‘Eh, I’m not complaining about the outcome.’ Then we’re touching again and kissing again, and it’s just another five minutes of me not going back to work.
Once I force him to stand in one corner of the room while I stand in the other, he agrees to come back and pick me up from work. Even promises to come bearing food. ‘But we’re going to mine, Gertie,’ he declares. ‘I’m sorry, but I’m way too old to wake up in a uni share house.’
I cross my arms. Can’t wait to tell him he has just started dating a uni student. ‘If you want to be with me, you’re going to have to learn.’
‘Not tonight.’
‘Deal. You know, you’re surprisingly stubborn. I never knew that. In fact, we haven’t talked nearly enough about you this entire relationship, so we might need to redress the balance there.’
He laughs, and I think:this laugh is mine now.
He opens the door and gestures for me to leave first. I show him to the elevator and kiss him goodbye as it opens. It simultaneously feels like an easy, simple thing we’ve been doing for years and something inexplicably monumental.
Someday I’ll find out every little quirk he has. And I’ll tell him all about me, too. My childhood. My parents. The gambling. Bee. Uni. But that’s the beauty of it. We’ve got all the time in the world.
THE REST OFthis shift sucks. Bodily I return to the party. Mentally, I’m still back in the locker room. I have no idea what happened while I was gone. The guests seem ruder, more demanding. My shoes are tighter, the trays are heavier. All the clocks have slowed down.
I manage to dodge Nicole’s questions about my whereabouts. (Top tip: to get someone to stop asking invasive questions, hint that your absence is due to something faecal.) She’ll cotton on when I don’t come home tonight, but that’s a future-me problem.
Bee is nowhere to be found so I assume she has gone home. Once the interminable shift finally ends, my colleagues settle inside as usual with the half-finished bottles, and I tell them I’m going to step out for a moment. Nicole tries to object and then remembers the poop and thinks better of it.
The air on the deck is cool but not harsh. It’s a clear night,or as clear as a night can get in any light-polluted city, and the stars dance around a waning moon. From up here, I can see booze cruises floating down the river, waterside bars starting to properly go off, little dots of people weaving their way down the paths in clusters. It’s soothing to watch. I take a photo to send to Arthur.
All done whenever you’re ready.
I’m on my way. Xx
Two kisses. I’m goo.
‘Do you want a drink?’ I turn to see Bee, holding a bottle in each hand, one stretched out towards me.
I take it. ‘I thought you left ages ago,’ I say.
‘I’ve been hiding out in the back doing bar stocktake.’ She laughs at what I can only assume is my look of pure incredulity. ‘I thought I should make myself useful while I waited.’
I take a big gulp of the slightly warm bubbles. ‘What were you waiting for?’ I ask, but I already know.
‘A chance to talk to you.’ She’s looking me in the eyes now, so it’s different from before. I properly take all of her in for the first time since I left. She always seemed so much bigger than me. (Not physically, of course. I could never share her clothes because Imight stretch them.) But she seemed to have this ability to fill a room. This Bee looks smaller. So either she’s shrunk, or it’s like when you start school and the Year 12s look massive but then once you get there yourself, you don’t feel nearly as big. It’s all about perspective, or something. And I finally got myself here, so we’re the same size again.
She doesn’t look angry. She’s probably not going to yell at me about the apartment, which is good.
‘Let’s sit,’ I say, and we take two chairs by a small cocktail table. We sit for a few moments, sipping our drinks and looking out over the bustle below.
‘Do you want to have brunch next weekend?’ she asks, still looking out over the railing.
‘What?’
‘I thought maybe we could go to that new Pilates place in South Melbourne and then head down Clarendon to eat. But we can go to Prahran Market if you prefer.’
I turn to look at her, sceptical. ‘Why would we do that?’
Her face is scrunched in confusion. ‘Because we both like brunch?’
I bite my tongue to hold back the retort that I’m actually more of a dinner person. ‘Bee, we haven’t spoken in weeks.’
She takes a swig. ‘Yes,’ she starts. Another swig. ‘But surely we can move past all that now.’
‘Why?’
