Cassandra Behind Closed Doors. Linda Sorpreso

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СКАЧАТЬ was the artist in our family. Her work was fantastic, her drawings so lifelike, it captured the essence of each piece. It could be a puppy or a woman picking flowers with her young daughter. I saw every strand of hair, felt the happiness or love and I could actually imagine myself being in the picture. When I was younger, Lorissa made dolls for me out of paper. She made me an entire family, including a little baby with all different types of outfits. I loved them, played with them almost every day, until the dryer in our laundry caught on fire. The laundry was my playroom and all my toys and paper dolls were stored in a wooden box. Unfortunately, that night, because I was too lazy to put them back in the container, all my dolls were left scattered on the floor and were ruined. They had either burnt to a crisp or were destroyed by the ash. I had saved most of my Barbies but the paper dolls couldn’t be repaired. Lorissa had never really done anything with her paintings since she married so young and over the years, focussed more on Phillip’s career than her own but hopefully one day she will.

      I was four when Phillip first started seeing Lorissa and he was the only person that spoke to me like an adult. He was patient, understanding and encouraged me, instead of putting me down. He made me feel important and I loved him for being the father I never had.

      My nephew Adam was one of the most important people in my life. He would be one in January and I was surprised by the love I had for him. When Lorissa told us she was pregnant, I was so excited. I made a little red teddy bear for him and couldn’t wait to be an aunt.

      Adam was precious to us all and was spoiled rotten. Though there was a reason behind this. Lorissa had the disease toxae-mia during her pregnancy. Her doctor prescribed her plenty of bed rest, a pillow for her swollen feet and less stress for her high blood pressure. She also had to cut out salt in her diet. She couldn’t eat anything, all food was tasteless to her and she even had to make her own bread. She was so depressed, her body craving for foods she couldn’t eat and she would cry at every meal-time. Though she knew she had to do it for the sake of her life and Adam’s, it was very difficult for her and for us too. It was heart wrenching to see her like that but she remained strong and had a healthy baby boy.

      Adam was born in America, which was the reason why Mum, Carla, Abby and I went there last year for five months. It had to be the best experience of my life, though kind of depressing. I missed Cilla, my friends, and my family, even Dad, who couldn’t come with us.

      I groaned. Clothes down and another billion things to do. I just couldn’t understand how Abby kept her side of the room always neat. I tried so hard but everything ended up being out of place. Besides, it wasn’t my fault I didn’t have enough space to fit everything I owned. While Abby only had a couple of items on her bedside table — a white clock radio and a heart-shaped jewellery box, I didn’t have sufficient room to put all my stuff on mine. I had a pink lamp without the shade, a small glass unicorn statue, a Mickey mouse money box, a Mickey Mouse figurine, a hand crafted Bugs Bunny statue that David had painted for me, a blue porcelain Siamese cat statue with their heads joined together and my gold-plated eight-by-ten inched frame storing two photos of my beloved boys — Adam and Mark-Paul Gosselaar.

      Mark-Paul was the man I was going to spend the rest of my life with…he just didn’t know it yet. Mark-Paul starred as Zack Morris in my favourite TV show, Saved By The Bell. Sometimes it was a little far-fetched. No one at my school would ever scam the principal like Zack had done numerous times. However, it was a step away from real life and it was more believable than other programs because they were real kids playing their real ages and not a bunch of thirty-year-olds with receding hairlines, playing teenagers. The added bonus was Mark-Paul and since the first episode aired in Australia two years ago, I had fallen for his gorgeous blonde locks, was mesmerised by his beautiful hazel eyes, had had a million fantasies of his soft lips kissing mine and spent hours drooling over him.

      My sisters thought I was an idiot for loving Mark-Paul because I didn’t really know the ‘real’ him. Well, I felt like I knew him from what I had read in the hundreds of articles I had collected. I knew his birthday was on March 1, he hated being called ‘Mark’, he preferred being called his full name, he had two older sisters and one older brother, loved football and he liked girls who were honest, attractive and liked to have fun. Two out of three wasn’t that bad. I might not be attractive but I was too honest at times and he could teach me how to have fun.

      I looked up at my clock and realised how late it had become. I hadn’t even had lunch. I made myself a salami sandwich and sat in the lounge room, flicking through the channels while I ate. As soon as I finished eating, I returned to my room and finished cleaning up. The room was spotless. Well, not entirely true, I became restless towards the end and hid my posters underneath the bed. I hoped Abby wouldn’t notice. It was almost five o’clock and the family would arrive shortly. I quickly had a shower, dressing in a pair of black pants and a pale green jumper.

      The door swung open.

      “Cassie, are you ready?” Mum asked. She had changed into a black skirt and blue short-sleeved top. Two clips held her short brown hair back. She looked beautiful, always did, although I wished she would grow her hair longer. When she was in her teens, she had the most beautiful hair — long and straight. Mum had this photograph of her and Zia Sarina before they came to Australia and Zia was a bridesmaid for someone’s wedding. The photographer took the photo of Mum and Zia standing in front of a long mirror, on a slight angle, with their backs facing the camera but their front view was captured in the mirror. Mum was seventeen, Zia was fifteen and they both had their hair styled in beehives, and Mum wore a very short dress that barely covered her bottom. They both looked so beautiful though and it was my favourite photo of them both. Ever since I saw that photo, I had been trying to get Mum to grow her hair to that length again, but it seemed to me that every time we had a trim, she would cut hers shorter. I blamed my grandfather for Mum’s hairstyle and her misfortune in life.

      Mum was seventeen when Nonno decided they would have a better life in Australia. She was in her first year of university, studying to become a primary school teacher. Mum wanted to stay in Italy with her grandparents but Nonno wouldn’t allow it and forced her to come to Australia. Besides school, Mum had fallen in love with a police officer and didn’t want to leave him or her career. When she came here, she wanted to continue her education but was told that the education system was different in Australia and she would have to start school here in Grade One. Mum refused to redo all the schooling again and found a job as a machinist in some factory. She had to cut her hair short, bowled around her head like a man’s haircut; because she was afraid her hair would get caught in the machine. Then she met my dad and married him. The rest was history and she was stuck in a bad marriage and no career. However, she was misinformed. She was later told that she could have continued her schooling and even become an Italian teacher.

      “What are you staring at? Is something wrong with my hair?” Mum asked, looking into the mirror to check if anything was out of place.

      “Nothing, you just look beautiful. I wish I looked like you,” I said. Not that I looked like my dad either. For awhile, I was convinced I was adopted but then I found a photograph of Lorissa when she was my age and I looked like her, so I knew they were my real parents. Part of me wished Dad wasn’t my real father. It would have explained why he hated me so much.

      “Thank you. You look beautiful too,” she said.

      I snorted. “Yeah right, maybe I’ll be beautiful in my next life!”She shook her head. “You’re beautiful now. Are you ready?”

      “Yeah, I just have to put on my earrings and don’t you ever knock?” I asked, a little annoyed. “What if I was naked?”

      “I’m sorry; I’ll try and be more careful next time. I still see you as a baby, always wanting to be in my arms. If I put you down, you’d cry.”

      I hugged her СКАЧАТЬ