THE BOOK of
Georgia Tsialtas
Below
are a couple of excerpts from the book to present an
idea of the content:
(PART)
CHAPTER 1:
'No'!' I yell emphatically. 'I am NOT
changing my clothes, Ma!'
For
God's sake, twenty-eight years old and my
mother’s still trying to tell me what to wear. I
don't think so!’
'Despina, we are going to wedding, not one them damn
bars you love. You not going to embarrass me in
front of everyone. Change now!'
That's
my mother for you, always worried about what everyone
else will say, always worried about being embarrassed in
front of the relatives and the people that, thankfully,
I only have to see when there is a wedding, funeral,
baptism or name day that I can't get out of. And just
my luck, being Greek, these events come around with
great regularity.
'Ma, relax, okay? It's not like anyone
is going to be looking at me.' Jeez.
'Despina, you no come with your father and me looking
like tsoula'. Heaven forbid I should look
attractive. In the eyes of the Greek community
attractive is considered slutty. They'd all be
talking about what a shocking job my mother did in
raising me and what a disappointment I was to the
family.
It
seems to me that my mother and I have this
argument every time there is one of these family
do's that I can't escape from. There’s yelling and
screaming about what I’m wearing, my hair, my make-up
or about me not wanting to be there at all.
Nothing ever seems to get my mother’s approval
so I’ve just given up trying and decided the best way
to go is as myself.
Alas, my mother can’t stand the real me, so
every now and then I have to put on the good Greek girl
image just to keep the peace…
(PART)
CHAPER 13:
‘Come off it, it
hasn’t been that long!’ What the hell is Voula
talking about?
It hasn’t been that long since I’ve been out
with them.
Chris and I met Voula and the gang at a bar last
week.
We stayed, had a few drinks and then headed back
to Chris’s place.
Oh, shit, I get it now.
We had a few drinks, and then we
took off – the whole concept of it was ‘we’,
or ‘us’,
not just ‘me’.
Voula
has turned up at my house today, unannounced and
hung-over. Yiayia
answered the door and let her in, and I saw the look on
her face as Voula flounced up the stairs towards my
bedroom. Yiayia
doesn’t like her…and I’m now starting to
understand why.
The
thing is, I was bound to become a ‘we’ again one
day. Voula
never had any issue with me being part of a couple when
I was with Denny. In
fact, she was the one who encouraged me to go out with
Denny in the first place.
And she was the only one who gave me a hard time
when we broke up, telling me that I shouldn’t abandon
him like his ex-wife did, telling me that I owed it to
him to keep working at our relationship.
‘Oh,
sure, you showed up with your darling, sipped one drink
for an hour then took off again.’
‘Well,
I was driving.’ What did she expect me to do, get
mannered then jump in my car and take off?
‘You’ve
changed, Desi. You
used to be out there.
You used to party with us all night.
You never bailed on us when you were with
Denny.’
I
was never happy when I was with Denny.
That makes all the difference.
I needed to be drunk when I was with Denny.
It was the only way to forget and not let anyone
know what was going on.
‘I
haven’t bailed on you, Voula.
I’m still the same person.
You bailed on me when I met Chris.’
‘What
the fuck is that supposed to mean?’
‘How
many times have I called you to get together?
How many times have I left a message and you’ve
never returned my call?
And when I do get you on the phone you can’t
hang up fast enough.’
I’m starting to get fired up now.
‘You’re
the one that’s changed cause you can’t stand to see
me happy. You’d
rather I was miserable just like I was with Denny
because then don’t have to focus on how miserable your
life is.’ Wow,
where did that
come from?
‘Bullshit,
Des. The
only thing that’s changed is you.’
What
the hell is going on here?
Just because I’m not drunk for ninety-five
percent of my life, does that make me a bad friend?
Does hanging around at the bars all night make me
a good friend? Is
that all I’m worth to Voula and the rest of the gang?
‘You
think that you’re better than the rest of us, now that
you have your
yuppie
Port
Melbourne
on the fucking beach boyfriend.’
I
do not think that I am better, at this moment in time I
damn well know it.
‘Denny
was much better for you than this presumptuous prick.
At least Denny knew how to keep you in line.’
Oh,
God, I hope she doesn’t mean what I think she means.
‘What
the hell are you talking about, Voula?’
Why is she laughing at me?
Jesus, she’s stoned off her head.
Just what I need.
‘You knew?’
How could she know Denny used me as a personal
punching bag? I
thought I’d hidden it so well.
How could she know and not want to help?
‘You knew
and you did nothing?’
How many times have I held her hair while she
threw up, coming down from her latest high?
How many times have I literally picked her up
from the gutter when she couldn’t stand?
Gotten her straight before she got home?
I’ve held her hand through two abortions and a
stomach pumping and this is the thanks I get.
Nice to know I actually meant something to her.
‘Oh,
please, Des, don’t start that whole battered woman
bullshit. You
deserve a good slapping every now and then.
Keeps you real.
And if you were still with Denny instead of
yuppie boy, you’d still be one of us.
When was the last time Connie or Tom, or even
Johnny, wanted to hang with you?
Not since you sold out!’…
(PART)
CHAPTER 24:
'Alright, Ef. What's up?' My sister
does not summon me to her place very often, especially
given that she's always at my place. My sister's
mind isn't on me at the moment either. She's
making me nervous. She's like a bloody yoyo.
Up and down, up and down. She's making me dizzy.
Although I have to admit, ever since Randy Andy took off
to
Greece
, my sister has blossomed. That's the only word
for it. She's no longer hiding behind frumpy,
matronly clothes - instead she's wearing tops and skirts
that show off her gorgeous curves. She's wearing
makeup that helps to bring out the blue in her eyes and
she's finally let her hair down out of that tight
ponytail that used to make her look so severe.
She's showing off her beautiful wavy hair. She
looks alive.
'I'm divorcing Andreas.' Jeez, she doesn't pull
any punches. Straight to the point. 'About
bloody time, Ef!' Yahoo! I don't think I have
ever hugged my sister so hard. 'What made you
finally come to your senses?'...
(mid chapter)
...'I'm keeping the house and the holiday house, and
the savings are getting transferred into my name.
I'm going to sell the business and all he gets from the
whole lot is twenty-five grand.'
Ah, she's good! He's getting close to nothing!
'He's desperate, Des. So I told him that if he
wants this divorce, it's going to be by my rules.
Otherwise I'll tie him up in court for years. He
knows that if he doesn't agree to everything his little
bastard will be starting high school before he can marry
that bitch.' I don't think I've ever been
prouder of my sister. I knew she could get her
revenge - we are sisters after all. But this is
even out of my league.l
'And he's agreed to it all?' Wow, this must
really be hurting wog-man where it counts the most.
His wallet. 'He's walking out on his kids.
So I think I'm being more than generous with my
offer.'
God. Poor Effie. More than ten years of
marriage and it's come to this. This has got to be
hell for her. And the kids? How are they
going to feel knowing that their no good bum of a father walked
out on them? It's not fair.
'If he fights me, I'll
wreck him, Des. Just like he's wrecked me for
the last ten years.'
