by Karen Wyld
‘What about acting? I could introduce you to a few contacts of mine,’ offered Sebastian.
‘No, thanks. I’m okay with the work I’ve got.’
‘Sweetie, your looks are far too divine for you to be wasting your time as a mere cleaner. Let my Seb hook you up.’
‘I’m doing okay, truly.’
Louis asked, ‘Have you tried these devilled eggs, Tori? They really are divine.’
Stephanie’s attention shifted to the front door. ‘Ah, Felicity’s here. Seb, darling, we really must ask her how she found Venice.’
After they’d left, Tori muttered, ‘Why were you rude to them?’
‘I’m not interested in talking to people like them,’ said Louis.
‘What’s that supposed to mean? They seemed nice.’
‘That wasn’t nice.’
Tori frowned. ‘They were just talking to us. It’s what people do at parties.’
‘Why do you let people treat you like that?’
‘Like what?’
‘Like you’re some sort of exotic animal.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Louis. They were just admiring the colour of my eyes.’
‘They only made a big deal because they hadn’t seen blue eyes with skin like yours before.’
‘And what’s wrong with my skin?’
‘Nothing. My point is that, to people like them, you’re an oddity. A collectable, even. Those two didn’t care about you or me. The way they sexualise our skin, our youthfulness, but want nothing to do with us as real people, is perverse.’
‘What nonsense. Have you been hanging out with the same people as Maggie? Her head’s also full of nonsense lately.’
‘You mean being with our people, at the community centre? You should be hanging out there too, not with these shallow toffs. Learn about your culture and stop chasing things you can’t have.’
‘I’m doing all right making my own friends.’
‘They’ll never let you in, no matter how hard you try or how exotic-looking you are.’
‘I’m here, aren’t I?’
‘You might be content with being their sideshow freak, I’m not. I’m a man, not an object to be collected. A proud black man.’
‘Why do you have to make this about colour? I don’t hear anyone else here doing that. You’re the one who’s judging others, not them.’
‘Let’s go,’ suggested Louis.
Tori shook her head and took a sip of her drink. Louis put down his glass and walked out.
‘He’s right.’
Tori turned around and saw Marcie.
‘Stephanie and Sebastian see us as collectables. They want their friends to think they’re liberal-minded because they talk to people like us, but they actually think we’re below them. Put a fancy ribbon on racism, and it’s still racism,’ she said.
Tori shook her head. ‘You’re wrong.’
‘I’ve been around people like them a bit longer than you have, Tori. Back in my own country, I fought in the streets for black rights. I know what racism looks like when I see it.’
‘You sound like Louis. He sees it everywhere, even where it doesn’t exist.’
‘He’s a smart young man. Why aren’t you following him?’
‘I’m my own woman. I don’t run after anyone.’
‘Honey, there are moments when it’s important to stand up for your principles, and there are moments to stand up for friends. Are you sure it’s not pride making your decisions?’
‘I’m not a baby, I make my own choices. Right now, I choose another drink.’
Tori stayed longer than she’d intended, and had more drinks than she should have. She was aware that Marcie floated nearby, keeping an eye on her, and that just made her want to drink more. Tori began to feel light-headed and unsteady on her feet. Finally, she drifted towards the front door, carrying her high-heeled shoes.
‘I’ve called a taxi. We can share a ride,’ said Marcie, appearing by her side.
Tori waved her arms around. ‘I don’t need your help. I’m walking home.’
She stumbled outside, knowing Marcie was still watching. From out of the darkness emerged Louis.
‘I don’t need your help, either,’ shouted Tori, before tripping over and falling in a low hedge.
Tori let him pull her up. Silently, they walked towards the parklands, back to the treehouse. She almost stumbled a few times. Louis stood nearby, steadying her if needed. At the foot of her tree, Tori grabbed the ladder. It wobbled. Or she wobbled. Her foot kept slipping out of the foothold. In frustration, she threw her shoes in a nearby bush. Louis went to get them.
‘Leave them,’ Tori shouted. ‘You and Marcie think I need help, but I don’t. I was fine before I met you, and I’m doing just fine now.’
‘Tori…’
‘Go away, Louis. And don’t bother coming back, ever.’
He watched in silence as Tori climbed the ladder, standing ready in case she fell. When she’d disappeared from sight, he retrieved her shoes from the bush.
‘Tell us another story, Aunty Isabelle.’
‘Only if you promise to remember it forever. Can you do that? Forever is a very long time.’
The girls nodded. They’d promise anything for a story. She picked up a stick and prodded the fire, as the twins waited expectantly.
‘Okay then,’ said their aunty, ‘this is a long one. Goes all the way back, and all the way forwards, and a little bit of now. That old sea over there, the one many can’t see…’
‘The one trapped underground,’ said Victoria.
‘It’s there, under the red dirt, but it’s not trapped. That briny mother has sent her children far and wide, to travel further than you or I could ever imagine. Droplets of that sea can be found within sun-warmed rock pools, not too far from here. Some are carried along by snaking rivers, others nestle in shallow puddles in green fields of almost-ripe grain. Dewdrops ride on the wings of birds, eager to taste enticing fruits and spices in faraway lands. Thirsty wisps of clouds travel far and wide, growing fatter and fatter, until they can hold no more moisture. As they spill their loads over land and sea, this generative liquid is eagerly absorbed. The sea travels far, changing form many times, but never once does it forget where it came from.’
‘What about the creatures, Aunty?’ asked Maggie. ‘The ones that lived in that sea long time ago. Do they live on too?’
‘Yes, because everything is connected. Even people. We’ve all soaked up that ancient sea. We reconnect with it every time rain caresses upturned faces. Rain carries the essence of those creatures. It keeps them alive. Water is infinite – not even a single drop can die. Water connects us to all that is, was and will be. We are all one; kin to ancient seas.’
EIGHTEEN
Maggie put down her art bag, and placed Tori’s shoes in the box they kept their shoes in. She then looked in the food cupboard. Maggie had noticed her sister sitting by a window, but was adamant she was not going to be the first one to say hello.
Without turning around, Tori asked, ‘Where did you find those?’
‘Your shoes? Louis gave them to me. I stopped by his place just now.’
Maggie waited for Tori to say something. When she didn’t, Maggie began to prepare dinner. She normally liked the absence of people-noise, as it meant more of a chance to hear birdsong, but she’d had enough of Tori’s loaded silence. In a manner unlike her, Maggie noisily made dinner. She shut the pantry door a little too heavily. She placed the tinned beans on the table a bit too abruptly. The knife she dropped landed much too loudly.
‘Quit it,’ demanded Tori.
‘You quit it.’
‘What? I’m just sitting here, minding my own business.’
Maggie glared at Tori. ‘You have no problem telling other people what to do.’
‘What are you on about?’
‘You, telling Louis to stay away from our treehouse. You had no right to do that. He’s my friend too. And this is home for both of us.’
‘He cares for you. It’s what friends do.’
‘Nah, being controlling is not friendship.’
‘You’re a hypocrite. If you’re so against people controlling you, why are you working at that gallery? The owner sounds like an arrogant bully.’
Tori got up. ‘Louis is quite the tattletale. Where I work has nothing to do with him, or you. I make my own decisions.’
‘After all that effort trying to make Mum leave that abusive von Wolff, you end up working for a similar man. That’s what you decide for yourself?’
‘It’s not the same. This time, no one is in danger.’
‘Are you sure about that? Something’s bothering you. The marks on your face are proof that everything’s not okay.’
‘Get off my back.’
‘You need to quit that job. I don’t want to lose you too.’
‘Enough!’ yelled Tori.
Maggie watched in silence as Tori grabbed a coat and shoes, and climbed out of the treehouse. It was raining, but not heavily. Tori didn’t even notice. She strode through the park, annoyed that Louis and Maggie were ganging up on her. Tori didn’t feel as if she had any options. They needed the money that her job provided. Sure, Andrés was unpleasant to work for, but Tori knew how to keep out of his way. She was furious that her sister didn’t trust her judgement, didn’t realise that she could fend for herself. On the edge of the park, Tori stopped. The rain was beginning to fall more heavily. She was unsure if she should turn back or find shelter elsewhere. Thrusting her hands in her coat pocket, Tori felt a piece of paper. She took it out and read it under the street lamp. It was Marcie’s address. She’d given it to her a while ago, and said she was there if Tori ever needed someone to listen.
Tori looked at the three-storey brick building. It was difficult to see through the rain. Most of the curtain-less windows showed lights from inside, so she hoped Marcie was also home. She opened the main door and walked up the stairs to the third floor. There was a strong odour in the stairs and hallway, like soggy clothes that needed airing. Tori rechecked the piece of paper for the flat number. She knocked on a door and immediately regretted being there. She heard voices, so she knew Marcie wasn’t alone. Tori heard a door shut, and then footsteps.
‘Hey, this is a surprise,’ said Marcie, opening the door.
Tori nodded, not knowing if that meant she was a welcome sight. Marcie opened the door wider and beckoned her in. It was a small flat, with not much furniture. The kitchen and lounge were in the one room. Tori saw two doors, which she assumed led to a bathroom and bedroom. One of the doors opened and a tall woman walked into the room carrying a small suitcase. She smiled at Tori, put down her luggage and walked over to Marcie. As she embraced Marcie, and kissed her passionately, Tori stared. Not because of the loving kiss, but because this woman’s hair was the blackest of blacks that Tori had ever seen. When they parted, Tori realised she’d been staring, and blushed.
‘Simone, this is Tori. From the gallery.’
‘Marcie told me about you. I’m glad she has company at the gallery. I don’t like the thought of her working alone with that creep.’
‘It’s not that bad,’ Marcie remarked.
Simone turned to Marcie. ‘Please think about what we talked about earlier. I can use my staff discount to get you home. And I can put in for a transfer, just do domestic flights.’
‘When are you back this time?’
‘I have a longer stopover than usual, so a week.’
‘I miss you already.’
‘Then say yes to going home,’ pleaded Simone, as she walked through the front door.
‘I’ll think about it. I promise.’
Marcie sighed as the door shut, then turned to Tori. ‘You’re soaked!’
‘It’s really wet out there. Thought I’d get washed away walking here.’
‘Let me get you something to change into, and then we can dry those clothes,’ said Marcie, walking towards the bedroom.
While she waited, Tori looked around. There didn’t seem to be many personal items, no knick-knacks or photos. Even though her mother had discouraged Maggie and her from wanting personal belongings, due to their transient lifestyle, Tori thought other people’s places were full of such things. A small silver photo frame on a side table caught her eye. Tori picked it up. She thought the woman, who appeared to be older than her mother had been, had kind eyes.
‘That’s my mother,’ said Marcie, as she handed Tori some clothes. ‘Do you want to get changed in my room?’
Tori nodded, and went into the bedroom. Like the rest of the apartment, its furniture was simple. There was a framed photo of Marcie and Simone next to the bed. Laughing, hair blowing, with the sea behind them. Tori put on the pants and jumper that Marcie had given her, and picked up her wet clothes.
When Tori went back into the other room, Marcie hung the clothes in front of a small radiator. Steam rose immediately, carrying a smell of dampness and pine needles. Tori suddenly thought of her sister, and felt a pang of guilt for leaving her during a storm. The increasing instances of arguing with Maggie also niggled at her. Tori was aware she usually started these fights. Lately, she didn’t feel able to control her emotions. Her mum had always known what to say to help Tori through occasional exasperations. Now, alone, without such guidance, annoyance was too often becoming fury.
‘Take a seat, make yourself comfortable. I need a drink. You want one?’
She nodded, and settled into an old armchair. It had a throw rug on it, covering worn parts, but was still comfortable.
Marcie handed her a drink. ‘Gin and tonic. There’s no lemons.’
Tori took a sip, and Marcie settled on the small couch.
‘I hope you don’t mind me dropping in like this,’ said Tori.
‘Not at all. Good timing, really. I get a bit glum every time Simone leaves, so it’s nice to have some company.’
‘Have you had this place for long?’
‘A year or so. The rent is hard to keep up with. Simone gives me a bit, but as she’s not here often I don’t like her paying more than what’s fair. As you know, Andrés doesn’t pay well. I don’t have a work visa, so he takes advantage of that. I also do hair. When I moved here, Simone and I quickly realised no one knows how to treat natural hair, like ours. With her job, grooming is important, so I did Simone’s hair. Others asked where she’d got her hair done, and my little home-based business started from there. I could do your hair, if you want.’
‘I’d like that. Other than my mum, when I was little, no one has done my hair. It gets knotty so easily.’
‘I can cut it so it’s more manageable. And make up a treatment to give it some gloss. Does your mother use treatments?’
Tori looked down. She was on the verge of crying, something she refused to do, especially in front of others.
‘What’s up, hon?’
‘I feel bad. For lying to you. My mum isn’t around any more. Neither is my father. It’s just me and my sister.’
‘Where are your parents?’
‘We never knew our father. Our mother tried to find him.
She spent years looking and hoping. She died before we could find out more about him, or any family.’
‘I’m sorry. Was this recent?’
Tori put down her empty glass and looked out the window. It was now night-time, and a nearby street lamp was trying humbly to be noticed in the pouring rain. She hoped the rain wasn’t causing Maggie any problems in the treehouse. There was a corner of the roof that let water in, drops just missing their bed. Tori knew Marcie was waiting for a reply, but wasn’t sure how much to share. What would she think about them living in a tree, in a public park? Tori glanced at Marcie and reminded herself that she could trust her.
‘Our mum was murdered when we were twelve. I’ve never told anyone that before. We’ve got some family, somewhere. My twin sister
and I live in the park, in a treehouse. Before that, we lived in the basement of a vacant building near the park. Both places enabled us to be out of sight, and to stay safe. We were worried for a long time that someone would try to put us in an orphanage. We’ve heard of those places, and how they treat kids like us. Now that we’ve turned eighteen, no one can put us anywhere.
‘Honey, that’s a lot to be dealing with. Have you two been alone since your mamma died?’
‘Mostly. Gabriel helped us escape but the cops got him.’
‘Escape?’
‘Yeah, he got us away from the man who killed our mum.
That man died when his studio burnt down, but it was an accident.’
‘Studio?’
‘Yes, a photographer’s studio, at his home, in the country.
We moved there when Mum got a job looking after the man’s wife, Iris. After his wife died, he got meaner. I tried to get Mum to leave. She was always a good mum to us, but it was like she had no hope left. After she died, he made us do horrible stuff. Lately, I’ve been wondering if he made Mum do those things too.’
‘Do you want to talk about what he did?’
‘I prefer to forget it ever happened.’
‘Is there anything I can do to help?’
Tori thought for a while, then replied, ‘Can I sleep here tonight? I had an argument with my sister.’
‘Sure. I can make you up a bed on the couch. Do you want another drink? Have you had dinner?’
‘If you don’t mind, I just want to sleep.’
‘I’ll get a pillow and quilt.’
‘Marcie?’
‘Yes?’ she said, pausing in the bedroom doorway.
‘Don’t tell anyone, please. All of that is a secret.’
‘You can trust me.’
‘And can we not talk about it again?’
‘Not if you don’t want to.’
Returning with her arms full, Marcie made up a bed on the couch. Tori climbed under the quilt as Marcie walked towards the light switch.
Tori said, sleepily. ‘The other day, at Ana’s party, I was horrible to you. I’m sorry.’
Marcie could hear Tori talking in her sleep in the other room. Even though Tori had not shared the details, she felt horrified thinking of her mother being murdered. And sad for Tori. Marcie knew how difficult it was to grieve the loss of a parent. She could not even begin to imagine the pain of having a parent taken by a murderer. Marcie thought back to the last time she’d seen her parents, still upset she’d never had a chance to say goodbye to her father.
