half of NOT talking to each
other)
“ Sure,” I replied, hiding the knife
protruding from my heart well. “Sure, babe. Have fun!” Then I
walked my Pinky walk (so all happy and bouncy like) back to my
desk, and tried to pretend to sit down all happy like and not
devastated like.
Nat, having overheard it all, rolled her eyes
at my pretend nonchalance.
(Nat has no time for double-crossers, people
who don’t value you…and wimpy older sisters)
“ Come on, dopey,” she said to me,
slinging her fluro yellow bag over her shoulder.
“Woman’s Day is calling to you.”
She hates what she calls ‘Mum’s magazines,’
since we grew up with Mum permanently on the couch, day in, day
out, reading her Woman’s Day and her New Idea. Only ever those two
mags, and she would take seven days to read the two.
Seven days. With her doing nothing but reading
them all day.
(Mum is a slow reader)
So I picked up my bag and followed Nat out, and
she drove us to Cannon Hill. “I can’t believe she just ditches us
like that!” I cried, soon as we were in the car.
Nat just shrugged. Perpetually grumpy. “Yeah,
well. If she ditches us for Katie…they can have each
other.”
And just like that, Nat has forgotten Sherrie
and our special friendship, as quickly as Sherrie has forgotten
us.
You don’t cross Nat twice. You let her down
once, you never get another chance.
But not me. I try and try and try with people.
Even bad people. Why?? Why are Nat and I so different?? We had the
same upbringing, and we’ve been glued at the hip since
birth.
I wonder what it’s like to be so strong?? To
just move on like that, not spend another second in hurt or
regret.
IT MUST BE FABULOUS!!!
Nat has Dan though. Has always had Dan, or A
Dan, another version of him. She’s not been single for even a day
since she was 15. Maybe always having a partner makes you
stronger.
I mean, it must. Someone is always there to
catch you when you fall, when you’re sad…someone is always there to
tell you you’re beautiful. Someone there every night to hold
you.
Maybe when you have a man every night to come
home to, in bed with you every night, nothing else matters. Friends
that ditch you mean nothing in comparison to having your great love
beside you.
Sigh. I wouldn’t know.
I’ve never had anybody. Not properly. Not like
it matters.
It’s just me tonight, my bed, and my tears over
losing Sherrie.
Wednesday 5 July 2000
7.45pm
Oh my God, so funny…
I had to work late last night, and Benny kept
coming upstairs from the warehouse, demanding to know where Gerry’s
lolly stash is hidden.
I was all, “Nut, nut, sorry. Can’t reveal that
kind of classified information.”
Benny kept laughing, then on his tenth trip
upstairs
(having a blood sugar crash
clearly),
he was all, “PINKY, WHERE THE FUCK ARE THE
FUCKING LOLLIES!!!” and “I NEED SHUG-GAAAA!!”
(he’s worse than a girl!!)
“ COME ON PINKY, WHERE’S THE
STASH!!”
(oh I just got it now. He was
stoned)
And me, all zen like, and typing away madly. “I
am not telling you, Benny Boy.”
But then I finally cracked, cause he just would
not shut up, grabbed a key on Renee’s desk, and opened a drawer in
the filing cabinet in the corner.
“ Now you SWEAR you WILL NOT tell
Renee I told you where they are, Benny??”
“ I promise, Pinky. ON MY
LIFE.”
“ Promise??”
“ I promise!! I won’t
tell!”
We then stood there, laughing madly as we
stuffed our faces with lollies. We kept saying to each other
–
“ You SWEAR you won’t tell Renee I
showed you where they are!”
“ YOU swear you won’t tell Renee I
ate them!!”
“ I swear.”
“ I swear!”
“ I FUCKING swear – ”
“ I know you do, Pinky!!”
“ Pinky swear?”
“ Pinky swear!”
“ Like ACTUAL Pinky swear, with our
pinky fingers, NOT MY NAME Pinky swear – ”
We entwined pinky fingers and shook.
SO TODAY, Renee asked me in her best stern
office
other)
“ Sure,” I replied, hiding the knife
protruding from my heart well. “Sure, babe. Have fun!” Then I
walked my Pinky walk (so all happy and bouncy like) back to my
desk, and tried to pretend to sit down all happy like and not
devastated like.
Nat, having overheard it all, rolled her eyes
at my pretend nonchalance.
(Nat has no time for double-crossers, people
who don’t value you…and wimpy older sisters)
“ Come on, dopey,” she said to me,
slinging her fluro yellow bag over her shoulder.
“Woman’s Day is calling to you.”
She hates what she calls ‘Mum’s magazines,’
since we grew up with Mum permanently on the couch, day in, day
out, reading her Woman’s Day and her New Idea. Only ever those two
mags, and she would take seven days to read the two.
Seven days. With her doing nothing but reading
them all day.
(Mum is a slow reader)
So I picked up my bag and followed Nat out, and
she drove us to Cannon Hill. “I can’t believe she just ditches us
like that!” I cried, soon as we were in the car.
Nat just shrugged. Perpetually grumpy. “Yeah,
well. If she ditches us for Katie…they can have each
other.”
And just like that, Nat has forgotten Sherrie
and our special friendship, as quickly as Sherrie has forgotten
us.
You don’t cross Nat twice. You let her down
once, you never get another chance.
But not me. I try and try and try with people.
Even bad people. Why?? Why are Nat and I so different?? We had the
same upbringing, and we’ve been glued at the hip since
birth.
I wonder what it’s like to be so strong?? To
just move on like that, not spend another second in hurt or
regret.
IT MUST BE FABULOUS!!!
Nat has Dan though. Has always had Dan, or A
Dan, another version of him. She’s not been single for even a day
since she was 15. Maybe always having a partner makes you
stronger.
I mean, it must. Someone is always there to
catch you when you fall, when you’re sad…someone is always there to
tell you you’re beautiful. Someone there every night to hold
you.
Maybe when you have a man every night to come
home to, in bed with you every night, nothing else matters. Friends
that ditch you mean nothing in comparison to having your great love
beside you.
Sigh. I wouldn’t know.
I’ve never had anybody. Not properly. Not like
it matters.
It’s just me tonight, my bed, and my tears over
losing Sherrie.
Wednesday 5 July 2000
7.45pm
Oh my God, so funny…
I had to work late last night, and Benny kept
coming upstairs from the warehouse, demanding to know where Gerry’s
lolly stash is hidden.
I was all, “Nut, nut, sorry. Can’t reveal that
kind of classified information.”
Benny kept laughing, then on his tenth trip
upstairs
(having a blood sugar crash
clearly),
he was all, “PINKY, WHERE THE FUCK ARE THE
FUCKING LOLLIES!!!” and “I NEED SHUG-GAAAA!!”
(he’s worse than a girl!!)
“ COME ON PINKY, WHERE’S THE
STASH!!”
(oh I just got it now. He was
stoned)
And me, all zen like, and typing away madly. “I
am not telling you, Benny Boy.”
But then I finally cracked, cause he just would
not shut up, grabbed a key on Renee’s desk, and opened a drawer in
the filing cabinet in the corner.
“ Now you SWEAR you WILL NOT tell
Renee I told you where they are, Benny??”
“ I promise, Pinky. ON MY
LIFE.”
“ Promise??”
“ I promise!! I won’t
tell!”
We then stood there, laughing madly as we
stuffed our faces with lollies. We kept saying to each other
–
“ You SWEAR you won’t tell Renee I
showed you where they are!”
“ YOU swear you won’t tell Renee I
ate them!!”
“ I swear.”
“ I swear!”
“ I FUCKING swear – ”
“ I know you do, Pinky!!”
“ Pinky swear?”
“ Pinky swear!”
“ Like ACTUAL Pinky swear, with our
pinky fingers, NOT MY NAME Pinky swear – ”
We entwined pinky fingers and shook.
SO TODAY, Renee asked me in her best stern
office
Similar Books
