The Anatomy of Wings

by Karen Foxlee

  We ate our school lunches as soon as we found the first cave. I took out four Benson & Hedges cigarettes that I had stolen from a crumpled packet that Dad had left behind. We smoked one, passing it backward and forward to each other until Angela stood up and vomited into the yellow grass.

  The town stretched out in front of us. Our silver-topped suburb huddled in among green trees like it was frightened. The sun inched its way slowly up the sky. Only two hours of school had passed.

  We spent the day petrified, which means very scared or turned into stone. But I didn't feel like stone. My heart was beating fast. I tried another cigarette. I felt very alive. Angela cried. She said everyone would know it, everyone, her mother, her father, Mr. Barnes, the whole class. They would know she'd lied. They would know she'd skipped. I tried to calm her down but it was difficult.

  She begged me to go home with her and own up to what we'd done. She said it was the only thing we could do. I told her I probably wasn't going home ever again. I was going to live up in the caves.

  “Don't be stupid,” she said.

  “I'm telling the truth,” I said.

  “I wish you were the way you used to be,” said Angela.

  “Nothing can stay the same,” I said.

  “I'm telling on you,” she said.

  And she went down the hill away from me.

  THE NURSE PUT TWO BOBBY PINS IN NANNA'S HAIR, WHICH NANNA WOULD NEVER HAVE DONE. Her hair was pinned back on either side of her face like a little girl's hair. It looked a bit like the way Mum did mine each time we visited her. We looked at each other with our pinned-back hair and sent that thought to each other. I thought I almost saw a tiny smile on the good side of her mouth.

  Because she was eating proper food like mashed-up potato and mince and pumpkin and not just biscuits her face had filled out and she didn't look so tiny and crinkled. She looked younger. She had to do exercises with a ball in her bad hand, which was getting better, and she had to walk with a stick.

  “Lift your leg, lift your leg,” said the nurse when she made Nanna march along the hallway because sometimes she dragged it a little.

  Nanna let me walk with her stick when she wasn't using it.

  Mum did most of the talking. She talked more than she had talked in the whole year put together. She talked about what would happen when Nanna got out of the hospital. First she would stay in the spare room at Aunty Cheryl's house and then when she was better they'd draw up a roster and they'd look after her in the flat. We had a spare room in our house too, Beth's room, but Mum didn't offer that. That room stayed just the way it was with the door shut and when I walked past it I always tiptoed as though I might wake someone up.

  Mum only talked about what was going to happen, not what had happened. She talked so there were no gaps in the one-sided conversation. Sometimes Nanna looked at her and nodded and sometimes she just stared out the window.

  Mum told Nanna she'd gone to see Mr. Barnes about me. She said there had been a letter but she was going to nip the problem in the bud. Nanna took her eyes from the window and looked at me.

  “I'm going to get Jenny back to ballet soon,” said Mum. “And maybe, I was thinking, athletics, you'd like that, wouldn't you, Jenny? Danielle has some poems in the Talent Quest. You did a beautiful one, didn't you, look at me, Danielle, about a sad harlequin doll. Bring it next time and we'll show Nanna. We'll fix up everything that has fallen by the wayside, won't we, girls?”

  It was good to hear Mum talking again but it was strange also because her voice didn't sound exactly like it used to. It reminded me of a teaspoon tapped against a teacup; it had a hollow fragile ring to it. It could break very suddenly. Danielle and I were wary of her. We stayed a safe distance away from her arms.

  Dad came to the hospital once after work. He smelled very clean and he had his ducktail combed very neatly and his sea-green eyes made part of me melt inside. I couldn't let go of him at first after he asked how is my favorite chickadee? Danielle ignored him. Mum kissed him on the cheek. I saw him take in her curled hair and her good jeans and embroidered shirt with shoulder pads. Nanna made him come close to her and he looked almost frightened but she only wanted to kiss him.

  “Well then,” said Dad quite a few times.

  He squeezed Nanna's hand-strengthening ball. I leaned against him with my back like a lizard sunning itself on a rock because it felt very good.

  When it was time to go Nanna practiced holding my head in two hands.

  “You must keep trying,” she said.

  ANTHEA LONG WON:

  First Place Girls’ Junior Vocal Character Song in Costume: “My Favorite Things” from The Sound of Music

  First Place Girls’ Junior Vocal Set Piece: “Perhaps Love”

  Highly Commended Vocal Solo Open: “Do-Re-Mi” from The Sound of Music

  First Place Girls’ Junior Sacred Solo, Hymn, or Carol: “Gentle as Silence”

  Everything

  “YOUR NANNA AND I HAVE BEEN THINKING,” SAID MUM. “We know what to do about Beth.”

  It was the second-to-last day. Mum told me to go to the caravan park and get Beth and bring her to Nanna's flat. She said Mrs. Bell knew we were coming. She had phoned and left a message at the Blue Tongue Lounge Bar. I didn't want to go. Nanna told me to stop frowning or the wind would change. I went to Angela's first. She had a flat tire so I had to double her on my bike. She said she wasn't allowed in the caravan park but she came anyway.

  When we turned into Campbell Road I had to stop doubling because the road was on a hill. Up ahead I saw Kylie pushing her bike and I looked at Angela and held a finger to my lips even though Kylie was nearly half the street away. I didn't want her to turn around and see us. Kylie has special powers, which are known as extrasensory perception or ESP, just like Uri Geller's, and she turned around straightaway and saw us.

  She stopped pushing her bike and waited for us to catch up.

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

  “To the caravan park,” I said.

  “Mum says I'm not allowed to go there,” said Kylie.

  We got to the top of the hill, and the caravan park with its tall fence came into view.

  Mrs. Bell's boyfriend, Kevin, came to the screen door.

  “Hello, hello,” he said. “Who've we got here?”

  “Is Beth in there?” I asked. He already knew who we were. “She's got to come to our nanna's.”

  Kevin pretended to look around behind him at the interior of the caravan. He was being smart and I didn't like him. His glassy blue eyes glittered. Beneath his smile there was the smooth dry skin of a snake.

  He opened the screen door and came down one of the steps with the smile still on his face. I looked between his legs to see if Beth's bag and flip-flops were lying on the floor.

  “I haven't noticed her,” he said. “But if you think I'm telling a fib you can come inside and check for yourself.”

  “No,” I said. “Is Mrs. Bell here? She's expecting me.”

  “Expecting you, hey?” said Kevin. “Lar-dee-dar.”

  “Come on,” said Kylie. “She's not here.”

  “She might be,” said Kevin.

  We stood very still. He ran his fingers through the hair on his chest. He sat down on the bottom step in front of us. He lit up a smoke.

  “Mrs. Bell might be inside having a lie-down,” he said. “Why don't you go inside and have a look?”

  He shifted himself slightly on the bottom step, opening up a narrow passage for me to squeeze past.

  “Or you,” he said to Angela.

  Angela was squinting her eyes against the sun. We both stood where we were.

  “Come on,” said Kylie under her breath.

  “Well do you know where Beth might be or not?” I asked.

  I started chewing on a fingernail. Kevin looked me up and down. He sighed and shook his head.

  “You're a funny little thing, aren't you?” he said. “I'll tell you what. You come inside with me for a minute an
d I'll show you a surprise, then I'll tell you where she is.”

  I took a step closer to him. He opened up his mouth too crammed with teeth and smiled.

  “That's right,” he said. “I won't bite.”

  I took another step toward him but then heard the sound of feet crunching on the gravel. We turned and saw Mrs. Bell coming toward us. She had her head down and she was carrying two shopping bags.

  “Shit,” said Kevin.

  Mrs. Bell walked straight past us and dropped the bags in front of Kevin's feet.

  “This is the last week I feed you,” she said. “One more week and you don't get a job and you're out on your arse.”

  Kevin laughed and picked up the bags and went inside.

  “And you can tell your mother to keep her nose out of our business all right,” she said when she turned to me. “Her slutty daughter hasn't been here for a week. She'll be at that Wright girl's place. You got that?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Tell her it's not my fault her daughter spreads her legs for anyone. Are you listening?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Shit,” said Mrs. Bell. “Get out of here.”

  After that Kylie said she had to go home or her mother would be very angry. Angela said she couldn't come with me to Michelle Wright's flat because she had lied once already, a big lie about the caravan park, and she knew her mother was going to find out. “How can she find out?” I said.

  “She can just tell,” said Angela. “The lies just show up in my face.”

  I tried to look for the lie in her face. I couldn't see anything except her shame at what had been said. Maybe that was what she thought her mother would see.

  “Na-nu,” she said at the end of Campbell Road.

  “Na-nu, na-nu,” I said in return.

  Michelle Wright lived in a long row of brick flats. There was a sign on the front of the letterboxes that said PALM COURT and beside them stood one very tall palm tree. Michelle's boyfriend was lying on the sofa through the screen door of their flat. His legs spilled over the edge. His head was turned slightly toward the light of the television. When I knocked he didn't move. He called out to Michelle. Beth's bag and flip-flops were on the floor so she couldn't lie to me.

  I stood among the work boots waiting while Michelle told Beth I was there. When Beth came to the door she was angry. She didn't open up the screen door but talked through it.

  “What do you want?” she asked.

  She had her hair in braids. She had a cigarette in her hand. She blew smoke through the mesh at me.

  “You have to come to Nanna's flat because she wants to talk to you. Mum said it's nothing bad.”

  “Why can't you people leave me alone?” she said.

  “I don't know,” I said, and I felt very stupid.

  She turned and put on her flip-flops and picked up her bag.

  When we rode along the streets toward Nanna's flat Beth didn't talk to me. She rode ahead. I told her about haikus we had written at school and how Spartans lived in barracks and they were usually only men and what kind of weapons they used. She turned to me and looked so angry and so sad that I stopped talking and I put my head down and I pretended to check if my foot brakes were working.

  Nanna opened the sliding glass door. She'd got dressed up like it was a special occasion. She wore a silk shirt and a good skirt, not her usual tracksuit. Beth put her hand across her stomach as though she had just had a sinking feeling.

  Inside Mum was waiting on the sofa with her hands in her lap. The living room felt very small. There was not enough oxygen for us.

  “Sit down then,” said Nanna, patting the space on the sofa beside her.

  She smiled. A smile on Nanna's face was very unusual. She opened her mouth up over her white false teeth. A little bit of the too-pink plastic gum showed. Her eyes wrinkled shut. She looked like she had a bad pain.

  Beth tried to look unconcerned but let out a sob.

  I could tell she hadn't been expecting it. It was loud. She covered her mouth but it didn't stop another one escaping.

  “Oh God,” said Mum.

  Nanna held out her arms.

  Beth crossed her arms and shook her head.

  She started crying. It was out of the blue.

  “Come,” said Nanna. “Do not cry alone.”

  When her head rested against Nanna's breast she cried onto her white silk shirt. Her arms hung limply at her side. Her hair fell across her face. Nanna made me get a handkerchief from her dressing table drawer. She made impatient hand motions at me to be of some use. She tried to lift up Beth's face to wipe it but gave up because Beth was crying too much. Tears fell down Nanna's face and Beth's face and Mum's face. The Virgin Marys watched from the cabinets with their bored expressions. The ceramic dogs with their black eyes and pink noses smiled.

  Gradually the big swell of tears passed. Nanna pushed back Beth's hair from her face. She wasn't trying to look unconcerned anymore. She stayed with her head resting against Nanna's breast. Mum reached out and touched her arm. It was a hopeful kind of touch. A pleading kind of touch. But Beth didn't return the touch. I wanted her to return it. Instead it made them both cry a little more.

  “There you go,” said Nanna. “It feels better to cry, doesn't it?”

  Beth sat up and steeled herself for it. Nanna gave her the hankie and she wiped her eyes. Here would come all the unsaid things. An inventory of all the disappointments she had caused. A catalog of all her shameful acts. I hung my head waiting for it too.

  Nanna began by pulling a cutout piece of newspaper from beneath a hand-painted bone china poodle on the coffee table.

  “Many things have been going very wrong for a while now,” said Nanna.

  “We want to help you, darling,” Mum interrupted. “We only want to help you.”

  “And we want,” said Nanna after the interruption, “no matter what has happened, to make everything right.”

  “Oh yes,” said Mum. “We need to start all over again. A fresh start.”

  “Where are the checks, Jean?” asked Nanna.

  Mum took her purse off the coffee table. Nanna handed over the piece of newspaper. It was an advertisement for the School of Secretarial Studies in Townsville. Summer school commencing in November. GET A HEAD START ON TYPING, DICTATION, SHORTHAND, STENOGRAPHY. One hundred percent graduate employment guaranteed. Enrollment fee: one hundred and seventy-five dollars plus textbook expenses. Accommodation available for out-of-town students.

  Mum passed over two checks. One was for one hundred and seventy-five dollars written in her own delicate hand. The other was made out by Nanna for the amount of two hundred dollars.

  “For your expenses,” said Mum. “What do you think?”

  “Secretarial school?” said Beth.

  “You will go out of this town for a while,” said Nanna. “It will be good for you. You will stay with Aunty Margaret by the sea. You will come back a new girl.”

  “Secretarial school?” Beth said again, but quietly.

  She started to laugh and then stopped.

  “I don't know what to say,” she said.

  “Just say you'll go,” said Mum.

  Beth said she'd come home. Everyone was to begin again. Everything was to be forgotten.

  “You must not say anything about anything,” Mum said to me, but I didn't know what she meant.

  “Exactly that,” she said. “Don't ask so many questions. You've always got a hundred questions. We want to keep the peace, that's all.”

  “You shouldn't say this to her,” said Nanna. “Her questions are what make her. Where would our Jennifer be without her questions?”

  “Curiosity killed some cats,” said Mum, and then I had to feel very sad about all the cats that had been killed by falling into their own reflections in wells or by getting trapped in small holes or inside cupboards or by merely crossing the highway to explore among the anthills.

  Beth was going to pick up some stuff from Michelle's flat.
Then she'd come home in the morning. Mum agreed to anything. She agreed that Danielle could get her hair permed. Danielle couldn't believe her luck. She phoned to make her appointment and then jumped up and down on the spot. Her Milwaukee back brace rattled. That night she washed her hair and stood in front of the mirror for an hour brushing it goodbye.

  Mum asked her if she was sure that was what she wanted. Danielle turned to her holding a long strand between her fingers.

  “Of course it's what I want,” she said. “It's the only thing I've ever wanted.”

  “You know your father loves your hair,” said Mum, “and your Nanna. And I love your hair just the way it is. You don't know how lucky you are to have all that beautiful hair.”

  “I don't care,” said Danielle.

  Danielle counted out the money that she had saved by being paid to wear her Milwaukee back brace. She flicked through the pages of her perm scrapbook and found her exact perm and cut out the page carefully with a pair of scissors.

  The girl in the photograph was leaning against a fence in a country field on an overcast day. She was dressed in a white handkerchief-hemmed skirt and cheesecloth peasant shirt. She had her head tilted slightly backward and her eyes closed as though she had just taken a deep breath of country air. Her luxuriant brown curls cascaded down her back. Danielle folded the picture and put it in her schoolbag for the morning.

  “What are you looking at?” she said to me.

  “What if it doesn't turn out the same way?”

  “It will,” she said.

  “What if it looks stupid and it is stuck that way?”

  “It won't.”

  “Please don't do it,” I said.

  “Why?” she said, interested. She was always looking for new ways to torture me.

  “It will change everything.”

  “Everything is already changed,” she said.

  That night it was very hot. I turned this way and that in my bed. Mum took down the curtains in Beth's room and washed them. The washing machine groaned in the dark. Danielle told me to stop moving. We heard Mum put clean sheets on Beth's bed and smooth out the ballerina bedspread. She couldn't sit still.