It’s a Sunday morning and I am repenting.
Heather is still in bed, a bucket of sick beside her bed. I decide to clean, when I feel guilty, I clean. I mop the floor, the guilty floor, I clean the bucket, the abused bucket, I empty the wasted drinks and fill them with water and put them beside the bed for Heather.
The Guilty giving the Abused a peace offering. She sleeps silently like a baby, unlike me who could not sleep all night. Clem left as quickly as she came.
And I was left to wait on the sofa for daylight and some sort of clarity.
It took me until dawn but I decided that I would forget about Clem and cleanse myself of all sin in my life. I threw away all the cigarettes, porn and chocolate in the apartment. I kept the whisky but placed it away from arm’s reach (everyone must have one weakness). I wanted to be a good person again with no temptations. I deleted the playlist I copied from Clem’s iPod, deleted her number from my phone and cleared the history from the computer. I may have googled her several times after she left, masturbating to the Australian’s Women Softball website and memorising her shirt number, average batting statistic and nicknames. Enough was enough, it was time to grow up, fess up and settle down. I wasn’t sure how I was going to achieve these things but I needed Heather in my life to help me. Good, sweet, honest Heather. I could learn a thing or two from her.
I’m flicking through the channels when she joins me on the couch, looking coy and child-like she nuzzles herself next to me and apologises for her behaviour. The guilt starts to sink in again, clearly she has no idea what happened last night, just metres from this very couch. She flicks through the channels, pausing on the women’s basketball. I snatch the remote and change it, my palms are sweaty, I cannot have any, even slight reminder of Clem in my sights. I look into Heather’s eyes and realise she has the same blue eyes that Clem has, so I look away. I need to get out of the house so I offer to get coffee from the cafe down the street. Heather tells me she’ll make breakfast while I’m gone to make up for it. God if she wasn’t so innocent I would think she was trying to punish me with the guilt.
The streets of Surry Hills are buzzing with people and still I find myself searching for Clem. I see her everywhere, in the mannequins in the shop windows, in the joggers running by me, in the line of the coffee shop there’s a drag queen talking loudly and I find myself attracted to her. Her strong, calf muscles, her tallness, her broad shoulders- God what is wrong with me? I have a severe case of Clem and need to be cured.
I get back to the apartment and Heather has prepared breakfast for me, she can’t eat but sips on a glass of water, the same glass that Clem had her lips around only 12 hours ago. I’m nauseous but I eat out of guilt. It’s my penance, my last supper, I am a dead girl eating.
As soon as I finish, Heather bounces on me like a puppy.
“I have some making up to do” she says and takes off my t-shirt. It is the last thing I want to do but the one thing I feel I have to do to move on. We go through the motions like a washing machine, pre-wash, rinse and spin. The familiarity is comforting but I can still taste Clem in my mouth and I feel dirty.
The phone rings, Heather answers it.
“Clem! Where were you last night? Come and meet my new girlfriend- you’re going to love her”