“Not yet. But you said it was serious.” Is that a note of desperation I hear in her usually carefully cheerful voice?
It’s weird that she’s not suggesting a barista might not be quite ‘right’ for me. Or asking about his family. I feel like she’s trying to catch me out.
“It is. Maybe. I don’t know. Look, I’ll talk to him. See if he’s free on Sunday night.” I snap the scrunchie at the end of the plait like an exclamation mark for my irritated capitulation.
“Lovely.” Her voice has gone from suspicious to chirpy. “Let me know as soon as you do. We’re looking forward to meeting him.”
I really have to find a better way to manage my mother. Fobbing her off is just creating problems for tomorrow-Lili, so that today-Lili can fall face first on the bed and attempt seven hours’ sleep before she has to get up and do today all over again.
Chapter Eight
Ant
I’ve set aside Wednesday morning for sending out my ‘thanks but no thanks’ letters to potential investors, which at least means I can work from home and not in the cramped little office at the factory.
It’s frustrating that not one of the venture capitalist firms I’ve approached has been able to see my vision. If I left it to them, I’d be selling production-line boards out of chain stores. And that is not where I see the business going.
Maybe it’s that frustration that has me so disappointed when Lilavati cancels lunch. By text.
It’s brief and to the point.
Lili:Can’t do today. Aim for tomorrow?
I respond with a thumbs-up emoji, shooting for cool.
I don’t feel cool. I was looking forward to seeing her. To bantering with her. Which is new for me. Normally, I’m happy to have my own space. And God knows I have enough going on right now to keep me occupied.
She cancels again on Thursday, and now I’m fretting. Is she having second thoughts about our fake dating arrangement? That bothers me a lot more than it should. Especially because now that I’m on my own with Beach Road Boards, my plate is not full, it’s overflowing, and taking eight days to relax in Hawaii couldn’t come at a worse time. But I want that time with Lilavati more than I’ve wanted anything in a very long time.
Which is crazy because I hardly know her. Yet my reactions to Lilavati all seem to be heightened. And I think about her a lot.
When I get the text on Thursday, I decide I need some clarity.
Ant:Everything ok? We still good?
It’s an hour before she even sees the text. But she responds straight-away.
Lili:Yep. All good. You free for dinner with my parents on Sunday night? Sorry to impose, but they’d like to meet you before Hawaii. Feel free to say no!
Suddenly, I feel lighter. Not only has she not changed her mind, she’s committing.
At my age, meeting the parents this early on isn’t usual, but I’m unexpectedly excited. It should be fun. I’m not sure what to expect. What kind of people raised a woman who is as spiky as Lilavati, yet who, rather than tell them to fuck off and mind their own business regarding her love life, will go to the trouble of concocting a fake relationship to avoid confrontation?
Since we haven’t been able to catch up again, we haven’t worked out a meet-cute or been able to get to know one another, and it’s clear she’s worried her mother will somehow sniff out the lie we’re telling. So I take pity on her and read the bio she wrote.
It’s pretty dry reading and in no way reflects the fascinating and complex woman I’ve only glimpsed. She’s now a puzzle I want to solve.
Of course, she went to all the right North Shore schools. Was on the HSC Honours List. Got early entry to Sydney Uni for medicine. Graduated second in her class. I expected nothing less.
She lives in a small townhouse in Greenwich, so she doesn’t have a long commute to the hospital. No pets. I’d be willing to bet she doesn’t even have a houseplant.
But it’s short on personal stuff, and I don’t think that’s because she forgot. I don’t think there’s much to tell. It seems like she has no life outside of work. Sure, she names a couple of friends, but there are no hobbies. No interests. And her favourite reading is biographies. She might not know it, but this woman desperately needs someone like me to spice up her existence. Because it feels like existing is all she’s doing.
I work damn hard. But I also make time to have a life.
I know it’s not the same for Lili. I can set my own schedule to some extent, whereas she can’t. And my daily decisions are not life and death. But if she doesn’t make room for more than work, she’s going to get to sixty-five and wonder what it was all about. And that would be a damn shame.
On Sunday morning, I contemplate a haircut and a shave. What would Lili want me to do? On the one hand, meeting the parents would generally require a little effort on the part of a real boyfriend. On the other hand, I suspect she thinks she chose me as her fake date because her mother and grandmother won’t approve. I also suspect that’s not the full picture. Whatever fairy story she’s told herself, I can feel the chemistry between us. And although she’s still in denial, I’m pretty sure she can too.
