‘No, no,’ I say, waving my fork at him. ‘Let’s not waste our sparkling conversation on each other. Eat your pasta.’
So we do; and then I spend the last part of my evening cuddled up in Bee’s bed as my best friend gushes about the date, as though I wasn’t also there, and the goodnight kiss William gave her at the door. Just a modest peck. Which I definitely was not spying on from behind the front curtain.
‘ANOTHER DATE!’ Ican hear Bee shouting down the hallway over my headphones as I watch a movie on my laptop in bed. I really should just get a TV for my room, but Bee says it’s bad for my REM cycle.
‘Congratulations! It seemed like it went well.’ The sappy look on Bee’s face has been a permanent fixture since last week.
‘It did, didn’t it? Isn’t he just the best?’
I’ve got absolutely no idea. I think I said fewer than half a dozen words to the man. He didn’t give me immediate serial-killer vibes, so that’s good, but I’m not yet willing to renounce my initial judgment. I have to hold on tosomepride.
‘So we decided to have dinner here on Friday night, and I checked so I know you’ve already got Friday off.’ Because I’m working Saturday at eight in the morning. I wait for the subtle suggestion that I make myself scarce on Friday, deeply concerned about whether there is literally anyone in the city I’mon slumber-party terms with so I don’t have to drive an hour and a half to stay with my father in the oppressive silence of the unit he moved into following the sale of my childhood home.
Bee claps her hands expectantly. ‘Okay, so let’s get going!’
‘Going where?’
‘Shopping!’
‘Why are you buying the food now? Anything you get will be off by then. Do you even know what you’re cooking?’
‘Jesus, not for the food. For something to wear!’
I stare at the wall that I know blocks us from Bee’s frequently dam-broken wardrobe. ‘But you’re staying in, not going out. And what if I have plans today?’
Bee laughs. ‘The domestic setting doesn’t make it any less of a date! You need to put out what you want to attract. I told you to listen to that podcast on abundance mindset. I’m thinking of doing the course next time it comes around.’ She doesn’t even address the other thing. Bee might have plans when I don’t, but if she doesn’t have plans, then Idefinitelydon’t have plans. There’s no point pretending we don’t both know that.
I’m fairly certain that my opinions regarding courses for attracting abundance won’t go down well, so I keep my mouth shut.
Shopping was the first thing Bee and I did together after we became friends in high school. Back then, going shopping was considered a hobby around which an entire Saturday was planned, not a utilitarian pain in the ass chore you do online unless forced to do otherwise.
Through primary school and high school, before Bee, I wastechnically part of a large group of friends but frankly, I think it was only because they forgot I was there. In the organism that is a high school friendship group, the large group congregates for major celebrations, but splits off into smaller clusters for administrative ease during day-to-day friendship management. I was invited to big events purely out of habit, but I didn’t belong to anyone: I was left standing by myself, the loser in a perverse game of musical chairs I hadn’t known I was playing. It wasn’t that they didn’t like me. I don’t think they thought about me at all, which might be worse.
Bee changed schools in Year 10 with the unique confidence of a teenager who’d never needed prescription acne treatment. Clear skin and nice hair are social currency at that age—and as for sophistication? She looked as if she could unabashedly open theDollysealed section and maybe even know about some of the stuff inside it. So when it came time to select a subgroup, everyone was shocked to see her latch on to me. She invited me shopping, and I stressed about it for four days, choosing and rechoosing outfits several times before settling on a hideous combo of wide-leg jeans with an unnecessary large belt and weathered ballet flats. I think that look is actually back in fashion now. We walked lazy laps of Chapel Street as Bee picked out clothes for a sweet sixteen she had already been invited to, less than a month after starting school. She said I needed something, too—because we were best friends now, and did everything together. An invite for one was an invite for both, she said. I’d never had a best friend before, so I had to trust in Bee’s wisdom on this.
I sometimes marvel at the simplicity of childhoodfriendships. Most are the result of forced proximity and rarely based on any strong foundations of shared values or lifestyle. Children and teenagers kind of just grab the person nearest who looks all right and say, ‘It’s you. You’re my person.’
Before Bee, no one had chosen me to be their person.
As the end of high school loomed, I spent a lot of time wondering what I might do with the Bee-shaped void that would soon be my closest companion. This, in the end, was wasted time because if anything our lives became further intertwined, like inosculated trees. Bee is a proactive type, always organising, buying tickets, securing a great deal. I couldn’t have let go even if I wanted to.
Now, sitting on the boyfriend chair outside the change room holding a green supermarket bag filled with Bee’s new purchases, it feels like déja vu. Or time travel—or maybe I’ve just been sitting on this couch for the last decade watching the world move in a blurry haze around me. Because although certain things may have changed in a decade, I’m still sitting around waiting for Bee to reveal the next option from behind the curtain.
You’d think after all these years I’d have learnt to bring a snack.
‘Do you need anything to wear on Friday?’ Bee asks, swaying from side to side in front of the mirror to check all angles on a satin midi skirt she already has in three other colours.
‘To watch a terracotta warriors documentary with my father on the couch while actually watching Twitch streams on my phone? I think my trackies will do.’
‘What? No! For the date!’
‘Surely trackies will also suffice for hiding away in my room while you woo William with your heretofore undiscovered culinary skills?’ Or my culinary skills, whichever.
Later, I’ll be embarrassed that it takes me this long to figure out what she is trying to say.
‘It’s another double! Arthur is coming too.’
One date with chaperones is weird. Two is just bizarre.
