I don’t know if that new bar will be any different than the ones I despise, but I’ll suck it up to reconnect with Charlie. Seeing him on Wednesday made me happier than I’ve felt in years. It’s not just having my friend back. When I’m around Charlie, it’s like I’m my whole self. When we lived in the hostel, for those glorious months we were led by our guts, not our brains. Charlie’s the only person who knows I’m a man whore, and he’s fine with it.
It’s my fault my life didn’t turn out happier. If I’d stayed with him in Perth, years ago, I’d be well rounded and normal. Instead, I went home. What kind of dumbarse mouse escapes certain death, then wanders back into the trap, lies down on top of the cheese and waits for the metal to snap his neck?
This dumbarse mouse.
I vividly remember the moment I returned. I stepped off the plane, walking across the Geraldton Airport tarmac, determined to be myself. Then I reached the sliding airport doors, my parents waiting on the other side, and I felt all the air disappear around me. I walked through those doors and my shoulders hunched over, crushing the oxygen out of my lungs. The self I had found in Perth flew out of my body. He was gone. I was Beige Zeke again.
Maybe if I hang out with Charlie now, I’ll find my way back to who I once was.
I tap out another message to Charlie:I missed you, man.
There’s a long silence. My cheeks go hot. I feel like a soft, sentimental idiot.
Charlie replies:Gayyyyyyyyyy
I snort-laugh.
Before I can reply, Charlie heart-reacts to my message and addsI missed you too, you big wanker.
I’m half-watching the footy, half-cruising Grindr when the doorbell rings. I collect my pizza, garlic bread and lemonade from a delivery guy in a parka.
When I get back to my room, Sabrina’s off her phone call. Her slender shape is leaning against the door frame, her blouse and skirt both marked by cupcake frosting from her drive home. Her pale arms are folded as she fixes me with this exasperated you-won’t-believe-what-Shane-did-now look.
‘Did Allison threaten to leave him again?’ I prod, by way of hello.
Sabrina’s eyes widen. ‘Oh no, she actually left him this time – but between Victoria’s first text and this phone call, they’ve now gotten back together.’
I snort. ‘The saga continues.’
‘Shane’s a fuckingarsehole,’ Sabrina states. ‘If he doesn’t have anything to hide, he shouldn’t care about Allison going through his phone.’
I pause. I disagree with Sabrina with every fibre of my being. I know how it feels to have your privacy and boundaries violated to hell. Nobody should have their phone viewed without their consent. But disagreeing with her would lead to an argument which could only be defused by me eventually caving in. Not worth it. I just want my pizza.
I offer one of my generic phrases that sounds agreement-adjacent. ‘I guess some people never change, huh?’
‘Tell me about it!’ Sabrina chirps. ‘What’s all this, then?’
I tap the Domino’s box. ‘It’s our favourite thing, Sabrina: junk food,’ I say. ‘It’s how we eat our feelings instead of processing them. I’d offer you a slice, but I’m a fatty and I’m gonna eat the whole thing.’
Sabrina tut-tuts at me, tilting her head. ‘Zekey, for the last time, stop fat-shaming yourself,’ she says. ‘You lookgorgeousand you know it.’
Here’s the thing: we both have the same diet, but Sabrina’s metabolism keeps her slim no matter what she shovels in. I just glance at a cannoli and I gain a kilo.
‘I look like shit, Sabrina,’ I deadpan. ‘But sure, I’m beautiful just as I am, yada yada yada.’
‘That’s better!’ Sabrina coos. ‘And anyway, that isn’t what I was asking about. I meant – what’s allthisabout?’
Sabrina gestures to the TV in my room, still displaying the green oval of the MCG, footy players sprinting down its length.
For real, it’s like being caught watching porn.
‘Oh, it’s – uh – a football game,’ I manage.
Sabrina’s lips curve. ‘A football game?’
‘Like, as in football,’ I explain uselessly. ‘Aussie Rules. AFL. Footy.’
‘I know what football is,’ she says delicately. ‘It’s all Shane ever had on the TV. But I don’t get whyyouhave it onyourTV. Are you watching it ironically?’
