{"id":135,"date":"2017-08-26T06:32:00","date_gmt":"2017-08-25T20:32:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/cynthiarowe.com.au\/cr\/?page_id=135"},"modified":"2021-02-15T23:12:26","modified_gmt":"2021-02-15T13:12:26","slug":"my-french-barrette","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"http:\/\/cynthiarowe.com.au\/cr\/my-french-barrette\/","title":{"rendered":"My French Barrette"},"content":{"rendered":"
Excerpt from \u201cMy French Barrette\u201d \u00a9 Cynthia Rowe, 2011<\/span><\/h6>\n

\"Myu r invited 2 a Sorry Sit-In<\/em>, Hetty had said in her text message.<\/p>\n

I skidded down the path to the beach, picked up pace and jogged the last few steps onto the sand. The afternoon was chilly and, passing the bathing boxes, I felt a bit iffy about this scheme of Hetty\u2019s. Say sorry to your friends? Didn\u2019t they know, deep down, in their hearts, you never meant the hurtful things you\u2019d said in the past?<\/p>\n

Just as well Hetty hadn\u2019t announced the plan on Facebook. Half the hoons in our seaside town of Ravella would\u2019ve turned up to watch, jeer, suck on tinnies (the cans, not the boats) and pull faces. Anyway weren\u2019t we too old for this sort of stuff? I wondered if Hetty was using us as guinea pigs, part of an experiment for her Psych III studies at the University. Hetty Geiger was big on behaviour indicators, nature versus nurture, genetic predispositions … oh, and individual\u2019s innate qualities. Would she be taking notes, handing out forms for us to fill in? Would we be marked, ranked in order? Whatever it was, I\u2019d be sure to fail, I told myself.<\/p>\n

I pulled my sweatshirt tighter around my neck. My sneakers crunched the shingle and, after dodging shore boulders, I looked up to see Hetty, Angela and Fat Betty (sorry, Elizabeth\u2014old habits tend to stick like chewy on the sole of your shoe) seated in a semi-circle on the rocks, under the Ti Point overhang.<\/p>\n

Panting, I approached.<\/p>\n

\u201cHi, guys!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhere\u2019ve you been, Genna?\u201d Hetty flicked an Indian plait over her shoulder.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, you\u2019re late,\u201d said Angela.<\/p>\n

Elizabeth smiled, twirled a blonde strand and said nothing. She wore a thumb ring I\u2019d never seen before.<\/p>\n

Eyeing Elizabeth\u2019s long legs stretching forever from her cut-off denim shorts, I envied her elegant figure. On the other hand, I hadn\u2019t spent time in and out of hospital being treated for an eating disorder. Nor did I have a brother who was mentally challenged and living in a halfway house in Kingston\u2014a short bus ride from Ravella. Then again, neither did I have a hunky boat-building boyfriend.<\/p>\n

I had a new boyfriend who attended the same University as I did. Aaron was a cute guy with tanned skin and gelled hair but, so far, our relationship wasn\u2019t serious. My only long-term \u2018thing\u2019 had been with Stefan. Rocky? I\u2019d heard nothing since his last letter. Pascal Manet, on the other hand, had sent me emails after I\u2019d returned from visiting my birth mother, Sandrine, in Far North Queensland. We\u2019d chatted often, about my studies, my life, but the emails had trailed off in the last few months. And I wondered why.<\/p>\n

\u201cUm, I was trying out a new hairdo and the time kinda got away,\u201d I mumbled.<\/p>\n

\u201cNot another \u2019do!\u201d Angela\u2019s curls bobbed about in the breeze. \u201cWhat\u2019s that, Gen, the fifth, or is it the sixth?\u201d She counted on her fingers. \u201cFrench plait, dreadlocks, extensions, Tawdry Tan highlights, ordinary untidy … Are you hair-obsessed, or what?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWatch it, Ange!\u201d Hetty scowled as I settled beside my friends on a smooth rock, with my back to Port Phillip Bay, thus closing the circle. \u201cThat comment almost merits an extra, totally heartfelt, \u2018Sorry\u2019!\u201d<\/p>\n

Angela Rasmussen twisted the ring on her left hand and sighed, the sort of sigh indicating she would rather be anywhere but on the beach confessing past sins.<\/p>\n

\u201cIs anyone else coming?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cOnly us, the coolest group to ever graduate from Ravella High, hippest on the whole Mornington Peninsula.\u201d Did I detect sarcasm in Hetty\u2019s voice? \u201cYou go first.\u201d She jerked her chin at Elizabeth.<\/p>\n

\u201cUm, really, do I have to?\u201d<\/p>\n

Hetty exhaled a long, controlled stream of air. She tapped her gladiator sandals like an impatient schoolteacher.<\/p>\n

\u201cUm, well…\u201d After rearranging her toned legs, Elizabeth pointed at me. \u201cI would like to say I\u2019m sorry for being jealous of the way you have a tan pretty much all year round and I\u2019m sorry I perved on Stefan, your ex … who, as you all know, lives across the road from our house and I can see into his bedroom, particularly if he doesn\u2019t draw the blind and it wasn\u2019t fair on you, Genna.\u201d She pulled a lock of hair across her cheek, and into one corner of her mouth. \u201cUm, my current boyfriend, Severn, rather my first boyfriend and only boyfriend so far, has given me confidence and made me realise how childish I was. Um, I\u2019m really sorry if I hurt you.\u201d<\/p>\n

My eyes popped. I\u2019d had no idea Elizabeth could see into Stefan\u2019s bedroom and I was pretty sure he didn\u2019t know either. Elizabeth\u2019s father owned the local panel beating business and Stefan\u2019s dad ran the servo. Their parents were close but Stefan and Elizabeth had never connected\u2014not for want of trying on her part.<\/p>\n

\u201cIs that all, Liz?\u201d Hetty\u2019s tone was soothing. \u201cIt\u2019s not much. It didn\u2019t hurt Gen, did it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, um, I\u2019d like to also say sorry for all those \u2018wog\u2019 comments Mum made about Genna.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s not your fault.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes it is!\u201d Elizabeth was on a roll. \u201cI could\u2019ve stopped Mum. I hate racist comments and I\u2019m really, really sorry, Gen.\u201d She gulped in a breath. \u201cI\u2019m also sorry for calling you a bitch when you misled me, told me to buy a pink slip dress and, instead, you turned up at Stefan\u2019s Christmas Eve bash in that raunchy gear, black and tight and, um, looking torn.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut that was years ago and I had nothing to wear and I didn\u2019t mean to…\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you accept her apology, Genna?\u201d Hetty was grouchy.<\/p>\n

I jumped so hard I nearly fell off my rock. Even the waves lapping on the shore behind me seemed to stop lapping.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d I squeaked, thinking about all the disparaging things I\u2019d said about Elizabeth in the past.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, and I haven\u2019t finished.\u201d Elizabeth set her jaw. \u201cI\u2019m sorry about that ball I let drop in which cost us the match against Eastern Lakes High. I couldn\u2019t concentrate because there\u2019d been all those phone calls about my brother\u2019s neural pathways and him acting up and Mum had gone out and bought more pearls, you know, that ritual she had because he\u2019d pulled on her pearls when he was a baby and the string broke and she slipped on the stairs and dropped him.\u201d Tears filled her azure eyes and, for the first time, I knew she was going to let it all hang out.<\/p>\n

The now grey sky had blotted out the watery sun, and still Elizabeth burbled on. We were all sniffing, reaching into our pockets for hankies, when I saw a light turn on in the house on Ti Point.<\/p>\n

The light remained on but I could detect no movement.<\/p>\n

\n
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Excerpt from \u201cMy French Barrette\u201d \u00a9 Cynthia Rowe, 2011 u r invited 2 a Sorry Sit-In, Hetty had said in her text message. I skidded down the path to the beach, picked up pace and jogged the last few steps onto the sand. The afternoon was chilly and, passing the bathing boxes, I felt a… Read More My French Barrette<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/cynthiarowe.com.au\/cr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/135"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/cynthiarowe.com.au\/cr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/cynthiarowe.com.au\/cr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/cynthiarowe.com.au\/cr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/cynthiarowe.com.au\/cr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=135"}],"version-history":[{"count":8,"href":"http:\/\/cynthiarowe.com.au\/cr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/135\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":525,"href":"http:\/\/cynthiarowe.com.au\/cr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/135\/revisions\/525"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/cynthiarowe.com.au\/cr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=135"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}