Chapter Five
Sam had a black Holden Astra convertible.
My favourite car.
It was neat and compact.
‘Don’t forget your seatbelt, sweetie. I think we’ll have the top down today. The sun’s out,’ she said.
She looked in the rearview mirror, pouted her lips and drove out the driveway. ‘So, what clothes do you need?’ She looked down at my ankles from under her sunnies and smiled. She was beautiful. ‘You need new jeans, that’s for sure.’
‘Yes, I know but really, Sam, you don’t need to get me new clothes. I don’t want you to feel obliged because you earn money and I don’t.’
‘Keisha, I buy you clothes because I like doing it. If you hadn’t noticed I buy enough for myself, and besides, I think it’s nice to treat my little sister.’ Sam worked hard for her clothes.
She always looked stunning.
I wanted to be just like her.
‘Okay, I’ll park over here and we’ll check out Myer first,’ she said turning into a car spot at the Mall after a twenty minute drive.
Before we walked through the entrance I was careful not to step on an ominous dark patch in the bitumen.
Probably a vomit stain.
Definitely a germ fest.
I saw Sam shake her head. ‘The stain won’t bite, you know.’
‘I know, but it’s just something I can’t do yet, Sam, okay?’
‘I’d understand better if you tried to help yourself more and read about The Four Steps.’
She was beginning to infuriate me with her Four Stupid Steps. Once she had an idea in her head that was it. She went on and on. She was like a blowfly trapped in a car on a long drive.
Buzzing and touching you until you set it free.
How I would set Sam free I had no idea.
‘I am going to read about The Four Steps, okay. Just please don’t keep going on about it.’
We walked to the teenage clothes department and looked at the jeans. I tried on a number of pairs but it took an hour to find a pair I was comfortable with.
‘They look fine to me, Keish.’
I sighed.
‘Come on. You look gorgeous in them. Nothing would make them look any better.’
I sighed again.
‘We’ve been looking for ages. I’m sure you’ve tried every pair on now. Would you please just take these ones.’
My clothes had to be symmetrical in colour.
Symmetrical in style.
And fit every part of my body perfectly.
After examining every angle of myself in the mirror I said, ‘okay, I’ll take them.’
With lots of bags and three hours later we decided to get some lunch. I used to be very suspicious of restaurant and food court meals.
I imagined the cooks would have chef meetings out the back where I couldn’t see them and I was on the agenda for them giving me an overload of germs. Their meetings would go something like this. The head chef would stand with his hands on his hips, belly out in full view, and to the other chefs he would growl, ‘on today’s agenda is the usual topic of Miss Keisha Morgan. We must come up with a plan to give her more germs, germs that are going to make her vomit from every orifice. Do you cooks have any suggestions?’
Then there would be answers like: ‘gather up huge slimy balls of mucus and spit them out on her food,’ ‘lick your fingers and run them over her food,’ and ‘drop her food, stomp on it and smear it all over the floor before putting it on her plate.’
I was better now.
I still had the imageries going through my mind though.
But I tried not to think about them.
‘So, what shall we eat? What do you fancy?’ Sam asked, carrying five bags of clothes for herself while I carried two.
She wasn’t fussy like me.
She didn’t have to be symmetrical like me.
‘How about some pizza?’ she asked and walked over to an Italian place.
‘Um, yes, I suppose that’s okay.’ I looked through the glass at the pizzas. The outlet looked clean and the pizzas okay.
We ordered two Hawaiian slices each and took them over to a table.
Sam bit into a piece and said, ‘it’s good, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, it looks nice.’
She looked at me and frowned.
‘What are you thinking?’ I asked.
‘I was just wondering why you have your obsessions, where they come from in our family.’
‘I’ve asked you that before, but you haven’t really given me much of an answer.’
‘No, I guess you’re right.’
She leaned in further and put her hand on top of mine. ‘I’m sorry I never really looked into it after Mum’s death, but I’ve never known anyone in our family to have anything like it.’
‘I did some research a while ago on the net and found out it is sometimes connected to strep throat. I had that tonsillitis for years until I was nine and then I had my tonsils out,’ I said.
‘How on earth could the two be related?’
‘Well, it has something to do with the streptococci bacteria caused by strep throat. The bacteria build up a huge amount of antibodies in the body’s immune system, and for some unknown reason these antibodies attack the basal ganglia, which sits at the back of the brain. This part has trouble communicating with the orbital cortex, which is the front of the brain. There is a big link between streptococcal infections and neurological disorders, and strep throat can cause Tourette’s Syndrome too.’
She widened her eyes and smiled. ‘Wow, you’re such a clever girl, Keish. I didn’t know you knew so much.’
I wanted to say, ‘yes, that’s because no-one takes the trouble to really know me, to really know what goes on inside my head, to really know how my brain cells use up serotonin like it’s their last meal’, but I didn’t.
I knew Sam tried her best to comprehend me but my brain had a mind all of its own. Even I didn’t understand it sometimes, why it pondered over the things it did and why it was always so active. I felt like one of those naughty kids in a toy shop that screams, cries and stamps their feet when they want the most expensive toy in the shop. At least some parents had a harness to have some power over their kids.
I never had power over my mind.
My mind had power over me.
But it was something I couldn’t live without.
‘I read up on a lot of things.’
She bit into her pizza crust, chewed and swallowed. ‘Yes, I know that Keish, but you are very intelligent.’
She often flattered me.
I liked it.
I hated it.
She was always so sincere, not like one of those sales assistants you meet who suck up to you with their big toothy grins and say, ‘wow, you look so good in that and it makes your bum look so small,’ even if you’re wearing a skirt the size of a handkerchief with the viscosity of masking tape.
I didn’t like words like ‘bum’ and ‘arse’, or ‘tits’ and ‘boobs’.
They were dirty.
And I didn’t like dirty.
I looked at Sam and said, ‘thank you. You’re quite intelligent yourself,’ and then scrubbed my hands with the disposable wipes I always kept in my purse.
‘Thank you, Kiesha. You’re a real sweetheart.’
It was late afternoon when we walked back to the car and put our bags in the boot.
‘We’ll keep the top up because it looks like rain,’ Sam said, screwing her face up as she looked out the side window.
Then she looked at me and said, ‘So….’
I hated the ‘So…’.
It was time for The Four Bloody Steps again.
‘Yes, Sam?’
Driving out of the car park she said, ‘I’ve um noticed your symptoms don’t seem to be getting much better. I mean, I know you’re on the medication and everything, but...’ Then she turned to me. ‘I really think this Four Steps could hel
p you, Keisha.’
‘Sam, just please stop going on about the bloody Steps! I will look into it in my own time. You can’t force me, you know.’
‘But what’s stopping you? It’s not hard. In fact it’s quite simple.’
‘Sam, no therapy is simple. I should know, I’ve been there.’
‘I’m just saying I think you should give it a try. I’m sure there’s no harm in that, is there?’
‘No, but when I’m ready to, Sam. I’m not going to do it until I’m ready.’
‘And when will that be?’
‘I don’t know! I have so much schoolwork at the moment, I just don’t have time to read a book that’s not on the curriculum.’
That wasn’t true.
‘Well, don’t you think that by trying to help yourself mentally you’ll be helping yourself academically too and in turn increase your grades?’
She was frustrating me.
‘Why, Sam? Do you think my grades are that bad? Is that it? I’m getting As and B pluses for God’s sakes!’
‘I know you are, and there’s no need to shout. I just think you’ll feel better about yourself if you try out different methods, and this one I read about was the best I’ve seen yet.’
‘Sam, you can’t keep on pushing me, okay. I will read it in my own time. Just stop pushing me… please! You’re driving me mad.’
‘Fine, suit yourself then. I won’t help you if that’s what you want. If you prefer to be a bloody martyr, that’s fine.’
‘A martyr? Why on earth did you call me that? I’m not a martyr at all. How dare you say such a thing!’
She slammed on her breaks at a red light and turned to me. ‘I didn’t mean it like that, okay. What I meant is that you shouldn’t complain about yourself so much if you’re not prepared to do everything you can.’
‘But I am, Sam! I’ve already explained that to you. I will read the book when I get time.’
She swerved round a corner and almost landed us on the curb.
‘Watch out, Sam!’
‘I’m sorry, okay. I’m only worried about you, Keisha. I want what’s best for you. That’s all.’
‘Yeah well, don’t worry about me so much. I’m old enough to look after myself. I’m sixteen for God’s sakes.’
I had never seen her so angry.
Her face was a flaming red.
She was going to burst.
Then with her eyes bulging and through clenched teeth she said, ‘you might be old enough to do what you want but I’m your mother and I have some say!’
*****