I’m properly shocked. ‘Are you sure?’ I ask. ‘It’s ages away. You don’t have to make a decision right now. You could decide after Europe.’
‘No, I think I need to decide now. I need to start saving so I can pay my portion of the rent while I’m away.’
I smile. ‘I think that’s great, Nicole. And, you know, if you try it and decide it’s too hard, we can just talk to your parents about it. But I think they’ll be really proud that you want to try.’
‘You think so?’
‘Yeah, I do.’
I pause a moment. ‘But also, you really need to hurry the fuck up because you won’t have a job to keep if we don’t leave in ten minutes.’
‘But Gertie, you’re just going to make us early. We’re always so early!’
‘We’re literally on time. I know that’s a new thing for you, but it’s good for you, and also necessary in the world. Now go.’
‘Yes, Mum.’
‘Don’t call me that. It’s weird.’
‘Love you!’
I HAVEN’T BEENwithin six feet of Bee in as many weeks, which is unsurprising given her ability to completely evade me when we were living in the same apartment. It’s just a bit weird because she’s still texting me every so often. The calls have all but stopped, but at least once every day or two, I receive a new understanding of my awfulness. The bins didn’t get collected this week! (Because I wasn’t there to put them out.) I’ve hidden her on social media, but Nicole tells me that it’s basically gratitude and manifesting and onto bigger and better things and this is totally my year!
When forced into proximity by the call of paid employment, she is very dedicated in her avoidance of even a passing glance between us. The first time, it’s a little jarring. By the fifth time, I appreciate how comical the efforts are. So does everyone else.
‘Did she just offer to do the guest list at the door for the next two hours in order to get out of the main room?’
‘I’m more impressed that she offered to do two hours of work.’
‘Why is she carrying that large box in front of her face?’
‘That’s an OH&S violation. If I remember the training, she’s likely to trip over a stray cord on the floor.’
‘Is there something behind us?’
‘Yeah, why is she staring at the wall? She hasn’t even noticed that Stewart’s on his phone.’
‘Oh, yes, his situationship has taken another turn.’
‘Gertie, have you noticed how she won’t even say your name anymore?’
‘Yes! I noticed that too! Like when she’s running through the tasks for the night, when she gets to your name she’s always like, “Well, you can read what’s on the board” and then moves on!’
‘So weird.’
‘How did you anger the kraken, Gertie?’
Otherwise, she looks well, I think. It’s hard to tell when people are so capable of putting on a mask and hiding in plain sight from the outside world. And it’s a little panic-inducing, because is her flawless skin a sign that I never mattered or a cry for help that I’m ignoring? Not sure which is worse, frankly. Is the real Bee this one or the one in my inbox? Her face gives nothing away when it’s not hidden behind a box or a tray or clipboard.
I can’t currently see her face at all at the moment, and I have to truly commend her for committing to the bit. Picture the scene: it’s a Kidney Foundation fundraiser on the rooftop of a random corporate office along the river. Killer viewsapparently, not that I’d know because I’m shoved in the corner next to a load-bearing concrete pillar, manning a dumpling cart.
Despite the blink-and-you’ll-miss-it location of the cart, one must never underestimate the ability of people drunk on free corporate booze to sniff out salty carbs. There’s a painfully awkward few minutes when I have run out of dumplings and sent a frantic waitress off to hound the kitchen for more and I’m surrounded like the last human in a zombie movie, listening to them all moan sloppily for food.Brains. Siu mai.
Then the smell of a passing tray of beef sliders proves too strong and the swarm migrates, leaving me in a puddle of spilt soy sauce. As I assess the damage and commence storm cleanup, a voice behind me whispers, ‘Excuse me, are there any dumplings left?’
I know who it is before I turn around, but somehow it’s still a shock to have it confirmed by sight. ‘What are you doing at a kidney fundraiser?’ I ask, because it’s the only thing I can think of.
‘What do you mean?’ Arthur asks. ‘I’m very passionate about kidneys. I’ve got two of them myself!’ He chuckles at his own little joke.
