Page 102 of The Pearl Sister
Up at the top, photographers were already fiddling about with tripods ready to capture the sunset and we found a quiet spot facing west to sit down. I looked at Chrissie as she watched the sunset, her expression one of contentment as soft hues of gold and purple light tinged her face. Below us, Alice Springs lit up with twinkling streetlights, and the sun settled behind the mountains, leaving only a dark red line against the indigo sky.
After a pit stop for a Coke in town on the way back, we returned to the hotel and Chrissie offered me the first shower. As I felt the cool stream of water drenching my sweaty skin, I tipped my face up into it and smiled. It was great to have Chrissie with me because she was so enthusiastic about everything. Wrapping a towel around me, I padded back into the bedroom and did a double-take. Somehow, in the ten minutes I’d been gone, Chrissie’s right leg seemed to have fallen off, leaving her with only a tiny piece of it below the knee. The rest of the leg sat a few inches away from her.
‘Yeah, I’ve got a “falsie”,’ she said casually as I gawped at it.
‘How? When?’
‘Since I was fifteen. I got really crook one night, but my mum didn’t trust the whitefella doctor, so she just gave me a couple of paracetamol for my fever. The next morning, she found me unconscious in bed. I don’t remember anything about it, but I was airlifted to Darwin by the Flying Doctor Service, and diagnosed with meningitis in the hospital there. It was too late to save my leg ’cos septicaemia had started to set in, but at least I came out with my life. I’d reckon that was a pretty good swap, wouldn’t you?’
‘I . . . yes, if you look at it that way,’ I agreed, still in shock.
‘No point in looking at it any other way, is there? And I get about pretty well. You didn’t notice, did ya?’
‘No, though I did wonder why you always wear jeans when I sweat like a pig in a pair of shorts.’
‘Only bummer is that I used to be the best swimmer in Western Australia. Won the junior championships a coupla times and was gonna try out for the 2000 Olympic squad in Sydney. Me and Cathy Freeman showing the world what us Aboriginals could do.’ Chrissie gave a tight smile. ‘Anyway, that’s in the past,’ she said as she pulled herself to standing without a single wobble, as though she had just planted both feet firmly on the ground to take her weight. ‘Right, my turn to take a shower.’ She deftly used both of her strong arms to grasp furniture and swung herself towards the bathroom, closing the door behind her.
I sank down onto the bed, feeling as though myownlegs had turned to puddles of porridge. My brain – and heart – raced at a million thoughts and beats per second as I ran through a gamut of emotions: guilt, foreverfeeling sorry for myself when not only was I incredibly privileged but also able-bodied; anger that this woman hadn’t received the kind of immediate medical care she’d needed. And, most of all, sheer awe for the way Chrissie accepted her lot, and her courage and bravery in getting on with her life, when she could have spent the rest of it feeling sorry for herself. As I had done recently . . .
The door to the bathroom opened and Chrissie, wrapped in a towel, made her way back effortlessly to her bed and dug in her overnight bag for a pair of pants and a T-shirt.
‘What?’ She turned round and saw my eyes on her. ‘Why ya staring at me like that?’
‘I just want to say that I think you’re incredible. The way you came through . . . that.’ I tentatively pointed to the missing limb.
‘I just never wanted it to define me, y’know? Didn’t want the missing bit to be who I was. Mind you, it did have some benefits.’ She laughed as she climbed into bed.
‘Like what?’
‘When I applied for uni, I got a full house of offers.’
‘You probably deserved them.’
‘Whether I did or didn’t, I could take my pick. A disabled Aboriginal person manages to tick two boxes on the government quota forms. The unis were fighting over me.’
‘That sounds seriously cynical,’ I responded as I too got into bed.
‘Maybe, but it was me who got the chance of a great education, and I made the most of it. So who’s the winner here?’ she asked, as she reached to switch off the bedside light.
‘You,’ I replied.
You . . . with all your positivity and strength and zest for life.
I lay there in the darkness, feeling her alien but familiar energy only a few feet away.
‘Night, Cee,’ she said. ‘I’m glad I’m here.’
I smiled. ‘So am I.’
20
‘You gonna wake up or what?’
I felt someone’s breath on my face and struggled to rise to consciousness through the deep fug of my usual late morning sleep.
‘Christ, Cee, we’ve wasted half the morning already!’
‘Sorry.’ I opened my eyes and saw Chrissie sitting on the bed opposite me, a hint of irritation on her face. ‘I’m a late sleeper by nature.’
