“I’m used to it. I know they love me and stuff, but they’ve always been wrapped up in their own lives.”
“The divorce must’ve been tough, though,” I said, even though I had no idea what it would be like. I couldn’t imagine my parents separating.
“It was all the way back in primary school.” Leo was staring into the distance, but suddenly, he mustered up a smile. “It’s kind of funny, though. They were both having an affair.”
My brows shot up. “Did you know about it at the time?”
“I put the pieces together. Mostly because I walked in on my dad.”
I stared.
Leo chuckled, but I could tell it was fake. “It was such a cliche. He was doing it with his co-worker, and I had no idea what I was looking at. I didn’t even know what sex was at that point. Then the lady started screaming, which was pretty scary. I liked her, actually, because every time I visited my dad’s work, she was always nice to me. Anyway, then my dad started yelling at me for walking in without knocking, which I thought was odd because I always walked into my parents’ bedroom.”
“That sounds horrible,” I said.
“Well, I knew he felt bad about it because he took me to get ice cream and bought me a bunch of toys.”
“Was he trying to…bribe you?”
“Maybe? It didn’t matter because my mum found out anyway. Which isn’t surprising because if a kid caught them, of course, my mum would find out.”
“What happened?” I asked quietly.
“I can’t remember the details, but they fought a lot. I’m pretty sure that’s where I learned the word slut and whore anda whole bunch of other swear words, not that I knew what they meant, obviously. Then they divorced. The upside is that I got two bedrooms and two sets of Christmas and birthday presents. Looking back, both of them definitely spoiled me, probably to prove they were the better parent.” He smiled at me, but my heart broke.
“I’m sorry all that happened,” I said.
He looked startled. “Why? It’s not your fault.”
“Yeah, but…I can’t imagine how I’d react if that happened to me.”
“It’s really not a big deal,” he said with a shrug. How many times had he said some variation of that sentence.
I reached out for his hand. “If you say it’s not a big deal, then I’ll believe you. But…you don’t have to pretend with me, okay? You don’t have to act like it’s some funny story when it’s not.”
Leo looked at my hand covering his. “It is a little bit funny,” he said.
“Maybe,” I conceded. “Maybe if it was a fictional story or if it happened to some stranger. But not you.”
In the end, Leo didn’t say anything but threaded his fingers with mine and squeezed my hand.
Neither of us spoke for several minutes. “We…” Leo began. “We should head off to the party.”
The double-story terrace house was located in one of Melbourne’s inner suburbs that used to be grungy and working class, but was now filled with young people who discussed climate change, sipped $8 oat milk lattes and bought expensive organic hand soaps.
The house was gorgeous, of course, though it was a little difficult to appreciate, with every room crowded with people. Leo led me down the corridor to the main room. On the way, I peeked into the open doors. There was a front sitting roomfilled with students who sat on the carpet, smoking a joint and listening to jazz music. There was a bedroom where a group of friends sat on the bed, ignoring that two people sitting in the circle were making out. In the kitchen, people stood around, dancing to pop music, drinking beer, mixing drinks, or holding wine glasses. A shirtless guy stood on the couch, swinging around his shirt. Behind him, hanging on the wall, was a painting of Karl Marx wearing neon-coloured glasses.
A few people standing in a circle near the dining table called Leo’s name and waved. Leo clutched my arm excitedly and led me towards them.
“Hey!” he said, exchanging hellos and hugs. He was back to being an overexcited puppy. “This is Winnie,” he announced to the group. “My friend.”
Just like that, my stomach plummeted. I distracted myself by replying to the chorus of greetings and niceties.
When there was a tiny lull in the conversation, I made myself speak. Usually, I’d drop the issue, but this was the year of getting what I wanted. “Friend?” I asked Leo.
He faltered for a millisecond before a wide smile spread across his face. “Mybestfriend,” he said.
“Oi, I thought I was your best friend, ya bastard,” a man with a thick Aussie accent said.
