My Dearest Gordon,
I hope you are feeling better. The lady who answers the phones at Channel Five said you had a bout of bad flu and couldn't come to the phone. Then she just hung up which I thought was a bit rude but some people are just like that aren't they? No manners. Anyway, do you remember in my last letter I said I might be getting promoted at work? You didn't send me a reply but I guess you're busy. Well, I got the job! That's what I was ringing to tell you, I had hoped you might be able to join me in a celebratory glass of champagne. Another time maybe. So, now I'm in charge of the whole place. And so I should be after 12 years, I'm the longest serving employee by about ten years. These younger ones just don't have the staying power that people like us do. You're a stayer as well aren't you Gordon? You've played Dr Ramswell for ten years now and I have every episode on videotape. I've probably told you that before but it's true, in fact I recently turned the second bedroom of my house into my Dr Ramswell room, that’s where I keep all the videos and my other bits and pieces. I've got photos of you all over the door. I'd love to show it to you one day. Anyway, that's all for now. Remember, you can write back to me anytime at the Post Office box number above.
All my love forever, A.
"Darla dahlink, ze problem is zat your parents vanted you to be a boy, and you knew zat even back in ze vomb so, as a foetus already you felt guilty and anxious about zeir disappointment at discovering you vere a girl. Of course, it is only part of ze equation but it contributes to ze insecurity you av about your sexuality."
Insecurities about my sexuality? Or 'sex-you-ah-la-tee" as Tobsha put it.
Here was me thinking that having bedded enough men to fill the Sydney Cricket Ground proved that the one thing I didn't have to worry about was having sexual hang-ups. Christ, according to Tobsha, my list of issues was getting longer than the NSW phone book. Admittedly, she was right about the fact that my parents had desperately hoped for a boy while my mother was pregnant with me. To the point where everything I wore for the first year of my life was blue. Years later, they had admitted it like some guilty secret. Still, that didn't mean I had sexual insecurities and I wasn't about to accept that from the Latvian Midget without a fight.
“Tobsha, that's rubbish. I do not have any hang ups about my sexuality. Ok, so I've had quite a few one night stands in my time but so what? So have a lot of people. And anyway, if I had saved myself for marriage I’d probably end up a 65-year-old virgin.”
Only halfway through my second session but already we were onto the big stuff. So much for the gentle, introductory sessions.
Tobsha worked from her home in plush McMahon’s Point that overlooked Sydney Harbour Bridge. Her office was a renovated spare bedroom. There was a big wooden desk pushed up against one wall with a vase of yellow flowers on the windowsill behind it. On the opposite side of the room was a bed in case any of her clients felt the need to lie down and next to that was an unused fireplace with a basket of dried flowers sitting in the grate. We were sat in the middle of the room, opposite each other in big, comfy armchairs. Between us, on a small round table, was a large jug of water with lemon slices in it, and two glasses.
Tobsha had filled both glasses up with water when we sat down but hadn’t touched hers once in three quarters of an hour. My glass was permanently cupped in my hands and I was on to my fifth refill. So far she'd suggested I had penis envy and sexual hang ups; that I felt guilty about being a girl, and used food as a weapon against myself in the same way a self-harmer uses razor blades. I couldn't wait till she really got warmed up.
“No, of course you should explore your sexuality!” She said. “It iz natural and healthy but your motivation, Darla, you must look at your motivation! Ze crucial question iz vhy are you sleeping around?”
Basically, Tobsha felt that my past promiscuity revealed that at a subconscious level I was desperately seeking sexual approval from men. She felt that my self-esteem was at such a low ebb that I kept sleeping with different men to prove to myself that I was attractive. The problem with this, she said, was that I would never be happy till I looked within myself for approval and stopped trying to get it from other people.
I glanced at my watch. Surely it was time to go home.
"Dahlink, I am going to hypnotise you now and take you back to ze womb, it iz very obvious to me zat many of your issues started here. It iz because of zis zat you av alvays been such a tomboy vis no interest in girly sings like clothes and make up...(what? I work for a women’s mag for Godssake!).... subconsciously, you vere trying to be a boy. But it iz ok because I vill take you back to the womb and I vill speak to the foetal Darla and I vill make her understand zat her parents love her just as much as zey would av if she vas a boy. It vill only be ze very tip of the iceberg of your many issues but I sink you vill feel much better afterwards. And maybe you will use lipstick more, yes?"
Lipstick? I'm sitting through this character annihilation so that I might end up using more lipstick?
“Now, sit back in the chair and keep your eyes on my watch”. Leaning towards me, Tobsha pulled one of those old-fashioned gold watches on a long chain out of her jacket pocket and started swaying it backwards and forwards in front of me. It was like a scene straight out of a very bad movie and I felt a strong urge to laugh out loud. Thankfully I managed not to though, I just kept my eyes on the swinging watch and listened to Tobsha mumbling something about how I was getting sleepier and how my eyes were getting heavier. She said that I wouldn"t be able to open my eyes even I tried and I didn't want to embarrass her by proving that I could so I just kept them shut. From somewhere outside I could hear a baby crying, balling its eyes out in fact, obviously very upset about something but its mother must"ve come along because it stopped after a while. Then I could hear the sea, which was weird because the sea was miles away. The next thing I knew Tobsha was telling me that my eyes were getting lighter again and that when she finished counting to ten, I'd open them. Again, to humour her, I did just that.
"Ok, zat's it for today Dahlink. You did very vell! You vere strong and made a good start. Ve vill av you sorted out in no time. Ok, so I see you next week same time, yes?"
Thanking her, I agreed and got out of there as fast as I could. Suddenly I felt utterly drained and all I wanted to do was go home and put my feet up with a nice cup of sweet tea.
Or maybe a bourbon and coke and a menthol ciggie. Not that I smoke you understand.
Chapter 10: Bloody diets
“It’s easy Darla,” Mum continued. “You just have to eat the foods that are right for your body based on your blood group. It’s all very scientific. Apparently we’ve all got genetic codes based on our neanderthal ancestors. Some people are gatherers which means they need to eat mostly plant food and grains while other people are hunters which means they need to eat mostly meat and veges and stay away from bread. You’re a hunter so you have to eat fish, chicken, red meat plus lots of vegetables.”
It all made perfect sense according to Mum. She now believed that the reason I could never lose weight in the past was because I was fighting my DNA by not eating enough meat. She’d just finished telling me that the ten years I spent as a vegetarian was the worst thing I could possibly do, the cause of all my problems. All those years I’d spent making lentil lasagne and chickpea casseroles would’ve been far better spent chowing down on bloody steaks and bacon sarnies.
Well, whatever, I was willing to give it a try.
“So, I should be eating loads of meat?”
“Yes Darling! Because your body is programmed to respond to animal protein just like your cavemen ancestors. It’s been proven you know. Apparently, meat protein will make you feel full while breads and starches won’t. Look, just give it a try, it can’t hurt can it? After all it’s working for your Aunty Viv, she’s lost 15 kilos now. She looks amazing! Although, apparently she’s on some diet pill as well that she got from her doctor. I don’t know what it is exactly but it’s made her a new woman, she’s running round at a million
miles an hour! Just between you and me, she even says her sex drive is back. I mean she’s 67 for goodness sake, the fact that she even remembers what sex is is a miracle. Especially when you look at Uncle Bryan, hardly the type to incite lust is he?”
My Uncle Bryan was knocking on 70, a retired bus driver. He’d spent 34 years on the 426 route, going back and forth between Circular Quay and Newtown. Mum thought he was one of the most boring men on the planet but I thought he was brilliant. He had a wit that was drier than a sand dune and a twinkle in his eye. When I was little he’d always buy me lolly mixes or slip me a couple of dollars when no one was looking and say, ‘go on Love, buy yourself a wee treat’. Now that he and Aunty Viv had moved to the Gold Coast, just up the road from Mum and Joseph, he spent his days playing lawn bowls and building coffee tables. In the last couple of years, he’d started selling the tables in a local furniture shop. He’d had to, there was no room left in their house for any more of them and Aunty Viv had kept complaining that, ‘no one on earth drinks that much damned coffee Bryan, can’t you learn to make something else?’ But now that the tables were selling for $700 each and the shop was moving at least one a week, she wasn’t complaining anymore. The extra money paid for her weekly manicure and pedicure with plenty left over for the odd new dress or pair of shoes.
“...but the less I know about my sister’s sex life, the better,” I heard Mum say as I tuned back in.
“Well, I for one am glad Viv’s getting a bit of it Mum, it gives me hope that I might have sex again sometime in the next forty years.”
“Look, you’ll meet Mr Right one day Darl, I know it, but it wouldn’t hurt things if you dropped a couple of kilos would it? I mean, lets not be politically correct about it shall we, the truth is to catch a man you’ve got to be attractive and, face facts Honey, slim girls are more attractive. I’m your mother, if I can’t tell you this, who can?”
God, where are the razor blades when you need them.
“Yes Mum, I know. I’ll try this blood group thing. You never know, maybe it’ll work this time.”
“There’s a good girl! I’ll put the book about it in the mail. In the meantime, get yourself to the butcher’s and throw out all your bread and high carb food in your kitchen, ok?”
“Yes Mum.”
“Ok, now how’s everything else, any news? Interviewing anyone interesting soon?”
“Well, I’m meeting up for coffee with this guy off a daytime soap in the next couple of days, do you ever watch Love on the Wards?”
“I’ve caught it a couple of times I think but honestly Darl, I don’t get time to watch daytime TV, not when there are abandoned animals to find new homes for. I do like Harry’s Practise though. Actually, we’ve just taken in this gorgeous Burmese cat, aww you should see her! So beautiful. Poor wee thing had been dumped at the tip. It’s scandalous, I’d like just five minutes alone with some of these people, I really would,” she huffed.
I smiled at the thought of my Mum, all high heels and designer scarves, venting her wrath on the some animal-abandoning thug.
“So how many pets are you looking after at the moment then?”
“Well, there’s three cats, two dogs and a goat but I think we’ve found a home for one of the cats and the goat.”
“God, it’s lucky you’ve got a big back yard Mum!”
“Yes, but I love it Darl, you know that.
“I know you do Mum and you’re doing a great job.”
“Thank you Angel, anyway, I’d best run, I just wanted to see how you were doing. Now, let me know when you get the book, I want to know how you go with it. I’ve got a good feeling about this diet Darl! I know you can do it.”
“Yep, will do Mum, thanks, talk to you again later.” It suddenly struck me as ironic that on the one hand Mum was on a one-woman mission to save animals everywhere yet on the other hand she was encouraging me to eat as many of them as I could. The madness of dieting.
“Ok, love you Darling!”
And she hung up, no doubt hurrying off to de-flea one of the residents.
Chapter 11: Gordo the Gardener
I could hear my own heart pulsing loudly in my ears, my hands were so clammy that every few minutes I had to soak up the sweat with a paper napkin from one of silver boxes sitting at the counter. I didn’t dare touch the latte going cold in front of me for fear the caffeine would make my heart race even more and Gordon would arrive to the sight of me getting whisked off in an ambulance.
“Scuse me!” I called to a blue-eyed waiter with shoulders wider than the goalposts on a rugby field who was clearing plates of half eaten cake and dirty glasses with stained serviettes wrapped round them from the next table. “Could I get a soy decaf latte please? And some water?”
“Sure Love,” he chirped, his Lycra t-shirt stretched to breaking point across his concrete pecs, “coming right up!”
“Cheers,” I croaked and glanced again at my watch for the fortieth time. 9.45am. I'd been sitting there for 15 minutes with another 15 to go. Terrified of being late, I'd left home far too early. In my pocket was a chunk of crystal and a rabbit's foot in a silver casing, Anita had solemnly presented them both to me over breakfast that morning, claiming that they had saved her life many times and she was lending them to me until the Dr Ramswell story was sitting safely in magazine stands across the country. As I'd walked out the front door, she'd given me a big hug and said she was going to go back in and light a candle for me, one of the extra special, ultra expensive, "good luck" candles that she bought by mail order from Shanghai. Surely I couldn't fail with that kind of positive energy in my corner.
God, what was I going to do for 15 minutes? I’d already read the copy of yesterday’s Herald that was sitting on the table when I arrived three times. This was agony. By the time Gordon turned up I'd be a dribbling, blithering pile of jelly, slowly falling in globs from the chair to the floor. Christ, what was wrong with me? I had to pull myself together, I'd never been like this before. Even meeting people like Robbie Williams and Kylie Minogue hadn’t really phased me. Although Robbie had made me tremble a bit I had to admit. Maybe Tobsha was right, I was totally fucked up. Jeeze, then imagine what she'd think if she knew about the little Gordon shrine I had sitting in my bedroom, complete with incense and photos? I really was pathetic. Anita was right; he's just some soap actor, what's the big deal? Ohgodohgodohgod! There he is! Over by the door, scanning the room. He's smiling. At me! He's coming over. I think I'm going to die. The next ten seconds felt like 20 years as he walked over, winding his way through the other tables and chairs.
“Hiii… Darla?” He said with a question in his voice. I nodded, momentarily speechless. “I'm Gordon,” he said.
The walking divinity put out his hand and I stood up to shake it. His grip was firm and confident. He looked me straight in the eye and his smile radiated enough wattage to power a fleet of limousines.
“Hi,” I squeaked, thanking the heavens that the power of speech had returned. “Um, it'sgreattomeetyoupleasesitdowncanIgetyouacoffee?”
Doh! Stupid, stupid! Slow down and speak clearly, do you want him to think you're a complete moron?
“Thanks, yeah, a flat white would be great.”
I asked Walking Shoulders to add a flat white to the order then sat back down opposite Man of My Dreams. He had hung his denim jacket on the back of his chair and was sitting back, one leg slung casually over the other. He launched another killer smile missile at me as I sat down. Va Boom! Right on target.
“Y'know, you look familiar, have we met before?”
I guess there was no point in hiding it.
“Yeah, we have actually. We went to high school together. You probably don’t remember but we were in the same PE class and we also both starred in the school play, Guys & Dolls. If I recall correctly, you were Dice Guy number six and I was Salvation Army lady number three. Not to mention both of us being crucial members of the crowd scenes.”
Gordon's eyebrows had flown up into the reaches o
f his floppy blonde fringe and he sat forward to get a closer look at me.
“Oh my Lord! Darla! It's Darla Manners. Jeeze, I didn't make the connection before! Bloody hell, you've changed a lot Darla, you look fabulous! What a riot!” He threw his beautiful head back and laughed. “Well, I guess there's no point in me trying to hide anything from you then is there, you know all about my murky past as the randiest little bugger to ever come out of Rosewarne High. Lord, how embarrassing!”
He laughed again but to his credit, he also look a little embarrassed, evidenced by a pink flush rising up his chiselled cheekbones.
“Yes, well we didn't call you The Gardener for nothing Gordon, what with all that deflowering you did, but don't worry, your secret's safe with me, quite frankly I'd rather erase the Rosewarne years from my memory as well.”
God, how can anyone be that good-looking? I thought, taking a moment to lap up his beauty. He was like one of those Greek statues come to life. I wanted to lick him all over.
“The Gardener? Jeeze, that's hilarious, I never knew that. God, if you manage to write this article without mentioning details like that from my notorious youth, I'll be ever in your debt.”
Va Boom! He hit me with another smile warhead straight between the eyes. Houston, we are under attack, please send reinforcements.
“So, do you still see anyone from back then?” He asked.
“Just a couple of close friends. I seem to have let everyone else drift away.”
“Yeah, me too, sad isn’t it? But I remember you always hung out with the clever chicks, you were one of the smart posse.”
“Yeah, me, Kate, Roz and Heather, the brainy bunch. Although I seem to remember that by half way through the final year, they’d all put their books down for long enough to have a close encounter with The Gardener,” I smirked at him.
This time he really was embarrassed. The pink flush deepened to scarlet and he clamped his palm over his eyes.
The Year I Went Pear-shaped: A fat woman's tale of love and insanity Page 6
