Patchy, greasy purple hieroglyphs. Maud leaned forward and rubbed at the marks with her thumb, leaving wispy daubs on the glass. It looked as if dozens of tiny winged creatures had been pinned out on the pane for observation. I wrote:
—Windex
And she gave me the thumbs-up.
My Collins Australian Internet-Linked Dictionary (with CD-ROM) defines ‘mad’ as ‘mentally deranged; insane; senseless; foolish; angry; resentful; wildly enthusiastic (about) or fond (of); extremely excited or confused; frantic; temporarily overpowered by violent reactions, emotions etc.; unusually ferocious; with great energy, enthusiasm or haste.’ There’s also a reference to rabies that I don’t think is circumstantially appropriate. But all the rest is. She describes me. Just by being mad, Maud puts me on, like a piece of clothing or purple lipstick. By being mad, she is a thing I have drunk downlike Alice’s potion, becoming smaller and smaller until she is a tiny pulse in my stomach, a flicker in my lungs. I’m on her and she’s in me. Or as Maud would say it: I am on her and she is in me. It feels good.
We see each other at school the following week. We don’t speak to each other. It is understood. She doesn’t look at me while I am looking at her, so I can only assume she is looking at me when I am looking somewhere else. It is exciting to be furtive. It is required. This, after all, is not our venue. We have our own place in the space between windows.
TWELVE
Down with the Sickness
—Disturbed (2000)
My conversations with Maud usually last as long as her lipstick does. She has an enormous collection of lipstick, for someone who never wears it. She says her mum always buys her make-up for her birthdays. She says her mum always buys birthday presents for the daughter who lives in her head instead of the one who lives in her house.
—Ask for cash next time
—MUM SAYS THERE NO PLEASURE IN THAT FOR HER
—Fuck we wouldn’t want to deny her
—NANNA GAVE ME CASH AND I DID THIS
Maud lifts her T-shirt then to show me her bellybutton piercing. I’ve seen it before but not like this. Not with this stark consent. She pulls her T-shirt up hard and fast, like a flasher, and holds it bunched at the under-curve of her breasts. Her belly is whiter than I thought and so soft looking. Where mine is sunken, hers pops out a bit, a little fleshy swelling that disappears into her shorts. It’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. She has an innie bellybutton pierced on the lower lip. A gold sleeper.
—Nice does it get in the way?
—IN THE WAY OF WHAT?
—Anything?
—YOU WANT TO TOUCH IT?
—No
—LIAR
It’s true that I might be lying. I’m not sure. ‘No’ seems like the polite thing to say, but I reckon if I was in the room with her and she asked me, I might have touched her bellybutton ring. I wonder if it is warm to the touch. I wonder if the heat of her body is conducted through the gold like a little electric current.
I’ve never been keen on piercings for myself. I thought about getting one ear done, but apparently there is a gay side. I’m not sure of the etiquette, but I’ve heard that one side of your head is gay and if you get that earpierced you’re making some sort of statement about your sexuality. Not that there’s anything wrong with gay. Whatever floats your boat. I would just rather not make inadvertent statements about what floats mine. To avoid confusion, I suppose I could get both ears pierced, but that has a big whiff of pirate about it, if you ask me. The only other places left to us guys are the eyebrow and the tongue. Unless you want to go further south. I wonder if pirates are pierced south of the equator. That actually seems like something a pirate would do.
Maud fingers the sleeper a little bit, gives it a little tug. I feel my eyes wince. Then she rolls her T-shirt back into place and leans forward, her palms
—Windex
And she gave me the thumbs-up.
My Collins Australian Internet-Linked Dictionary (with CD-ROM) defines ‘mad’ as ‘mentally deranged; insane; senseless; foolish; angry; resentful; wildly enthusiastic (about) or fond (of); extremely excited or confused; frantic; temporarily overpowered by violent reactions, emotions etc.; unusually ferocious; with great energy, enthusiasm or haste.’ There’s also a reference to rabies that I don’t think is circumstantially appropriate. But all the rest is. She describes me. Just by being mad, Maud puts me on, like a piece of clothing or purple lipstick. By being mad, she is a thing I have drunk downlike Alice’s potion, becoming smaller and smaller until she is a tiny pulse in my stomach, a flicker in my lungs. I’m on her and she’s in me. Or as Maud would say it: I am on her and she is in me. It feels good.
We see each other at school the following week. We don’t speak to each other. It is understood. She doesn’t look at me while I am looking at her, so I can only assume she is looking at me when I am looking somewhere else. It is exciting to be furtive. It is required. This, after all, is not our venue. We have our own place in the space between windows.
TWELVE
Down with the Sickness
—Disturbed (2000)
My conversations with Maud usually last as long as her lipstick does. She has an enormous collection of lipstick, for someone who never wears it. She says her mum always buys her make-up for her birthdays. She says her mum always buys birthday presents for the daughter who lives in her head instead of the one who lives in her house.
—Ask for cash next time
—MUM SAYS THERE NO PLEASURE IN THAT FOR HER
—Fuck we wouldn’t want to deny her
—NANNA GAVE ME CASH AND I DID THIS
Maud lifts her T-shirt then to show me her bellybutton piercing. I’ve seen it before but not like this. Not with this stark consent. She pulls her T-shirt up hard and fast, like a flasher, and holds it bunched at the under-curve of her breasts. Her belly is whiter than I thought and so soft looking. Where mine is sunken, hers pops out a bit, a little fleshy swelling that disappears into her shorts. It’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. She has an innie bellybutton pierced on the lower lip. A gold sleeper.
—Nice does it get in the way?
—IN THE WAY OF WHAT?
—Anything?
—YOU WANT TO TOUCH IT?
—No
—LIAR
It’s true that I might be lying. I’m not sure. ‘No’ seems like the polite thing to say, but I reckon if I was in the room with her and she asked me, I might have touched her bellybutton ring. I wonder if it is warm to the touch. I wonder if the heat of her body is conducted through the gold like a little electric current.
I’ve never been keen on piercings for myself. I thought about getting one ear done, but apparently there is a gay side. I’m not sure of the etiquette, but I’ve heard that one side of your head is gay and if you get that earpierced you’re making some sort of statement about your sexuality. Not that there’s anything wrong with gay. Whatever floats your boat. I would just rather not make inadvertent statements about what floats mine. To avoid confusion, I suppose I could get both ears pierced, but that has a big whiff of pirate about it, if you ask me. The only other places left to us guys are the eyebrow and the tongue. Unless you want to go further south. I wonder if pirates are pierced south of the equator. That actually seems like something a pirate would do.
Maud fingers the sleeper a little bit, gives it a little tug. I feel my eyes wince. Then she rolls her T-shirt back into place and leans forward, her palms
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