“Don’t hover by the doorway, Mother. It makes me nervous,” I said, helping Nonna Katia set the table in the living room that afternoon.
“You, nervous?”
“And check out the oven, Queen Christina. I actually made dinner. Meat loaf, which I might add is your favorite,” I went on in a smug tone.
Nonna Katia was beaming proudly. She thinks it reflects on her how well I cook.
“I showed her, Christina. Jozzie said she wanted to cook for you, so I came over.”
Mama seemed to look from Nonna to me with dread and I began to wonder what we had done wrong.
“Mama, could you look after Josie tonight?”
Nonna Katia looked up in surprise and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand.
“You are going to one of Jozzie’s parent-teacher nights?”
“No. I’m just going out.”
“I do not understand, Christina,” Nonna said, shaking her head. “Where are you going?”
I shut the oven door and waited for her answer.
“Just out, Mama,” she snapped, both nervously and angrily. “I’m just going out with a man at work.”
“Do not yell at me, Christina. Jozzie yells at me enough.”
Mama was holding a shaking hand to her forehead. She always does that when she’s upset about something.
“Well, if you didn’t have to ask so many questions I wouldn’t yell. If you didn’t have to treat me like a baby, I wouldn’t yell,” Mama argued.
Nonna Katia was shaking her head.
“Well, I do not like it when you neglect Jozzie.”
“Neglect,” Mama shouted incredulously, clenching her fist. “You have the hide to say that I have neglected Josie? I have devoted my whole life to her, and the one day that I want to go out with people my age, you tell me I’m neglecting her?”
She looked at me, shaking with rage. It was as if she had worked herself up for a fight before she even got home.
“Have I ever neglected you, Josie?”
I looked bewildered and shook my head.
“Are you going out with a man?” I asked.
“People will talk, you know,” Nonna Katia said angrily. “They always talk and it is always me who suffers because of their talk, Christina. Always me.”
“Forget it,” Mama sighed, shaking her head. “Just forget I asked, Mama.”
“No, I will not forget it, Christina. Why do we always have to fight? All the time we fight and fight and fight,” Nonna Katia cried. “I am an old woman and I am tired of fighting.”
“And I am a young woman and I’m tired of being old,” Mama cried back. “I don’t need your permission to go out, Mama, but it’d be so good one day to do something without you making me feel as if it was wrong.”
“You are Jozzie’s mother. How do you tink Jozzie will feel that people are talking about her mother gallivanting around the place?”
“People? What people? Italians? Mama, I have already disgraced myself in their eyes and there will never be anything to change that, so who cares if they talk about me?”
“Christina, you always had to make tings more difficult for all of us. For once, tink of me.”
Mama walked into her room and Nonna Katia quickly followed.
“Don’t make tings worse, Christina. Do you tink I don’t know?”
“Know what?” Mama asked, swinging around.
“Michael Andretti, Christina. Do you tink I didn’t see what happened at my house the other day? I know who he is, Christina. I know it was him.”
“ ‘It was him’ what, Mama? Say it. You know that he’s Josephine’s father. Why can’t you say it?”
“Why? Why him?” Nonna pleaded. “Why Pia Maria Andretti’s son? Why did you have to disgrace me wit Pia Maria Andretti’s son?”
I thanked God at that moment that I wasn’t named after my paternal grandmother.
“Does it matter whose son fathered Josephine seventeen years ago, Mama? Does it?” my mother yelled.
“I will never, ever have him in my house again,” Nonna spat out.
“Good, Mama. Now let me get dressed.”
“People will talk. They will talk for sure.”
“You know what I think?” Mama shouted. “I think you’re jealous, Mama. I think you’re jealous because you didn’t go out there and make anything of your life when Papa died. Because you didn’t mix and you wanted to so much, but you were scared that people would talk. Well, I’m not going to run my life by their rules. Things have changed. I remember when I gave birth to Josie you told me that I would never get married because no respectable man would marry a girl with a baby. Well, you’re wrong, Mama. Women with babies do get married these days. Women who are widows do go out and have better lives.”
“You don’t understand,” Nonna said.
“No. It’s you who doesn’t understand,” said Mama. “You never have understood what I feel or want in my life. Everyone’s opinion has always come before mine. Why can’t you understand how I feel for once, Mama? Just once.”
Nonna Katia had this strange, tired look on her face. She shook her head in despair.
“I understand, Christina, more than you tink I do.”
They didn’t say a word after that and Nonna Katia drove home, leaving Mama looking at me as if I was a dragon to slay.
“I’m going out tonight, Jose.” She swallowed.
“I heard. What’s got into you?” I asked curiously.
“Well, Paul Presilio . . .”
“I hate that man. He always stares when I walk into the office. I don’t like the fact that you’re going out with him again. The Christmas party was one thing, but I don’t understand this, Mama.”
I began to get really edgy and scared. Although Mama had gone out with a few guys in the past, this man seemed different. I’d seen the way he looked at her. It was the look of a man who didn’t want to play games with women anymore. The look of a man who wanted to settle down. Mama and I had always sat around talking about why she never married. It was always because she hadn’t met the right man and I was always so relieved. Yet now things seemed to be changing so fast.
“He is a very nice man and . . .”
“I don’t care,” I shouted. “Since when have you become so social, anyway?”
“Since tonight, young lady, and don’t you dare speak to me in that tone,” she said stiffly, walking back into her bedroom.
I followed at her heels, not quite sure why I was so furious.
“Is it a work thing? Is it a going-away party for anyone? Are other people going to be there?”
“No. No. No. I am a single woman, Josie. Socially it is very acceptable to go out with men.”
“Socially it’s bullshit. You have never been very interested in going out with men and the only reason you probably are going out with this Paul Presley shithead is because Michael Andretti is back on the scene.”
“Don’t you speak in that bad language, Josephine, and if you have nothing nice to say, get out.”
“No. This is my house.”
“This is my house. You live here because you are my daughter. This is also my room.”
“Oh, great. She starts going out with men on a regular basis and she’s ready to kick me out.”
“Get out,” she said, pushing me out the bedroom door.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Go next door and stay with Mrs. Sahd.”
“Are you kidding? What, and tell her that my mother is on a date?” I spat out.
“Does me being your mother make me less human, Josie?” she yelled, grabbing hold of my shoulder. “I have needs like other people, and once in a while I like being with people my age.”
“Oh, great. So now I find out she regrets having me and I’ve stopped her from being human,” I yelled, walking to the kitchen and opening the oven.
“Well, just remember that he won’t just want to hold your hand,” I said, throwing the meat loaf down the sink.
“How dare you
say that to me?” she said, shaking her head almost sadly.
I stood by my desk and stuck my fingers in my ears so I could ignore her but she walked over and pushed me back.
“You are such a selfish, unreasonable child, Josephine. One day you’ll understand.”
“Screw your understanding,” I yelled, throwing my books across the room angrily. “Why should I understand you when you’ve never understood what I’ve gone through? I’ve suffered in my life, you know, and you’ve never understood.”
She walked away in disgust.
“I hope I die during the night and you regret it for the rest of your life,” I yelled.
“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” she said, shaking her head.
“I can tell you what you did with . . .”
She pointed a finger at me, furious. “Don’t-you-dare-say-another-word.”
We stood staring at each other, but neither of us would look away.
“You break my heart, Josie.”
She left me at home alone. I hated her for that. I’m not sure why. All I know is that I never ever want my mother to marry anybody. I never want it to be anything but her and me and I’m angry that she’s even thinking of letting anyone else in.
She came home at twelve thirty-nine and opened my door.
I pretended I was asleep and she knew that I wasn’t.
“I had a good time tonight,” she told me. “I realized that I knew more than I thought I did. I have a know-it-all daughter and that’s made me a know-it-all mother. He’s attracted to me and for once someone found me interesting, not because I was Josie’s mother or Katia’s daughter but because I was me, and there is nothing, Josie, nothing you can do to take that away from me.”
She slammed my door and I wanted to cry. Because I didn’t want to take that feeling away from Mama. I just didn’t want him to give it to her.
Ten
I’VE BEEN WORKING at McDonald’s for the last few weeks now. Because it’s on Parramatta Road, it always seems to be packed with people. Whoever thought of building it there was smart because not only is it situated on the route into the city, it’s also close to Sydney University and the hospitals in Misseden Road. That also means that it’s the hangout for every hood in the inner west and inner city. Just walking into the place through the parking lot is a nightmare. Nobody hangs out inside except for the families. All the teenagers are out in the parking lot competing for who can play the loudest music or rev their car the most.
Yesterday made me realize that it mightn’t be exactly what I want at the moment, but I don’t want to admit that to Mama because we’re not talking.
I’ll be the first to admit that I overreacted the other night. But fighting and yelling and screaming feels healthy, and apologizing and being humble feels embarrassing. I’ve tried to apologize during the week, but the words haven’t come out. I know I shouldn’t have said what I did. My life isn’t as bad as I make out and sometimes I think it’s all in my head, but I can’t help it. I’m beginning to realize that I can be a little selfish and I’m trying to find the words to apologize to Mama and to understand Nonna just a little bit more.
Anyway, yesterday at McDonald’s, Anna and I were serving and we had the whole of hood city in there, including Jacob Coote, Anton Valavic and a bunch of their noisy friends. I ignore Jacob Coote when I see him. I’m not sure why. It’s not as if I dislike him or anything. I think I ignore him because if I look at him I might find that he’s looking at me and I’m not sure where that would lead us.
At about ten-thirty a group of loud-mouthed creeps came in and I recognized their leader as a boy who used to live next door to us. I think I’ve mentioned Greg Sims before. He was the one who called me a bastard when I was ten.
He’s a bully like you would never believe. I once saw him hit someone from behind with a brick, and he was only a kid at the time.
Greg Sims, I think, will end up in jail and if not in jail he’ll end up dying in some pitiful alley from an overdose. I thought that the moment I first saw him and I still feel that now.
Mama and I called our time of living next door to the Simses the “horror years.” Mr. Sims would get drunk constantly and yell out suggestive things to my mother. I remember the nights we’d lock the doors, petrified that he’d come bursting in. Sometimes we’d wake up in the morning and there would be beer cans all over our backyard. Screaming and yelling could be heard coming from their house at any given time. Once Mama called the police in the middle of the night because she could hear loud crying. The next day Mr. Sims dragged the whole family over and they all told us to mind our own business. Another time he was so drunk that he backed his car into our fence. We called the police again and he had his license suspended and he ended up losing his job because he was a driver for a delivery company.
Things became very hostile after that. Greg Sims kept on calling me names and because I was just beginning to understand what they all meant, I’d cry every time. So knowing it would make me cry, he’d go on and on. Nonna kept on saying that if we had a man around the house it wouldn’t be happening and that would really rile Mama and they’d end up fighting. I was absolutely relieved when we moved to Glebe.
I could tell that Greg Sims knew who I was. He gave it away by the look in his eyes. The worst eyes you could possibly ever look into. All bloodshot and so cold. I think that when the light goes off in your eyes, then there is no hope for you.
“Hi, Josie,” he said in a singsong voice, leaning on the counter an inch away from my face.
I stepped back because his bad breath mingled with the smell of alcohol made me want to puke.
“Josie and I are old friends,” he explained to his friends, inching closer to me.
He burped loudly and I could see Anna’s horrified glance in my direction, as well as looks of distaste on the faces of the people waiting to be served.
“What would you like to eat?” I asked angrily.
“Not quite sure yet.”
I looked past him to the people waiting behind, but he stepped directly in my path and gave me no choice but to wait for him to decide. I knew that he wouldn’t pay for the food after I put it on the tray. Anna went to call the trainee manager, but Greg Sims looked straight through him as if to ask what he was going to do about it, and at that moment I thanked God that cops are fanatical about McDonald’s.
“That’ll be nine dollars and thirty cents,” I said, loud enough for the cops who’d just walked in to hear. Greg Sims and his friends looked around before they reluctantly gave me the money, and my big mistake was grinning in victory. Because it didn’t end there.
Anna and I were on the late shift, which meant we had to scrub the place from top to toe, but we got paid double time for it.
Anna’s car was parked at the back of the building, facing the fence rather than Parramatta Road. When we reached it we found Greg Sims and friends sitting on it, drinking and carrying on, and when they spotted us, I knew there was no turning back.
“Just get in the car and ignore them,” I whispered to Anna, who looked pretty scared.
“We’re going to get raped,” she said breathlessly.
“Oh, look who it is. What are you going to do without the pigs around to help you now, Josie?” Greg Sims snarled, jumping off the fence.
Anna fumbled with the keys and one of the guys grabbed them off her, as well as her McDonald’s hat, which he perched on his head and danced around with.
“Let me introduce you, guys,” Sims went on, leaning forward to grab my glasses, “to the kid who thought she was God’s gift to the world.”
“Give her back the keys,” I said in a wobbly voice.
“Or what?” he mocked, looking me up and down.
I looked down. Anywhere but at him, but he grabbed my face and made me look straight at him.
“How about a quickie in the back, Josie,” he whispered.
“Her father could put you away for the rest of your life,” Anna yelled hyst
erically.
Remember how I mentioned that Anna when peaceful is a calming influence? Well, a hysterical Anna is what nightmares are made of.
The guy who’d taken Anna’s keys feigned terror and grabbed her around the waist.
“Don’t touch her,” I yelled, pulling free of Greg Sims to stand next to her.
“Come on, Josie,” Greg Sims continued in a repulsive voice. “Let’s take turns in the back. I know you’re dying to. It’s in your blood, you know.”
I spat at him. Something I had never done in my whole life, but at that moment I hated him so much that spitting was the least of offenses. He grabbed me by the front of the uniform and slobbered all over my mouth and I could hear Anna scream and pull me away while the bile rose in my throat.
Before I knew what was happening he was pulled away from me and I wondered for a second where Anna had got such strength from. But it wasn’t Anna who was bashing Greg Sims’s face on the ground.
It was Jacob Coote.
Being an eyewitness to violence is a truly horrible experience. It’s not like the movies, where everything seems so gallant and romantic. It’s savage and bloody and I cried because I felt that I would never see anything so ugly again.
“Stop it, Jacob,” I sobbed, grabbing his arm while the rest of the guys were threatening each other over my head.
I saw blood on his fists and on Greg Sims’s face but still he didn’t stop until I grabbed his arm again and pulled him away.
“Just stop, Jacob.”
He looked at me, heaving with fury, and stood up slowly. “She’s a slut,” Greg Sims yelled savagely, getting up. “Like her mother. Bet she’d let anyone fuck her.”
I hit him with everything I had as fast as I could and as much as I could. Because he hadn’t regained his balance yet, he seemed to topple, but I kept on hitting him. I’m not sure what possessed me. I remember once reading that there is a killer in all of us. If I’d had a gun, I know I would have killed him.
Jacob grabbed me away and pushed me toward Anna, who was clutching Anton Valavic’s arm for dear life.
“You ever touch her again or even talk to her, I’ll come after you,” he said quietly, but in a tone so icy it shook me.