The Mimosa Tree (11 page)

‘Could be a slipped disk, Sofia,' says Siena. ‘I think you should go lie down.'

‘No, please. Just give me a minute, I will be okay.' And she
makes a show of slowing down her breathing, relaxing the pained expression on her face.

‘We should call a doctor,' says Siena, but Mum shakes her head adamantly.

‘No doctor. Not
today.
I am not sick anymore.'

‘You're not sick, but you've hurt your back. It could be serious.'

‘I will not ruin the party,' she says, shuffling forward to get into a better standing position.

‘Think of yourself for once, Sofia. You've hurt your back and you need to rest it. You could make it much worse if you push it.'

‘No. I am going to finish the dishes.'

‘You heard her,' says Via, pushing Siena aside and helping Mum get to her feet. ‘Now get out of her way.'

Mum stands with the support of Via, but her hand reaches around to massage her lower back. She walks forward but each step makes her wince in pain. Via keeps a hold of her arm, encouraging her through every movement.

‘For God's sake, Via,' says Siena. ‘Can't you see she's hurting?'

‘She's stronger than you think,' she hisses. ‘She's been through worse than this. If you were here instead of playing games with that no-good husband of yours you might know that.'

Siena stands up tall, hands on her bony hips. It's like the praying mantis taking on the hippopotamus. ‘Don't get pissed off at me. You're the one that insisted on having this stupid party.'

‘What's
that
supposed to mean?'

‘It means you pushed her, Via. It means she worked herself
sick trying to make you happy when she should have been resting.'

‘You're blaming me for this?'

‘Stop it,' says Mum, but nobody listens.

‘Did you know she's had a sore back for weeks?' says Siena, thrusting a finger into Via's face.

‘She said nothing to me.'

‘That's because she's terrified of disappointing you!'

‘Stop it,' says Mum again.
‘Please.'

Via lets go of my mother's arm, forcing her to grab the chair for support. She turns to give Siena her full attention, a twitch in her upper lip warning that she is close to losing it.

‘You haven't changed, have you? You've been back for two weeks and you already think you know everything. I know our sister better than you, and I know what she is capable of. If Sofia did not want this party as much as I did she would have told me. Tell her, Sofia.'

‘Siena is right,' says my father, coming over to my mother's side and helping her sit down again. This time she doesn't resist. She sits quietly massaging her back as she looks into her lap. ‘It has been too much. Your back has been bothering you. You've been tired, and you've been struggling. You should have called off the party.'

‘I told you,' says Siena looking triumphant.

‘Stop it Siena,' says Mum. ‘This is my fault. Nobody else's.'

Via looks gutted. ‘You could have told me, Sofia.'

‘I wanted this party too. I wanted it as much as you did. I should have said something. Now my stupidness has ruined everything. I am sorry.'

‘This could never be your fault,' says Siena, and Via agrees.

‘How is your back?' says Dad.

‘It's feeling better.
Really.
' And though she stands up easily Dad has his hands poised to catch her if necessary. ‘Oh Rosa, your beautiful dress!'

‘It's okay. I can wash it,' says Rosa, then wipes uncertainly at the rose-coloured stain. ‘Or throw it away, it doesn't matter.'

‘Let me find you something else to wear while I wash it. It will only take a few minutes.' But as she steps towards Rosa, everyone glares at her. ‘All right, all right,' she says, palms up in defeat. ‘I'm going to lie down, will that make you all happy?'

‘YES!' agrees everyone.

Mum refuses to go to the bedroom and Siena finally concedes to letting her lie down on the couch instead. We all pitch in with the cleaning up and take turns in keeping Mum distracted. It's like she's got some inbuilt computer chip that compels her to help others, and watching everyone work around her causes her circuits to go haywire.

Before leaving, Via and Siena together convince her to see a doctor in the morning, and after some reluctant goodbyes the house is finally rid of excess family members. Under normal circumstances the three of us would split into different directions now, but tonight we seem to linger instinctively together, gathering around the flickering TV like it's a campfire keeping us warm. Mum's on the couch, Dad in his armchair, and I am on the floor leaning back against Mum's legs. We sit quietly and no one speaks, not even to complain about the channel. When the evening news finishes, we keep watching, letting the sitcoms roll by until it's time for the movie. It's
The Day After,
about a small town trying to survive a nuclear holocaust.

‘I think I will watch this,' says Mum.

‘Me too,' I say, while Dad simply makes no move to leave.

‘Yep,' says Felicia, checking her perfect hair and perfect lips in the rear-view mirror. ‘You've screwed up. Now he thinks you're not interested.'

We are stuck at a red light, car rumbling. It's warm and humid and I am annoyed at Felicia's ability to look showered and powder fresh while I am feeling lank and sweaty. ‘It's been two days,' I say, tapping my fingers on the car roof. ‘I don't see how two days can be such a big deal.'

She turns to me, screws up her face like she can't believe how stupid I am. ‘You think it was easy for him to give you his number? That boy has probably spent the weekend by the phone waiting for a call that never came.'

I laugh. ‘I don't know what kind of boys you've been hanging out with, Felicia, but that statement does not really apply to my experiences of this stuff.'

‘Men have feelings too,' she says. ‘My father is very sensitive. He cries you know.'

‘Yeah. My father shows his feelings too – hostile and bitter. This is stupid. If it's all over because I didn't make that call then
so be it. Besides, I'm the one that should be upset. Maybe if he'd said something about wanting to see me again before I fell asleep I wouldn't be so confused about things.'

Felicia turns to me. ‘You fell asleep? You never told me you fell asleep!'

I scratch my head, and realise there is no easy way of explaining this without telling her we were smoking. ‘I was tired.'

‘That poor boy. He probably thinks he was boring you. Are you sure you like this guy?'

‘Sure,' I say, but truthfully any warm feelings I had have been replaced by a twisting anxiety. ‘I just need to get to class. I need to see him again and figure out what's going on.'

And with that, the light goes green. As the car turns into the university entrance I get a dreadful feeling, like I am about to play a part I have not prepared for. Felicia finds a parking spot and when she cuts out the engine, it takes all my focus to make myself open the door and get out of the car.

‘Be nice,' she says as I pull my backpack over my shoulder.

‘What else would I be?'

‘All I'm saying is make sure you smile every now and again. It will make you seem friendlier, more open, you know?'

I put my hand on my hip and give her my most intense what-the-hell-are-you-talking-about? look. At least getting indignant with Felicia seems to be allaying the anxiety a little. ‘Do you think I'm a complete idiot?'

‘I'm just trying to give you some advice, help you along a little bit. You know, sometimes you can come across as a bit dour.'

‘Wow, thanks Felicia. I really appreciate you taking the time to give me some constructive criticism on my personality.'

She shrugs. ‘I know you appreciate honesty.'

I walk away at a casual pace, but as soon as Felicia is out of sight I take it up a notch and now I am power-walking to the classroom, determined to get there before Harm does. I figure if I'm already sitting down when he arrives then he is the one that needs to decide whether to sit next to me or not. When I get to the studio door I push it open and it thumps echoingly in the empty room. Relieved, I move silently to my usual spot and climb up onto the stool. It wobbles crookedly to the left and I have to hitch up my hip and lean to the right to compensate. I sit very still, holding my breath and watching the door like I expect it to launch a surprise attack.

After a few minutes some more students arrive. Unlike on the first day, arrivals enter in twos and threes, like a motley Noah's Ark. Even the singles move quickly towards a familiar face, and soon the room is humming with chatter and giggles. With five minutes to go, the class is now almost full with all seats taken except, of course, for the seats right next to me. Is it because everyone knows this is Harm's seat, I wonder, or is it because I haven't spoken to anyone else in this class? I begin to feel conspicuous and lonely sitting in this sea of friendship, and sigh because the feeling is so damn familiar to me. So much for my promises that I would do things differently; that I would find interesting people to be my friends and not just settle for anyone that fate happened to lumber me with. If things don't work out with Harm then it means the only friend I have made here is the girl my aunt Via found for me.

Finally, I spot Harm's waterfall of hair coming through the door. My first reaction is to become absorbed in a fascinating piece of gum stuck to the table, but I make myself look up. Not that it matters because Harm isn't looking at me anyway. He seems to be holding the door open for someone. An unfamiliar girl sashays past him and Harm's eyes are completely fixed on her. I have to admit, she
is
stare-worthy with her deathly black hair and floor-length black lace dress that splits down the centre to reveal a generous talcum-powdered cleavage. Nestled between her snow pillows is a hand-sized silver crucifix that swings as she steps. She pauses to whisper something into Harm's ear and he grins like a drunken monkey. They walk together across the room and though they are heading my way neither is looking at me. They only have eyes for each other. I breathe out like a deflating balloon.

‘Hey,' says Harm as he slides into the seat beside me. She moves in next to him, in a spooky feet-don't-touch-the-ground kind of way. ‘This is Apocalypse,' he says, thumbing at her. Apocalypse smoothes back her hair to reveal a whitewashed face and blood-red lips. Her soft blue eyes are thickly rimmed in black liner that extends far beyond the corner of her eyes and end in a sharp point. ‘This is Mira,' he says, thumbing back at me.

‘Hi,' I say and, remembering Felicia's advice, I smile to convey friendliness. Apocalypse remains silent and stone like. ‘Are you new?'

‘No,'
she says like I've just asked if I could kill her mother.

Harm, who acts as though there is nothing weird or awkward about what's happening, reaches down to his bag and starts
pulling out his drawing supplies. As he arranges them on the table, she leans in close and whispers something into his ear again. ‘Sure,' he says with a laugh while she continues to look utterly bored.

I kick at my backpack nervously and try to seem like I am not looking at either of them, but my eyes swivel sharply to the right, and I feel like I am going to give myself a headache if I keep straining this way. I notice Apocalypse hasn't brought anything to class with her, not even a pen.

‘Do anything on the weekend?' says Harm, and my head springs sideways to meet up with my eyes. Harm watches me coolly, rubbing a small segment of his blond fringe back and forth between his fingers to form a spaghetti-sized dreadlock.

‘Not really.'

‘Neither did we,' he says, and I have to assume he means her. I guess Felicia was right after all. Maybe if I had called him like she suggested he might not have moved on so quickly. Maybe I've been reading too much into the whole thing and he was never interested in me in the first place.

I push my hands into my lap and feel the dry denim scratch at my knuckles. Feeling stupid for getting the wrong idea, I scan my memories for any sign of having revealed my little crush to Harm. I can live with the disappointment of someone not liking me, that's familiar territory, but I hate it if they know I like them. I get so absorbed in my thoughts that I don't realise I have been staring at Apocalypse. It occurs to me that she doesn't seem the slightest bit interested in who I am, or how Harm and I know each other, and suddenly I'm really pissed off. I know that Harm isn't interested in me, but who the hell
is she to make that assumption? How dare she not consider me as a worthy rival?

‘So I got your note,' I say, watching Apocalypse carefully.

‘Note?' says Harm, ceasing to make dreadlocks.

‘The note with your phone number. The one I didn't call.'

Apocalypse turns to look at me, finally interested.

‘No big deal,' says Harm and he starts arranging his coloured chalks.

‘I didn't think you would care,' I say raising my voice slightly so that I am sure Apocalypse can hear me too. ‘You were pretty quick to leave after I fell asleep.'

Harm looks intently at the chalks he is rolling under his palm. His back is hunched in a protective way, and he is definitely avoiding Apocalypse's steady gaze. Looks like I may have caused a bit of trouble in paradise!

‘You know what?' I say, stepping off my stool and reaching for my backpack. ‘Think I'm gonna skip class today. You kids have fun.' I throw my bag over my shoulder and push past the two of them, not caring that I force them to lean forward against the table to let me through. As I leave, the chatter volume drops as curious classmates pause mid conversation to watch me. Undeterred, I walk casually to the door and exit.

‘What did he say?' says Felicia materialising like a ghost.

‘Don't you have anything better to do?' I say, pushing my finger to her lips and dragging her outside. I pull us behind a wide tree trunk then peer around it to see if anyone has followed us. ‘You're like a virus.'

She watches me steadily, her arms folded against her chest.
‘I'm guessing it didn't go well?'

‘It went exactly as you expected it to, despite my smiling.'

‘What happened?'

‘He's not interested.'

‘But the note, his phone number?'

I put my hand up for silence. ‘It didn't mean anything. Just like I said.' I run my fingers through my hair and look up into the tree. Thank God I didn't call him. Thank God I'm a complete coward and I didn't actually call him. This would be so much worse if he thought I actually liked him. I push off the tree, pick up my bag and start walking.

‘But why?' says Felicia, click-clacking behind me.

‘He's with someone else.'

‘Another girl?'

‘No. Another frog,' I say, spinning to give her a what-a-stupid-question look. ‘Of course another girl.'

‘Well,' she says, with a bit of attitude in her voice. ‘You're better off without him. Sounds like he's a gigolo.'

I put my hands on my hips. ‘Jesus, Felicia! Who the hell says “gigolo”?'

‘Don't get mad at me. I'm just trying to make you feel better.'

‘I don't need your sympathy. I wasn't that interested in him anyway.'

Felicia snorts and looks like she is about to say something but I cut her off.

‘I mean it!' I say, starting to feel myself get hysterical, though I am not sure why. ‘I'm not interested in anything or anyone, okay? Because there is no point. I'm not stupid enough to get attached to anything that's just going to get ripped away from
me when everything blows up!'

‘Mirabella Verdi,' says a voice at my shoulder, and I spin around with my hand clutching at my chest. It's my lecturer. ‘I think you will find my class is that way,' she says peering over her glasses.

‘I was just on my way,' I say but she dismisses this instantly.

‘You should know,' she says. ‘I fail for non-attendance. Let's walk together, shall we?'

I can't even look at Harm or Apocalypse as I am forced, more apologetically this time, to push past them and climb back onto my wobbly stool. I see Harm look at me but I put my elbow on the table and lean on my hand so I can block him out.

‘Continuing with our study of the human figure,' says our lecturer as she organises her teaching materials on the desk. ‘We have a live model today.' She pauses for effect. ‘A
naked
model. For those of you who haven't seen a real naked body yet,' she eyeballs a few students as the class erupts in a chorus of sniggers, ‘this could be a little shocking. Do try to control yourselves and remember where you are and what you are here to learn. All right, settle down,' she says. ‘At least pretend to be adults. I want to introduce you to our model, Apocalypse.'

Oh God. This is worse than my end-of-the-world nightmares. She's the live model? First I'm rejected, and now I have to draw my replacement's naked body? What kind of cruel sense of humour does this universe have?

Apocalypse glides off her stool to take her place at the front of the room. She looks bored, like she is going to yawn, and stares easily at all the faces without a hint of interest. I fold my
arms on the desk and put my head down.

‘This is too weird,' I say into my armpit.

‘At least she's not your housemate,' says Harm, and I turn to peer at him over my arm.

‘You live together?'

‘Moved in last week. Now I'm going to see her naked. Makes things awkward around the breakfast table. Especially when her boyfriend's there.'

‘Her boyfriend?'

‘Tough guy, too. Hope he doesn't get the wrong idea when he sees these drawings in my room.'

‘So you're not together?'

‘Me and Apocalypse?' says Harm with a snort. ‘I mean she's nice and all, interesting too, but she's not really my type. Judging from her boyfriend, I'm pretty sure I'm not her type either.'

There is a cheer from the boys as Apocalypse steps up onto a raised platform and drops her dress like a towel. The lecturer scowls at them as she fluffs up a beanbag for Apocalypse to sit in. Apocalypse drapes across it like a soft white scarf. She turns to face her audience, dropping her chin so that her dramatic eyes become the focus of what we see.

‘Observe,' says the lecturer, moving around the desks. ‘It's about what you
actually
see, not what you
think
you see. Don't let your mind play tricks on you.'

I slump across the table, rest my chin on my folded arms and stare at Apocalypse's perfect, bulbous breasts. I'm a fool. If I hadn't overreacted there might have been a chance of something good happening in my life, but I've really gone
and ruined it now. Harm selects some thick charcoal pieces and begins to work. While some of the boys seem to be doing more staring than drawing, Harm works calmly and diligently, faithfully reproducing every curve and fold, as though she were no more interesting to him than a bowl of fruit. It takes a moment to realise I should be starting my own sketch, rather than just sitting here looking confused and feeling stupid. With a heavy heart, I reach for my backpack, search silently for drawing implements that may be lurking there. I've been so focused on this Harm stuff that I have totally forgotten about the need to pack my art supplies. All I find are some loose crayons that probably belong to Marco and Sera.