Being Kalli

by Rebecca Berto

  “Hey, guys,” I say. I grab each of them around the waist and scoop them close. I look between them, see their eyes wide and their lips trembling. “Won’t you miss me? Do you want me to do this?”

  “Kalli!” Tristan, croons. “We want a big famous sister.”

  “Yeah!”

  I lean Tristan against one side of my ribs, rest Seth on my other and I plop my chin on top of his head, smelling his strawberry shampoo. I know these boys get excited about everything and anything, but they’re babies, dependent on me completely. I did not, even with them in a giddy mood like now, expect them to be okay with this. Maybe they don’t get it.

  “But, I could be away for days, maybe a whole wee—”

  “I’m not dumb! You said that!”

  I bite my lip, suppressing a giggle. Okay, so maybe I’m the dumb one for underestimating them. They may not have a clue, but they want this, whatever “this” it is they understand.

  I don’t have to reject the contract if my brothers, my two biggest loves in the world, are rooting for me. In fact, I feel like I can do this, be someone, leave that skank Kalli Perkins behind. In fact, I believe all that needs to be done is to speak to Geoffrey, read the terms of the contract, possibly find an agent and sign.

  I just hope things will be that simple.

  • • •

  When Aunty Nicole comes over to see Mum for the first time in twelve years, it’s oddly like they were just chatting yesterday. I was seven the last time I was “allowed” to see her, and I remember patches of this and that. The way I’d smell berries every time she entered a room. Her knock pattern when she arrived at our house.

  I’d warned Mum about Aunty Nicole and I. I know, terribly anticlimactic since I’ve hidden seeing her for years only to admit it once I don’t need to hide anything. But it’ll come out, since I can’t act as if I don’t know her, and the less stressors for Mum, the better.

  As I open the front door Nicole is there, holding a big bag of Mars bars, and saying before the door fully opens, “She still likes these right?”

  I smile and kiss her cheek. “Hey. And yes. She’ll love that you brought something regardless.”

  Nicole gives an unsure, wobbly smile and steps past me. Just the look on her face tells me she’s thought and overthought her entrance, and this wasn’t one of them. It’s a cutthroat tense silence as she walks down the hall, and I follow behind her.

  Until Mum steps into our view from the kitchen.

  “Nic!”

  “Oh my God, Mary?”

  My aunty’s tone is more of a statement than a question. As if she’s exclaiming it, yet is so surprised she’s unsure. Heck, I would be too after twelve years.

  Aunty Nicole and Mum end up making one of their childhood desserts together. I can’t explain it, which I guess makes it so special. There are eggs and flour and cinnamon, and I walk away to leave them to it, since it feels like I’m stealing their show with this not being a reunion in the strictest sense for Nicole and I.

  We all watch reruns of Bewitched, and while it’s one of the old TV shows that is still great today, I don’t pretend to enjoy it the same way they do. Nicole and Mum go into fits of slapping their thighs, chucking their heads back and cackling, pointing to the TV with dead-straight arms and snorting.

  I really don’t think it has much to do with Bewitched at all.

  Though it’s a weeknight, it’s 10.30 before Aunty Nicole says she has to leave, 11 once she actually states she’s leaving and 11.30 by the time she gets in her car and drives off. Mum and her wave goodbye, Mum running all the way down the steps and my aunty matching her tone, too, screaming out her window.

  Once inside, Mum sighs and flops on the couch. Luckily for us, the boys are with Chester tonight, so we can just relax and be irresponsible kids.

  The house seems strange with the buzzing silence.

  I ask her what she thought of the evening and she goes on about the best bits.

  “Mary,” I say after a while. “I need to know something.”

  She motions as if washing her face in her hands, and then blinks away her tiredness. “Yup?”

  “How can I tell if you’re having fun or having fun?”

  “I’m not sure I know what you mean.” She lifts her legs and pauses, hovering over my lap. “May I?”

  I nod and she lays out her legs over my thighs. You’d think with eighteen years between us, and her being such an atypical mum that I’d know her inside out as a mother and a friend, but there’s a part of her I’m noticing I don’t know at all.

  “Your suicide attempt, I mean. I know you’ve explained it, but how? Why? Every night before bed it’s all I think about.”

  “I’m not sure you’d get it.” She realises it came out wrong, then adds, “As in, no one would.”

  “I think I would. I’m not the normalest out there.”

  She cackles shamelessly and I can’t help but wonder that although Mum always says she’s having fun, she rarely laughs, and maybe that’s the difference.

  “Do you ever ride a high for so long, for so high you wonder what it’s like to come crashing down?” She glances at me, but I’m not going to interrupt now.

  “You know what I did wasn’t your fault. It was lots of things. Guilt for being a spaced druggie when my daughter needed me; angry I just boxed away anything that went wrong, what I’ve done in my past. At that moment in the bedroom, how you were too worried to tell me. I can’t describe the low, dreadful feeling. It cut down all my efforts to move on, be a better person.

  “I didn’t feel there was a point, since there was absolutely no way to fix the last decade. And there is a lot of regret to carry around with what I’ve done. You’re the most special person in my life and I ignored you. But bottom line is I was a coward.

  “I’m getting help on how I deal. I dealt all wrong. Talk to me tomorrow or some other time, and there’s a chance I could be smoking and popping again. It’s this huge pendulum that I go through with my moods. The first week my medication didn’t do much, but a few weeks on I’m feeling it, and the urge to go back is weak. Still, I can feel myself about to slip sometimes and it scares me. Maybe realising the severity of this all is good? Right now it just feels confusing.” Mum shakes her head. “I’m not even saying it all right.”

  I have chills down my spine and my body reacts as though it’s near freezing out. That’s how deep the shakes go. Right to my bones and through.

  “Mary, I’m not forcing you. You don’t even have to tell me. You’ve got secrets so big you don’t know where to start and how you’ll ever end. I get that plenty. It’s fine.”

  “Thanks. For understanding. But it’s part of my therapy plan. If I’m uncomfortable with something it’s on my bucket list to face it at one point.”

  “And me?”

  “You’re right at the bottom. I’ll get to you right at the end when I have the courage.”

  “I’m that bad?” I say, winking, and nudging her legs with my knees.

  When she meets my eyes, her look is serious, as if I’d actually knocked and hurt her, not mucked around.

  She doesn’t even pretend to smile, just stares off. Then she says, “Goodnight, Kalli,” kisses my forehead and walks towards her bedroom.

  25

  “You can’t honestly tell me you haven’t seen Nate in a week and a half!” Scout cries as we hang in the lecture theatre until the lecturer starts.

  In case you don’t know, lecture theatres were built with one purpose: to allow noises to travel loud and far, and to reach every inch of airspace in the damn room. So in case you still aren’t getting a visual, knowing that all fifty or so students who have arrived and are waiting isn’t good for my situation right now.

  “The hell?”

  Scout attempts to clamp her palm over my mouth, but her words are long gone.

  “Sorry?” Scout shout-whispers once we’re several feet from the door outside.

  “I’m not embarrassed; I don’t give
a shit about that,” I say. “I do, however, care that Nate’s mates are in our lecture.”

  Yep, it dawns on her the massive naïveté of her actions, in that little O that forms from her mouth.

  “Well … well, it’s your fault.”

  I give her a look. She fidgets a bit before finding a bench at the wall and I stand my ground for a moment longer, then seat myself as a little act of defiance.

  “How’s that?” I ask, uttering very, very slowly. I give her another look.

  “Because.” She flips a bit of her hair that’s sticking out behind her ear. “You practically said you guys hadn’t spoken.”

  “I have a feeling you’re not listening to a word I say.”

  “Huh?” Her eyebrows stiffen along with her confused expression.

  “I said we hadn’t seen each other.” I drop my palms on my thighs and let out a breath. I begin, “We’ve talked on the phone, texted, Skyped. He’s been supportive about Mum, asked how my meeting with Geoffrey and his team went. In fact, he’s asked how cold I think it is, how the twins are, and we’ve chatted about my awesome concert performances, about his photography. Ya getting me?”

  Scout nods.

  “I don’t even believe I’m saying this, but we’re both avoiding saying I love you. We talked a lot about me and us on our date. I still feel all naked. I dunno, I’m embarrassed with him saying all those truthful things about me, some of which I didn’t know.

  “I’m the one who’s scared here, aren’t I? Nate’s felt this way for much longer. We can talk for ages, but I find myself planning in my head as we talk what I can bring up next to stay on the phone, and then we both say bye and linger with pointless chat until we hang up as cowards.”

  “Nate isn’t as confident and pig-headed as he can appear sometimes, but we both know that. I really think he’s assuming saying the big ILY is a step too far. If I had to pretend to be him, you ran away pretty damn fast last time he tried to make a move on the next level.”

  “Everything has changed!”

  “The only other thing I can think of is that you’re—”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I say. “I’m intimidating to guys. I know.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Trust you to feel sorry for him and not me.”

  “You don’t want me to feel sorry for you.”

  I lick my lips and tighten them but a giggle escapes anyway. “Touché.”

  “I’m cutting you a deal.”

  “I like deals.”

  “First, class. How many have we skipped recently?”

  “Doesn’t matter to me.” I grin. “I’m deferring. You know that.”

  Having marked my wish to withdraw from the course, I’ve been told it’ll be finalised within a day or so now and I’ll be free, only having wasted a lovely sum of money paying for my tuition thus far. I don’t have to be here but Scout is here all day, and I wanted to hang with her. Scout, being the nerdy girl she is, wanted me to walk her to the lecture, as if that would matter if I snuck in one more information session before leaving.

  “Whatevs. Okay.” Scout sighs. “You get it together with Nate and I’ll tell my parents and sister about being gay.”

  Staring at her eyes, she seems too into this “deal” considering she’s got more to be anxious about, more to lose, than I do. Yet here she is, eyes wide and face glowing. I feel happy vibes from her, as if she’s looking forward to it.

  “Scout.” I turn and drag her inwards by her upper arms. “What happened with you two?”

  “Dad and I?”

  “No, you and your girlfriend, Steph. You look post-orgasm every time she comes up in conversation the last few days.”

  “We’re just really happy, and I want to share that, finally.”

  Well, that makes sense. But still, it just clicked how glowing Scout looks, inside and out. I wonder if she’s in love, too, since she’s ready to blow open her biggest fear and face possible rejection by her parents.

  “I swear this isn’t me worming my way out of the deal, but can we—you and I, side by side—have dinner with your parents and test the waters? We can invite Steph the next time. You know,” I say. “In case—”

  “You’re worming your way out!”

  “No, I just have no idea how they’ll react and I want it to be perfect for Steph and you.”

  Scout stares at me. And stares.

  “This doesn’t sound like you, Kalli.”

  “No, Nate and I will get it together. Took me ages to see it, but it’s me who’s afraid of me, and this all seems too good, you know? Like someone is handing me all this wonderful karma all of a sudden and I can’t tell if everything’s turning up after what’s happened or if I need to approach carefully. I guess I’m just stalling.”

  She smiles like she completely understands then nudges me.

  “Fine, so we’ve got a dinner meeting to organise, then, and we’ll bring Steph and Nate. Kill that procrastination bug.”

  “You sure?”

  “You know you deserve happiness as much as the next person, Kalli.”

  • • •

  The dinner came together quickly with a phone call to Steph, Nate, and Scout’s parents. Scout’s at my house soon after, fiddling with the short ends of her hair at her neck. She’s wearing cotton tennis shoes, jeans and has a top hanging off her shoulder, all slashed. She runs circles around the bit of hair at the back then changes to swipe her fringe bit across her forehead differently.

  “I should change. Do you have any knee-length skirts? Any silk blouses?”

  I give her eyes. “Do I look like a middle-aged woman, Scout?”

  “Okay, right.”

  It takes twenty further minutes of constant pestering. Tonight will go fine, but of course she’s worried otherwise. We Googled restaurants and found this nice one a bit further away than we’d usually go, because it’s closer to the city and the pictures of their food look like they’re whipped up by Nigella Lawson herself. It calmed Scout a bit since it’d surely put her parents in a good mood.

  Earlier today we drank Long Island iced teas and she rolled around on the rug in my living room with Seth and Tristan. Now, being off my high, the throbbing in my head makes me feel I went too far saying I’d invite Nate to come along with me, too. It seemed like such a good idea at the time, but my nerves are eating me up.

  Plus: I’ve only spoken to Nate using electronic devices for eleven days and I’ll finally be forced to see him.

  Minus: it may be awkward.

  Plus: I’m so anxious to see him, I barely care about much else other than getting to be in a close radius to him.

  Basically, if tonight screws up and her parents flip, or that great “I love you” goes sour, Scout and I have organised it so it’ll all happen in an upmarket restaurant with us all together. Poshness always makes things more cordial.

  Fretting, I head into the other bathroom and straighten my hair. I never used looked my best for anyone other than myself. Tonight, I’d deliberately make myself look ugly, in my opinion, if Nate thought I looked beautiful like that. Am I that desperate to impress him?

  Yes. Yes, I am.

  Last night, I remembered the time at the party when I gave him head. I remembered thinking I needed to win the bet, needed to make him want me that bad. Needed the feeling of power? Desire?

  Then on the piano in the field, when he got me off. That was when I started becoming undone, all because I let myself be a puppet to him. Plead for him to stop the pain. Plead for him to make it hurt more. And finally, plead to release the build up making me stiffen my legs and curl my toes, and making my mind and body feel like they were going to explode. When he did, I was all his.

  We both had stripped down our desire and begged. And people who beg no longer have power. They’ve stripped that armour, they lose that strangeness, and become altogether cosy.

  I’m glad Nate slowly broke down my defences because I’m loving getting to know him like this. I’m anxious, yet relieved to know
I can and should tell him when the old me is trying to bottle issues up and handle them by herself.

  Later, when we arrive at the restaurant, Nate and Steph meet us outside. Scout’s mum, dad and sister are already seated, waiting, but at the sight of Nate I just want to run up to him and have him twirl me in the air like I’m a little girl, and Scout probably wants to do the same to Steph. If only we could stay outside forever.

  “Hey, Kall Bell,” Nate says.

  Like that.

  In three words I’m this girly girl who wants to impress him and make him happy. My actions are immediate, without thought, and I find it hard to hide my smile. I look down to my heels and stupidly giggle at my feet, but he gets his hand into my hair and pulls it back from my face so he can get a better look at me.

  I smile openly then and for the whole of forever we stare at each other. I can’t wipe it, can’t think of anything, swept up in this light-headed feeling. I slide my hands up his forearms, feeling his sinewy muscles tense at my touch. “Fuck, I missed you,” I say, when my fingers separate to grip around the inside of his elbow, around the top of his forearm, and my lips a whisper away from his ear.

  “Me too, baby.”

  Here, I’m wondering why neither of us had the balls to just see each other face-to-face.

  “Hey, Nate!” Scout barges in and kisses him hi.

  On the way to our seats, I nudge her and she almost topples over. We serious-up before getting to our table and sit down. Small talk starts up right away.

  Naturally, Scout’s parents are curious why we nineteen-year-olds want to have dinner with her parents on a Friday night. Scout tries to quell their curiosity by saying “to properly catch up and for a small announcement later” which is the exact point our small talk turns into death stares and her mum tries to hide whispers to her husband. Scout’s sister is fifteen and just proud to get an expensive meal for free since her McDonald’s wage doesn’t suffice.

  The restaurant is packed. Meals take forever, and at one point Scout’s dad blurts out, “Scout, your mum is having a right old heart attack here waiting to know. You know how she gets. Since we’re waiting, why not just tell us now?”