After school, I walked to the playground that my nanny used to take us to when I was a child. Those memories were fuzzy, like static. Her name was Rita. I realised now that she was a desperate. She had four children of her own, but they were all grown up, in high school. She mustn't have seen them much, because she was always at our house in the evenings, cooking our early dinner, before mum and dad came home from work.
She was a Pacific Islander. She had thick, dark hair, the curls like sausages. She didn't speak much, only when it was absolutely necessary.
I sat on the park bench. There was a mother pushing her toddler on the swing with one hand and she had a baby on her hip. The baby started to get fussy and she came over and sat next to me.
'I hope you don't mind,' she said, pulling up her top to feed the baby.
'Not at all,' I said, looking away.
The baby stopped crying and sucked hungrily at her mother's breast. The toddler started whinging for her mother to push her.
'Just wait five minutes,' the mother yelled. 'I'm feeding. Go play on the slide.' I could tell from her twangy accent that she was a desperate. 'I wish I were two people sometimes,' she said. 'It's hard when they both want me at the same time.'
'My sister has a baby, Ruby, she's so cute,' I said.
'That's nice.' The woman had deep wrinkles around her eyes and a chip in her eye tooth.
'I want to have children one day,' I said.
'You're young. There's plenty a time for that.' She looked at my school uniform and made an assessment on my status.
'I'm married,' I confirmed for her. 'But my husband is an A-grade freak. I don't ever want to have children with him.'
'Anita ... don't climb on that! Kids, hey? There's a whole playground here, and she wants to climb on a tree stump.' The lady's voice was as rough as sandpaper. She looked weary. 'Anita! Put your shoes back on!'
'I'll help her.' I got up and went over to Anita, who was walking around barefoot on the tan bark. 'Sweetie, you could step on glass, or a bee. You should put your shoes on. Sit on that step.' I knelt down and helped her put her shoes back on.
When I sat down again on the bench, the lady said. 'My husband used to be like you. He was in an arranged marriage.'
'Really? What happened?'
'Well, he couldn't stand her ... she was controlling and manipulative.'
'How did he get out of it?'
'He had to leave her. But he lost everything. They had a child together. And he's never gotten over it. Because this system, they don't let him see that child no more. So that child grows up without a father. And he lost his job. He was really well off. He used to manage a chain of hotels. Now he has to work at the pub down the road. It ain't that bad. They've got $12 parma and beer nights on Sundays, that gets the people in. But it can be quiet sometimes. And there's no job security no more. Not like he used to 'ave. Anita! Leave your shoes on! Christ!' I walked over to Anita and helped her with her shoes again.
The lady started talking the moment I sat down. 'He gets down all the time, after all he's been through. I keep say'n, cheer up, or they'll take you away. And then you'll be no good to no one. I got two kids here, they need a dad too. It's no good having three kids without a father.'
'Maybe he should try some medication. I take ...'
'He's on and off stuff like that all the time. He says it makes him sleepy, and he over eats. He's put on so much weight. And it's 80 bucks a month, can you believe it? Anita! Get off that tree stump!' She yelled so loudly the baby startled out of its sleepy state and began to cry.
I picked up my school bag and swung it over my shoulder. 'I've got to go. See you,' I said, fleeing before I was suffocated by the colours of the baby's cries and the sad tune of that lady's life.