Delta40
10-01-2011, 08:10 PM
She knocked on my door again yesterday. The neighbour who lives across the alleyway. Ever since I smiled at her while waiting for the bus and made a banal comment on the weather, she has decided we're somehow friends. I don't think we are but I'm not cold enough to tell her to get lost. For a moment, I think about not answering but realize my blinds are open and the tv is blaring.
She stands on the verandah nervously looking around. Stringy henna-dyed hair and a black eye that is so bruised, her eye is almost closed. I suppose because her skin is fair the old bruises take ages to fade.
'Hey. Mick's gone to work and the kids are at school. I thought I'd come over for a coffee.' I smile, cringing inside at the thought of being involved but I also feel sorry for her.
'Sure. C'mon in and I'll pop the kettle on.' She flits past me and stands in the middle of the lounge then starts handling my ornaments. They're valuable. Not just in price but sentimentally too and I would hate anything to happen to them so I tell myself not to react sharply toward my nervy neighbour. While I busy myself in the kitchen, she puts everything back where she found them.
'Is it alright if I smoke in here?' I take an ashtray out of the cupboard and place it on the table. 'Mick doesn't like me to smoke.' she giggles like a mischievous child.
'You're an adult you know. You can make your own decisions.' The giggling stops and she sits upright and flicks her hair back.
'I know that. Of course I can smoke if I want but I don't want to upset Mick. That's all.' For a moment there is silence between us and I ask if she would like a biscuit with her coffee. She says no and puffs away, as if her time is limited. It's only 9.00am. She should have all day but she knows more than me. Finally, I decide to ask her about the marks and the black eye.
'What's going on at your house?' I hear his bellowing voice and her terrified screams at night. Even the neighbour on the other side hears them. We talked about it once but she just sniffed and said some women were too dumb to know what they wanted and deserved everything they got. Her garden is beautiful and she spends all her spare time weeding and planting while her aging husband sits dribbling in a wheelchair. I guess in her household, she calls the shots and has all the power.
Mick rules the roost in my visitor's house. That much is obvious. She lights another smoke as soon as she puts the first one out and tries to explain.
'Mick works really long hours. He's a wharfie and has alot of responsibility, you know.' Perhaps that statement is supposed to satisfy me. To be honest, I'd rather she'd leave. I resent being some kind of life jacket for her and I'm scared of what he might do if he finds out she comes over here during the day. I live alone and like most people, I don't want any trouble. Sure I'm sorry for her. I wouldn't be human if I wasn't but that doesn't mean I'll put myself in the firing line for her but at the same time, I can't stand the excuses she rattles off about him.
'Why does he hit you?' She really stands up then. I can see she is strong. You must be to put up with a violent husband but her failing is that the pent up anger, fear and loathing get directed to anyone other than Mick.
'He's got his reasons and I didn't come over here to talk about them with you. I didn't know what a nosey neighbour you were, but now I do, I reckon I better be going home.' She drinks the last of the coffee and stubs out the second smoke. Without so much as a glance back, she walks out of my house.
So that's it. I'm relieved and yet angry too. She needs help and chose me but when I exposed her secret, she defended it and left. Lord knows how these women save themselves and their children. I'm only glad it's not me.
She stands on the verandah nervously looking around. Stringy henna-dyed hair and a black eye that is so bruised, her eye is almost closed. I suppose because her skin is fair the old bruises take ages to fade.
'Hey. Mick's gone to work and the kids are at school. I thought I'd come over for a coffee.' I smile, cringing inside at the thought of being involved but I also feel sorry for her.
'Sure. C'mon in and I'll pop the kettle on.' She flits past me and stands in the middle of the lounge then starts handling my ornaments. They're valuable. Not just in price but sentimentally too and I would hate anything to happen to them so I tell myself not to react sharply toward my nervy neighbour. While I busy myself in the kitchen, she puts everything back where she found them.
'Is it alright if I smoke in here?' I take an ashtray out of the cupboard and place it on the table. 'Mick doesn't like me to smoke.' she giggles like a mischievous child.
'You're an adult you know. You can make your own decisions.' The giggling stops and she sits upright and flicks her hair back.
'I know that. Of course I can smoke if I want but I don't want to upset Mick. That's all.' For a moment there is silence between us and I ask if she would like a biscuit with her coffee. She says no and puffs away, as if her time is limited. It's only 9.00am. She should have all day but she knows more than me. Finally, I decide to ask her about the marks and the black eye.
'What's going on at your house?' I hear his bellowing voice and her terrified screams at night. Even the neighbour on the other side hears them. We talked about it once but she just sniffed and said some women were too dumb to know what they wanted and deserved everything they got. Her garden is beautiful and she spends all her spare time weeding and planting while her aging husband sits dribbling in a wheelchair. I guess in her household, she calls the shots and has all the power.
Mick rules the roost in my visitor's house. That much is obvious. She lights another smoke as soon as she puts the first one out and tries to explain.
'Mick works really long hours. He's a wharfie and has alot of responsibility, you know.' Perhaps that statement is supposed to satisfy me. To be honest, I'd rather she'd leave. I resent being some kind of life jacket for her and I'm scared of what he might do if he finds out she comes over here during the day. I live alone and like most people, I don't want any trouble. Sure I'm sorry for her. I wouldn't be human if I wasn't but that doesn't mean I'll put myself in the firing line for her but at the same time, I can't stand the excuses she rattles off about him.
'Why does he hit you?' She really stands up then. I can see she is strong. You must be to put up with a violent husband but her failing is that the pent up anger, fear and loathing get directed to anyone other than Mick.
'He's got his reasons and I didn't come over here to talk about them with you. I didn't know what a nosey neighbour you were, but now I do, I reckon I better be going home.' She drinks the last of the coffee and stubs out the second smoke. Without so much as a glance back, she walks out of my house.
So that's it. I'm relieved and yet angry too. She needs help and chose me but when I exposed her secret, she defended it and left. Lord knows how these women save themselves and their children. I'm only glad it's not me.