Art by Jocelyn Soetanto

Content Warning: misogyny, sex, allusions to domestic abuse

There’s a man at the zebra crossing today. Not the 20-something girl tradie who usually stands there, the one with the butterfly tooth gem and big earrings. Today, there’s a man. Carolyn hasn’t seen her dad since Year 10, but the man at the zebra crossing is what she vaguely imagines him to look like: weathered face cracked from the cold, a big gap from where his front tooth once jutted out. Carolyn asks him about the girl, and he grins and says, ‘That crazy bitch dented a guy’s car. Said she’d had enough and whacked her stop sign over it.’ He laughs and Carolyn smiles but it’s more like a grimace, and when he stops the traffic for her, he says, ‘There you go, pet,’ and Carolyn wonders how one evolves from ‘pet’ to ‘bitch’.

Carolyn pauses in front of the building. The building is the beauty salon of Chisholm TAFE’s Frankston campus. From outside, she can see him in the lobby, waiting for her. ‘Him’ is Jake. Last time Carolyn saw Jake they had sex at his house. He looked at her with such intensity she thought she might melt. Carolyn didn’t want to melt, not into anything or nothing. She knew then that their relationship needed to end. Her pants were crumpled on the floor when she broke up with him.

She opens the door with force and plans to march straight past him into the salon. Inside, she’ll comb her hair into a low bun and talk to the other girls. They’ll complain about their dads and brothers and boyfriends like they’re naughty puppies—cutely incompetent. Then, she’ll wash her hands. 

Carolyn played Lady Macbeth for a semester in drama class, so now just the action of washing her hands pulls the words out of her: ‘Out damned spot!’ Every time she wrings her hands under the running water, she remembers the giddiness she felt in those classes, where a life of theatre and hope, away from her mum, was real. It’s cruel, really, the reminder each day.

Lastly, her instructor will go through the assignment expectations. After this assessment, they’ll be qualified to perform the Swedish shoulder massage.

***

During all this, she’ll have time to figure out what to say to Jake. ‘Thank you’, probably. Starting with a thank you would be nice—and she is thankful. She had to source the person to perform the massage on, and everyone else fell through. Her mum doesn’t go outside much, scared she’ll run into Carolyn’s dad. Carolyn’s friends were all from theatre, and they moved to Perth to study at WAPA. Jake was sort of all she had. But as soon as she opens the door, Jake turns around and her plan has gone to shit because they’ve already made eye contact. When he walks towards her, lips split in a lopsided grin, he reminds her of a baby elephant. Big and strong but wobbly and uncertain in his hugeness.

‘Hey,’ he says.

Carolyn wonders if he’s fucked anyone since her. Instead of asking, she says, ‘You’re here early.’

He grunts in response.

‘Thanks for coming,’ she says. ‘Seriously. I’ll be right back to come get you.’ She darts through the salon doors.

***

ACT ONE

A wooden slate forms a half-assed set design of an 18th-century cobblestone street. Some buildings aren’t even painted in. Wood knots peek out like eyes.

COLUMBINA

Things must never be allowed to go—

The wooden slate tumbles down, almost taking COLUMBINA with it. COLUMBINA rips off her mask, revealing a small but mean schoolgirl, CAROLYN.

CAROLYN

Are you serious?

A few VCAL BOYS, visible now the slate has fallen, laugh and talk.

CAROLYN

How can I act when my life is at risk? Miss, can the VCAL boys go back to … whatever it is they do in VCAL?

JAKE, one of the unworthy VCAL BOYS, trudges over.

JAKE

Sorry. Didn’t mean to.

CAROLYN

Could you try to be genuine?

JAKE

Okay. Sorry. You’re a good actress.

CAROLYN crosses her arms, unimpressed.

JAKE

Okay, I’ll try again. Your tits look hot when you push them up like that.

CAROLYN immediately drops her arms, irritated. JAKE grins at her.

JAKE

What’s with the mask?

He picks it up off the ground and inspects it, swinging away from CAROLYN with ease as she tries to snatch it from him.

CAROLYN

It’s commedia dell’arte.

A beat. CAROLYN snatches the mask off him.

CAROLYN

I’m Columbina. She’s one of the leads, actually.

MISS WHITE wanders over.

MISS WHITE

(pointed)

She’s also the most calculated. She talks to boys, but she’s clever about it. Let’s go again.

JAKE walks away, looking back at CAROLYN as he does.

MISS WHITE watches CAROLYN watch JAKE, concerned.

***

Carolyn leads Jake into the room where rows of massage tables are separated by thin curtains. A YouTube video entitled ‘Luxury Spa Music’ rattles through a croaky speaker.

‘No expense spared,’ Carolyn remarks as she sits down on a plastic chair. She thought of that line yesterday and decided to say it here, so it comes out a little stilted. Embarrassed, she gestures for Jake to sit on the bed. He stands, hands on hips, surveying the premises. He pushes his hands against the mattress as if to test its bounce. ‘Is it up to scratch?’

‘Not too shabby.’ He reaches up onto his tip toes and flaps his hands about, trying to touch the fan above them.

‘Stop it,’ Carolyn orders. Her voice is hard, maybe too hard. She avoids his gaze, nervous that she will be met with cold, dead eyes. When she eventually looks at him, it’s clear that he’s been staring at her for a while. His eyes are light.

‘I’ve gotta fill out this form,’ she says. ‘For the assessment. They’re marking me on how well I do.’ He doesn’t say anything. ‘Do they ever do that to you err … on the construction site?’

He stares at her, confused. ‘No.’

Carolyn nods and busies herself with the patient form. ‘Okay. Do you have any allergies?’

‘Sorry about WAPA. I know you really wanted to get outta here.’

‘Allergies, Jake.’

‘Seriously though.’

Carolyn wishes she could be above responding, but she isn’t. ‘I got in, actually. I turned it down.’

‘Huh?’

‘I wanted stability. Acting isn’t stable.’ The words are her mother’s, and as she says them, she feels possessed, like some wise, sanctimonious demon.

‘You should take on every opportunity that comes at you,’ Jake supplies.

‘I didn’t realise they taught philosophy at trade school.’

‘You’re in trade school too.’

Carolyn can hear the lick of delight in Jake’s voice as he says this. In high school, he was acutely aware of what people thought, and the generally accepted opinion was that Carolyn was going places, and he wasn’t. He presumed she thought the same. The truth was, Carolyn never thought that she was smarter than Jake; she knew that she was. The world that she inhabited—the invisible burdens, the overwrought thought processes, the fear—would always be too complicated for him to understand. Their circumstances felt radically different. Jake was where he intended to be; Carolyn saw beauty school as a backup for her Real Plans. But Jake wouldn’t understand that, so Carolyn sighs and asks him again, ‘Your allergies?’

‘You know.’

***

ACT TWO

In an empty theatre classroom, a table displays a bunch of shoddily made commedia masks. 

CAROLYN holds a mask over her face and turns to look at JAKE.

JAKE

You look like a clown or some shit.

CAROLYN

I do not.

CAROLYN picks up another mask from the table and throws it at JAKE. He holds it up and laughs.

JAKE

Fucking hell. That’s an ugly bitch.

CAROLYN

She has a name.

JAKE

Miss White?

CAROLYN

No! Oh my god Jake, you can’t say that. 

(a beat) 

Her name’s Ruffiana. She’s older, unmarried. A prostitute. She’s one of the few female commedia characters to wear a mask.

JAKE

If she took it off, she might get somewhere.

CAROLYN

I think that’s why she put it on.

A thoughtful silence. CAROLYN attempts humour.

CAROLYN

You’d be Brighella. Everyone laughs at Brighella.

Amused, JAKE lightens reluctantly.

JAKE

Everyone laughs at me?

CAROLYN

Well … No, but Brighella has the strongest survival instinct. He’s smart and opportunistic. And a womaniser, so.

JAKE laughs. He grabs another mask from the pile.

JAKE

Who’s this, then?

CAROLYN

Signora. She’s old, and money obsessed. Really money obsessed.

JAKE

So a complete catch.

CAROLYN

I dunno. She reminds me of my mum.

JAKE

Greedy?

CAROLYN

No. Scared.

***

Carolyn places her fingers onto Jake’s shoulder, right beside his neck, while he lies on his front. He’s so vulnerable like this. She could choke him if she wanted to. She’s not a threat though, not like he is.

When Jake drinks he gets ‘fucking aggro’, which all his mates assure Carolyn is ‘good fun.’ Once, he punched the Myki card reader at Bonbeach Station and split his knuckles. The card reader stayed broken for six months, beheaded, wires sticking out of it like cauterised veins. Every time Carolyn walked past it on her way to school, she’d think of him and his fist and wonder where that anger came from, and when it would be directed at her.

It felt like a betrayal when her body softened against his, when she was able to sleep next to him.

‘Okay, roll over,’ she says. She holds up the sheet around his waist so he can turn around without her getting an eyeful of his underwear.

‘You know you can do acting at TAFE,’ he says as her fingers dig into the front of his left shoulder. ‘You don’t need to go to some fancy-ass school.’

She presses her fingers in harder. He flinches and slaps at her hand.

‘That’s not very nice,’ he says.

Nothing’s nice. Carolyn’s mum made sure she knew that from a young age. She can trace a lot of decisions back to her mum. Doing a free course so you don’t need a loan. Ending things with Jake before you get hurt. Letting go of that acting dream because the lack of stability will only put you in a dangerous position. Carolyn’s mum was wrong about a lot of things, but a broken clock is right twice a day. Life is unpredictable. When you get to choose—which isn’t often—choose wisely. Carolyn chose wisely.

***

The massage is done. Carolyn’s instructor walked past and shot her a thumbs up, but she shot everyone a thumbs up, so the action was hardly special. Carolyn sits across from Jake in the same chair as before.

‘What are you doing after?’ He turns around while he asks this. She’s 90 per cent sure it’s an attempt to appear casual and unbothered. She appreciates that she’s not the only one with an affinity for constructing moments.

‘I’m here all day,’ she says.

‘I’m at the site ‘til three. I could come back after,’ he says.

‘And do what?’

‘You know,’ he says.

It’s funny because she doesn’t know. She could hazard a guess, but it would be just that: a guess. She suspects that Jake doesn’t know either.

‘Jake, I’m thankful that you did this for me. Seriously. I would’ve failed if you hadn’t agreed to do this. But there’s not … I’m not … this doesn’t change anything, you know.’

Jake turns around, his hands on his hips. ‘You’re not letting it change anything. You’re just being the same.’

Carolyn says nothing and watches as Jake’s expression closes off. His mouth relaxes into a frown, and his eyes, dark and cold, narrow with understanding. Carolyn hasn’t seen her dad since Year 10, when her mum called the cops on him, but right now, Jake is what she vaguely imagines him to look like. It’s like the man from her mum’s stories has escaped from the prison of her mouth, just as angry as he was when he was sentenced.

Carolyn wants to teach him, tell him how to be, show him how hands can make and not break. She can see, like her mum probably did, that it’s too late. He’s staring at her like he’s figured her out. He’s pulled her apart, he’s seen her layers and made sense of her, and now he doesn’t want her. She managed to disguise herself as something sweet, something light on the tongue, something to own. Lovey, sweetheart, doll, pet. She’s tricked him; she’s a bitch.

She watches Jake wring his hands together. He massages his palms like he’s tending to a wound.

***

ACT THREE

The shoddily made stage in all its glory. Under bright lights, CAROLYN, masked as COLUMBINA, performs.

CAROLYN, AS COLUMBINA

I but repeat the words of my mother, who was—

The sound of a gunshot. CAROLYN, AS COLUMBINA, falls down. She lies on the ground, unmoving.

BRIGHELLA enters the stage, smoke blowing from the top of his gun.

CAROLYN, AS HERSELF

(whispered) 

Hold still. Be quiet. Don’t breathe. Let him do it.

BRIGHELLA

I saw the opportunity and took it. Can you blame a man?

CAROLYN’S words echo in a loop. We hear her everywhere. Behind us. Before us. Inside us. We exist in the space where her lips brush the mask.

BRIGHELLA recites his line again and again, over the loops of CAROLYN’S voice.

CAROLYN, AS HERSELF 

(looped audio) 

Hold still. Be quiet.

Don’t breathe. Let him do it.

CAROLYN, AS HERSELF

(looped audio) 

Hold still. Be quiet.

Don’t breathe. Let him do it.

BRIGHELLA

I saw the opportunity and took it. Can you blame a man?

BRIGHELLA

I saw the opportunity and took it. Can you blame a man?

CAROLYN, AS HERSELF

Let him do it.

Fade to black.