Avoiding Mr Right (7 page)

As the weeks passed, Shelley and I were like two snow peas
in a wok, just as she'd predicted. I was loving food and
drinks and cakes and the garden and living in St Kilda.
Occasionally cousin Joe would drop by, whether I was home
or not, and leave a sampling of his latest creation, which
Shelley and I both appreciated. I wasn't that homesick
because my family, Sylvia and Shelley had filled the void
that Alice, Dannie and Liza had left. The difference with
Shelley was that I wasn't squeezed in around the boyfriends.
And likewise, I didn't have to check James's schedule to see
when it was okay for me to hang out with friends. I was
truly happy with my lot.

Towards the end of summer, Shelley took me by tram
to Toorak Road and we spent the day drinking coffee and
shopping. I never drank much coffee in Sydney, but it
was a very Melbourne thing to do and it helped me get
over the ciggies much easier, going from one addiction to
another. I was down to having just the occasional social one
and it was much easier of a night because Shelley wouldn't
allow smoking in the house at all. Moving to Melbourne
was a great detox of sorts, except that I was still drinking.
On that front some might suggest I was re-toxing since I
moved to St Kilda.

Sylvia had introduced me to soy milk, so I was enjoying
soyaccinos, lattes and so on. As we sat and drank our
coffees I spent the entire time with my mouth open, just
watching all the men around Toorak Road. They got off
trams, they were having coffees, and they were going into
bookstores and clothes shops. They made me smile, and
some of them smiled back. It was like a little hetero Mardi
Gras just for me, and I loved it.

We strolled down the street and I was in awe of the space,
the people, the energy, the sheer difference to Sydney. We
went into a small boutique and I tried on a dress.

'Nice legs,' a guy said as he sat outside the change room.

'Oh,' I responded awkwardly. He was there with a
woman and I had visions of getting bitch slapped then
and there in this groovy little boutique in Toorak Road. 'I
don't know how your girlfriend would feel about you saying
that to a strange woman.' I knew exactly how James would
feel about it.

'Oh, I'm his sister and he does it all the time. Generally,
I just feel embarrassed, so apologies for my cheeky
brother.' I looked sympathetically at her, cheekily at him,
and hid in the change room until they were both gone.

'Gees, men are all over you,' Shelley said as I paid for
the dress.

'Perhaps they know I'm from outta town and are just
being nice.' Then I had a brainwave. 'Or perhaps they can
sense that I'm celibate and they feel sorry for me.'

'Don't be ridiculous. They like the look of you.'

'I love Melbourne, Shelley, and before all my girlfriends
got married up they would've loved it here, too.'

'Pity you're avoiding men.' Shelley nodded in the
direction of a guy across the road leaning in a doorway, just
waiting to be lured somewhere naughty.

'No it's not. I didn't get this much attention when
I actually wanted a bloke. I'm having more fun not wanting
one.'

'Here's my favourite shop,' Shelley said. 'A local
designer, and the clothes are cut really well.' An hour later
we walked out loaded up with clothes and bags and shoes
Shelley would hardly ever wear. When she wasn't at work
she only ever wore thongs.

I took a photo of us both on my phone and texted the
girls:

Hi – Sat morn on Toorak Rd shoppin. You? Luv ya, Px

I knew Shelley must've made a packet working as a
stockbroker. And the day's shopping was evidence that
neither of us was paying enough rent.

'We
really
should be heading home,' Shelley said, trying
to convince herself and me that she was done shopping, 'but
I need to show you this one last shop called Shag.'

'Shag the shop – I like it, especially as it's the only shag
I'm going to get while I'm here. Where is it?' Shelley laughed
and grabbed my arm, dragging me round the corner into
Chapel Street.

'Here we are,' she soon announced and pushed me in
the door.

I spotted a coat I loved immediately and put it on.

'What do you think?' I said, doing a bit of a catwalk turn.

'It's pink!' Shelley screwed her face up like it was fluoro,
when I thought it was a classy deep rose.

'Actually, it's watermelon,' the sales assistant said, 'and
the buttons are original.'

'Yeah, it's watermelon!' I reiterated to Shelley, who was a
proud member of the all-black drab Melbourne mass.

'And now it's time to go. Let's get a cab,' Shelley said.
'I can't carry all this on the tram then home from the stop.'

'No arguments from me, Imelda.'

We jaywalked across the road and I spotted a cyclist
coming towards us. He was grinning and slowing down, as
if to say 'hello'. He went to tip his helmet like a man would
do with his hat in the past, in the days of
The Sullivans
or
something. I giggled like a schoolgirl and he said 'Ladies'
and beamed at us until his wheels got caught in the tram
tracks and he toppled off his bike. I threw my bags at Shelley
and ran over to him.

'Are you okay?' I felt responsible for the spill.

'That'll teach me to perve on a beautiful woman, won't it?'

'I guess so – where is the bitch?' We both laughed as I
helped him to his feet.

'Thanks, my name's Allen, and you're Rachel Berger,
right?'

'Actually no, I'm not. I'm Peta, and I'm avoiding men,
Mr Allen, so if you'll excuse me.' I walked off and just left
him there in his tight, tight bike shorts with his grazed
knee and no doubt bruised ego. I hailed a cab and dragged
Shelley in.

'You're an idiot, Peta. The man just falls off his bike for
you on a main road in the middle of the day, and you can't
even tell him your name.'

'He actually fell off his bike for Rachel Berger, not
me. And even if it were for me, I didn't see the point in
continuing any conversation. How long do you think I'll
be celibate if I give my name and number to every cute guy
I meet in Melbourne? They're fucken everywhere, like a
bogong moth plague, except sexier and tastier.'

'You're an idiot.'

'Would you like to go somewhere, or did you just jump
in for the aircon, ladies?' the driver said, winking at us both
hot and sweaty in the back seat. We hadn't told him where
we were going.

'St Kilda, thank you. Eildon Road,' Shelley said, slightly
exasperated. All the shopping had worn her out.

'I'm not an idiot,' I said in a low voice, 'I'm just in control
of my life for the first time in years, maybe ever. And I'm
not here to play with men, Shelley, remember, and I need
to be faithful to James. We haven't actually broken up. So
technically, I shouldn't be flirting with other men anyway.
And if I were, they'd have to do something more outrageous
than fall off their bike for me. Like step in front of a tram
or something.'

'You're an idiot
and
a bitch,' she joked, and shoved some
of her shopping bags into my lap.

'Yes I am. Thank you very much.'

The taxi driver started to laugh.

'What's so funny?' Shelley asked him with a giggle.

'You young girls are funny. Whatever happened to a man
just being a hopeless romantic, soft and sensitive?'

'Romantic, soft and sensitive is good. We like that. We
also like clowns on bikes,' I said.

'So, if I was soft and sensitive and romantic, and showed
up at the door with flowers, you'd go out with me?' he said,
looking at me in the rear-view mirror. Shelley pinched me
on the thigh.

'Well, I have soft and sensitive at home, and he can be a
clown too. But it's about more than that, isn't it? It's about
shared values and dreams and—'

'Just here on the left thanks, driver. I'll get it, Rachel,'
Shelley said, giving me the eye to get out of the cab, and so
I did.

♥

Shelley had Skype installed on her computer – along with
every other program known to mankind – and showed me
how to set up my own account. I knew Dannie was on it
regularly because it was free and her kids could talk to their
friends and grandparents as often as they wanted to, so I
thought I'd try Skyping her first.

'Hey, this is so cool,' I said as I watched Dannie on the
screen trying to talk to me and shooing away her kids at the
same time.

'Yes, much better than just talking on the phone, but as
you can see I have absolutely no privacy whatsoever with
this set-up. How's it going your end?'

'All great. Love my house, look . . . ' and I turned the
computer screen around the room so Dannie could see
how lovely and homely it was. Shelley was on the couch
and just waved. 'That's Shelley, my landlady, I'm sure you'll
meet sometime down the track.' At that Shelley got up and
mimed, 'I'll give you some privacy,' and left the room.

'So, are you missing James heaps?'

'I've been really busy, but yes, I guess you could say I'm
missing him an adequate amount.'

'You sound like a bloody politician, choosing your words
carefully like that. So,' she whispered, 'how's the celibacy
thing going?'

'Piece of cake really, and when I want some, I actually go
and
have
a piece of cake, down on Acland Street.' I didn't
really want to talk about it.

'Is James going to be celibate as well?' Dannie pressed.

'To be honest, I don't care if he's not. This isn't about him,
it's about me. Anyway, can you expect a man to go without
sex for months on end, if he has it on offer elsewhere?'

'Yes, of course. I'd expect George to go without sex if
I wasn't around for whatever reason. Anyway George is
pretty much celibate as it is and we sleep in the same bed.'
She laughed.

'Why bother getting married if you're not going to have
sex every day at least? I thought getting married was about
not having to look for sex any more.'

'Marriage isn't about sex.' Dannie tut-tutted me like I
was a child and looked around to make sure the kids couldn't
hear her.

'Obviously not. Anyway, you're lying, Dannie. Aren't
you and George trying to have a baby? You're not Mary
Immaculate, so I'm guessing you're having sex – oh sorry,
when you're married, it's
making lurrrrv
, isn't it?'

'You're so childish sometimes. And yes, we're
kind of
trying.'

'What the hell does that mean?
Kind of
trying. Does he
say, "Can I
kind of
put my penis in you tonight love and
maybe
kind of
get you pregnant?" You know, like when
you're teenagers and the boy says, "If it doesn't go all the
way, it's not really sex"?'

'Sssshhhhh, the kids will hear you.' Dannie looked
around nervously and covered the computer screen with her
body, as if blocking my face might drown out the sound.
She was right about a lack of privacy, and not even being
able to have a grown-up conversation with her kids around.
But she started it, so she was going to finish it.

'Well?' It was my turn to be pushy.

'Oh all right.' She leaned in as close as she could to the
screen and whispered, 'We tried recently when we both had
too much champagne at my sister's wedding and both of us
got nostalgic. But we're not having endless nights of passion,
if that's what you're thinking. When you get married you
can measure your passion in minutes, trust me.'

I wanted to say,
And there's another reason not to get
married
– because it was a passion killer – but I wasn't game.
At least James and I had sex every time we saw each other.

When I'd told the girls I was planning to be celibate
while I was down in Melbourne they'd shrieked so loud it
startled the kitchen staff at Sauce, who came running out
with utensils and wet hands and looks of horror on their
faces.

'What's wrong?' Andy had asked.

'Oh nothing, everything's fine,' Liza told him. 'Peta has
just taken a twelve-month vow of celibacy, that's all.'

'That's a waste of a good woman, I'd say.' He winked at
me and walked off.

'What are you talking about, celibate. Celibate my arse.'
Alice had laughed so hard she'd nearly pissed herself.

'Muuuuuummmmmmm . . .' I heard a cry on Dannie's
side of the screen. I watched her push her chair back and yell
like I'd never have imagined her do, 'I'm coming upstairs
in five minutes and you two better have your homework
done.' She looked back at me. 'I've gotta go, but keep in
touch, okay? We all miss you. If you're not busy, let's have
a Skype session on Friday with Alice and Liza too – it'll
be fun.'

'Sure thing, catch you then. Now go and do their
homework for them.'

We logged out and I just sat staring at the screen for
a moment. Now that I lived in Melbourne, Dannie and I
seemed to be closer than we ever had been while I was in
Sydney – communicating via text and email had somehow
helped us to understand each other.

I thought about never having privacy when you had
children, and how marriage was almost a form of celibacy
anyway. Neither commitment was at all attractive to me at
that moment.

Hey Peta – what's news? Missed you on the Skype session on
Friday. You would've loved it. Dannie told us about the planning
committee for the school fete (yawn) and as usual Liza wouldn't
tell us anything about any cases at the ALS – it's not like we'd tell
anyone. We all miss you, and we're planning our visit to Melbourne,
but the way we're going it won't be till you're ready to come home.
When are you in Sydney next? And when are you going to call
Josie? She keeps asking me when you're going to hook up. Okay,
don't panic now, I didn't mean 'hook up', I meant catch up. She
knows you're straight and married up. BTW, James is missing you
heaps. Calls all the time. Missing his weekend visits to Coogee too.
He's looking for property, but you'd know that, eh? Will be great
when you're back and we can all hang out again. Speak soon, love
Alice xoxoxoxoxo Gary says 'G'day' too! x

It was the end of March already. I'd been so busy at work
during the week I hadn't found time to sit down to check my
hotmail account until Saturday morning. I'd forgotten all
about the planned Skype session the night before. I decided
to call Josie straight away so I could at least tell Alice that
we'd made plans.

I was glad I did. Josie was friendly, and greeted me like
family. She was free that afternoon, and so was I, so we
arranged to meet for a few bevies down at the Esplanade, a
pub in St Kilda. Josie said I had to call it the 'Espy' if I wanted
to sound like a local; it was apparently a rock institution.

'It's great to hear from you, Peta,' she said. 'Alice keeps
asking me when we're going to catch up.'

That was so Alice, to be saying the same thing to both of
us. After we'd hung up, I emailed her.

Hello there Missy – funny you should email me just now, I'm
catching up with cuzin Josie later today, and looking forward to it.
I'm adding the lesbian parking cop to the Greek-Australian vegan
eco-poet and the Pimm's drinking, thong-wearing stockbroker who
are my mates here. I think you'd like them. Gees, wish I could've
heard all about the chocolate wheel and face painting . . . blah blah
blah, it makes me laugh when Dannie goes from something serious
like censorship in the media to what she's making for the kids'
lunches the next day. It really is great, though, isn't it? Give her my
love, and I'll email her soon too. Just been really busy, still finding
my feet at work and locally. All good though. Say hi to Gary, and I'll
call you soon for a good goss.

Luv ya, Px

I intentionally didn't mention James's property shopping. I
was annoyed he'd been talking about it with my friends –
I didn't want to disappoint him
and
Alice and Gary if in the
long run it didn't work out.

Josie called as I made my way to the Espy. We wouldn't
be hanging out at the pub after all, because she'd been offered
an extra shift. She couldn't turn it down, so she invited me
to walk with her as she did the streets of St Kilda. It was a
gorgeous day and I was still getting my bearings so it would
be a great opportunity to kill two birds with one stone –
learn about Josie and the local geography.

Josie didn't
look
like a lesbian, just like people often said
I didn't necessarily
look
Aboriginal.

'I'm a lipstick lesbian, that way I have both men and
women want me. It feels good.' Josie laughed and I liked
her straight away.

'Are you sure it's okay for me to walk with you?' I asked
as we gathered speed along Fitzroy Street.

'Yeah, no worries, it's a public place – you can do whatever
you want. Who's to know this is a date.'

'What? But this isn't a date!'

'I know, just gammin, love. Be sure and tell Aunty Ivy
that one, okay? She'll expect a story like that.' Josie winked
at me.

'Hey Josie, latte?' an old Italian man asked as we walked
past Leo's.

'Maybe later, had three already, thanks,' she replied, and
blew him a kiss.

'Three already, are you mental? How many do you have
a day?'

'Depends on how many they give me.' Josie shrugged.

'They?'

'The shop owners. I never buy food or coffee when I'm
working, and even when I'm not working and I'm in the
area. Shop owners are always getting things delivered and
blocking the road and driveways and footpaths. They feed
me and I don't see a thing. I'm like the parking cop mafia,
and coffee, cakes and pasta is my protection money.' I wasn't
quite sure if Josie was joking with me but either way she had
clearly had too much caffeine already.

'Watch this,' she said, as she went to a car parked in a
disabled spot without a sticker. She started to write a ticket
when a man carrying a coffee came running over.

'Oh no, love, please don't, I was just getting a coffee.' He
was puffed.

'You think getting a coffee is an excuse for parking
illegally? And parking in a disabled spot? It's not bad enough
that someone ends up in a wheelchair but then they have to
wait while you take your healthy spine propped up by two
healthy legs and get a coffee. Sorry, that's not a legitimate
excuse.' She handed him a ticket.

'Dumb bitch.' He spat the words at her.

'Actually, the name's Josie. Have a nice day.' And she
walked back towards me slowly.

'That's unbelievable! He didn't even try and lie – say he
was sick, or busting to go to the toilet or whatever,' I said,
gobsmacked.

'Yeah, I know. No shame at all. But we're the bad guys;
we're the scum of the earth because we ask people nicely not
to park in spaces for people with disabilities when you can
walk to get your coffee. You ain't seen nothing, though. It's
Saturday afternoon – wait till we get on Jacka Boulevard.'

I remembered my first trip to Jacka Boulevard and the
coin machines. 'Actually, I do have something to say about
the coin machines on that stretch of road.'

'Go ahead. I'm sure you've got something to tell me that
I haven't heard before.'

'It's fine to ask for coins if you have a bloody change
machine nearby as well. But not everyone carries bags of
change with them, so if you don't have the right money you
have to ask strangers or not park or get booked. Ah! Is
that
the council's strategy? Now it makes sense.'

Josie shrugged her shoulders. 'It's a fair call. I don't know
why we don't have change machines or machines that also
take credit cards as well as coins. People suggest it all the
time – but I'll note it in the office again when I go back.'

A motor bike was parked on the footpath blocking
everyone's way on Acland Street. The owner was dressed in
all leather, despite the stinking hot day, and having lunch
with his mates. Josie started to write a ticket and he came
over immediately.

'Hello gorgeous, what can I do to persuade you not to
write that ticket? My pleasure is your pleasure.' I laughed to
myself,
Oh I don't think it is, mate.

'Is this your very macho bike, with the
very
big engine?'
Josie asked. He puffed his chest out and I'm sure I saw his
bulge grow in his black leather pants.

'Sure is, baby. You wanna ride?'

'Well, you're parked illegally.' And she handed him a
ticket.

'Did you know that all this is Aboriginal land anyway?'
He waved his arms along the street.

'Really? Are you Aboriginal?'

'No, but I'm an actor, and I played an Aborigine once,
does that count?'

'No.'

'Bitch.'

'Thanks.'

As we walked off, I was surprised that Josie wasn't angry.

'How can you be so calm all the time? I mean with their
stupidity and their abuse? You've been called a bitch twice
already.'

'Yeah, but I've also been called love, gorgeous and baby.
I love that men don't know I'm gay; they make passes at
me all the time, look like fools and still get a ticket. You
take the good with the bad.' I admired Josie's positive take
on it.

'Hey Josie, strudel!' A stocky woman walked out of a
cake shop I hadn't been to yet.

'Thanks, Sabina, but look at my love handles. There'll
be too much to love soon. Maybe next lap!' If Josie didn't
have a good relationship with the illegal parkers, she sure
had one with the shopkeepers and maybe that was why she
was so chirpy. Then she turned to me. 'Thank God my job
is walking. I'd be a heifer otherwise.'

Between Spencer and Chaucer streets, outside Luna
Park, we saw a gorgeous blue Citroën convertible, roof
down, double-parked, minus a driver. 'I can't believe some
people,' Josie said. 'Probably in having a ride on the ghost
train.'

She walked over to the car, looked around the area
for the owner and started to write a ticket. I stood on the
footpath, just waiting for another dumb bloke to run up
and offer sex or money and watch Josie shoot them down
in flames. Instead two women strolled up to the car, denim
and singlet clad.

'Hey darl, don't be like that. Let me buy you a drink
at Girls Bar instead.' The taller woman grabbed her girlfriend.
'The three of us can sort it out together, whaddya
reckon?' Josie just handed her the ticket.

'It's a seventy-five dollar fine for double-parking. If you've
got any money left in your wallet after you pay the bill then,
sure, you can buy me a drink at Girls Bar on Thursday night.
Don't be doing it again – you're breaking the law.'

'Oh, we've been naughty gals. Can't you just spank us?'

'C'mon.' Josie gave me the head wave to move on,
before it got too dirty, I think. I had never seen anything
like it in my life. People everywhere offering sex to get out
of a parking ticket. There I was trying to avoid men, and
Josie had both sexes throwing themselves at her. What a
nightmare that must have been – or not.

'It's hot, eh?' Josie adjusted her hat.

'I think it's just you, love, with all that sexual tension
around you.'

'Hardy-har-har, I mean it's hot, must be thirty degrees.
Let's get a juice.' We headed to a healthy juice bar on
Acland Street and I remembered with a pang the days when
I would show up at Alice's place with carrot and ginger
juices and we'd debrief on the boozy night before.

'They do the best juices here. Should I order for you?'
Josie asked, and went to the counter. 'Hi Mary, can I get
a Vegie Power Juice for my friend and I'll have the Detox
Juice.' She didn't pay a cent. Everyone everywhere who didn't
own a car, or wasn't near their car, loved Josie. Actually she
was quite lovable, and I couldn't understand how Aunty Ivy
could be so nasty to her.

It was an hour before there was another incident. Josie
had to book a car parked at the Sea Baths for twenty-four
hours without a ticket.

'Someone's obviously been drinking and got a cab home,
which is great, but would've been cheaper to get the cab
both ways,' she said as she wrote the ticket and placed it
under the windscreen wiper.

'Have you got your quota today, slag?' a guy said as he
walked past.

'Is this your car, mate?' Josie said calmly.

'No, never seen it before.'

'Then fuck off and mind your own business.' And I knew
Josie had had enough for the day. 'I need a drink. You up
for one tonight?'

'Sure, but I don't really want to go to that girls' bar, if
you don't mind. I'm avoiding men, but it doesn't mean I'm
looking for women, if you know what I mean.'

'Oh for God's sake, you're starting to sound like my
Aunty Ivy. I know you're not interested in women. Alice
gave me the lowdown about your perfect man in Sydney.
And how you're having an early midlife crisis and trying to
figure out what you want to do.'

'It's not a crisis – I just want to be the Minister for
Cultural Affairs one day.'

'I'd say a self-imposed sex ban for a gorgeous young
woman like yourself
is
a fucken crisis. And don't panic, I'm
not hitting on you.'

'Starving kids in Africa is a
crisis
. Now can we stop
talking about me and start talking about tonight?'

♥

Josie took me to Kanela on Johnston Street in Fitzroy for
lots of sangria, tapas and flamenco dancing.

'This place is great!' I said as our paella arrived in a large
cast iron pan.

'Yeah, it's run by two brothers – they're like two of the
country's best flamenco artists.'

We watched the show and it made me want to dance, or
try to dance or to have a dance lesson at least, and it wasn't
because of the sangria. The rhythm of the music and the
hard soles of the shoes hitting the floor was mesmerising and
everyone in the venue was entranced watching the couple
dance their song of love. The woman was truly beautiful and
the guy was hot.

'How hot is that!' I said.

'Yes, she is,' Josie replied, eyes fixed on the flowing black
dress of the flamenco queen.

♥

When I got home Shelley was already asleep, so I tried to
make as little noise as possible but I was really drunk and
had started to feel sick. The fruit in the sangria didn't taste
as good coming up as it did going down. I had a shower and
felt a bit better, but took a bucket with me to bed. I couldn't
remember how long it had been since I'd done that – at least
as long as I'd been going out with James, and maybe even
longer. He would have been appalled. I closed my eyes and
the room started to spin and spin.

I'm at customs and the guy says I need a thirty-day visa
and I explain that there is no way I will be there thirty days,
maybe eight hours if I am lucky, and then I laugh and he
laughs.

'What is your occupation?' he asks, because now I have
to fill out entry forms.

'I'm the Minister for Cultural Affairs, on holidays,' I lie,
because I can, and I know it doesn't really matter and he
doesn't really care because he hasn't taken his eyes off my
cleavage anyway. Then he takes me and my astral passport
to a small room.