IV
It wasn't until the following Monday that my mind reacted to the fact that Monica had been hiding things from me. Then I felt as angry with her as I did with Jack. How can you play with someone's feelings like that? They both knew perfectly well who I was, which was unclear even to myself. I felt emotionally naked and vulnerable.
When I got out of class, I told Monica I wanted to go to the Museum of Natural Science. We went in, and I soon realized that what was on display there was beautiful, sad and disgusting at the same time.
Stuffed animals. Big elephants and giraffes whose bones, skin and gaze had been paralyzed forever, immortalized on wood in such a way that they could never be alive again. Something like my innocence and my will to live, I thought.
'Are they real?'
'Some yes, some no'
That was the trompe l'oeil of existence. Mixing truth with lies, routine with wonder and good with evil.
I was about to touch the specimens, but then I saw a guard who reminded me that it was forbidden.
'I'm getting bored, Monica'.
'Okay, we're leaving'
As we left, I leaned next to a hedge, gained momentum and fired:
'You betrayed me'
'What are you talking about?'
'Don't play dumb. I'm on the edge of the abyss because everyone's lying to me.'
In the way she pouted, I found she looked rather like Jack.
'You're Jack's stepsister.'
"That's it. I said it." I felt as if I had dropped a huge slab under my feet. In front of those beau- tiful gardens where not a soul was passing by anymore, my companion burst into tears. It was a bone-deep moan, as if we were one of those animals we had left inside the building.
'Aren't you going to say anything?'
'What do you want me to say, Anna, that I knew you were living with them? I knew from the beginning'
'Why, did you set this whole thing up?'
'I did it to do you a favor. I wanted you to have a good home and a job to earn a living. What I didn't know is that you would try to hit on my stepbrother. But I don't care now, you can go with him. These are things that happen...'
I knew Monica and I knew she was lying. She was using what they call reverse psychology, telling me the opposite of what her heart was telling her. Just so she could throw it back in my face.
There are people, and maybe I am one, who deep down are not happy unless they are complaining about something. It's like playing a video game where the monsters don't offer any resistance: it's not funny.
We formed a strange love triangle. But that wasn't as bad as what happened later.
Erika, in an inexplicable way, had been following us that night. Maybe she sensed what was going to happen. She saw how Monica and I kissed before we drew the curtains. And, as she feared, she told Beth.
Damn.
The rage and wasted affection she owed her stepsister did the rest. I would have preferred she'd beaten me up Instead, she made up a fairly believable story about my dereliction of duty and Mr Radcliffe believed it. I had left Roy alone and gone shopping at a store without telling anyone. When I arrived, I had explained the lesson to him incorrectly.
'But Mr. Radcliffe, that's not true. I haven't been out of here all afternoon.'
'Oh, haven't you? Look, Anna. Try as you might, you can't make me think otherwise. I know my daughter. Beth can be very treacherous and hateful at times, but she never makes things up. If she throws something in your face, it's usually true. Like my name is Peter Radcliffe.'
'But it was because of Monica.’
'Monica who?'
I had to explode. I hated that whole family without exception. Why had I left mine in London to get a scholarship that was insufficient to guarantee my moral integrity?
'The daughter who doesn't want to see you,' I said at last. "What an idiot, what the hell did I say?", I immediately thought.
'You are a meddlesome little girl who has only come to my house to bring trouble.'
'What do you mean?'
'Do I have to spell it out for you? You're fired.’
Fired. It was the worst news in a long time. I remembered an old book, ‘The Catcher in the Rye'. The protagonist is at some point left alone in the middle of the city, penniless and heartbroken, just as I was at that moment. I dicreetly waved goodbye to Jack, who seemed to be trying to tell me something I simply chose to ignore.
And feeling like Holden Caulfield, I took a taxi and told him to take me to a laggoon in Swords packed with swans and local ducks. The temptation to flee to the airport was high, but I didn’t want to lose my scholarship, so while I looked at the animal’s stylised beaks, I racked my brains to work out what to do next.
Radcliffe had rejected to pay my wage and I only had a few coins, plus a heavy bag with all of my dirty clothes. I was wearing an old white cardigan that I’d had for ages, but I felt comfortable in it.
As I started to walk back, I realised that I was completely alone in the dark. Then my phone rang, but when I saw the name of ‘Jack’, I decided not to answer.
There was another area where water could fully envelop your body and I was on the point of jumping and letting my body go like Virginia Woolf’s when the phone rang again. Jack.
‘Yes?’
‘Anna. Please, listen to me. Let me know how you are doing. I’ll meet you soon when nobody knows’.
I was going to say something else, but then the battery died and the phone went off. Oh my God.
I continued to walk, my feet covered in mud, until I started to see factories. Then I walked and walked. I was so tired that ended up stumbling with a rock and falling. I shouted, but nobody came. Next, I stood up and went on until I reached a guesthouse.
‘How much is it for a night?’
With all my clothes stained and my accentuated under-eye circles and puffiness, not only did I look much older than my age, but I resembled a beggar.
‘It’s 35 euros, dear’, a broad-shouldered Indian receptionist said.
I started counting coins and putting them on the counter.
‘Are you going to pay with this?’
I felt ashamed, but told him that someone had stolen the rest of my cash. A small lie, but it was necessary for survival. Who hasn’t done it at least once?
The total didn’t amount to more than 20, but the young man felt sorry for me and let me sleep there for two nights. He entered some details in the computer as if I’d paid for it.
‘Is there someone you can call so they help you when you check out?’, he asked.
‘Oh, no, Monica’, I said aloud.
V The next few weeks were spent running from building to building at the university, eating snacks and fast food, overwhelmed by classwork, upcoming exams, and visits to professors' offices. There was hardly any excitement that Monica had taken me into her shared apart- ment. The other roommate was a computer geek who was almost always in her room, and Monica and I didn't even talk more than necessary, except for the common assignment. I lost track of time. It's amazing how one can perceive eternity in a single minute and get sucked into the routine for months. Before I knew it, it was already June. In Irish Literature exam I had to answer a question about Samuel Beckett. I
VI The summer passed like an exhalation in my life. If this was living, stringing together seasons, routines, loves and disappointments, then I wasn't going to be the one to make sense of it. Just as I was about to cancel my projects and move back to London, I was called to work for a consultancy. Against all odds, I was selected as a part-time administrative intern. A temporary job, but better than nothing. My boss, Mrs. Stern, was strict but fair in her demands. But one day I discovered that she was a distant aunt of Beth and Jack. I was still living with them and was being paid a small amount for tutoring Roy, so I had enough money to send home to my parents. Whether I wanted to or not, my w
VII What happened over the next few weeks still clouds over in my mind. I only know that I slept little, started drinking and suffered anxiety attacks. I thought the office would be more understanding, but they were not. I had bitten more than I could chew and colleagues com- plained about my performance. I was fired from there too, to put it simply. I felt worthless and guilty for having to tell my parents that I could no longer send them money. My father told me that he’d found a new position and I shouldn’t worry, but that didn't solve anything. I couldn't see myself getting ahead, I had to pass all my subjects and I’d started drinking heavily. At first, I
VIII As embarrassed as I was, I had to make that call. So I gathered some coins I had begged for on Tara Street, next to the DART station, and plucked up my courage. Since my cell phone was broken, I gave the owner of the Internet cafe 1 euro and googled the phone number. With what I had left over I went to a phone booth. ‘Good morning, Mr. Redman.’ ‘Anna, why aren't you here? You've ruined my project' 'I'm so sorry,' I cried, 'I'm on the street. I don't have a home. Maybe you could...' He was so surprised that it took him a while to answer. 'Well, I don't have space in my house, unfortunately. What I can offer you is something to earn the mo
IX Days went by and I had no alternative. I accelerated music lessons and got used to asking for money on the streets. My appearance was horrible, as if I were a doll placed on a stage to be pitiful. Dirt ate away at me from my neck to my ankles. I needed to take a shower. Begging for no one to recognize me, I managed to scrape together just enough money to buy a sandwich. I felt guilty for having let Rachel do the dirty work. We were the same. Even if she was hooked up to a machine and I was conscious. Since I hardly had any conversation with Bill, I spent many hours on those streets where I wasn't known. Classes with Mr. Redman had become daily and we played great songs such as "Knocking on Heaven's Door"
X "Homelessness is still a problem," said a very serious announcer on the small radio station Bill was listening to. He had a transistor that a scrap dealer had given him, after he had sold him all kinds of wires, toy boxes and pieces of iron. With that and some snacks his acquaintances had given him, fat Bill had more than enough to survive on. And what else can I say? Music lessons went on, gigs became more frequent and I continued to embarrass myself on the street. I lived like an artist, with standing ovations, admirers and fans, and then I would go back to my burrow until the next day. It was the best and worst of two worlds. One day Bill came over in the wee hours of the morn
XI I had breakfast in the bar with Bill, and everyone was looking at us out of the corner of their eyes. I asked the waiter for a cell phone charger, even though I didn't think anyone would call me. I couldn't have been more wrong. Surprisingly, Redman made me an offer I couldn't refuse, as they say. 'A speech? And where am I going to go looking like a slob?' 'Don't worry about the clothes. I'll provide you with some.' 'You say it won't be at the university. What if someone recognizes me?' 'You don't have to worry. People pay for these get-togethers. It's a unique opportunity. I had to talk about Romantic poetry, a period that fascinated me. And on a paid basis! I t
XII The next day, Redman brought a couple of musicians that I was going to play with. We re- hearsed some covers of bands we liked and also prepared a mix of our best own songs. Ru- ben, a Spanish guy who sang in English with an accent, told me he thought my face sounded familiar. In the end, I couldn't hide the fact that we had met in some college hallway, but the guy seemed nice and didn't ask any further. He came with Lisetta, a Portuguese girl he was dating, and whose beautiful voice brought a lot of character to the band. When the day of the concert arrived, everything was great, except for one thing: Harlan wasn't there. I called the phone number he had given me and was told that there was