Shit, now I was crying. I looked at Mum. Unless I was imagining it I could’ve sworn I saw something stir behind her eyes, which made me hope that maybe she was getting it.
“Ok Darling, as long as you know that you’re the most precious thing in the world to me.”
“I do know that and I feel the same about you.”
Joseph nodded again and looked like he was about to choke.
Before any more vows of eternal love could be uttered, Nurse Cheryl once again burst through the doors in her sensible shoes, all bustling efficiency on sturdy legs.
“Sorry my dears, I’m going to have to break this up for now. Darla needs to rest before I let the police in, I can’t hold them back any longer.”
“No problem Cheryl,” I said. “Mum, I’ll see you and Joseph later. I love you ok?”
“Love you too, get better soon,” and she kissed my cheek. Joseph came up behind her and did the same. Then he wordlessly squeezed my hand. Bloody hell, what a difference a near death experience can make! Maybe the old codger’s gone soft in his old age. I smiled up at him. He wasnt’t so bad.
“Joseph, wait a minute.”
He stopped and waited to see what I had to say.
“Jo, I know I wasn’t the easiest kid in the world. Thanks for putting up with me.”
“What are you talking about? You’re the best kid in the world Darla.”
Oh Lord, that was it. The tears came thick and fast.
“I can’t talk now Jo, I’ll see ya later. Thanks for coming in.”
He squeezed my hand again and they left but not before thanking Nurse Cheryl about a thousand times for looking after me and asking if I needed them to bring anything in next time. I said I wanted all the latest glossy mags and a box of Krispy Kreme donuts.
When they were gone Cheryl broke the news that I’d be well enough to go home in a couple of days. Her words sunk into my gut like lead pellets.
“What?” I protested. “But, but I’m not ready. I’m still in pain, I’ve been shot you know...”
She put on her Play School face and smiled at me. I knew there was no arguing but the thought of going home, back to reality and my old life, plunged me into a black pit of depression. I didn’t want to just go back to my boring old life on Lush! Magazine listening to Kat bleat on about how many fat grams had been in the chicken tikka masala she’d had for dinner and writing bollocks about how to find that elusive bugger, Mr Right. Like, as if I bloody well knew where the bastard was hiding. And if I did know, I’d be keeping it to myself, not broadcasting it to every single female in Australia.
Once I was back at home there’d be no more flowers, no more angelic Nurse Cheryl anticipating my every need, no more being treated like a princess. And what about Gordon? Would he still be around? My heart sunk. Oh god, I was still mad about him. Admit it you fool! You’re still crazy about him! Yes, ok, but not crazy like the butcher lady’s craziness. But wasn’t I in the same league as her? Well, maybe not the same league but definitely the same planet, I thought, remembering the stupid shrine. All those years my obsession with Gordon hadn’t been about him, how could it have been? I hadn’t even known him. No, it had been about me. My fantasies, my insecurities, my emptiness. Well, not any bloody more!
I was going to fill those empty holes and show my insecurities the door. I wasn’t obsessed with Gordon the Gardener anymore, I was in love with the real Gordon.
Oh my God, I am, I really am in love with Gordon.
The realisation hit me like a jolt. Suddenly everything was very clear and my heart was pounding.
“Cheryl, I’m ready to go home as soon as possible. I’ve got stuff to do.” I just prayed I wasn’t too late.
Chapter 50: Orifice Goss
“So how are you Honey?”
“I’m doing fine Mands, all things considering. How are things back at the orifice?”
As soon as the police had finished questioning me and were half way out the door, Mandy and Naomi had burst in to see how I was doing on behalf of all the girls back at Lush!. In true mag hag style they’d come weighed down with a huge basket of beauty products courtesy of Roxy, a bunch of flowers so big it had its own ozone layer, and a triple-tiered box of Belgian chocolates. God I loved those girls!
“Same old, Doll. Arabella is still stomping round frightening the life out of the juniors and demanding even more outlandish story ideas -- just yesterday she wanted to know what the hell was so hard about finding a midget dominatrix with a heroin addiction willing to talk freely about the sexual fetishes of her most famous customers...”
I murmured sympathetically as Mands continued.
“...and Kat called in sick because she had a pimple while Rox is still beating off every red-blooded male within a 10 km radius. Business as usual.”
“Is Arabella mad that I missed my extreme makeover appointment?”
“Well, I think being held hostage, tortured by a psycho butcher and shot in the shoulder just managed to be enough of an excuse. If you hadn’t been shot it might have been a different story though, I think the bullet swung it. Anyway, she just sent the poor little work experience girl in your place.”
“Get out!”
“I know, she was a dumpy wee thing who wouldn’t say boo to a ghost, older than the usual workie though, about 25 I think. Just between us, she was in dire need of a makeover, a total plain Jane. I don’t even think she’d ever seen a mascara wand before in her life. Anyway, the poor girl was only in for a week during a uni break and thought all she was in for was a bit of filing, suddenly Arabella’s got her by the shoulders, she’s swinging her round looking at her arse, her waist and tits and shouting out a list of surgical procedures to Rox who had to quickly write them down and give them to the surgeon.”
I shook my head in disbelief and looked at Naomi.
“Nomes, didn’t you try and stop her? That’s madness even by Arabella standards.”
“I did!” Naomi protested. “If I hadn’t intervened the girl would’ve ended up with half her ribs removed and a new ‘designer’ vagina. I convinced Arabella to tone it down a bit so all she ended up getting was a full laser hair removal, extensive liposuction, botox, collagen, all her freckles lasered off and a breast lift. The girl had tits they were just a bit too far south. Quite frankly Darl, we did the chick a favour, she’s gonna look a helluva lot better. Anyway, she was up for it! It’s not like we forced her, well, not quite.”
“Yeah, I bet. I know all about how Arabella gives people ‘choices’. Well, I guess I don’t really care as long as I’m off the hook. Thinking you’re going to die gives you a very different perspective on stuff like that, let me tell you.”
The girls nodded and murmured comfortingly.
“Anyway Mands,” I asked. “What’s the lowdown with you and Dirty Derek? You two on or off?”
“Oh God, we are so totally off! Seriously, he is histoire Darling. After I dumped his filthy, cheating arse he went running like a baby to Donald and now he’s living with that screaming queen!”
“Bloody hell, are you ok about that?”
“I’m completely fine Darl, I’m seeing someone else, this fantastic guy that I met at that Sony Music bash a few weeks ago. He’s in a band. I’d never heard of the band but apparently they’re very big and making squillions of dollars. Rumour is that they’ll be supporting Robbie Williams on his next tour here. He’s completely divine and had my car filled with red roses after our first date.”
“Crikey!”
“Yeah, it was lovely. A bit of a nuisance ‘cause it made me three hours late for work getting them all out but nice all the same...but I haven’t told you the best bit...”
“What?”
“...I was walking up Oxford Street the other day and looked in the windows of that hot new gay bar, you know the one that has all those heart-breakingly gorgeous and oh-so gay men pouring out it 24 hours a day? Well, Derek was in there! He was wearing leather trousers with the arse cut out of them and a dog collar.
”
“That’s the best bit?”
“No! The best bit is that he was totally pashing up with this other gorgeous young gay studmuffin...and it wasn’t Donald! Which just goes to show that Derek is a rotten cheater through and through, it doesn’t matter whether it’s male or female, he can’t keep his trousers on. I am so better off without him. I even feel a bit sorry for Donald.”
Mands had a great way of turning what many people would see as a humiliating situation into a personal triumph.
“Well, that’s brilliant Mands. At least it’s all finished now and you can concentrate on having all your sexual needs met by this rockstar.”
“Oh Honey, talk to me! This guy is fabulous in bed and he can’t keep his hands off me. We’re still in that fantastic stage of our relationship where all we want to do is fuck like maniacs. He’s done things to me that I never thought physically possible. God, just thinking about it makes me horny. I am in heaven. Anyway, enough about my fabulous and enviable sex life, what about you? You haven’t told us what it’s like to be shot.”
“God, I don’t know where to start. The whole thing was hideous. Terrifying, painful and humiliating. I honestly thought that crazy bitch was going to kill me.”
Mands and Nomes gulped in unison, their eyes wide open.
“And getting a bullet fucking hurts like hell, let me tell you. It’s not at all like they pretend in the movies. It’s what I imagine it would feel like if someone shoved a white hot poker straight through your shoulder. I’ve never felt anything like it in my life and pray that I won’t again.”
“Jesus.” They said, hanging on my every word.
“But to be honest the worst bit wasn’t the pain, the worst bit was the heart-stoppingly terrifying realisation that I could be living the last minutes of my life. The sheer terror of that is indescribable. You suddenly realise how much time and energy you’ve wasted on stupid, useless things. You know that old cliche about how life is too short? Well the truth of those words hit me like a cannonball. I could taste those words. And as I sat there, bleeding and crying, unable to move, completely at the mercy of that psychopath, I wanted to scream with frustration at the dumb things I’ve obsessed about. I guess that kind of experience just gives you a very different perspective and in a funny way I’m even kind of grateful to the crazy bitch for that. She’s wakened me up to myself. Not that I wouldn’t still take a baseball bat to her head given half a chance.”
The girls nodded somberly. I paused to think for a minute then continued.
“It’s like, what the hell am I waiting for? What am I afraid of? Why aren’t I living the best, most fulfilling life possible? Why aren’t I doing wild, crazy things? Pushing myself to the limit. The one thing I really knew through that ordeal was that I was alive, every one of my senses was maxxed, I was feeling every little thing, adrenalin was pumping through me, and I realised that most of the time I don’t feel alive, I feel numb. Well, that’s what I want to change.”
“Wow,” said Naomi. “Well Honey, I think it’s amazing that you’ve come out of this with such a great attitude. I really hope you make the changes that’ll make you happy.”
“Yeah, well that the challenge Nomes, to hang onto this new perspective and not fall back into my old ways. I haven’t figured out exactly what I’m going to do yet but a plan is forming.”
The girls nodded earnestly again.
“But enough about my silly bullet wound!” I said, wanting to change the tone of the conversation. “Who are you shagging at the moment Nomes? Come on, I know there’s someone so spill your guts and don’t miss anything out. I want to know how big it is, what he does with it and whether you’ve learnt any new tricks that I might be able to put to good use some day -- soon hopefully!”
And another half hour whizzed by as Naomi gave us all the filthy, gory details of her latest conquest. I won’t go into details but lets just say there’s a lot more you can do with peanut butter than just spread it on toast.
Chapter 51: Captain Snooze
“Jesus Anita, be careful! I’ve been shot you know,” I complained as she brought the Mercedes to a gentle stop at the red light.
She rolled her eyes.
“God, stop whinging. Anyone would think you were the only person in the world who’d ever had a bullet in her shoulder.”
It was Friday afternoon and she was driving me home from the hospital after picking me up in an obscenely tight t-shirt with a cartoon kitten pictured underneath the words, ‘Sappho Cat’s Home: Where Pussies Get a Loving Touch’. Nurse Cheryl hadn’t known where to look.
On the back seat of the Merc was a huge plastic bag with 1,642 ‘get well soon’ cards in it. I’d spent the entire previous day reading loving messages from everyone from the girls at work to my second cousin Sheamus in Glasgow who I hadn’t heard from in 17 years and lots of older ladies I’d never met but who’d seen my story on the telly. Apparently the story of the murdering butcher lady and Dr Ramswell had been all over the news and tabloid press, even in Scotland, partly because Love on the Wards was a huge show in the UK.
Anita herself had been interviewed by all the trash mags in Sydney plus a few from overseas as well. The US and UK were particularly interested in the story. Word was that even Hollywood had been in touch about turning it into a movie with Angelina Jolie as the butt-kicking Anita.
“I don't see why I can’t play myself,” Anita said. “I mean, Angelina’s pretty enough I guess but I was actually there so surely I could do the emotions better than her.”
I promised to put in a good word for her with Mr Spielberg.
“But who could play me?” I asked.
“Renee Zellwegger?”
“No. She’d probably insist on gaining about 30kgs out of acting integrity bollocks and I don’t want to end up being called the real life Bridget bloody Jones.”
Laughing, Anita pulled the car up outside our house. It seemed like months since I’d been here. I still wasn’t sure I’d be able to sleep in my room. And I sure wasn’t keen on cleaning up the post-hostage-situation mess.
She turned the engine off.
“Oh god.” I groaned quietly, not moving from the motionless car.
“Come on, let’s go,” she said in a no nonsense Nurse Cheryl voice. “You’ll be ok. Leave your bags where they are, I’ll be back out to get them when you’re settled in.”
Sighing at the inevitable, I released my seatbelt, opened the door and got out, by which time Anita was already halfway up the path on her way to the front door.
Holding the door open, she waited patiently as I reluctantly dawdled up the path. Finally stepping over the threshold, I stood in the doorway and looked around. Everything looked comfortingly familiar apart from the fact that it was all a lot cleaner than usual.
“Yeah,” she said, guessing what I was thinking. “Gordon and I had a bit of a clean up. Actually we’ve swapped yours and my bedrooms around as well. We didn’t think you’d want to sleep in your old room so now you’ve got my room and I’ve taken yours. Is that ok?”
Relief flooded through me.
“That’s bloody marvellous Neets, thank you.”
“Well, come on, I’ll show you your new room.”
We went up the stairs. I gave my old door a wide berth and followed Anita into what used to be her room. All my things were in there and it was immaculately clean, well, for the moment, I mused. I walked over to the bed. It looked different and had a new doona on it.
“Yeah, Gordon bought you a new bed. Your old one was totally ruined, the mattress and the bedding were soaked through with blood. So you have Dr Ramswell to thank for this state-of-the-art sleeping apparatus. The most expensive bed that Captain Snooze has to offer.”
Christ, I felt like crying.
“Oh wow. Oh my god, it’s fantastic. God, he is such a honey, how am I ever going to thank him?”
“I wouldn’t worry too much about that Darl, he feels pretty bad about the whole thing and said it was the l
east he could do.”
“No way, none of it was his fault. God, I love this bed though!” I said, sitting on the edge then falling back gently on top of it.
“Oh shit, we were hoping you’d hate it!” she joked. “Now relax you poor, wee invalid while I get your bags out of the car then, when you’re ready, come downstairs and I’ll make you some tea.” She started walking away.
“Ok. Hey Anita.”
“Yeah, what,” she said, turning to look at me.
“You’re the best friend a girl could have and I totally love you.”
She smiled. “Ditto Kiddo, see you in downstairs in a few minutes, ok?”
I nodded and she was off, tearing back down the stairs on her endless legs.
I gingerly bounced on my new bed. It was perfect. Firm but not too firm. And the doona! It was a proper feather job, as soft and warm as a kitten. It was the first brand new bed I’d ever had apart from the one my parents bought me when I was four, which was moved up to the Gold Coast when Mum and Joseph relocated. I still have my own room in their house for when I go up on holidays.
“I have the best friends in the whole world,” I said out loud to myself. And it was true, I felt blessed and lucky. I also felt determined. My mind felt clear. The internal mosquitos that normally buzzed around my brain 24 hours a day had been silenced. There was the fat mosquito (‘gotta lose weight, must lose weight’), the job mosquito (‘gotta do better at work, not working hard enough’), the money mosquito (‘gotta pay those bills, can’t afford this, can’t afford that, will be old and penniless’), the beauty mosquito (‘skin too dry, getting wrinkled, hair not right’), the family mosquito (‘gotta call my cousin, don’t forget that birthday’), the health mosquito (‘gotta stop smoking, gotta get to the gym, gotta do yoga’), the domestics mosquito (‘gotta clean the bathroom, change the bed sheets, hoover the lounge’), and many more besides. A few mosquitos never left, they were around all the time, permanently buzzing incessantly at the edges of my brain. Others came and went.
The Year I Went Pear-shaped: A fat woman's tale of love and insanity Page 21
