Read Online The Mimosa Tree by Antonella Preto - Free Book Online Page A

And she grips me firmly with one arm while the other reaches out towards Via. Sighing, Via drops the dishcloth and comes over to join us at the table and then I’mcaught in the middle of them, squeezed between converging sobs, tears spiralling like rivers across my face. ‘My sisters, ’ says Mum, and the two of them cry until the ravioli are dry and the flyscreens have been returned to their windows.

    ***

    The day my grandmother died, Siena took me by the hand and led me out to the garden. I was two, and my memories of that day are like a half formed puzzle. Siena later filled in the gaps for me, and the fragments sit in my memory like black and white pieces amongst colour. So now the memory looks like this: Mum and Via are inside my grandmother’s house and they are making noises so grisly that I am frightened. I tug at Mum’s skirt, and I cry in my baby way for her to stop it, to stop making that noise, but my mum does not see me. She howls and she beats her fists and she holds her head in her hands, and every time I see her eyes they are a sightless smudge of red and water. Then a hand, assured and gentle, takes mine and I let that hand lead me outside to where the howling gets dimmer and the light brighter. When I look up, it is my aunt Siena holding me. She sits me on her lap and she holds me gently while she cries in her lovely quiet way; in a way that does not frighten me.
    Before Robert came along I saw Siena almost every day, when she shared her life with her sisters and they dragged me along with them everywhere they went. We were all so close and it’s strange to realise that in the past year I have only seen her about three times and each of those times was a hurried,hushed affair that left me feeling unsatisfied. Via and Mum warn me not to get my hopes up; that we don’t know the whole story and that she may not stay for long. I know what they are saying, but I can’t help it. I’ve got my hopes right up and I am looking forward to seeing her again. Maybe Via is too, because she arrives early to pick us up, and thankfully, even with the prohibitively tiny capacity of the Datsun, they do not reject my requests to go with them. Mum’s mood is nervous, and Via’s agitated. She taps at the table while Mum hurries to get Dad’s coffee.
    â€˜Forty years old,’ says Dad heaping teaspoons of sugar into his steaming cup. ‘Does she think she can find another husband?’
    â€˜What do you want her to do?’ says Via, palms up and irritated. ‘She was not happy.’
    â€˜ Happy? Who is happy? Better to be married and unhappy, than happy and alone in this world.’
    Mum smiles. She actually sees this as a compliment. ‘Young people do not understand. Marriage is about sacrifice, ’ she agrees.
    â€˜I don’t want to get married,’ I say.
    â€˜That’s not going to be a problem,’ says Via.
    â€˜Good one,’ says Dad with a snort.
    Mum looks at me seriously.
    â€˜You have to get married. To have children.’
    â€˜I don’t want children either.’
    â€˜No children? ’ says Via. ‘Dear God, are you that heartless?’
    â€˜She’s just young,’ says Mum trying to sound reassuring. ‘She doesn’t understand yet how the world works.’
    â€˜Look, the world’s changed,’ I say trying to keep my voicesteady but I’m feeling bugged. ‘Women don’t have to get married and they don’t have to have children anymore. We can do whatever we want.’
    Everyone’s eyes roll like clowns at a sideshow.
    â€˜Don’t fool yourself,’ says Via. ‘The world is the same place it’s always been. Smart or stupid, you will get married, you will have children, and you will cook and clean for them just like we do.’
    â€˜Not me. My life is going to be different. No marriage and no kids, and definitely no cleaning. That’s for