Avoiding Mr Right (24 page)

I breathe in the city that never sleeps, which is weird,
given that I am actually asleep, and I marvel over the
crowds and the colour and the lights of Times Square, on
all day and all night, advertising music and running shoes
and Broadway plays.

What does Al Gore think about the electricity being
used in New York City? Is it as bad as Vegas? I shudder to
think how much energy is being consumed, but I know it's
too much, too much, too much.

There are lots of cops, so many cops on the streets,
everywhere, and I feel safe. I think of Mike momentarily
but I remind myself that I'm kind of on a holiday so
shouldn't be thinking about home, I should just be worried
about how much shopping and sightseeing and how many
Broadway shows I can consume in one astral dream.

I feel like Audrey Hepburn when I enter Tiffany's and I
gasp when I see Mike-Monday standing behind a counter.
Did he follow me from Disneyland? Is he astral travelling
too? Or astral stalking? How does this work?

'Can I try on that bracelet?' I say, pointing to some
white gold under the glass. He gets it out from the cabinet
and puts it on my wrist.

'It looks beautiful. You look beautiful,' he says and I
look down and I'm in a long black frock like Audrey's with
a split above my knee. My hair is in a twist, I'm wearing
black satin gloves and I've got a cigarette in a long elegant
holder. And I do look beautiful.

'I'm celibate,' I declare at a volume that almost wakes
me from my sleep and everyone in the store turns and looks
at me with a frown, as if I've just farted really loudly.

'No, you're not,' he says and takes my hand and leads
me into the plush Tiffany's toilets.

'Audrey wouldn't do this,' I say out loud.

'Ah, but you're not Audrey and I'm not George Peppard
and we're allowed to do whatever we want.'

Mike-Monday carefully manoeuvres me up against
a wall as 'Moon River' is piped through the building. He
kisses my neck and it makes me crazy with desire. 'You
are so beautiful,' he says and I know it's just bullshit but
the moment's not real so it's okay to believe him. Mike-Monday expertly lifts my dress and removes my knickers,
not once taking his eyes from mine, and I think maybe it's
not bullshit, maybe this is making love and not just sex
in fancy, expensively designed toilets. I get carried away
because Mike-Monday is touching me just right and I lose
count of how many orgasms I have because I've never really
been any good at maths but it doesn't matter as we're both
panting and he's saying, 'You are so beautiful,' over and
over again, and I almost start to believe it and then I hear a
phone ring, but I don't have a phone with me, just my little
blue Tiffany's bag and my cigarette holder, but the phone is
ringing so loud now I wake up.

'Peta? Are you okay?' James said down the line with
concern.

'Hello?' I replied, almost breathless, still recovering
from Mike-Monday and talking into my mobile with my
eyes closed. 'Oh hi, yes, I was just sleeping.'

'But it's two o'clock in the afternoon. Are you sick?'
He was worried and I knew it would be better to say I was
unwell than to say I was hung-over from the night before
and exhausted from multiple orgasms had in public toilets
in my sleep.

'Yes, I've got a bug or something, just feel a bit weak
– probably a twenty-four hour thing. I'll call you back
later.'

I tried to go back to sleep, to find Mike-Monday, but I
couldn't.

♥

That evening Cousin Joe dropped off another food parcel.
This time it was mutton bird he'd had flown in from
Tasmania. Josie came round to help me eat it.

'It's really fatty,' she said as she licked her lips.

'And salty,' I added, doing the same.

'But really bloody good,' we both said simultaneously.

'It happened again,' I said and made like a kid pretending
to be an aeroplane.

'Fuck you.' Josie was starting to seriously get annoyed
with my free international travel.

'You wish.'

'No seriously, where to this time?'

'Las Vegas, LA and New York. Where else?'

'It's not fair,' she sulked.

'Hmmm, what's fair anyway?' I was being a bitch, and
kept going. '
And
I had sex with Robert Redford and a hot
guy named Mike-Monday.'

'That's a weird name. Was he out of
Bold and the Beautiful
or something?'

'No, his name was Monday, but he looked like Mike, the
policeman.'

'Oh, Mike the
policeman
, who used to be referred to as
"the cop"? So you're having sex dreams about him now?
Let's explore those.'

'Let's not. Monday, as I was saying, took me to
Disneyland.'

'Did you go on the cups and saucers?'

'I did. And then he was in Tiffany's.'

'God, you got it all sewn up, eh? He knows what kind of
jewellery you like, and he can protect you too, cos he's a cop.
Sis, if only you could make your astral dreams come true.'

'My life's weird enough without living what goes on
during my sleep. But let me tell you, not having much sex
in my real life has been a bloody good idea, because it's been
great in my dreams.'

'So what's news on the cop front anyway?'

'Don't you mean James front?'

'No, I mean cop front. You haven't seen James for ages,
and you hardly talk about him any more.'

'I spoke to him this afternoon, so there, nah nah nah
nah nah!'

'Well that was grown-up, Peta. I bet he misses your
childish ways, eh?'

The next week was so busy I didn't have time to think about
James, or Mike, or Sydney vs. Melbourne or celibacy or
any of it. On Monday I flew off to Kununurra in Western
Australia for a forum coordinated by the department –
'Literacy, Literature and Living Stories' – and I'd had to
do an awful lot of reading over the weekend to prepare for
it. I couldn't believe the number of books by Aboriginal
authors coming out of Western Australia. Representatives
from publishing houses and writing programs and support
staff from relevant government departments all travelled
from across the Kimberley and as far away as Perth to the
very top north-east corner of the state, near the Northern
Territory border. Mum had always worried about me
visiting communities in the Territory and WA where law
and tradition were still adhered to and practised. I think she
was worried about me falling under some 'love magic' and
being sung by or to a Blackfella and then living my life too
far away from her, but now I'd ended up all the way down
south in Victoria anyway.

The week in Kununurra gave me ample opportunity to
talk to writers and storytellers, as well as visual artists from
Waringarri Aboriginal Arts and Warnum Art Centre. It
was a non-stop hectic six days. In between chairing sessions
and running client meetings with organisations from the
region, I wanted to get a feel for the country and do some
tourist sites as well. I only had time for a cruise on Lake
Argyle in the hope of seeing a croc, and to visit the Zebra
Rock Gallery. I really missed Sylvia managing my diary
and hadn't realised until then how much of a task it must
have been for her juggling my workload and obligations.

On closing night there was a concert with musicians
travelling from Broome and One Arm Point to play for
the tourists and locals alike. The Broome-based rock band
Footprince re-formed for the occasion and Kerrianne Cox
strummed her guitar, while local Peter Brandy played some
country and western. But there was one acoustic musician
with a velvet voice who really captured my celibate attention
– when the last thing I needed was to fall for a local.

I sat up the back with the local Elders, who were all
cooing over young Chad.

'Chad the lad, he's all right, hey daught,' one said,
winking and nudging me in the side.

'Bet they don't make 'em like 'im down south, eh?'
another prodded.

'Well, no Aunt, they don't actually,' I had to concede.
It wasn't a Melbourne vs. Sydney thing now, it was a
Kimberley vs. every other community thing. And the men
here could really belt out a tune.

'He could sing to me anytime,' another aunt laughed,
'or I could just sing him to me instead.' And they all held
their large bellies and laughed until tears streamed down
their faces. It was so lovely to see elderly women enjoying a
harmless and hysterical perve.

'Can you do that? Sing people I mean?' I said in my
naive Murri way.

'Of course, we have to do it before the good Black men
end up with white women.' And the Elders laughed some
more.

'Or other men!' another chimed in.

'Ah, but can you sing him to me so he moves down
south? Cos Aunt, I like it here, but I'm a concrete Blackfella
with Westfield Dreaming. I can't live in the Kimberley, not
enough shopping.'

'Ah daught, this fella here, he'll never leave his country.
He too shy to go to big city. He'd wanna woman to stay
and have too many babies. I don't think that's you, is it?'
Somehow she knew. I wasn't likely to be a Kimberley bride,
and the wisdom of my Elders never ceased to surprise me.

As Chad finished his last song and took a bow amid
screams for an encore, a mob of women surrounded him,
all shapes and sizes, all ages and shades. He'd find his
woman, no worries, and no-one would have to be sung to
anyone.

♥

The flights home from Kununurra were tiring: first to
Darwin, then Adelaide, then Melbourne. I spent the time
thinking about my thirty-first birthday, which was the
following week. James was coming down, so we'd probably
just go out for dinner and have a couple of drinks. It would
be nice. It would be romantic. I would be spoiled for sure.
And it would be a lot quieter than my birthdays in the past,
without Alice, Dannie and Liza to party with.

I'd have to work out when I could squeeze in Shelley,
Sylvia and Josie because they'd all mentioned doing
something too. Surely they'd understand that with James
just there briefly, I'd have to spend the bulk of the time
with him.

As soon as the plane landed and we were allowed to
turn on our phones, the messages came through: two from
Alice, five from James, six from Sylvia and one each from
Shelley, Josie and Mike. I'd been out of range in Kununurra
and didn't bother turning the phone on when in
transit. I was too exhausted to deal with work and nothing
urgent would've been coming through on a Saturday anyway.
James and Alice were also on my voicemail, and I
called James back as I waited for my luggage. It had been
nearly a week since we'd spoken and he sounded anxious.

'Babe, God, it's been ages,' he fretted.

'I know, I know, had no range up there, sorry. I tried
your office a couple of times during the day from the library
but you were always in meetings.'

'I'm sorry.'

'Don't be sorry, it's your work. I understand completely –
it's the same when I'm in the office. Are you okay?'

'I've got some bad news.'

My heart sunk, someone had died. Alice and Gary had
broken up – I couldn't think of what else would make him
sound so distressed.

'What is it? Tell me.'

'I have to go to Dubai next weekend.'

'That's so exciting! Wow, how wonderful.'

'I'll miss your birthday, though. I thought you'd be
upset.'

'If you were missing my birthday because you were going
to the footy or something I'd be upset. But Dubai, I've
always wanted to go there. Is work sending you?'

'Yes, we've got a small contract with the main firm doing
the Islands of the World project.'

'Oh my God, not the one we saw on the telly,
that's fucken huge! That's so cool, you're so lucky.' I was so
excited it was like I was going myself.

'Yeah, it's pretty big. We're tendering to design the
buildings on the Australia island. I'll have to leave next
Friday, though, so I can't be in Melbourne. I wanted to take
you somewhere really fancy. It's been ages since we've been
out on a "date". Remember what that was like?'

'Yes, I do. But we can do it another time.'

'You don't sound upset.'

'I'm not upset – I'm happy for you! You're going to
be working on the world's biggest project. Truth be known
I'm a bit jealous!'

'But it's your birthday.'

'Yes, but I have one every year, it's not a big deal.'

'I'd hate you to put work before my birthday.'

'And that's the difference between me and you, James.
I can see this is the chance of a lifetime, and I'm excited
for you. I'm putting
you
first.' I hoped he might see how
unsupportive he was earlier in the year when he moaned
constantly about me following my career dream.

'What will you do for your birthday, then?' he said,
contrite.

'Oh, probably go out with the girls and drink cocktails
and eat food. Everything I like doing. Might get a bit messy,
it's been a while.'

'I worry about you when you drink too much.'

'Oh for God's sake, I hardly ever do it any more, and if
I do I'm at home. And you don't need to worry, I'm a big
girl and can look after myself.'

'When you come home for Christmas we'll have a double
celebration, okay? We can psych ourselves up for that.'

'My bags have just come out on the carousel, so I
better grab them. I'm so tired I'll sleep like a baby. I'll call
you on Monday. Congratulations, James, I'm so proud of
you.'

I didn't have the heart to tell him we wouldn't be
waking up together on Christmas Day. Mum had asked
me to come home to Coolangatta for Christmas, as usual,
and for the first time in four years I'd decided to make the
effort. My brothers Benjamin and Matt and sister Giselle
were going to be there with their kids, and I was looking
forward to seeing them all. It had been so long my nieces
and nephews probably wouldn't even recognise me by now.
James was already flat-spirited about missing my birthday,
though, and I didn't want him even contemplating not
going to Dubai as a consequence of me going north in
December.

On the way home in the cab, I called Alice. She was out
for dinner with Liza and Tony, so couldn't talk properly,
but she ducked into the ladies for a quick chat. 'Just wanted
to let you know that it looks like they're sorting things out,'
she said. 'We're on a double-date, and Liza looks happy.'

'So what changed?' I asked.

'Don't know,' Alice said. 'You'll have to ask her
yourself.'

The long cab ride back to St Kilda also gave me time to
return text messages to Sylvia and Josie about my birthday.

Hi, back in Melbs. B'day drinks next Sat night perfect. Speak soon, Px

Mike's message said:

Hi Miss Tully, long time, hope life's treating u kindly. The Copper

It had been a long time. I texted him back:

It's my b'day next Sat, thought u might like 2 buy me a drink.

He answered straight away:

Night shift next w/end but can u do lunch?

I texted back:

Lunch perfect, spk later. P

Lunch was a good option – it meant I could meet the girls
that night for drinks. Having so much time to spend with
friends was one of the best parts about living in Melbourne.
I realised now how conservative my life back home in
Sydney had become after I'd met James. I really only ever
saw him on weekends, because of our work schedules, so I
hadn't been out partying much. Now I was in my new job,
I was working even harder and really relished having my
weekends to myself to unwind. I was kind of glad James
wasn't coming down, just so I could have some fun with
the girls.