t died, that’s a fact. But that doesn’t make it wrong. That’s like saying Lola’s a mistake because I had her with Luke. You don’t think that, do you?’