Actions Speak Louder Than Words...

When I was still seventeen I had a one night stand- with a guy I'll call Ben the Boilermaker...

I was working at the Panel-beating Shop then; I had an office traineeship and I was meant to answer the phone and fill in the claim forms for the insurance companies three days a week. The other two days per week I was supposed to spend at TAFE- doing office studies and typing tests- but with Dano attending the same classes for her own traineeship we rarely turned up for classes and on the times we did we hardly ever stayed at school for the entire day.

There was never much for me to do at work; they only took me on because the government gave them money for training me- one thousand dollars when they initially took me on and one thousand dollars for when the traineeship was over. It was never a secret why they employed me; they admitted that they needed the money really badly at the time- and I was never guarenteed a job at the end of it all.

I used to start at eight and I'd be finished my work for the day by nine o'clock. That was when I became Smoko Girl. I collected the morning tea and lunch orders and would drive up to the shop to pick up everyone's food. I'd eat my morning tea in the workshop with the boys- sitting around on empty milk crates- and then go back into my office with it's glass sliding doors and doodle on a note-pad, or go to sleep for a while before I collected the lunch-time orders; the noise of the door opening would almost always wake me up before my bosses' or a customer could realise that I'd be snoozing on the job- I only got fully busted a few times...

In the afternoons my final duty for the day was ensuring there were enough beers in the fridge and two new packets of chilli Kettle Chips for the 'boys' to have when they finished work. They all knew that I wasn't quite eighteen but they send me to the bottle shop anyway.

I'm the only girl who works there, except for the old accountant who comes in on Wednesday mornings to do the books. She's German, with a thick accent; I find it difficult to understand any of the instructions she gives me- but I know well enough that she doesn't approve of me sitting with the guys at Smoko.

I had two bosses; one of them was rarely there because he operated the tow-truck side of the business and was often out picking up cars from traffic accidents. He was the 'nice' boss. My other boss was only in his early thirties, and his son- who was almost eighteen- you do the Math- also worked there as an apprentice spray painter. One Thursday after work I stayed back for three beers. Everyone but me and the younger boss had already left for the day; and the topic came up that my boss must have only been thirteen or fourteen years old when he became a father to his son...

He tells me that he's been with his wife for almost eighteen years and is bored by it all, having been with the same woman through all of his adolescence, and then proceeds to hit me up for a root. I'd told everyone at work all about my 'boyfriend' before- and how suited i thought we would be if only he would just become a teensy-bit interested in Me- in fact, Dano and I were planning on catching up with him and his his friend later that very night at the pub. It's only then, sitting on my desk- with my legs idly swinging- while my Boss harrasses me for sex that I realise that I've probably brought this on myself; staying behind drinking beer with him might have given him the impression that I wanted to spend some Alone Time with him. It wasn't him that I wanted to spend time with. I just wanted to start my Thyrsday night a little earlier than usual- and three free beers were the way in which I wanted to begin it; even though I still had to drive the car back home.

I've got my three litre cask of Vodka, Orange and Kiwi-Fruit Juice at home, chilling in the fridge, to share with Dano before we see the Funbusters later tonight; they play every week. How I wish they still made those casks; they were our Thursday night ritual. I gave the Boss the excuse that I couldn't because I was good friends with his son and couldn't do that to him and his mother- but the real truth was that he was just too old, unattractive, fat and creepy for a seventeen year old girl to want to sleep with- and then I left; collecting Dano from her corner before driving home to get ready to go out for the night- dressing up in my black catsuit and thigh high boots while getting drunk as we painted our faces and talked about guys...

We did run into my Hubby that night as I planned; I spent my entire pay buying us drinks and then he left without saying a word. I was pretty upset about it from what I can remember, and cried for a while in the toilets before Dano and I continued on to the next pub. I was still hoping to find my Hubby again- I told you before I was desperate to be with him and never took any of his hints- but he wasn't there; so I temporarily moved on.

This is when I met Ben the Boilermaker.

I was pretty trashed by this late stage in the night, though if I remember rightly he was about twenty years old and reasonably good-looking with a short blonde Flat-top. Dano's worried about Me when I tell her that I'm going home with him; it's about three in the morning by now and we both have to work tomorrow; but I'm so drunk I don't care- and depressed that the love of my life dumped me when my money ran out- so I go with him to a small terrace up the top of Town and had Myself some dull sex with Ben; who was so drunk he couldn't maintain his erection.

Sometime later, about six in the morning I think, I catch the first bus home that I can. My head feels like it's a split watermelon; and I stink of sex, booze and cigarettes; there were even white sweat stains under the armpits of my Lycra catsuit. I just want to portray what a lovely picture greeted the early-morning commuters as their eyes fell upon me on the bus. I'm pretty sure I was still drunk; My breath stunk of cheap white wine.

When I got home I tumbled into bed for five short minutes before my Mother comes into my room singing. It's her favourite song; 'Little Friend Good Morning'. I hate it because she sings it so cheerfully; and because this is how she has woken me up every morning for at least the last decade. I tell her that I'm not going into work today because I am still drunk and shouldn't be driving the car; but she made me go anyway. I sat in the shower-spewing for half an hour- and then got dressed and left. The drive to work was fucked. I could barely keep my eyes on the road because it was swimming in front of me- and the early morning sun I had to drive into was cruelly punishing my bloodshot eyes.

After morning Smoko I threw up my chicken and mayonnaise sandwich in the waste paper basket and my 'nice' boss sent me home because it was obvious to him that I was still drunk- he caught me trying to hide the evidence. That was the last time that I saw him because I didn't go back the following week. Or the one after that. I always knew that I wasn't cut out for working in an office but the main reason I left was that my younger boss used to pinch me on the arse when I walked by and would try to touch my tits in the mornings when I collected the boy's lunch orders from them. Just another reason why I shouldn't have stayed behind drinking beer with him in the afternoons I suppose. I only wish that I could have said goodbye to Ernie- the tow truck driver- before I left. He was a really nice man...

As for Ben the Boilermaker; about fifteen months later I saw him again at the same pub that I had picked him him at. I was sitting at the same table even- almost as if I had never even left; when he came over and we began talking. I excused myself to go to the toilet; and told him that I'd be really surprised to see him still sitting there when I came back. I stand up to go and for the first time he notices my very large pregnant belly; I've got less than a month to go before my eldest Son makes his appearance into the world. His eyes tell me that his brain is madly trying to remember Exactly when we were together; he's trying to ascertain if it's at all possible that my swollen stomach can be attributed to him in any way.

When I came back Ben was gone. No surprises there. But I would like him to know- if he ever reads this-that it wasn't his baby; poor old Ben the Boilermaker has probably been worried stiff for about fourteen years that he might have a kid out there in the world that he doesn't know anything about...

Rest Easy from now on, Ben. It would've had to have been the longest human pregnancy in history for that to be the case- because when I met Ben I Was still seventeen, and was now just three weeks off being nineteen. I know how slutty that makes me sound; but I just wanted someone to love me I suppose, and thought sex was all I had to offer anyone.

And I feel the need to clarify this for everyone; but especially to my eldest Son and my Hubby- just in case they ever read this- which is unlikely, though never completely out of the question...

But like I was saying before, I wasn't surprised when I returned from the toilets only to find Ben gone. Once again, actions speak louder than words. I imagine I wasn't even half-way across the dance-floor before he was out the door like a shot. Not that he is my Son's father; but I guess he wasn't ready to be a 'daddy' yet, either.

To this day I don't know why he was so worried. He hadn't told me that he'd been to the doctor and had fertility tests. He hadn't pretended to be Infertile like my Hubby had...