The Singer 6

A VISION IN WHITE.

In this new series I've returned to my old stamping grounds of Melbourne. Rowena is a singer for a Christian rock band and Linda is a driver for the spare parts division of a car dealership.

Author's note: Warrandyte Baptist church doesn't exist but the suburb certainly does. Burnt Bridge is a small, oddly-named suburb near Ringwood and best known for its shopping centre and not much else. Hot bread kitchens are the Aussie version of a takeaway food place and sell pies, pasties and freshly baked bread. Root is Aussie slang for sex as in 'fancy a root?' A panel beaters is an auto body shop.

***

The beautiful redhead at reception caught my eye for two obvious reasons, the first being that I hadn't met the new woman at the car dealership because she'd been on holiday and the second reason revolved around her hair. The woman had a full head of wavy red hair that framed a heart-shaped face and I couldn't work out if her eyes were green or grey. Her smile exposed white teeth against matte red lipstick complemented by brownish eye-shadow.

"Hiya, I haven't seen you here before," she fiddled with the beads on her collar.

"I've been on holiday," I squinted at her name badge, "I'm Linda, one of the delivery drivers."

"Okay, I'm Rowena," she fluffed out her hair, "how can I help you, Linda?"

I pulled her eyes from the white silk blouse and off-white skirt to focus on the passageway leading to the back offices.

"I'm here to see John, I have to put in my next holiday request."

"Oh, okay," she glanced at the computer monitor, "I can probably process that."

"Um, yeah, but because it's Easter I have to make sure that there's enough cover for spare parts, but maybe I can leave you the dates," I propped on the counter.

"Just let me check," she clicked the mouse and a moment later she tapped the earpiece, "hiya, I've got a Linda," she looked up at me.

"Hoskins," I pulled my eyes from the cross dangling from her neck.

"Hoskins," Rowena repeated, "she's trying to book a holiday for Easter but wants to make sure she hasn't left spare parts short of staff," her eyes shifted to take in the new cars in the showroom.

"No worries, I'll send her through," she tapped her earpiece again.

"Just go straight through," she smiled.

John Baker was a forty something former deputy manager in finance who'd been hired as a HR Manager for the dealership and I'd always found him an outgoing and progressive type who treated everyone equally.

"You're booking another holiday already?" John waved me to a seat, "you've just come back."

"I know but I thought I'd book ahead, it's only two months away."

"Well I guess that's the time to book," he clicked the mouse, "what dates were you thinking?"

I gave him the dates and he nodded.

"I can't give you the week before but the week after is free," he glanced at me.

"Yeah, that's cool," I nodded, "I'm easy."

"Two can play at that game," he grinned, "all right, that week is yours, you'll get Good Friday off and the Easter Sunday and Monday, but you'll have to work on Easter Saturday. Where are you planning on going?"

"New Zealand to see my sister."

"That's a coincidence," he replied, "Rowena's just come back from Wellington."

"Rowena," my eyes shifted, "oh, the new girl."

"Yeah, she was with another dealership but in between that job and this one she had a week up her sleeve."

"She seems very nice."

"And very straight," John looked at her, "just in case you think of asking her out."

"Well that was my next question," I winced, "but even so, she still seems nice."

"Oh she is very nice, probably a bit too nice for this place. She's had more mechanics and salesmen ask her out than I've had hot dinners and she's only been here a week."

"Well she won't be single that long then," I shifted in her seat.

John didn't reply to that one but his sly smile could have been interpreted a number of ways. It wasn't for another two days though that I finally understood why he'd smiled like that when I walked into the spare parts section in time to hear the tail end of a conversation.

Rowena was standing at the counter in a grey, checked trouser suit and a pink blouse with waterfall ruffles cascading down the front, it was open to her cleavage and Barry had just asked her out, but it was Rowena's reply that brought a sly smile to my face.

"Um, thank you but no I um, I go to church on Sunday."

Barry wasn't exactly the sharpest tool in the shed and it showed in his reply.

"Church?"

"Someone who believes in Jesus," I chuckled, "nice try, Bazza."

"Righto?" Barry scratched his head, "so, you wouldn't fancy a root?"

"Um, no," Rowena picked up the oil filter and took a step back, "thanks though."

She nodded politely at me before exiting the shop and about the only thing Bazza and I had in common at that moment was our shared appreciation of her arse.

Ultimately it was that incident and the fallout over the next few days that drew us closer together. Word got around that Rowena was a bible basher and that attracted two kinds of guys, the ones who wanted to take the piss out of her and the guys who saw her as a challenge. When I announced I was gay they'd treated me the same way.

It all came to a head on Friday when I ducked outside to have a quick cigarette. Rowena had just come back from a lunchtime shopping trip at the nearby Burnt Bridge shopping centre. As she pulled into the employee carpark one of the guys noticed one of her bumper stickers.

Honk If You Love Jesus.

Text And Drive To Meet Him.

Which actually made me laugh along with one of the guys but when she got out and started to put the windscreen visor on, a sudden gust of wind caught it before she could shut the driver side door on the flap. She reached for it but the silver screen was like a sail and then one of the guys called out, "looks like Jesus wants your visor!"

Under any other circumstances that might have been funny too but the look on her face cut me to the quick and I stepped away from the guys and went to catch the screen just as it reached the back wall of the dealership.

"Here," I caught it, "I'll give you a hand."

"Thanks," she managed a tight smile, "it took me by surprise."

"Ask her about conversion therapy," Bazza called out.

I extended my middle finger in the traditional Aussie salute as we walked back to her car but she didn't ask the question until we finally shut the doors on the flaps.

"What did he mean by that?"

"He's taking the piss, don't worry about him," I replied and then in answer to her questioning look I went on to explain, "I'm gay and he knows you're a Christian. When God was handing out brains, Bazza was holding the door open for everybody else."

She looked at him and then me, a lopsided grin tugged at the corners of her mouth as she slung the handbag over her shoulder.

"He asked me out three times and I only told him I was a Christian because saying no wasn't getting through to him."

"Yeah that's Bazza, as dumb as dog shit and twice as smelly."

She didn't reply because we were too near to the guys and at first I was just going to let her walk away but then she nudged me.

"Oh, I've got your letter in the office, do you want it now?"

It took a few seconds to register that it was the official letter telling me that my leave application had been approved, but I was aware that Bazza was staring strangely at us and being the vindictive little cow that I am I shrugged.

"No worries," I nodded at the guys, "see ya round like a rissole."

I could hear their chuckling as we kept walking and I tried to keep a straight face but eventually common sense overcame me.

"Don't worry, I'll explain about the letter later just in case they, you know?"

"Why?" Rowena looked at me.

"In case they think that it's a different kind of letter, they know I'm gay."

"Oh, right," she glanced over her shoulder, "well, maybe not. Let's keep them in the dark for a little longer at least."

"My lips are sealed," I touched them.

"Okay," she chuckled, "so," she continued a few moments later, "if you don't mind me asking, when did you find out you were gay?"

"Um, in high school, I did go out with guys and girls but by the time I went into Tafe I'd pretty much stuck with girls. There's one or two guys I might sleep with because they're decent but then I look long and hard at them and think of the dick and decide it's a bad idea."

"Interesting," she glanced at me as we rounded the corner, "my best friend came out a few months ago and for her it was a sudden thing or so she told me."

"How did it happen? If you don't mind me asking."

"It was during the referendum," she replied, "Cathy was handing out leaflets near a night club when she got talking to a couple of gay women, they started arguing with her but this other woman came to her rescue and told them to back off."

"Was her knight in shining armour gay?"

"She is, and she invited her to a café for a coffee," she pulled her sunglasses off as we reached the staff entrance, "one thing led to another and Cathy got together with Amanda in the last week before we all went to vote."

"Wow," I pinched my nose, "now that's something you don't hear every day."

"Amanda was the first person to treat Cathy as if she had a functioning brain," she opened the door and waved me inside, "although Cathy has said recently that she always felt drawn to women, but she couldn't work out why she felt that way."

"Well I can understand that," I replied, "it was kind of the same for me, so, are you and Cathy still best friends?"

"Yeah we are," she frowned, "but it's sad the way she was treated by the church. The minister put it out that Cathy had sinned against God and we couldn't associate with her any more. I still go to see her though because I care about her. I may not understand why she changed or how it all works but the bible says to love your neighbour as you love yourself. It doesn't lay down conditions for who you should or shouldn't love, it just says to love," she grimaced.

"Sorry, I'm a real Nazi when it comes to quoting bible verses out of context. There's a lot of so called Christians running around saying the most outrageous things and then justifying it with a verse they pulled from the bible.2

She dumped her handbag on the desk and pulled the grey jacket over her shoulders.

"You can justify murder, genocide, stoning people to death and a lot of other things," she finished removing the jacket and slung it over the back of her chair.

"Besides my cousin, Jenny is as gay as they come, so I'm not homophobic," she picked up a piece of paper, "okay, here's your confirmation, where are you going?"

"New Zealand to see my sister, it's her birthday the week before but she's got to work that day as well so we're gonna have the party the Friday night after Good Friday."

"So you'll be working on Easter Saturday."

"Afraid so, worst luck," I grimaced, "but on the plus side I've got the Easter Sunday and Monday off because it's tacked onto the start of my holiday."

"New Zealand is amazing," she grinned, "I just got back from Wellington."

"Oh, okay," I feigned ignorance, "she's in Queenstown."

"Yeah, I was going to go there but I ran out of time."

She sat down and I propped on the counter as I tried to think of a reply. She almost seemed a little distracted, as if she was trying to find an excuse to get rid of me and so I launched out into the unknown.

"So, what church do you go to?"

Her eyes shifted and I detected an atmosphere of tension but then she shrugged.

"Warrandyte Baptist," she glanced at the monitor, "shit, I forgot about that email, sorry."

"No worries, I didn't hear you swear either."

She smiled briefly as she slipped her hand beneath her blouse and I backed away, feeling as if I'd crossed a boundary that shouldn't be crossed. I spent the afternoon delivering spare parts to garages and panel beaters all over the local area, my last drop actually took me past Warrandyte Baptist church and I did slow down momentarily to take it in and it was about then that fate stepped in to lend a hand when a police car flashed its lights.

Random breath tests are a feature of Australian life. You can be pulled up at any point in the day for a random test, my ex girlfriend told me that they had a certain quota they had to hit every day to satisfy the pen pushers further up the food chain. While you can argue the whys and wherefores of that system it definitely worked in my favour because I was observed by a man in the carpark and it was while I was on the phone to my supervisor afterwards that he approached me.

"Are you all right?"

"Hold on," I lowered the phone, "yeah, sorry, just a random breath test," I tried to return to the phone but Victor had hung up, "well goodbye to you too," I frowned.

"Sorry," he backed away.

"It's not you," I replied, "it's my boss, I had to tell him I'll be running late for my next drop and he just hung up without saying goodbye."

"Oh, okay," he glanced over his shoulder, "well, I'll get back to the car."

"No worries," I stared past him, "I just slowed down because I know someone who goes here."

He didn't reply to that and I continued.

"Rowena, I don't know her last name. She just started at the dealership a few weeks ago."

"I know Rowena," he sounded cautious and I found myself feeling a little queer to put it bluntly, was he her boyfriend?

"Rowena's a good girl," he went on, "she's part of a Christian rock band."

"A rock band," I frowned, "wow, she didn't seem the type if you know what I mean."

"Rowena is the singer and lead guitarist."

"Well I'll be," I stopped short, the final word is usually 'fucked' and I was trying to be diplomatic.

"Buggered?"

"Yeah, well, you learn something new every day."

We farewelled each other and I headed to my next drop, a panel beaters in Warrandyte but on the way back I pulled into the church carpark and walked over to a noticeboard that displayed church service times and various other regular things like prayer and youth groups. There at the very top was a crudely rendered flyer advertising a dance and the name of the band. The Messengers. It had a picture of the band. Rowena was wearing a white blouse and black leather trousers, and the guys all had long hair and two of them were also wearing leather trousers.

So now I had a name and yet I still felt somewhat strange approaching Rowena at work and to make it more difficult she finished at five o'clock and I knocked off at four thirty. Nevertheless, I've always been the queen of innovation and I 'volunteered' for overtime, which basically involved checking off the deliveries that had come in that morning. Because it was warmer the roller door was open and gave me a perfect view of the carpark.

However I almost missed her because I actually was working but when I heard a ringtone I looked up in time to see her answering a phone. I have no idea who was on the phone but she turned towards me a moment later and I had the sneaking suspicion she was talking to the guy I'd met earlier. She ended the call and seemed almost unsure of herself and then she walked towards the roller door, I met her at the entrance.

"Hiya," she looked past me, "we um, need to talk."

"Sure," I put the clipboard down and nodded outside, "out here?"

She followed me outside and then turned to look at me.

"I just got a phone call from someone at the church."

"Probably the guy I was talking to earlier," I replied.

"I see," she pursed her lips, "okay."

"Look it's not what it seems," I ran a hand through my hair.

"How is it then?"

I launched into a summary of why I'd stopped by the church and the conversation, and when I'd finished she smiled crookedly.

"Oh, okay. Maybe it's crossed wires. Jeff is the youth pastor, he um saw your tattoo," she glanced at my forearm, "and realised you were um, gay."

"Well that's very observant of him," I glanced at my rainbow tattoo, "I've been thinking of getting a new tattoo that includes the rainbow but makes it less obvious."

"You're not ashamed are you?"

"No, just get a little tired of being judged. Every woman I meet seems to either want a gay best friend or a night between the sheets, sometimes I just wonder what it would be like to just be you know, normal."

"Normal," she pursed her lips, "yeah, I get that too, my parents aren't Christians and when I became a Christian they thought I'd flipped or it was something I'd grow out of and even now they come out with sarcastic comments."

"I'm sorry, you can't pick your family. My parents are divorced but they're pretty supportive."

"But you can pick your friends though," she broke in, "so, would you like to come to a rehearsal? I promise not to out you."

"A rehearsal."

"Yeah, we are working on our first album but we play a lot of secular covers for functions like weddings and parties. We rehearse out at the church hall," she looked past me and tightened her grip on the strap of her handbag.

"Okay, maybe not then."

"Okay, no worries," I replied, "look I saw your flyer, it could do with a bit of work. I muck around with graphics programs in my spare time, I might be able to come up with something better if you let me have a go."

"Okay, I'll look forward to seeing it," she took out her phone, "what's your number?"

I gave her my number and she tapped out her address and sent it to my phone.

"Got it, thanks," she smiled crookedly, "see you then, babe," she winked and then turned about and strode back to her red Astra hatchback. A casual observer might have compared the look on my face to those of my male colleagues because she does have a rather nice arse! She was wearing a short grey, pleated skirt that day, which was the first time I could recall seeing her in a skirt that didn't go past her knees. As if sensing my attention she glanced over her shoulder and flicked at her hair as she smiled, I managed a half wave and then she was unlocking her car. I went back to work and to reflect on my 'offer.' Granted I'd only said I'd give it a go but in Aussie lingo, that's pretty close to a firm yes. For better or worse I was now committed to designing a flyer for a Christian band.

My housemate, Melanie saw the irony straight away when I told her that night.

"I can see it now, the coming hard to you tour."

"Ha ha, bitch," I smiled crookedly.

"But seriously," Melanie folded her arms, "are you chasing rainbows? There's no pot of gold at the end of this rainbow."

"It's a challenge," I replied, "for fuck's sake, I've got this diploma in design I got at Tafe but I've done nothing with it, I'm working for spare parts."

That night I thought hard about my much lamented failure to launch when it came to a career in graphic design. To get a foot in the door in that industry you need a decent portfolio, experience with another company and being in the right place at the right time. I had the first one down pat, a good selection of designs I'd done at school and just fucking around with the Gimp, my favourite design program. And that led to the second, I was a Linux girl and all the best graphic artists are happy, shiny Apple people. I've lusted over Apples in the past but the price tag leaves me feeling weak at the knees. I didn't get far that night apart from a blank document and some place holder text but I did send a text through to her later that night.

Linda: Got an idea for the flyer, meet me for lunch tomorrow?

I didn't get a reply until I was standing in my knickers.

Rowena: No worries, babe. See you tomorrow, sleep tight.

I sent her a smiley face and crawled into bed. Sleep came slowly because I was troubled by visions of Rowena in various stages of undress but eventually I did fall asleep.