Scribblings¶
π No New Tasks π¶
[ Lauren ]
When I stepped into Celeste and Charlotte's apartment that afternoon, I noticed there was nowhere to put my keys. There was a spot for Charlotte's shoes, and Celeste's coat, but, unlike at Sarah's, no dish or hooks for keys.
Perhaps they just kept them in their purses.
Even though Charlotte didn't drive, surely she held a set of keys when she had to walk home from the bus.
Surely.
I heard the click of a kettle in the kitchen, and then, Celeste appeared. She ran up to me, and threw her arms around me. I felt something inside me melt, and my eyes go a bit wet.
"Thank you for coming, Lauren," she whispered.
I put my thoughts on hold: the kettle had announced it was ready to make tea. My throat was making it difficult to speak anyway.
"I'm not sure where to even start," Celeste said as she set a steaming cup and urn of milk in front of me before settling into her chair. "You know, it seemed involving you in this is unfair to you."
I startled.
"How so?"
Celeste's eyes were dark.
"Well, I can't even begin to imagine what it would be like as a mother to watch your child have this experience. I struggled a lot watching Roger, that day he showed up at Wardrobe, realise he'd lost his child. And that would be nothing compared to what you've dealt with."
My eyes were fixed on my cup. We sat in silence for a moment.
"I won't say it was easy," I said quietly. "Nothing prepares you for that sort of thing. Not really."
She nodded, lips squeezed tightly.
"It's justβ no one else in the world could possibly help me understand what to do," she said.
I waited.
Celeste studied her cup for a moment.
"The other day, Charlotte said something to me I didn't really sort of get at first. She said: 'I don't know how to be.'"
Her eyes went even darker. "I didn't make much of it at the time."
"I don't know how to be," I repeated with a frown.
Celeste nodded her head slowly. She put her elbows on the table and her chin in her fists.
"I just told her to pretend she was explaining a seam, Lauren." She gave a quick puff. "She was wearing her new jumper and a different lippie. I figured she was nervous about sending signals she wasn't ready to transmit."
"Perhaps."
Celeste sat back. She rubbed the back of one hand with her fingers.
"Yeah, I don't think so either. It's not the way she thinks."
"What, in terms of signals?" I said.
"In terms of how she comes across," she said evenly. "When I first met her, she was all about being unobtrusive, not getting in anyone's way. Her idea of safety was making sure no one noticed her."
I closed my eyes and put my forehead in my hands.
My cup swam before my eyes.
A tear dropped from my cheek unbidden.
I heard the scrape of a chair and then, felt arms around me.
"I'm sorry," I heard her whisper in my ear. "I didn't mean toβ"
I shook my head vehemently.
I felt her arms press into me and melted into her.
A long moment passed.
"Look, I didn't see her either, not at first," she said finally as she regained her chair. "And she was in my maths class. Then, one day, we did Group Task."
She stopped.
"Task."
She slowly sank back into her chair, her jaw slack.
"Task?"
She nodded slowly, a frown on her face.
"For Charlotte, being was always connected to some task. Right from day one, she'd throw herself into whatever needed doing as though she couldn't breathe without it." She stared at me. "Same at Wardrobe. She poured her heart and soul into every task." Celeste paused. "I don't think it ever occurred to her that no one else in the room was useful one hundred per cent of the time."
She looked down at her hands.
"Which meant... she didn't have to be either."
A slight breeze blew through the open window, carrying delicate notes of jasmine mixed with diesel fumes from a bus pulling away from the kerb.
Celeste raised her head.
"Charlotte said to me, something like: 'you always seem so in control. How do you do that?'"
I tipped my head.
"And if you put that together withβ"
"Exactly," she said quickly. "'I don't know how to be.' Which has nothing to do with jumpers or lipstick."
I turned my cup in my hands, feeling comfort from its warmth.
I thought of a small child β my darling, the one I adored β sorting, arranging, tidying.
Following me around, watching me.
So keen to do things I did.
So eager to learn how to sew.
Then the first day of school β the avalanche of tears, the heartbreaking pleading, and finally, that look of betrayal in that little boy's eyes.
At the time, it was a rite of passage, just something every child went through.
Or so I thought.
"Lauren?"
I twitched.
"Sorry. Memories."
"Not very pleasant?"
"Not pleasant," I admitted. "And now, it all seems much darker."
Celeste's shoulders drew in. I extended my hand towards her.
"Please, Celeste. I want to know."
Her face softened.
"I think that I've been doing things wrong." She shook her head. "I kept talking to her about rungs."
"Tasks."
"Exactly." She sighed. "She doesn't need another task."
The setting sun gave the apartment a warm hue. Outside the window, the soft whirr of an electric car motor ended with the crack of a twig under its tyres.
I'd never wondered how that little boy had reconciled being left behind in a strange place, until now. The strange place was safe, I'd told myself back then.
"I wonder if she feels safe."
Celeste's eyes snapped to mine.
"What do you mean?"
"I was just remembering Charlotte's first day at school." I rubbed my thumb around the rim of my cup. "She'd never had to leave me before." I looked up. "Tell me... did your parents have people over much when you were little?"
Celeste grinned.
"All the time. I used to boss their kids around. I remember my mum making me apologise to one of the boys because I made him cry."
I bit my lip to keep from smiling.
"Sounds like your mum was getting you ready for the big, wide world."
"I guess. Mostly Mum, actually. Dad could sound wonderfully certain. Reality didn't always agree."
Her look sharpened.
"I don't think it's as simple asβ" she began.
"I don't either," I said hurriedly. "But it could be part of it. You see," I put my cup down and leaned forward, "your path was different to Charlotte's, and not just because you were born a girl."
Celeste held me in her gaze.
"So where do we go from here, Lauren?"
I sighed.
"I wish I knew."
She rose and thoughtfully picked up our cups.
I looked up at her.
"Charlotte must think you'veβ arrived," I said.
"Yeah."
She turned and went into the kitchenette. I heard running water, and the door of the fridge opening.
"Would you like to stay for dinner? We're doing lasagna tonight. We've got heaps."
She came to the door.
"Sarah's making her world-famous garlic mash tonight," I said. "Thanks anyway." I checked my phone. "I should probably get going."
Celeste came up to me, reaching out, and took my hands.
"I have lived something I can't give her," she said gently. "I enjoyed being a school girl, while she perfected the art of disappearing. Although she's found purpose and somewhere she belongs, she still needs to find herself. She needs lots of ordinary days to discover who she already is."
She smiled sadly.
I took my keys out of my purse.
"In Ballarat?"
"Perhaps."
Fin
[The Deep End]
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