Chapter 3

“What’s behind the black sheet?”

“Why don’t you take a look? Don’t worry about the skull, it’s a plaster cast ornament I picked up at the flea market in Croydon years ago.”

She gingerly pulled the sheet aside and a moment later she pulled it aside completely to reveal the cassettes and vinyl records arranged on shelves cut to fit the interior.

“Wow,” she gasped, “this is like finding treasure,” she glanced over at me, “can I have a look?”

“Knock yourself out,” I got to my feet, “my collection goes back years.”

I moved over next to her and slung the sheet over a curtain hook at the side.

“I used to have some of these,” she took out a KISS album, KISS Alive II and stared at it before putting it back and flicking through some more tapes.

“Suzi Quatro, Ted Mulry, Smokie,” she kept going down, picking out artists and bands at random, “our youth group leader wanted us to burn our rock and roll, and I stupidly went along with the idea,” she picked up a copy of Hotel California, “especially Hotel California.”

“His theory was that if you played them backwards the devil would speak to you.”

“But that’s not how you play music,” I smiled, “if the devil needs you to play music backwards so he can speak to you then he’s a pretty stupid creature.”

“That’s exactly what dad said,” she chuckled, “he caught me going out of the house with my second lot of albums and told me so, he took them off me and told me to go to the burning and if I still wanted to burn them he’d come along too.”

“Well if you want to get copies just bring blank tapes, I’m always doing copies for my friends, I’ve only got half a dozen blanks left though but if you want to use them go for it.”

“Could I?” Anna looked at me, “I’d pay you.”

“Forget it,” I shrugged and retreated to the bed, “but if you want more then bring blanks, there’s a lot to choose from.”

“I’ll get some when I’m back home,” she replied, “I’m in Mooroolbark by the way, I go back every couple of weeks to collect mail.”

“Tell you what, I’ll pick up a pack of ten next week and you can fix me up with the money when you’ve got it.”

Anna looked past me at Farrah and seemed almost unsure of herself.

“And you just pick out what you want copied and I can do it next weekend, I’m always home from Friday night to Sunday night.”

“Okay,” she finally replied, “it’s a deal.”

“Tell you what,” I moved back a step, “pick six albums you want and I’ll use up all my blanks.”

“I couldn’t do that,” she blushed.

“Why not?” I spread my arms wide, “it’s called charity, Christians don’t have a monopoly on charity, I gotta go do the woman thing. So you pick out six and I’ll be back, and I won’t take no for an answer.”

I left the room and headed to the toilet and when I returned a few minutes later she was sitting on my bed with six albums beside her and an almost pensive look on her face. I thought she had pretty unusual taste for a Christian with albums by The Angels, Cold Chisel and The Eagles just to name three.

“Good choice,” I sat down beside her, “I should have them ready by tomorrow night.”

I laid back and leaned on my elbows.

“And you’re sure you don’t want money for them now?” Anna turned to look at me.

“Positive,” I replied, “it’s a gift, you don’t have to just give gifts at Christmas.”

“Thank you,” she patted my knee, “I really appreciate this.”

“No worries,” I grinned.

There was an awkward silence and then she looked at her watch.

“I have to get back to the retreat, I’m on the dinner roster.”

“Well I won’t keep you from feeding the five thousand,” I chuckled and slapped the small of her back, “sorry, bad joke.”

“Sometimes it feels like that,” she smiled and stood up, “what time tomorrow?”

“I guess about three or so, I tend to sleep later on Sundays,” I sat up and slid off the bed.

“I wish I had that luxury.”

We went back to the living room and she packed up her tape recorder and then wrote her name and a number on a notepad.

“Here,” she tore the page off and handed it to me, “now you’ve got my number at the retreat, just give me a call when you’ve finished and I’ll duck right around and pick them up.”

“Well here’s mine,” I picked up her pen and scribbled my numbers on it, “the second one is where I am during the week, just in case you have to cancel our next appointment.”

She scanned the notepad and smiled as she dropped the pen and notepad into her bag.

“I can’t foresee any cancellations, but thanks anyway,” we both rose together and I stepped around the coffee table.

Her next move took me completely by surprise as she turned suddenly and putting her arm around my waist, pulled me closer for a quick hug.

“Thank you again,” she pushed her breasts into me and then released me, “until Sunday?”

“Sunday it is,” I smiled.

I stood watching her on the front verandah as she walked to the car and as she opened the door she smiled again and waved. I returned the wave and as she drove away I found myself replaying the last hour or so. She came across as your pure vanilla born again Christian but behind the façade there lurked something else entirely but I wasn’t entirely sure who she was underneath. Little did I know that my charitable gesture had unlocked a door that she’d kept hidden and on that note I have to love you and leave you.

At the end of my last section I mentioned that I had the feeling Anna was hiding something deep within herself and that feeling only intensified when she came around the following day once I’d copied the albums for her. I’d even turned the covers around and wrote out the tracks for her and when she saw what I’d done a smile lit up her face.

“You even wrote out the tracks for me,” she stepped forward and this time I was ready for her embrace on the front verandah. She held on for a few seconds and then promptly kissed me on the cheek and stepped back quickly.

“That wasn’t a gay kiss either.”

“I know the difference between a gay kiss and a straight kiss,” I dug my hands into my pockets.

“Good to know,” her eyes twinkled, “I’m looking forward to our next session.”

“So am I,” I leaned against the door, “um, do you want to come in for a coffee or do you have to get back to the house?”

“I have to get back,” she replied, “but it’s a pity you’re in Coldstream all week, I get a half day off on Wednesday, the afternoon between one and five.”

“I work ten till six,” I replied, “but I’m home at night.”

“Oh okay,” she looked past me for a moment, “well, I’ll see you Saturday for sure, what about if I come around earlier with some rolls from the house and we can have lunch too?”

“Sounds like a plan,” I replied.

As she walked back to the car dad stepped out onto the verandah. Anna heard him come out and turned to wave at him as well. He returned the wave and leaned on the railing and we watched her drive away.

“Your taste has changed.”

“Dad,” I pushed away from the wall, “she’s a bible basher, I’ve got two chances of landing her, Buckley’s and none.”

“Well if you do,” he replied, “I’ll revisit my no bringing women back here, just as long as you keep it all indoors.”

There are times my dad could blind-side me. He was a typical retired career soldier, predictable to a fault and then he’d suddenly change tactic and hit you with something that surprised you.

“So, any fatherly advice?”

“Just one,” he turned around and leaned against the railing, “if you find yourself in unfamiliar territory, stop and take time to get to know the landscape.”

It was good advice too. I had to get to know Anna’s landscape if I was ever going to make a move and that was still very much up in the air. Even so, that week I found myself almost hoping that we would just stay friends. Just hanging out with a straight woman felt almost refreshing. I didn’t even tell Jason about her because it felt somehow wrong, she was separate from my regular world, a beacon of light on a stormy coast.

It was in the interests of getting to know the landscape that I found myself stepping into a Christian bookstore in Heathmont. It was a nondescript grey building that looked very out of place next to the other shops on the short shopping strip on Canterbury Road. I almost expected the walls to fall down when I opened the door. There were rows of books arranged around the walls, a few tables of books, a section for Christian music but the only artists I recognised were Barry McGuire and Cliff Richard. I was standing like a shag on a rock in my bike leathers with a helmet tucked under my arm when a young woman with a shock of blonde hair approached me.

I gave her the once over and sighed.

“I’m looking for something… for a friend… she’s a Christian and I’m not.”

“That’s quite all right, do you have any ideas?”

“I came in for a card, she gave me a card so I’m giving her one back.”

“Well there’s plenty here,” she turned the stand.

“I could buy her a book though, or music.”

“You could but we have a broad selection of music from middle of the road to heavy metal, and our books cover an even greater range of subjects but cards are pretty universal. We have non Christians buying cards here all the time,” she spun the stand slowly.

“Okay,” I ran my eyes over her for a split second, she had shoulder length blonde hair her eyes lit up as she pulled out Desiderata.

“How about this one?”

I pulled my eyes from her and looked at the card.

“It’s Christian but it does have a universal appeal as well.”

The words did move me as I read the card, although it looked a little long.

“I could go along with this and I’m not a Christian, I’m you know, just not into it but she’s a good friend, we have a platonic relationship.”

She read behind the meaning pretty much straight away and took a step back.

“Well, that is a good one but there are plenty more.”

“I’ll take this one,” I held it out.

“Of course, is there anything else I can help you with?”

Her phone number would be one thing but I shook my head and paid for the card. I remember sitting on the bike outside the bookstore with a bottle of Coke and the card. I read it through a couple of times and then headed into Ringwood to buy twenty blank cassettes before the long ride back to Marysville. When I got back home I found a card and letter on my bed. The card was the one she’d promised to get me, the passage from Ecclesiastes and on the back she’d written. Hope this helps you. Love. Anna. xxx. The card was touching but the letter reached much deeper into me.

Thank you for opening yourself up to me. It was such a rare treat to hear your honesty. In the world I inhabit people hide behind trite sayings and bible verses plucked at random and used to put people down before building them up in a continual cycle. I watch them with a mixture of pity and disgust, for I too have been just like them. I earnestly believe that if Christ came back to Earth in the same way he first came to this world the Christian church would crucify him all over again. It has been said before that the Christian army is the only army that shoots its own wounded and yet we think we have the God given right to preach God’s message of salvation to others.

I remain forever your friend.

P.S. I’ve rearranged my schedule for this counselling module at the retreat, I now have most of the weekends off for the rest of my time here.

At the top of the letter was a Mooroolbark address and her home phone number. I read the letter twice more before setting it down and staring at the poster of Farrah, in my mind’s eye I saw Anna standing in front of the poster. A minute or two later I went through to the living room. Dad was sitting in his leather recliner with a cigarette in his hand.

“There’s still some leftover stew in the fridge from last night,” he said.

“Don’t thank me, thank your girlfriend,” he replied, “she brought it over for me last night.”

“That’s right,” he stubbed the cigarette out, “they cooked too much stew apparently so she brought some around here, I had some more tonight but there’s enough left for you.”

The beef stew was quite good and after I’d eaten I sat down with dad and had a few beers while we watched the footy. Dad loved his football, he was an ardent Hawks fan. Dad and I used to bond over footy, it’d been our thing for as long as I could remember. After the game we watched a bit of the post mortem and he turned the sound down after a few minutes.

“Look, that third bedroom is never used. So, if Anna decides to bunk here she can use that room if she wants but remember to change the bloody sheet. The one that’s on it now is clean but it’s been there for the last six months.”

“And if she decides to migrate to my bed?” I looked over.

“That’s for you and her to decide between yourselves, I’ve already said my piece.”

“You’re right about checking out the landscape.”

“I know I’m right,” he looked at me, “what have you found out?”

“I think she’s finding the hypocrisy of the church hard to take.”

He raised an eyebrow and I eventually told him about the letter.

“I knew there was something about her I liked and it wasn’t what you think either.”

My dad always was blunt when it came to comments about my girlfriends.

The next morning I stood in front of the mirror in my denim shirt and jeans, I looked pretty good I thought as I studied my reflection in the mirror on Saturday morning but when Anna came around about lunch time I couldn’t help but feel just a little bit plain. She was wearing a white shirt tucked into tight blue jeans, a mottled brown leather jacket gave her a slightly femme butch look, a pair of long boots completed the outfit. Her eyes lit up when I gave her the card and she sniggered when I went through the whole story about walking into a Christian bookstore. She knew the girl who’d served me too.