narratorAUSTRALIA Volume Two

  ~~~

  Much later I am ready to go home so I look for Cecilia and find her and Ari in a bedroom. I stop short as they are in the middle of having sex and I watch through the slightly open door. Their backs are to me and they are facing a vanity table. Ari’s eyes are shut as he pounds into Cecilia from behind. Cecilia catches my reflection in the table’s mirror and smirks. We stare at each other for a moment. She sees the hurt in my eyes. She knows she has won. Why must it always be this way with her? I ask myself. Always these silly mind games. I vow to distance myself from her.

  Ten years ago

  ‘Why don’t you just leave him the hell alone?’ Cecilia screams at my father. I am twenty six and we are at my parents’ house for the quarterly ‘family dinner’. Cecilia has just reacted to yet another of my dad’s put downs of me. Half of me cringes and half of me applauds her.

  ‘Not once, just once, have I heard you say something positive to Julian,’ she continues in full flight. ‘It’s always, “Well you could have done this better, Son”, or “Why didn’t you do that, Son?”’

  My parents sit, staring at Cecilia with identical gasping fish expressions, their eyes bulging and mouths wide open with shock. I suppress a sudden urge to laugh with nervous tension.

  ‘Cill, stop. Please.’

  Cecilia then rounds on me. ‘And as for you, stand up for yourself and start being a fucking man! You make me sick, you’re such a little pussy!’

  She then stands suddenly, overturning her chair. She turns and leaves the table but our eyes meet in the hallway mirror.

  ‘I’ll be waiting in the car, you got five minutes,’ she tells my reflection as she heads out the door.

  ‘S-sorry, Mum and Dad,’ I mutter to my parents as I scramble after Cecilia.

  Seven years ago

  ‘Oh Cecilia, her name is Olivia and she’s gorgeous.’

  ‘Oh Cecilia, her name is Olivia and she’s gooorgeeoous,’ Cecilia mimics back at me.

  I am twenty-nine and Cecilia and I are sitting on her bed. After the fiasco at my parent’s house I tried to distance myself from her but Cecilia wouldn’t allow it. The more I pushed her away, the more she tried to get closer. There were tears and promises but the nature of our relationship was continued: Cecilia acted as she liked and I always forgave her.

  ‘Come on Cill, don’t be like that,’ I plead.

  Cecilia looks at me, suddenly sincere. ‘You won’t forget about me now that you’ve met somebody, will ya?’ I am surprised by her sincerity and the vulnerability in her eyes so I gather her close and hug her from behind. We smile at our reflection in the mirror propped up against the wall. The same vulnerability is reflected in my eyes as I answer her. ‘Course I won’t forget you, Cecilia. You’re a part of me. Just promise me you won’t ruin this for me?’

  Cecilia’s smile wavers. ‘Promise.’

  We both know we are lying to each other.

  Three years ago

  ‘She’s cheating on you, Jules.’

  I am thirty-four years old and Cecilia and I are in the bedroom that Olivia and I share as husband and wife. I am furious with Cecilia. For the last four years Cecilia has been taunting me with suggestions of Livy’s infidelity. At first, I simply laughed it off but slowly her taunts began to work on my insecurities, as only Cecilia could do. My distrust of Olivia nearly ruined my marriage until I woke up to Cecilia’s games.

  ‘Shut up Cecilia. You’re lying. Stupid bitch.’

  ‘Aww, what’s the matter? Can’t Julian handle the truth?’

  ‘It’s not the truth, Cecilia. Now stop the silly games. While I’m at it, Cecilia, I know it’s you coming in and touching Livy’s stuff and stealing her clothes. She fired the cleaner, thinking it was her, you idiot,’ I ranted.

  ‘Stealing her clothes? Please! She has the style of a twat. Don’t insult me,’ Cecilia sneered.

  ‘Cut the crap, Cecilia. I know it’s you. Only you would write SLUT on the mirror.’

  ‘Yeah well, if the shoe fits ...’ Cecilia lets the sentence hang and walks to the dresser. She studies her image in the mirror, reapplying her lipstick. Her reflection blows me a kiss. My self control snaps. I lunge off the bed and grab the back of her head, pushing her cheek up against the mirror.

  ‘You leave Livy alone, you listen. Enough, Cecilia, no more,’ I growl against her ear.

  I know I will pay dearly for this but I am too angry to care. Cecilia’s laughter begins slowly and then becomes a cackle. I stare at her reflection, her scarlet mouth twisted in laughter, the lipstick smeared. Our eyes meet in the mirror and to my surprise Cecilia is crying despite her cackling laughter. Her cackling vibrates in my mind and I need to get away from her. I run out of the room with Cecilia’s cackle chasing me.

  One year ago

  ‘Tell me about Cecilia, Julian.’

  I am thirty-five years old and I am talking to my psychiatrist, Lana. I have decided to get professional help in an attempt to help my marriage. Cecilia is a constant presence in my marriage. Even though Olivia is not aware of her, she is a major player in our marriage with her insidious accusations.

  ‘Umm, well, she’s strong and bold. Everything I wish I was.’

  ‘Alright, then what’s the problem?’

  ‘Well, she lies to me about Livy and tells me Olivia is cheating on me, for one.’

  ‘So why don’t you end the relationship?’ Lana says logically, not understanding that our relationship is anything but logical.

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Why not? Why can’t you end the relationship with Cecilia, Julian?’

  ‘’cause, I need her ... in some messed up way. I rely on her,’ I answer. I jump off the chair, agitated. I catch my reflection in the window, my frightened eyes look back at me. I think I catch a glimpse of Cecilia’s sardonic smile. She is everywhere.

  One month ago

  ‘I’m sorry Jules, really I am,’ Cecilia cries.

  ‘Just leave us alone. This time you’ve gone too far.’

  I am thirty-six years old and Cecilia and I are in my car. I have told Cecilia that it’s over. I don’t want to see her anymore. Her last little game of hiding a pack of condoms in Livy’s bag nearly led to Olivia getting hurt again but thankfully, just the second before I struck Livy, I realised the truth. I promised myself then that Cecilia had to go. Today I was keeping my promise to myself.

  ‘Please Julian, I–’

  ‘No Cill. I can’t do this anymore. Too much has happened. It’s over!’

  Cecilia’s jaw clenches. ‘You don’t get to say it’s over. Understand? You’re nothing without me. Who’s the one who sticks up for you, fights your battles and stops you from getting walked over, huh? Me, because you’re a little pussy. I say when it’s over, not you!’

  Cecilia then undoes her belt and flings open the car door, slamming it shut behind her. I look in the rear view mirror just as she turns around. The rage in her eyes turns my blood cold.

  Now

  I am thirty-six and have locked myself in the bathroom. I can hear Cecilia looking for me, calling for me.

  ‘Shut up,’ I whisper.

  I am terrified Livy will hear her and all our dirty secrets will be found out. Cecilia has the power to destroy everything. If Livy were to find out about her, it would be the end. I look in the mirror and Cecilia’s reflection stares back at me, smirking, defiant.

  ‘Julian? You alright in there, babe? You’ve been in there a while.’ Livy is at the door.

  ‘Yeah, I’m fine, Liv.’

  ‘Go to hell bitch,’ Cecilia screams in my head and in my heart I know I will never be free of Cecilia. Cecilia is a part of me, the part that wants to be set free, the part of me that I despise and fear and most importantly, a part of me that I will never let go.

  My name is Julian and I am scared.

  Monday 25 February 2013

  My Holden Barina

  Irina Dimitric

  Mosman, NSW

  My Holden Barina rhymes with
ballerina

  I’d write a terza rima to my Barina

  If only my muse would enthuse

  An Aussie car is what I like

  I’m so glad she’s not a bike

  My mane will stay dry in the rain

  She takes me from point A to B

  Humming softly as a bumble-bee

  Via alleyways and highways

  To park her is a piece of cake

  I can do it half awake

  Squeeze with ease into smallest space

  My Holden Barina rhymes with ballerina

  For this little beauty here’s a rima piccolina

  Not Dante’s terza, but a fine rhyme of mine.

  For the poetry buffs out there, and those who love to learn something new every day (your mother was right, it IS good for you!), this is Irina’s own style of terza rima or tercet. She created it along the following pattern:

  Each stanza has three lines (tercet).

  The first two rhyme.

  The third line contains internal rhyme.

  The rhyme pattern in this poem is, therefore:

  aa(bb) cc(dd) ee(ff) gg(hh) aa(jj) with the internal rhyme shown in brackets.

  Irina says that on the day she created this form, 18 May 2012, she checked online and could not find mention of a poetry form like this one. Perhaps we should could it a Dimitric Sequence? (Please see 26 January for enlightenment on that one!)

  Monday 25 February 2013 4 pm

  Passing Over

  Davidvee

  Glen Waverley, VIC

  Process of dying is underway,

  lungs and heart in rapid decay.

  They say I can’t expect a stay,

  it may possibly happen today.

  Reconciled, can’t procrastinate,

  too weak to even remonstrate.

  No choice but to lie and wait,

  one more move to checkmate.

  Will heart or brain be first to chill?

  Do I struggle or just lie still

  or a progression, by divine will,

  a series of steps to fulfil?

  I wonder who or what decides

  where the essential me resides?

  Is there anything at all inside

  to pass over to that ‘other side’?

  If not and there’s nothing there

  to move through a porte cochere,

  well then, do I bloody care

  if I do not end up somewhere?

  No more strength to converse,

  pain is growing, getting worse,

  nervous system’s quite perverse.

  Can't take any more, call nurse.

  More and more I’ve become fond,

  of morphine, true magic wand.

  It will slash life’s final bond,

  ease my way to the great beyond.

  Tuesday 26 February 2013

  Alice Springs Regatta

  Armin Boko

  Lake Heights, NSW

  Unlucky to freeze

  In Moscow zoo,

  It’s dawn and already

  warmish thirty two

  At Alice Springs,

  Where a mob of red ’roos

  In the suburbia

  graze the night through.

  On Todd’s River dry bed

  A regatta is to take place,

  A real regatta we’re told

  On real river sand.

  A true sensation;

  World’s one and only

  Regatta on sand.

  Media and tourists

  Swoop down on Alice

  Adorned in her finest.

  Alice drowsy begins to stir

  At first daylight; engine running

  A Police van pulls up

  To pick up strugglers

  After a hard night’s binge.

  Log fires put out,

  Hence a free ride assured

  Back to the outback station.

  Council’s rubbish truck

  Calls up next to collect

  Bedding of sorts, miscellaneous

  Litter, empty booze

  Containers for most part.

  All Police leave’s cancelled,

  Let the regatta begin.

  Cheers and salute to all