—37—
Frankie was floating on a giant, watermelon-shaped lilo. Intermittent flashes of light shuddered over her closed eyelids. She draped her arm lazily across her forehead in a vain attempt to block out the sun’s rays, while her other hand drifted along the cool surface of the water. A copy of Sense and Sensibility lay open on her bare stomach. The words ‘know your own happiness’ drifted rhythmically through her head. Apart from these four little words, she was free from thought or worry, her mind was almost entirely and peacefully vacant.
The breeze began to pick up, marking Frankie’s skin with a light dusting of goosebumps. The water swelled beneath her, light waves tilting the lilo up and down. A flock of seagulls swooped overhead, squawking loudly. ‘Frankie! Frankie! Frankie!’ they called. Without warning, the waves grew in their intensity, splashing and thrashing her around. ‘Frankie! Frankie! Frankie!’ the gulls jeered. The movement was suddenly intoxicating, the sound jarring. All she wanted was to get out of the water and rest her feet on dry land. ‘Frankie! Frankie! Frankie!’ She twisted and turned. ‘Frankie! Frankie!’
Frankie jerked her eyes open. And there, inches from her face, stood her mother, clutching her shoulders and shaking her furiously.
‘Frankie! Frankie, darling! Wake up,’ Putu hissed.
‘Mum, what the hell are you doing here?’ Frankie wiggled out of her mother’s grasp, sloppily worming her way into a sitting position. ‘What time is it?’ she asked, rubbing her eyes.
Putu flicked on the bedside table lamp in one swift and cruel movement. ‘Rise and shine, my dear little chestnut. I’m kidnapping you!’
Frankie grumbled and pulled a pillow over her face. Dear Lord Austen above, why must you be so vengeful? She felt the pillow being yanked away and, once again, Putu appeared uncomfortably close, peering down at her.
‘Mum, it’s the middle of the night. I was asleep. In the bed that resides in my locked apartment. What do you think you’re doing here? You have to leave. Now.’
Putu pulled back Frankie’s covers in one brisk blow. Frankie tried to hastily pull her singlet down over her bare legs. Her bleary eyes focused on Putu, who was wearing a multicoloured silk top, sequined harem pants and a huge smile. Tomorrow, I’m changing the locks.
‘Get dressed, Frankie,’ Putu purred. ‘You’re coming with me.’
Ten excruciating minutes later, Frankie staggered into her living room wearing leggings and an oversized sweatshirt.
She flopped down on the couch, her head thrust back on the cushion. It was 6am and still dark outside. She could smell the faint stench of last night’s too-oily pad thai wafting from the plastic container still sitting on her coffee table. Frankie pulled the hood of her jumper low over her head.
‘Darling, it’s been two weeks since you broke up with Sunny. It’s time to get out of this house and try to move on,’ Putu cooed, pressing a warm hand to Frankie’s cheek. ‘Come on, time to get a wriggle on, Frankston!’
Where did her mother get the energy? Frankie had never felt more clearly than in this moment, just how far the apple had fallen from the tree.
‘Mum, can’t I just go back to bed? Where are you taking me anyway?’ Frankie curled over on her side, peering up at her mother. Putu smiled down at her and brushed away the piece of sleep that had saddled itself to Frankie’s cheek.
‘You can’t hide away forever. You’ve got to get out of this apartment some time, Frankston. And the time is now!’
Frankie peered out the window of Putu’s moving car. A lone walker trailed slowly after her enthusiastic poodle. A car pulled out of a driveway, its high beams blinding Frankie. Two possums scurried up a tree, relishing their last few moments of relatively undisturbed nocturnal activity. Putu chattered away, barely stopping for air, about how ‘mindfulness was the poor man’s meditation’ and ‘break-ups are balm for the soul’. Frankie tried desperately to block her out.
Putu parked the car and danced straight out, grabbing two rolled-up yoga mats as she went. Frankie followed reluctantly, pulling her jumper tight under her chin. She squinted after Putu and spotted the sign to Fairview Park hidden behind the trunk of a eucalyptus tree. Beyond, she could see the faint outline of the Yarra River in the distance.
Frankie trailed Putu down a gravel path that wound through stout bushes and prickly shrubs. They arrived at the base of the river and found a secluded spot to unfurl their mats. Putu ushered Frankie onto one and fell straight into a lotus pose with her feet tucked up into the creases of her knees. She nodded for Frankie to follow suit.
‘Now Frankston, darling, I’m going to guide you through a basic yoga session.’ She clasped her hands together in front of her chest as Frankie rolled her eyes. ‘Don’t try to resist it. By attacking the physical impurities in your mind and body and focusing on the upper abdomen area we can begin to heal your Solar Plexus Chakra.’
‘Mum, please leave my chakra out of it. It doesn’t need the “soft, healing touch” of yoga. It needs a strong skinny latte. And a chocolate croissant. Can’t we cure my deprived chakra over breakfast?’
Ignoring Frankie, Putu demonstrated the first pose. ‘This is known as the Ananda Balasana pose, or the Happy Baby Pose.’ Putu lay back, clasping her heels and pulling her legs outward until she looked to Frankie like a frog that was stuck on its back. ‘Ah, let the wind peel through you and hold for ten, nine, eight—’
‘Jesus, Mum, you said this was going to be easy,’ Frankie cried as she struggled to kick her legs back over her head, managing to grab one foot before immediately rocking to the side and grazing her nose on a stray twig.
Putu jumped into the next pose. The Knee-to-Ear. ‘Your mind is closed to your ability to succeed,’ she incanted serenely. ‘Tell your body that it can, and it will. Remind yourself that once upon a time we were all as limber as chubby babies, living within our mother’s womb in a tiny fetus position. Don’t let yourself be distracted by that negative voice that exists only within your mind’s eye.’ Putu leapt up onto her right foot and pulled her left up behind her with her hands. The sun had begun to cast a warm glow across both of them, and the sounds of birds calling to each other flooded the park.
Frankie hoisted herself up, slowly pushing up off her knee. She had never been a smoker, but in this moment she craved the burn of nicotine; anything to scorch away the agony of this morning. She grabbed her ankle and attempted to stand on one leg, but only succeeded in hopping around.
‘Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth.’
Frankie closed her eyes and tried to force herself to relax, but felt the sudden squirt of a light, pungent mist across her face.
‘What on earth, Mum!’ Frankie jumped back, swatting away Putu’s outstretched hand. ‘What the hell is that?’
‘Patchouli oil, sweetheart,’ Putu hummed. ‘It’s the perfect antidote to a broken heart!’
Frankie nudged Putu away and jumped off the mat. ‘That’s enough! You are beyond selfish, Mum. You drag me out of bed to do yoga, which you know I can’t stand, then spray me with hippie oil and meditate. You talk, talk, talk, all the time, but you never listen. You have no idea what I’ve been going through. Absolutely no idea! You couldn’t pick out my problems in a line-up. Now, stop telling me to do the Downward Dog, stop breaking into my apartment and stop trying make everything better – it’s not working!’
Putu grimaced before relaxing her face once more. ‘Darling, your aura is a mess. You’re holding so much tension in your shoulders. If you just lie down on your back, I can massage the tender spots to release some of the pressure.’
‘You’re still not listening to me.’ Frankie was almost yelling. ‘I don’t want you to massage my aura. Why can’t you just be normal for one, bloody second! Can’t you see none of this is helping me? That I’m teetering on the edge of insanity and no amount of yoga is going to fix anything?’
‘Now, darling—’
‘Don’t “now, darling” me! My life is in ruins. I’m a failed writer, and the man who loves me can’t stand to look me in the eye! And why should I be so surprised my life’s a mess? I’ve got a mother who constantly talks over the top of her practically mute husband and has never, for even a second, stopped to put herself in another person’s shoes and consider their needs or their values. And newsflash, Mum: there’s no changing me. This is what you get. This is me.’ Frankie ran her fingers through her hair as she paced back and forth. ‘And the worst part is, you’ve never even tried to see me for who I am. You just force your Ashram principles and your vibrating bells on me, in the hope that I’ll miraculously become the little Buddhist daughter you’ve always wanted.’ Frankie finally stopped and took a proper breath. She looked up at her mother. Putu had crouched down over her yoga mat, as if she was winded.
‘Frankie,’ Putu started. ‘I’ve only ever tried to love you the best way I know how.’
‘All I’ve ever wanted was for you to be there for me, in a real way. Not just to read my horoscope or to check that I’m cleaning my teeth with organic floss. I just want you to ask me about my life. To want to know what makes me laugh and what keeps me up at night. You’re constantly gallivanting about the place talking about all these lofty ideals, but you never ask the real questions. It’s stifling!’
Putu walked towards Frankie and pulled her into her arms, squeezing and rocking her. ‘I’m so sorry, Frankie. I love you so much. All I want is for you to be happy. I’m sorry I’ve let you down.’
Frankie pulled away. ‘I know you love me, Mum. And I know you want to help me. But you have to know that dragging me out of bed at the crack of dawn won’t solve anything.’
‘I just wanted to do something to get you out of your funk. You barely leave home these days, except to go to work. I was just trying to help.’ She hung her head.
‘I know.’ Frankie sighed.
‘Things will work out, I know they will.’ Putu rubbed Frankie’s back in slow, rhythmic circles.
‘How do you know? Sometimes things just stay shitty. Or get shittier!’
‘Darling, you have your health, you have your friends, you have your family, even if it doesn’t always seem that way. And you have your talent.’
Frankie rolled her eyes.
‘The world is a beautiful place filled with inspiration and promise; you just have to know where to look.’
Putu gently turned Frankie around, facing her towards the horizon that peeked through the gum leaves. The sun had just started to rise and the sky was awash with vibrant pinks and oranges.
‘You’re going to be okay, my beautiful Frankie. I know you don’t think it, but my mother’s intuition tells me that you will be.’
They sat on their mats and peered out across the water, watching the colours dance through the trees. Frankie let herself relax into her mother’s side, resting her head on her shoulder. Putu pulled her closer and ran her fingers through the loose plait that trailed down her spine.
‘I know I’m not perfect, but I really love you, Frankie,’ Putu said with a squeeze.
‘I love you too, Mum.’
They leaned against each other in silence, watching the sky turn from orange, to yellow, to a dusty blue.