It's like a jungle sometimes

Doorways became impenetrable. All of a Newtown a locked glass corridor showing how it is done how it is done but I was prevented from walking through any doorways. Some silent alarm sounded and I walked and walked without purpose.

My memory, with a wicked flick of her hand, reminded me I had been invited to an exhibition opening and then it stopped. I walked into the bakery and bought some foul and stinking square thing and ate and walked down the backstreets turning left onto Wilson St and counting out the numbers to 191. Spencer and Madam Squeeze saw me approach and they made, in unison, a face of alarm. A pared back grimace and a raising of the chin, a tightened grip on a handbag strap and a bottle of beer. We are all herd, at once I understood, Artboy was in the building.

I talked widely, admiring the shoes and netball dreams of one, placing a hand on others as I walked past with a nod and a word. I circled and circled in that crowd but it wound around me tighter and closer as the rain came and people pushed under the one small awning. I pushed through the crowd and stepped up into the gallery thinking myself safe to listen to the art (sound art) thinking I hadn't seen Artboy in any corner of any eye for ten minutes but there he was crouched beneath a piece wearing gallery cans listening and listening. Thinking Fuck the Art I went back outside.

Retreating to the relative safety of Madam Squeeze and Spencer it was some minutes before sound refocused and I joined the conversation but then it was too late. He was there, two metres to my left talking and talking to the netball one and Petey-O. I told Spencer I have to apologise to him. I sent him an email demanding he become undetectable in life. Spencer said "Be direct. Say what you have to say and get out. Then we'll go get a drink".

Tricky situations call for subtle yet inventive solutions. I hesitated then walked towards him. I paused thinking to wait for a break in the conversation but instead I said "Oy! I have to apologise to you so go over there" pointing round the corner. He came without a word.

Around the corner sheltering under a tree I looked straight at him and apologised. His face, oh god his face. It was all of him. He is hollow yet heavy as a sinking stone. He stood empty and grieving; a man constructed around a black hole. His shoulders pointed inwards sloping towards the opposite of possibility. All the while the rain. I stood like a beacon feeling the solid layers of myself hold me upright and strong. In this terrible comparison I have light. A shadow posing as a man. In this terrible comparison I am whole and well and full of light.

He said "I like your dress". He said "Sometimes there are things that I miss but I don't know if that is right." His face, oh god his face, not a mask not a mask, I was staring at ghosts contorted into pain. I thought he was dying. He should have been dying with insides hollowed out and nothing but racing grief and the shadow shapes of life imitating life. He said "Its good to see you." So I talked and he listened and he asked about my family while the tapes ran reruns in his head.

I thought I had made him into a ghost but I see now he was a ghost all along. Time pushed back and away the night that he left, the loud snap of his mind. I did not imagine nor embellish. These long months in The Peach I have carried guilt, grief and the repeating sound it was me it was me it was me I am not good enough I failed it was me it was me but it was him.

Spencer and Madam Squeeze walked me across a park in the pouring rain and we miraculously appeared on King St. There were pubs and finally a small gathering of six in a cafe. We sat sheltered cupping warm round cups laughing and talking. Spencer breaking into Jitterbug then a finger click every time a Wham Kid walked past. I was waiting for the lightning and torrential rain to make its sudden definite move inside my head. I was waiting for the laughter to die on my lips and cold grief to claim me.

Walking home alone in silence the rain soaking upwards into my shoes and the bottoms of my jeans I was waiting to fall and be unable to stand. Two houses from The Peach striding faster than gravity, my right foot hit a wet leaf and my leg went out from under me completely. This is how I found myself two houses from home standing solid on my left leg, upright, stable and suddenly aware of my own balance and strength.

Comments

Anonymous said…
I am so proud of you and your amazing strength right now. Sometimes that uncomfortable, past dredging experience is needed to remind us how far we've come and how it was possibly the best thing that could have happened.
Anonymous said…
BTW I know it's now monday so i'm a little behind but i did 7 days this week, i'm going to be 12 5:30ams in a row ahhhhhh!!!!
DS said…
I'm not sure there can be a best possible outcome in this situation. I am ok that is enough for now.