afternoon,
remember? I can’t handle this. I’ve just about had it.’
Looking at
Jodie’s pallid complexion, I wonder if we should call an ambulance. A secret
part of me would love to get that exact shade of grey face and crimson stomach.
Francis Bacon paints people in this sickly state. I ask, ‘What did she take,
Kaz?’
‘How do I know?’
‘How did you get
back here?’
‘Cab. Cost a
fortune, but we had to get outta there fast. Hey, Jode?’ Kaz begins to slap
Jodie around the face, none too gently. ‘Wake up! Can you hear me?
‘Shit!’ Jodie’s
eyes swivel in her head and she makes a gasping noise. ‘Gunna be sick…’
‘Oh no! Not
again. Quick! Get a towel, Emma.’
I race into the
bathroom and grab a couple of towels. Too late. Jodie has already spewed
everywhere.
‘That’s it! I’ve
had a gutful,’ Kaz cries. ‘I’m gonna phone her dad. Let him look after her. I’m
supposed to be on holiday not running a casualty ward.’
‘Don’t phone
him,’ Jodie groans. ‘Please, Kazza. I’ll be good from now on. I think someone
put something in my drink.’
‘And I think you
wouldn’t know. I’m going to have a shower. I don’t want to see your face for
the rest of the day. And clean up this puking mess. I have to sleep in here
too, you know? And I’d like to be able to do it without wearing a gas mask.’
‘Sorry, Kazza,’
Jodie whispers and bursts into tears.
I sigh to
myself. Sacha. And now Jodie. How are we going to take her on a cruise? If only
Dessi was here to help me cope… if only Dessi was here.
21. DESSI, Melbourne
What a night! Only when grey light
filters through the window, do I finally manage to doze off. Then I dream
twice. First, I hear a bird screaming into the night. I look up to see an owl
wheeling overhead, his belly and wings bleached white as he flings himself into
the darkness. I stay awake for ages. Next time I doze off, I’m in Jon’s car in
the driver’s seat. Both Emma and Abdul are in the rear. We’re heading for that
roundabout and another car is coming straight at us. I step on the accelerator
and the car speeds up. I’m about to ram into that car… and this time the crash
will be fatal… Help! I’m about to destroy everything that’s precious to me.
I lie there
waiting for my heart to stop thumping. When I do get out of bed, it’s almost noon
and the day turning into a scorcher.
I shower and
pull on an old tee-shirt and cut-offs. Though I don’t know what dreams about
owls mean, I don’t have to be extra smart to realise that my subconscious is
telling me I’m heading for trouble. Maybe there are too many answers needed.
How come Abdul isn’t going with someone his own age? What do I know about him,
really? If only there was someone I could talk to, someone who could find out
more about him…
Leila! She
might even know Abdul. Or know someone who does. I hit Leila’s number and she
picks up the phone.
‘Dessi
here. What are you up to?’
‘Not much.
Just helping Dad with his accounts. What’s news at your end? How’s the leg?’
‘Bit
better, thanks.’
‘Hang up
and I’ll call your landline.’
I do. Leila
rings right back. ‘Can’t tell you how boring doing accounts is,’ she says as if
there’s been no break in the conversation. ‘Dad’s at me all the time. He keeps
insisting I’m muddling things up. But you should see his filing system. I
reckon it’d take a genius to clear up this mess. Almost wish I was back at
school.’
Back at
school? We shriek with laughter. It takes me ages before I mention what’s on my
mind.
‘Abdul
Malouf?’ Leila giggles. ‘That’s like asking if I know Joe Smith. What does he
look like?’
I try not
to rave. ‘Good body, about my height, long curly black hair, little cleft
beard, great eyes, eyelashes...’
‘You mean
he looks Lebanese?’
‘Huh.’ I
laugh apologetically. ‘Well, except for his hair, guess so.’
‘Maybe if I
saw him... Hey, Abdul Malouf.
remember? I can’t handle this. I’ve just about had it.’
Looking at
Jodie’s pallid complexion, I wonder if we should call an ambulance. A secret
part of me would love to get that exact shade of grey face and crimson stomach.
Francis Bacon paints people in this sickly state. I ask, ‘What did she take,
Kaz?’
‘How do I know?’
‘How did you get
back here?’
‘Cab. Cost a
fortune, but we had to get outta there fast. Hey, Jode?’ Kaz begins to slap
Jodie around the face, none too gently. ‘Wake up! Can you hear me?
‘Shit!’ Jodie’s
eyes swivel in her head and she makes a gasping noise. ‘Gunna be sick…’
‘Oh no! Not
again. Quick! Get a towel, Emma.’
I race into the
bathroom and grab a couple of towels. Too late. Jodie has already spewed
everywhere.
‘That’s it! I’ve
had a gutful,’ Kaz cries. ‘I’m gonna phone her dad. Let him look after her. I’m
supposed to be on holiday not running a casualty ward.’
‘Don’t phone
him,’ Jodie groans. ‘Please, Kazza. I’ll be good from now on. I think someone
put something in my drink.’
‘And I think you
wouldn’t know. I’m going to have a shower. I don’t want to see your face for
the rest of the day. And clean up this puking mess. I have to sleep in here
too, you know? And I’d like to be able to do it without wearing a gas mask.’
‘Sorry, Kazza,’
Jodie whispers and bursts into tears.
I sigh to
myself. Sacha. And now Jodie. How are we going to take her on a cruise? If only
Dessi was here to help me cope… if only Dessi was here.
21. DESSI, Melbourne
What a night! Only when grey light
filters through the window, do I finally manage to doze off. Then I dream
twice. First, I hear a bird screaming into the night. I look up to see an owl
wheeling overhead, his belly and wings bleached white as he flings himself into
the darkness. I stay awake for ages. Next time I doze off, I’m in Jon’s car in
the driver’s seat. Both Emma and Abdul are in the rear. We’re heading for that
roundabout and another car is coming straight at us. I step on the accelerator
and the car speeds up. I’m about to ram into that car… and this time the crash
will be fatal… Help! I’m about to destroy everything that’s precious to me.
I lie there
waiting for my heart to stop thumping. When I do get out of bed, it’s almost noon
and the day turning into a scorcher.
I shower and
pull on an old tee-shirt and cut-offs. Though I don’t know what dreams about
owls mean, I don’t have to be extra smart to realise that my subconscious is
telling me I’m heading for trouble. Maybe there are too many answers needed.
How come Abdul isn’t going with someone his own age? What do I know about him,
really? If only there was someone I could talk to, someone who could find out
more about him…
Leila! She
might even know Abdul. Or know someone who does. I hit Leila’s number and she
picks up the phone.
‘Dessi
here. What are you up to?’
‘Not much.
Just helping Dad with his accounts. What’s news at your end? How’s the leg?’
‘Bit
better, thanks.’
‘Hang up
and I’ll call your landline.’
I do. Leila
rings right back. ‘Can’t tell you how boring doing accounts is,’ she says as if
there’s been no break in the conversation. ‘Dad’s at me all the time. He keeps
insisting I’m muddling things up. But you should see his filing system. I
reckon it’d take a genius to clear up this mess. Almost wish I was back at
school.’
Back at
school? We shriek with laughter. It takes me ages before I mention what’s on my
mind.
‘Abdul
Malouf?’ Leila giggles. ‘That’s like asking if I know Joe Smith. What does he
look like?’
I try not
to rave. ‘Good body, about my height, long curly black hair, little cleft
beard, great eyes, eyelashes...’
‘You mean
he looks Lebanese?’
‘Huh.’ I
laugh apologetically. ‘Well, except for his hair, guess so.’
‘Maybe if I
saw him... Hey, Abdul Malouf.
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