“Good afternoon, Sparky,” I say as Lilavati falls into the cafeteria chair opposite me on the Tuesday after my delightful meet the parents. Although Sparky is not how she looks today. She’s clearly exhausted and doesn’t even bite at the Sparky comment, which is her least favourite of my nicknames for her. Or so she says. The gleam in her eye when I call her that says otherwise.
“Hey, are you okay?”
“Could we not do this today?” Her voice is little more than a whisper.
“What’s wrong?” I lean forward and take one of her hands in mine. It’s cold and trembling ever so slightly.
“Nothing. I just …” She pauses for a long time and I wait her out. “I’ve just come out of back-to-back surgeries that … didn’t go well.”
I’m up out of my chair, moving to the one next to her and pulling her onto my lap before I even think about what I’m doing. And in a sign that she really isn’t herself, she lets me.
I pull her head to my shoulder and run my hand down the thick plait that rests on her spine. Neither of us speaks for a long time. Until I feel a small patch of damp on my T-shirt.
She doesn’t need to explain what she means bydidn’t go well. I can guess. I wrack my brain for something to say that might take some of the pain out of what she’s experiencing.
“It’s sad that not every surgery has a good result. But I know you. And I know you would’ve done everything in your power to change the outcome for those people. If there were anyone who could’ve made a difference, it would have been you. And I’m sure, in their last moments, they appreciated there was someone there with a strong and honest heart, fighting for them till the end.”
Lilavati lifts her head, and eyes swimming with tears meet mine.
“Thank you,” she sniffs.
And because I know if she was thinking straight, she’d expect it, and because she needs a laugh to bring her back to balance, I tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear, kiss her forehead and whisper, “Whadda you know. Your arse fits my lap perfectly.”
With a reluctant chuckle, Lil gives my shoulder a slight shove.
“I can always rely on you,” she says. I know she thinks she means she can rely on me to lower the tone, or make a joke, or say something inappropriate. But I choose to interpret it differently.
“Yes, you can always rely on me, Lilavati. For whatever you need.” Because if I’ve ever met anyone with a more desperate need to have someone in their corner, I can’t remember them.
Lilavati is strong. Many would describe her as aggressive, or at the very least assertive. Seeing her like this, after witnessing how her parents treat her, is giving me yet another insight into why. Her job is life and death. And maybe the only way she can deal with it is to appear invincible. Impenetrable. Indestructible.
An echidna. Lilavati is an echidna. Those sharp spines protect a soft underbelly. I’ve been enchanted by Lilavati since she busted up my ute. And with every interaction, I feel myself falling just a little bit further.
It’s not often Josh and I get a surf in on a weekday, but he’s taken the morning off before catching the noon flight to Melbourne for a client meeting.
Weekday surfs are so much better than trying to fight the crowds on the weekends. Even when the waves aren’t brilliant, like today. I’m happy to just sit on my board out the back behind the break, bobbing in the chilly water under a clear blue sky, and shoot the shit with an old friend.
In between catching the occasional wave, we chat about my plans for the business, he tells me about his plans with Greer, and we laugh about how she and I met on the beach. Which leads, quite naturally, to me telling him about Lilavati. How we met, and our fake dating thing.
When Josh finishes laughing, he flicks a handful of water my way.
“Well, I’ve never seen that look on your face. Are you sure it’s fake? It sounds to me like you’re starting to catch actual feelings.”
“Maybe.” Except I know there’s no maybe about it. “But she chose me because she knew her parents wouldn’t approve. And I suspect she also thought we’re not really suited. So her heart would be safe.”
“Ah, I see. So what’s your game plan?” Josh turns his board to face me and uses the full power of his two-tone eyes—one is amber, and the other is half amber and half silvery green. When we first met, they freaked me out. I’ve since discovered they’re one of his superpowers. They’re so disconcerting that you find yourself saying things you thought you’d never.
“I don’t know, man. She’s complicated. Lots of layers. On the one hand, she’s strong, but her family has fucked her up and she’s pretty vulnerable.”
“Ah, so she’s Shrek and you’re donkey.” Josh nods.
Despite my anxiety over this conundrum, I laugh. “As disturbing as that analogy is, yes.”
“So you’re going to let her go on thinking you’re a barista until what? She falls for you for real?”
“No. I don’t know. Maybe just until she trusts me.”
“Or you could tell her the truth now. And earn that trust.”
