Every Rose Has Its Thorn. . .

* Based on Thea Astley's "Hunting The Wild Pineapple" *

If you were to ask me what is the difference in gossiping - or hearing stories for that matter - perhaps I could say that one is based on truth, while the other stems from an unreliable source. I will gladly correct those who are wrong. Ironically, one would expect such a quiet town would have quiet people. If you live here, silence is normal. The only thing that keeps us all sane is the constant clubbing blocks of rain that pelt the roofs over our heads. Tonight, however, is different as Tripp has dropped by in his usual way to thrust his latest coral trout under my nose. As I sit patting my 'little handicap' and enduring the unpleasant experience of perspiration trickling down the back of my neck, I produce him with some much-needed whiskey. Again, as the night thins out and the alcohol levels drop, I persuade him to unleash one of his stories that are prominently 'stacked' in his boot. Tripp once told me the story of Leo and Sadie and what used to be their little set up approximately fifty miles from here. With persuasion, he draws me another map.
Let me draw it for you.

There's always been a lot of sad chronicles that have been linked with Sadie ever since she was employed by Leo. The storm that had engulfed her shack, not to mention her pride as well, was the last straw. Just as its thunderous roars ricocheted off her shack, Leo's snide remarks soon ricocheted off her tender skin. Oh how demeaning it must of been to have been forced to surrender herself to the likes of such vile weather and that of a man such as Leo (then again, doesn't every rose have its thorn?)! He had found her starkers; and reluctantly gave her shelter while Sadie bore the face similar to that of a mutt who had disobeyed their owner during bath time. Sadie knew that she had lost her independence as a woman. She had become complacent - that was the reality of it. And it rubbed. And rubbed. And rubbed. Sadie never forgot her humiliating experience which seemed to never leave her thoughts. It empowered her mind like an infectious rash.

It wasn't until months later that Sadie would have the will to stand up against Leo and leave to return to her old life - before him; before what she had had to endure. She could no longer handle the emotional suffering that had been inflicted upon her. You could say that during her flight back to her hometown, there was a sense of regained independence and instantaneous direction; she was recapturing the woman she once was, no one could touch her.
If only it had been that simple to regain her old teaching position - isn't life a bitch sometimes? Sadie soon found herself in a desperate attempt to support herself. Thankfully, like all damsels in distress have a spontaneous rescue from a knight in shining armour, luck came her way as she bumped into Fabio Galipo one day - the young piano player whom Leo once tutored.

At first he approached Sadie like a little child - as if he were too scared for what he had to say; but after a moment, his expression changed - more curious; more intrigued.
"You don't look too well Miss Klein" he had said to her, purposely drawing out the 's' in 'Miss', "Is there something wrong?". His voice had been unheard by Sadie's ears until now. It was unbroken, yet bordering the edge of plummeting into the deepness of puberty; slightly mocking, yet somewhat sincere.
He sounds just like Leo, Sadie told herself. What if he had seen him recently? Would he tell Leo about her struggle? How would she know that Leo won't be after her? The hows of it had been the most outrageous reflection and Sadie cursed herself for thinking such thoughts. Galipo seemed to understand her struggle by simply looking at the two scruffy carrier bags that were dangling off her arms, their weight taking its toll on her hands.

"I'm in need of money, Galipo" Sadie casually remarked, yet with a tone of melancholy, "I need a job". She felt slightly embarrassed to have to confess to such a thing. What came next surprised her.
"If you want, I can help. I know a place where they could find you a job, that is, if you're willing". She felt flattered by the clarity of the dark eyes gazing simply into hers. Why would someone such as himself help someone such as her - someone who he barely knows? She contemplated whether or not to actually believe the boy, but yet he seemed to genuine. . .
"Where?" Sadie asked helplessly as her luggage began to give her sores on her hands.
"At the church - the papistry. My teach, er, well ex religious teacher could use with a helping hand, particularly a woman's touch. Although, it's not the best job in the world"
"Tell me"
"Cleaning"
"I'll take it" Sadie found her mouth uttering those words before she could actually think.

It was her job to go and seek Father Rassini of the church in order to acquire a position there. Galipo's helpfulness still lingered in her thoughts. Who said a so called 'smart-arse' can't have a decent heart? She pondered. Father Rassini had reluctantly accepted Sadie into the church (a bold move for a man of such category) and seemed to narrow his eyes at her when she had mentioned Galipo. She was then to begin work immediately and was familiarised with the various rooms - all of which looked the same except for one. A table stood exactly half-way along the room and on it rested a bowl in which four flowers floated equidistant. A bible was also lain beside the bowl. Sadie was told that it was important that this room be kept clean at all costs, due to the priests gathering in the vicinity for meetings.

There was a kind of humming silence as Sadie inspected the room before getting to work; a dustpan and brush in one hand and a cleaning cloth in another, which was slightly interrupted by the light chatter of rain on the church roof. For hours on end, she bent over backwards to clean what seemed like the never-ending mess that surrounded her. Who would have thought that churches could be so unclean? Sadie would often ask herself. After a few day's work, she was able to pinpoint every particle of dust with her newly developed eagle-eyed vision and it wasn't long after that until she was dubbed "Sadie the Cleaning Lady" by some of the boys in the papistry.
However, this never fazed her.
She was used to such remarks and to such a workload due to living in such a crummy environment that working back in the city seemed like a breeze. A disappointment was that she was still employed by a man who took on the role as an 'alpha male' - a man who saw women as "Tea makers of God" (except for the Christ's mother of course), that of which Sadie knew she would have to sort his attitude out herself. However, she felt it easier to gain certain advantages from the man of holiness for he was deemed to be more of a 'pushover' than Leo ("If I can use Father Rassini's words against him, then I'm in for a chance of equal opportunity").

"I'll have you know," she had said one morning after attempting to banter for a raise with him, "that women deserve just as much as the men do if they were allowed in this church. They should be given churchy jobs too. There's a whole bunch of successful women out there that men don't notice. They don't seem to realise that women are just as capable as carrying out tasks designated for males." Sadie folded her arms abruptly, letting her duster hang loosely in her hands, "Take me for example. I was forced to work hard labour for a slimeball, which any man could've done."

Father Rassini clasped his anointed hands together delicately; although it was obvious that he would have liked to give her a hard lecture or two about the way in which the church is formally run. "I understand the situation at hand, Miss Klein, but unfortunately we have no need for the church to be run by wom'"
"Besides," Sadie had purposely tossed aside what he was about to say like an unwanted toy, "You of all people should know what it is like to be a woman of these times. You have witnessed our suffering and unfair treatment. Take Canon Morrow's poor wife for example. . ."

The Father fell silent in disbelief. The woman could be a vixen when she wanted to. After a moment of wringing his hands together nervously, he spoke, "How on earth did you find out about that?". His words were formed through bated breath. The face in front of him bore a smug expression.
"I assume you are aware of the woman's harassment?" came Sadie's reply, ignoring his original question.
"Yes, yes. I understand"
"So then you would understand that sometimes women need to be praised and appreciated for their hard services". The man of holiness, although a little too dedicated to his work, was not an unintelligent man and immediately caught on to Sadie's ways.
"I see where this is going. . ."
"Just a little raise, Father, with perhaps more of a longer tea break. Surely my cleaning standard deserves that." She stopped for a moment. "Oh, but we wouldn't want the renowned Father Rassini to be seen as giving into a "tea maker of God" now would we?". Father Rassini began to speak, but something ruptured in the woman's posture that skittled his protest. Was it the lines forming on her face that told of suffering? Was it the fiery look in her eyes? As, such sweet schadenfreude. . .Sadie enjoyed watching him squirm uncomfortably.
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Father Rassini eventually said, at a loss. His pleading eyes searched for an answer. He now knew what it was like to be the subordinate authority.
Sadie tickled her face with her duster in a self-mocking attempt to stifle her mirth.
"Every rose has its thorn. . ."