by Anita Heiss
‘Congratulations,’ Veronica offered half-heartedly, as if it was the only thing that could be said, or should be said, even though she felt Xanthe’s pain.
‘Oh yes, congratulations, Izzy. It’s a surprise, but . . .’ Xanthe choked up. ‘I’m happy for you,’ she said, swiftly pushing her chair from the table and fleeing to the ladies’ room.
‘How long?’ Nadine asked softly.
‘Going on ten weeks now.’
‘The father?’ Nadine asked again.
‘I haven’t told him, I haven’t told anyone except you girls, and Tracey.’
‘You told your agent before the father? That’s pretty fucked.’ Nadine’s softness disappeared as quickly as Xanthe had. ‘Not even I would do that, and I know you all think I’ve got problems.’
The waitress appeared at the table and took another round of coffee orders. Everyone ordered cake as well. It was comfort food time; when conversation was difficult, food was always easy.
Xanthe returned with a freshly washed face. ‘So, when are you due?’ she asked.
Izzy couldn’t tell if there was a tone to the question or not. ‘November.’ She paused. ‘I think.’
‘You think? How can you not know?’ Xanthe was angry at how vague her friend was about bringing a new life into the world.
‘Because, Xanthe,’ Izzy’s voice was strained, as she tried to remain calm, ‘I didn’t plan this, obviously, and I don’t even know if I’m going to keep it.’
‘WHAT?’ Xanthe yelled. She banged her fists on the table in a display that in the twenty-plus years of their friendship no-one had seen before. The entire café of patrons and staff threw stares at their table.
‘Shhh, love, calm down.’ Veronica was playing the wise one again, placing her hand on Xanthe’s and hoping the moment didn’t turn into a full public spectacle. Veronica believed if you had to be loud and argue, you should at least do it at home.
Xanthe took a breath and lowered her voice. ‘You can’t have an abortion,’ she said as if in a position to control Izzy’s life and any other that may come along.
‘I don’t think you can really tell Izzy what she can or can’t do, Xanthe.’ Nadine stepped in to show support for her sister-in-law.
‘People like me are desperate to have kids and can’t. I think I’m allowed to comment, don’t you?’ Xanthe replied. She looked back to Izzy. ‘Especially when you,’ Xanthe almost spat the words out, ‘just act like it’s a choice about having milk in your coffee or not.’
‘Xanthe!’ Nadine snapped. ‘Stop it, you’re being unfair.’
‘Unfair? I’ll tell you what’s un-fucking-fair . . .’ Xanthe sat on the edge of her seat and unleashed a tirade, the sort of which she wished she could use with her racist clients. Her thoughts were completely focused on Izzy though, and how betrayed by the universe she felt at that moment. All the anger she had built up in disappointment, in frustration, in confusion about Spencer’s actions lately in relation to IVF had all brewed in an emotional pot that was going to be dumped right on Izzy’s shoulders in an unassuming café in Paddington.
Xanthe put her hands palms down on the table as if to support her stance and give more air to her lungs. She leant over to Izzy’s side of the table. ‘Unfair is a woman, not just any woman, but a sistagirl – one of my best friends – who sits down casually in front of me on a Saturday morning and acts all blasé about something as significant and life-changing as being pregnant, when she knows full well I’m going insane because I can’t conceive!’ Xanthe’s temper was at boiling point; her heart was racing, her body was hot and her hands were shaking.
Veronica put her arm around Xanthe’s shoulder in an attempt to calm the petite woman. Ellen looked on with concern while Nadine was deeply in Izzy’s corner.
‘Jesus, Xanthe, this isn’t easy for me at all. Of course it’s life-changing, it’s my fucking life that’s changing.’ Izzy thought about the morning sickness, the cravings, the changes in her breasts. The fact that she couldn’t believe that she’d actually missed a period; since she was thirteen they had arrived like clockwork every twenty-eight days. ‘I’m not blasé at all. I’m distressed. I didn’t even want to tell you and now I wish I hadn’t.’
‘I wish you hadn’t either,’ Xanthe said, now quietly crying. ‘Haven’t you heard a thing I’ve said this morning, or the last few months?’ Xanthe wiped the tears that spilled down her cheeks, and Veronica’s eyes began to well again.
‘Christ, Xanthe, not everything is about you!’ Nadine’s third Bloody Mary was now talking; she even took her sunglasses off in an attempt to give Xanthe a red eyeballing. ‘This is about Izzy right now. Is she supposed to calculate her sex life like you do? For fuck’s sake, leave her alone.’ Nadine and Izzy may not have seen eye to eye on everything but she was fiercely loyal when it came to family, and she wasn’t going to let Izzy get pummelled, especially when she was obviously in a fragile state.
‘It’s fine,’ Izzy said softly, touching Nadine’s arm in thanks for the show of back up. She looked over at Xanthe. ‘I’ve heard everything you’ve said,’ she said gently, ‘every detail about how often you have to have sex, the dates you’re ovulating, all the herbal remedies you’ve been advised to take, the names you’re already thinking about, how you want to buy a bigger house and may have to try IVF.’ Izzy couldn’t believe how much she’d actually mentally recorded about Xanthe’s pregnancy woes. ‘Yes, I’ve heard everything. I know you want to have a baby, and I’m truly sorry that you can’t, and I’m sorry that I am pregnant and you aren’t.’ Izzy started crying. ‘Mostly I am sorry that I am pregnant and that I am feeling completely overwhelmed.’
Silence fell heavily again. Xanthe was weeping, Veronica was wiping away tears. Izzy was distraught and coughing to camouflage her own crying. Nadine was angry with Xanthe. It was up to Ellen to do her best to change the mood, again.
‘It’s Easter Saturday, you all need to stop fucking crying. Jesus is rising tomorrow, it’s supposed to be a joyful and happy occasion and the Lord won’t have time for you sooks!’ None of them was overly religious or celebrated Easter in its traditional sense, so Ellen’s words fell like a lead balloon. ‘And I probably shouldn’t have said fucking and Jesus in the one mouthful either,’ she added, desperate for something to change.
‘Can you just be serious for one fucking minute?’ Nadine said through gritted teeth. ‘You’ve said nothing helpful at all this morning for anyone.’
‘You’ve only noticed because you’re only half fucking pissed today and not completely fucking pissed,’ Ellen retorted. ‘But wait on, it’s only 11 a.m. so there’s plenty of time for that.’
It looked like a true bitch fight was brewing and as Nadine leant into the table and glared at Ellen, Veronica went into mediator mode straightaway. Raising three boys who fought like any normal teenagers living under the same roof, Veronica had mastered the art of finding common ground. It had been years since she’d had to separate Ellen and Nadine, and the last aggressive words they’d exchanged had seen Nadine fall off her chair. At a New Year’s Eve party Nadine had accused Ellen of flirting with Richard. It was the most insane accusation, and everyone knew it. Richard was like a brother to Ellen, just as he was to his blood sister Izzy. But the booze had made Nadine volatile, just like it had this morning. Veronica had feared getting a punch that night when she’d stepped in to help Nadine up off the ground, but the last thing she wanted was one of them falling of a chair this morning, accident or otherwise.
‘Can you two potty mouths please stop swearing? People are watching. And don’t be so unkind to each other. We’re all friends, remember?’
Nadine and Ellen looked around in turn and smiled apologetically to the other café patrons. They may have stepped back into their corners but Xanthe wasn’t finished with her dissection of Izzy’s situation.
‘Ellen, what do you think about Izzy’s declaration of impending motherhood?’ she asked, the bitter pill still in her mouth.
‘Oh don’t ask me.’ Ellen sipped her coffee, looking straight into the white porcelain cup.
‘But I am asking you. Everyone else is having a say, what’s yours?’ Xanthe waited, like a teacher who had instructed a student to answer a question. ‘Don’t worry, it’s not like I can get any more upset, or more offended than I already am.’ There was a hint of sarcasm in her voice.
Nadine groaned with the drama of it all. Veronica put her finger to her lips and mimed ‘shhhh’.
Nadine mouthed back. ‘Fine!’
Ellen really didn’t want to have a say. She’d woken up happy, with a hot man in her bed and now she was surrounded by her tiddas in tears and was wanting to slap Nadine the first chance she got.
‘Ellen?’ Xanthe pressed. ‘Is it me? Am I wrong?’
‘I’m not picking sides, Xanthe, and you shouldn’t expect any of us to.’ Ellen wanted to be Switzerland in this war.
‘But you must have an opinion one way or another, surely. You understand the value of life, you’re around death so much.’
Xanthe was getting out of control in her need to be right about something that had no right or wrong answers. Her tidda was on shaky ground if she was going to move into values and morals, Izzy thought. She was not prepared to sit there and be judged by anyone, not even Xanthe.
‘Well, if you must know, I support you about the IVF,’ Ellen said at last, ‘and I’ll support Izzy with whatever she decides too. But it’s not my body so I don’t really have an opinion on what either of you do with yours.’
‘That’s a cop-out, Ellen. Of course you have an opinion, one way or another.’
‘No, Xanthe, I don’t. These are very personal decisions you’re both making, that only you can make for yourselves. It’s not my place to throw my take on it all at you.’
‘That’s funny, you always seem to have a fuck– ’ Nadine stopped herself from cussing, and continued, ‘. . . freaking opinion on everything else.’
Ellen bit her tongue, not wanting to inflame the situation any further, but slyly she gave Nadine the finger.
‘I’d really like to know what you think, Ellen, please,’ Xanthe begged. ‘Let’s all just be honest today. There’s already no turning back for some.’
Izzy knew the comment was meant for her by the bitter look Xanthe threw in her direction.
Ellen felt uncomfortable and, unexpectedly, under extreme pressure. ‘I don’t see the need for all this confessing about our most intimate selves, celebrating Easter with tears instead of chocolate eggs,’ she said, still trying to avoid any real input into the conversation.
‘It’s not confessing, Ellen, it’s sharing, that’s what we’re doing.’ Xanthe was starting to sound calmer and more rational but she was still driving the agenda.
‘Sharing eh? Is that what we’re doing?’ Ellen looked around the table at the watery red eyes of each woman, including Nadine. They all looked back, waiting. ‘Fine, well then I’m going to share in the same vein and I know this is going to freak some of you out . . .’ She looked at Xanthe and Izzy.
‘Oh, for fuck’s sake just spill it,’ Nadine said, exasperated.
‘I had my tubes tied when I was twenty-six,’ Ellen blurted, as if she was in a confessional.
The women all looked shocked, except Veronica who had helped, through Alex, get the referral so Ellen could have the procedure.
‘Bullshit!’ Izzy said in total disbelief. ‘You would’ve told us before now.’ She looked at the others. ‘Wouldn’t she?’
‘She told me,’ Veronica said, divulging the secret she’d carried for over a decade.
‘You told Vee, and not us?’ There was a hint of ugliness in Izzy’s tone.
They all thought it but said nothing: Ellen had told a white woman about her tubal ligation but not breathed a word about it to her Black sisters. Why?
Ellen frowned. ‘Why would I tell you? It’s not like Black women often get their tubes tied. How many do you know?’ There was silence. ‘That’s right, it’s worse than – ’ she stopped herself.
‘Worse than what?’ Izzy asked with one eyebrow arched. ‘An abortion? Is that what you were going to say?’ Izzy knew they were as bad as each other in some women’s eyes, and she was prepared for the guilt trips she was going to get if she made the decision to terminate. She didn’t plan this baby, she didn’t want children, but she still didn’t see the need to act – just yet. And she had now managed to drag her friends into her drama, and upset those she loved at the same time. In the meantime she felt herself being judged.
Ellen felt it too. ‘Look, we all grew up together, so you know how much the old ladies want grannies, and the pressure is always on us to procreate, maintain the race, be the matriarch.’ Izzy just nodded. ‘I told Vee because she was neutral in terms of what goes on with our mob, and Alex organised the connections for me in Sydney. So I had some moral and practical support, which I needed. It was a big deal for me at the time, and I didn’t want to make it any bigger.’ Ellen was thinking that she didn’t want to be like Xanthe and have everyone know her business.
‘Of course I understand,’ Izzy said. ‘It’s why I’m struggling with my lot now. I know how the old women think. It’s probably why Xanthe is so desperate to have a baby too. Partly? Maybe?’
Izzy was desperate to soften the hard air between her and Xanthe by including her tidda in her answer – and in the shared responsibility they all knew they had as Aboriginal women. Izzy, Ellen and Xanthe were strong role models in each of their families, and some of the only women in their clans who had gone to university and built careers that gave back to the mobs. Their own role models were their mothers, their grandmothers and their aunties. When white women talked about feminism and the male networks they were left out of, the three tiddas laughed, knowing that the Wiradjuri sistahood they shared could be broken by no man, Black or white. These tiddas had listened to and learned from their elders, and knew that even in their modern, city-based lives they were still expected – even with the degrees and careers – to keep breeding; it was simply the done thing. This was something that Nadine and Veronica might never understand, only ever accountable to themselves, and coincidentally, both already mothers.
‘Why, Ellen?’ Xanthe was gobsmacked, unable to understand her tidda’s unusual confession, or why any woman would make herself permanently unable to have children before she’d even had one, at least one.
‘The truth is, after having been co-parent to five younger brothers and sisters when I was just twelve, it felt like I’d already raised a family just by helping out Mum. I hardly had a childhood after that arsehole who some still refer to as “my father” left.’
Ellen wasn’t one to get emotional but she felt a lump in her throat at the thought of her mother and the hard life they shared when she was growing up, thanks to the good-for-nothing sperm donor who had left them all for a better life, but no-one knew where.
‘Any maternal instinct I may have had was completely crushed by having to cook, clean and care for the kids because my poor mother was working seven days a week either cleaning at the school or at the hospital and sometimes both in the one day, just to keep a roof over our head and food in our bellies.’ Ellen shook her head with disappointment in the man who had fathered her.
The other women felt guilty for not realising the pressure Ellen had been under as a teenager. Izzy thought of Ellen mainly by the river in a purple cozzie and long plaits, always cheerful. Xanthe remembered Ellen as the best sprinter at the sports carnival. Veronica recalled how Ellen was a dynamo at elastics on the playground. And later in life Nadine had always compared Ellen and herself to the girls from Puberty Blues, only in the country and not at the beach. It was clear to the tiddas now that Ellen had managed to hide the challenges she faced at home, making the most of being with her friends when she could.
‘Let’s face it, in high school we were so busy talking about boys and INXS and George Michael. And you two,’ Ellen nodded to Veronica and Xanthe, ‘had c
rushes on Whitney Houston and Rick Astley. No-one was talking about what was going on at home. You just never noticed the shit I had to put up with.’ She smiled calmly. ‘So, in all honesty I can say that I support you, Izzy, in whatever you decide because it’s your life to lead, just as yours is yours, Xanthe.’
‘Well, isn’t this just the perfect circle then. One will never have a baby, one’s pregnant and doesn’t want it, and one can’t get pregnant,’ Nadine summarised.
‘Thanks for the analysis,’ Ellen said sarcastically. ‘Talk about not offering anything of use. Why don’t you have another drink?’
Nadine just smiled back, having already found comfort in the cosy drunken place where she could just bliss out.
‘I should be getting home,’ Xanthe said, looking at her watch before pulling cash from her purse and putting a couple of notes in the middle of the table.
‘I’ve got it,’ Nadine said. ‘In lieu of buying anyone chocolates for Easter.’
No-one had the emotional energy to even try to argue with her.
Xanthe walked around the table and pecked everyone on the cheek in a false display that she was okay, and that everything between them was all right. But nobody really believed that it was. As she walked out of the café, Xanthe knew the women would still be talking.
Back at the table, Veronica turned to Izzy. ‘Why haven’t you told the father?’ she asked seriously.
‘I don’t know if I should.’
‘Of course you should,’ Veronica answered, as if it were a no-brainer.
‘But . . . if I’m not going to have the baby, does he even need to know?’ Izzy didn’t know the answer; all she knew was that she was glad that Xanthe had left. ‘What should I do?’ She looked at Nadine.
‘You should talk to your mother; she’s the wisest woman you know. She mightn’t like me, but I respect her and know she’ll have whatever answers you need.’
