Avoiding Mr Right by Anita Heiss

Author:Anita Heiss [Anita Heiss]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781864715828
Publisher: Random House Australia

twenty-three

Luna Park

I was hung-over the next morning and the last thing I wanted to do was to go to an amusement park. I had policy papers to read for Monday, I felt seedy and I needed more sleep. But young Maya had made me promise – again – before I left their house a couple weeks before.

I picked her up in Shelley's car, and just as driving bomby old Gemma covered in land rights stickers was embarrassing, so was driving a brand-spanking-new Alfa among Blackfellas. I knew they'd be thinking I was uptown. 'It's not mine!' I'd have to explain over and over again, like it was a crime to have a nice car.

Maya was waiting out the front excitedly when I arrived. 'Look what I've got in my purse,' she shouted as she struggled to show me all the money her grandmother and parents had given her.

'It's my treat, darling. You can save that for Christmas maybe.'

'But Mum said I have to give it to you.'

Annie and Joe were smiling big, as if there was something they knew that I didn't.

'What's so bloody funny, then?' I wanted in on the joke, even though my head was pounding and the mere thought of laughing made it hurt.

'She's a chucker,' Annie said.

'A what?'

'I chuck a lot,' Maya said, nodding her head in agreement with her mother.

'Chuck what?' I was confused.

'Chuck up?' She pretended to spew.

'Excellent,' I groaned, and nearly threw up myself. 'And just so you know, there's a good chance I might chuck today too!' I rolled my eyes at Annie and Joe and mouthed the words Help me. Maya just laughed.

'Okay, let's go. Quicker we get there . . .' I started.

'The quicker we get on the rides,' Maya said.

'And the quicker we get home,' I said softly.

The drive from East Bentleigh to St Kilda was worse that any ride I could think of going on as Maya continued to talk about chucking and how many times she'd chucked and what was in it. It was turning my stomach. When she was bored with that conversation she wanted to ask and tell me things. 'Can I show you something? When can I spend my money? Which rides can we go on?'

All the chatter was compounding my headache. I couldn't for the life of me understand how parents coped – even if they didn't even have hangovers, which I assumed they didn't. There's no way you could party like I did and then have to feed, clothe and entertain kids the next day. Maya was helping me with my celibacy gig: the mere thought of getting pregnant was turning me off sex.

When we got there I insisted that she hold my hand. What would be worse than something happening to your own child? Something happening to a child you were looking after. We bought our ride tickets; I was astounded that it cost more to entertain a six year old for the afternoon than it did to go out with stockbrokers drinking.

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