A woman stepped out of the shop and stood next to me, she dialled a number on her phone, with the fake nails she was wearing I didn't know how she managed, but she did. She held the phone to her ear.
She was wearing a pink house suit that had fringing down the backs of the arms, like some gay has-been rodeo rider. Her hair seemed more auburn and more luscious than it really had a right to be, so she may have been wearing a wig, I wasn't sure. She had on far too much makeup for day wear and badly applied, like she’d been rushed – out of a night club 30 years ago and she still hadn’t made it home. As soon as the person on the other end answered, she said,
"Oh, I'll ring you later. I'm furious. Can you ring me later? I can't talk. I'm furious."
I wasn't meaning to listen to what she was saying, but it seemed like such an odd way to answer the phone. I didn't mean to gaze at her either, but my interest was piqued. It started to spit, she reached down into her purple shopping jeep and got an electric blue umbrella from one of the small compartments.
"Oh, I took some of Ronnie's stuff down to Cash Converters. The guy just stood there insinuating they were stolen, or something. I've never been so mad."
She pulled a packet of cigarettes from her shopping jeep, I could see that her hand was shaking.
“I know, it has taken me all this time to get this far… and now this happened.”
She deftly slid a cigarette from the packet of cigarettes with just one hand, that is a learned talent of a long time smoker.
“At first I didn’t say anything, I mean I denied it, but I was so taken aback…”
She slid the cigarette into the corner of her mouth, with her fake nails looking like claws, without it affecting her speech at all.
“I didn’t know what to say, I just wanted to get a few dollars, no fuss and...”
She lit the cigarette, now extended diagonally from her lips, with a still shaking hand.
“I don’t know why?” she said. "But the look he gave me when I said I didn't have any receipts...
She dragged on the cigarette, the end of which glowed brightly red.
She pulled the cigarette from her mouth with her amazing claws. “I’m too furious to speak…”
The smoke came out of her mouth with her words, emulating what I imagine the mouth of a dragon would look like when a dragon spoke.
“Anyway, I just thought I... I... just... I just wanted to tell somebody.”
She pushed 'end' on her phone and the conversation was over. She slipped her phone into her royal blue vinyl hand bag.
She put the cigarette back into her mouth and closed her eyes as she took a long, hard drag, the end of the cigarette burned brightly red.
She pulled the cigarette away from her mouth. She opened her mouth wide, like a whale shark sucking in plankton.
She opened her eyes and caught me looking at her in her peripheral vision.
“You ever been accused of being a thief?” she asked me. It was completely unexpected.
Well, there was that time that I was a suspect in a bank robbery. “No.”
She nodded knowingly. “It hurts.” Her eyes were glassy with tears.
“I can imagine.” That was the best I could come up with, some vague appreciation of what she was saying, it even sounded lame to me.
She dragged on her cigarette again.
“That was all I had left…”
I didn’t know what it was that she had left, she must have seen it in my eyes.
“My dignity, that was all I had left.”
I didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.”
She dragged ferociously on her cigarette. “Yes, well.” She was doing the dragon act again. “Sorry isn’t going to get me any where, now is it.”
“I’m sure it is…”
She interrupted me again, thankfully, I just knew I was going to say something more lame than the last lame thing I said. “Listen to me," she said. "I’m sorry. It is just hard, you know.”
“I know,” I said. I had no idea what she knew, or was it what I was supposed to know?
“Suddenly you are on your own, unexpectedly.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“And it is nothing like you expected. Nothing. The loneliness.” She dragged again on her cigarette, it was nearly down to a nub. “I’ve never been alone.”
She delved into her plastic handbag again and pulled out some tissues. She dabbed at both her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said. “You don’t mind, do you?”
I smiled at her, as I had no idea what it was that I wasn’t minding and a smile seemed like the best response I could come up with.
“Talking?”
Oh. “No,” I said.
“It helps.” She dropped her cigarette butt onto the footpath, squashing it with the sole of her shoe. “Sitting at home alone.” She smiled wanly and rolled her head from side to side. “I never thought I’d end up here.” She shrugged. “I guess nobody does.” A brief smile flashed across her face. “Do you have someone?”
She reached into her handbag again, this time grabbing the cigarette packet with both her taloned hands.
“Yes, I do.”
She slid another cigarette between her lips.
“Cherish them.”
I laughed. I’m not sure why.
She offered the open packet to me. I hadn’t smoked for twelve months, but I took one, because I hesitated wondering if it was rude not to join her and then I wondered if hesitating was rude in itself, so I just grabbed at the open packet out of nerves.
“It’s too late when they are gone.” She lit the cigarette. “I’m sure that sounds obvious, but it’s not.” She laughed nervously and shook her head from side to side. “You just have no idea.”
I smiled nervously, I could feel it in my face.
“No, it is true.” She leant over and lit my cigarette. “But, I suspect, it is not something you understand until after it has happened.”
“You don’t know what you don’t know?” The cigarette tasted good.
“Huh? Oh. Yes, yes, that’s good.” She smiled reflectively. “You don’t know what you don’t know… until it happens to you. How could you? So true.”
“And life is short…” Apparently, no cliché was going to be beyond me.
“So short.” She shook her head. “So short.”
“I reckon you hit a grease patch at 25 and from there you just slide towards death at an accelerating rate.”
“Oh yes.” She laughed a throaty laugh. “Oh yes.” She laughed a phlegmy laugh. “Oh…” She coughed. “Oh…” She coughed some more. Her eyes swelled up with laughing tears, then with crying tears. Her mascara ran over the top of her cheeks. “I’m sliding,” sob, “ with out bra…” She leant down into her handbag again and produced another handful of tissues. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose. “Oh, look at me, you must think I am peculiar…”
“Not at all,” I said. "I don’t think that at all.”
She reached into her handbag once again and pulled out a huge pair of sunglasses, which she slid on to her face.
"Peculiar," she said as if she was hearing it for the first time. She shrugged. "Maybe I am." She looked at me. "Peculiar."
“I know,” I said. I had no idea what she knew, or was it what I was supposed to know?
“Suddenly you are on your own, unexpectedly.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“And it is nothing like you expected. Nothing. The loneliness.” She dragged again on her cigarette, it was nearly down to a nub. “I’ve never been alone.”
She delved into her plastic handbag again and pulled out some tissues. She dabbed at both her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said. “You don’t mind, do you?”
I smiled at her, as I had no idea what it was that I wasn’t minding and a smile seemed like the best response I could come up with.
“Talking?”
Oh. “No,” I said.
“It helps.” She dropped her cigarette butt onto the footpath, squashing it with the sole of her shoe. “Sitting at home alone.” She smiled wanly and rolled her head from side to side. “I never thought I’d end up here.” She shrugged. “I guess nobody does.” A brief smile flashed across her face. “Do you have someone?”
She reached into her handbag again, this time grabbing the cigarette packet with both her taloned hands.
“Yes, I do.”
She slid another cigarette between her lips.
“Cherish them.”
I laughed. I’m not sure why.
She offered the open packet to me. I hadn’t smoked for twelve months, but I took one, because I hesitated wondering if it was rude not to join her and then I wondered if hesitating was rude in itself, so I just grabbed at the open packet out of nerves.
“It’s too late when they are gone.” She lit the cigarette. “I’m sure that sounds obvious, but it’s not.” She laughed nervously and shook her head from side to side. “You just have no idea.”
I smiled nervously, I could feel it in my face.
“No, it is true.” She leant over and lit my cigarette. “But, I suspect, it is not something you understand until after it has happened.”
“You don’t know what you don’t know?” The cigarette tasted good.
“Huh? Oh. Yes, yes, that’s good.” She smiled reflectively. “You don’t know what you don’t know… until it happens to you. How could you? So true.”
“And life is short…” Apparently, no cliché was going to be beyond me.
“So short.” She shook her head. “So short.”
“I reckon you hit a grease patch at 25 and from there you just slide towards death at an accelerating rate.”
“Oh yes.” She laughed a throaty laugh. “Oh yes.” She laughed a phlegmy laugh. “Oh…” She coughed. “Oh…” She coughed some more. Her eyes swelled up with laughing tears, then with crying tears. Her mascara ran over the top of her cheeks. “I’m sliding,” sob, “ with out bra…” She leant down into her handbag again and produced another handful of tissues. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose. “Oh, look at me, you must think I am peculiar…”
“Not at all,” I said. "I don’t think that at all.”
She reached into her handbag once again and pulled out a huge pair of sunglasses, which she slid on to her face.
"Peculiar," she said as if she was hearing it for the first time. She shrugged. "Maybe I am." She looked at me. "Peculiar."
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