Repeat After Me

Chapter 8

'I guess so. We were screwing the environment and over consuming.'

'Exactly. Apparently the air quality has never been better. Planes are grounded. Industry shut down. Someone saw a whale in Port Phillip Bay.'

'It's good to stay positive,' I said.

'How're you feeling about it all?'

A car passed by on Flinders Street. We both turned to see if it was a cop car.

'I don't know. Some days I'm good, some days I'm down. Mostly I'm trying to avoid hearing about it, if I'm honest. It makes me afraid. Not the virus so much. I think we're doing okay here in Australia. Mostly it's only older people dying. But I'm worried about my grandmother who's living alone, which must be so lonely. And I'm worried about my dad. He's still not working and he doesn't know what to do with himself. He seems kind of flat. We don't know when the football is going to start up again. I'm scared they'll even be able to pay the bills. I overhear them talking sometimes. I'm worried we'll lose the house and have to move or something.'

'Yeah. It's the economy that's really screwed. Look at me, I'm outta work. But I know how to live on the sniff of an oily rag. It's in my genes. I grew up on rice and stir fries. Mum always knew how to save a penny.'

We arrived at the UUS. I stood before a great big wall, at least four stories high. Asten laid out eight spray cans and began painting freestyle. No sketchbook, no plan.

I looked at this great big wall before me wishing for an idea. I had three stencils and two cans each of orange and white paint. The stencils were too small. Asten said 'do something massive'. I needed to prove my worth and make a mark so big an eagle would notice it. What do I care about? What means something to me? What have I got to say? I was staring at this great big red brick wall, I couldn't help myself, it was an ugly wall and all I wanted to do was paint something beautiful, a love letter to this unused space.

I began to paint a hunched figure of a bald man. I needed to stand on three stacked milk crates to paint his head. He was wearing a long sweater, his eyes and nose visible over his top, like a turtle peeking out of its shell. He had skinny legs and black gumboots and he was holding a fishing rod. On the end of the line I painted one of my stick figures caught in a cage.

After a while, Asten came and shone his torch over it. 'Ivy, girl, it's a masterpiece. It's about how we're all trapped and the Big Man is our puppeteer, simultaneously our captor and our saviour.'

My voice got stuck in my throat. I didn't have that meaning behind it. It was just something that channelled through my body and ended up on this wall. My hands were still tingling. I'd wanted to create a patchwork pattern on the man's sweater, but now that Asten was beside me, I got stage fright. The magic was gone.

'You been planning this one for a while?'

'Not really. It just came to me now.'

'Seriously? Don't let anyone say you've got talent, it'll go to your head and ruin everything about you,' he said. 'Hey, it needs an autograph.'

'I haven't got one.'

'Huh? You don't have one?'

The truth was I'd never been able to think of a tag name. I didn't tell him this. 'It's more powerful without one,' I said instead, packing up my things.

I was still buzzing as we walked back up to St Kilda Road. I felt fulfilled by my creation that shot out of my hands and onto the wall like telekinesis, through pure will and imagination, not any pre-planning.

'Are you walking that way?' Asten asked, once we got to Flinders Street Station.

'Yeah.'

'Okay, I'll walk you across the bridge.'

Asten grabbed my hand, as we walked across the bridge over the Yarra River.

'Magical, hey?' he said. 'It's like the city has been cleared for you and I. How romantic.'

He stopped and drew me over towards him. He placed a hand tenderly on my cheek and said, 'You're so beautiful. But I have to be honest with you,' he paused while I sat on the knife's edge of expectation, 'I've got a girlfriend. It's on and off. A bit toxic, I guess. She's older. And she's helping me out at the moment, while I go through this rough patch. Like with money. It's kind of complicated. I just needed you to know that.'

My expectations autocorrected, my heart felt impeached. What could I do but lie? 'Oh of course, that's fine. Like I wasn't thinking anything between us. I just like how we go out painting together and all that.'

'Yeah me too. But I like you in other ways too. I just need you to know my situation.'

'Okay. Of course. Thanks for being honest.'

He stared at me. His eyes laser beaming their way straight to my wishing well of affection. The greatest disappointment hammered down tent pegs within me. 'It's nice meeting someone who's into the same things as me,' I said. 'That's all. Like I don't tell anyone at all about the street art thing. You're the only one who knows.'

'Really?'

'Yeah really.'

'I wish I could kiss you right now,' he said. I felt so confused. I was a mixed drink of disappointment and regret and hopefulness and resentment and jealousy. I wanted to pour myself out and feel empty. I couldn't look at those eyes any more. How dare he look at me like he adores me and tell me he's untouchable.

'Thanks for tonight,' I said. 'It was fun hanging out. Let's do it again soon.'

He wrapped his hand around my waist and leant in and kissed me gently on the lips. It was the strangest feeling of wanting to kiss him back and wanting to whack him away at the same time. I pulled away. His face looked delighted. 'Good night,' he whispered. 'Sweet dreams.'

I walked home feeling like I was lugging my heart in a green waste bin.