Lovesome

by Sally Seltmann

  Lucy and I roll our eyes at each other. Bloody Juliet. I pour the last of the tumblers of sparkling water for the Lillibon ladies, and notice Lucy hanging around close by, moving cups this way and that on top of the coffee machine.

  ‘James is pretty cute,’ she comments.

  ‘Yeah, he’s okay,’ I reply, as though I’ve hardly noticed him.

  ‘You look a bit like you might have the hots for him,’ she continues.

  ‘What? No I don’t. You do.’

  ‘Me? Joni, I’m taken.’

  ‘But you were flirting with him.’

  ‘No, I wasn’t. I was just being friendly. Welcoming. It’s my restaurant. I want people to feel at home.’

  ‘You literally hugged him when you gave him his beer.’ I regret going this far. Why am I being like this? Why don’t I just be honest? ‘Sorry…I…’

  ‘Joni. He’s your kind of guy. Not mine. I’ve got Dave, darling. Plus I saw the way he was looking at you.’ She comes in closer. ‘You do have the hots for him, don’t you?’ she teases.

  I smile, with my lips closed.

  ‘I can read you, Joni. Go on, admit it. You have!’

  Lucy grabs herself a port glass, and pulls the cork out of a port bottle. She pours herself her favourite beverage, and swings over to the staff table, sitting on top, crossing her legs. She takes a sip.

  ‘You do, you so do. You’ve got the hots for him, I can see it,’ she says, with a cheeky semi-smile.

  ‘Okay,’ I confess. ‘Yes, yes, okay. I have…I do…think he’s my kind of guy. The kind of guy I go for.’ I can’t look her in the face. I’m too embarrassed.

  ‘Je te l’avais dit!’

  ‘Huh?’

  Lucy dramatically snaps her fingers, up high in front of her, gold bangles jingling. ‘I knew it!’ she cries. ‘I know you, Joni Johnson. Better than you think.’

  She grabs another port glass and fills it, hands it to me, and offers me a cheers. We clink glasses, and she announces, ‘And you, my love, are going home with him tonight.’

  ‘Aaah!’ I shriek, before sipping the sweet, syrupy wine.

  ‘That’s the plan, my lady,’ she tells me.

  ‘But Annabelle’s…’

  ‘I can see what she’s doing. Don’t worry. We’re switching.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’m going Lillibon, you’re going Red Room.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Really.’ Lucy drinks the remainder of her port. ‘And we’ll still share Gatsby. There are two tables coming in soon. What’s this?’ She gestures towards the tray of drinks I’ve put together for the group in Lillibon.

  ‘Let me deliver it, and then we change over, yeah?’ I suggest.

  ‘Good plan, Joni. I’ve taught you well.’

  Of course she takes credit for my simple suggestion—but tonight I’m not judging her behaviour. She is on my side! She is on my side!

  I deliver the tray of drinks hurriedly, worried that my breath stinks of port. The women’s voices are rounded, and they sound like dear, close friends—probably all known each other since childhood. I leave them be and draw a deep, excited breath. I flick my hair back, the way I’ve seen Lucy do, and I hold my head up high. I wander into the Red Room, and check James and Polly’s glasses.

  Polly’s—empty. Then James—his beer glass is two-thirds empty. And then my eyes shift from his beer glass up over his jeans, all around his torso, through his chest, and up to his face. His features are so unconventional. But he’s extremely good-looking. He has his tripod facing the red velvet curtains, and is loading film into the back of his camera.

  ‘Oh, that’s going to be gorgeous, James!’ Polly exclaims. ‘Hop in, Annabelle darling.’

  Annabelle—almost on top of James, watching him load the film—is oblivious to Polly’s request.

  ‘Why don’t you go over and stand in front of the curtains, Annabelle,’ James suggests. I may be wrong, but his body language suggests that he’s not really that into her overly flirtatious behaviour.

  ‘Can I get you another beer, James?’ I ask, trying to sound professional.

  ‘Oooh, I’d love a top-up,’ Polly pipes, before James can respond.

  ‘Ah, yeah,’ James answers, concentrating on attaching his camera to his tripod. Then he looks at me, and says, ‘Thanks.’

  I melt. ‘Two more drinks coming up.’

  ‘What about me?’ Annabelle whines.

  ‘Oh. What would you like, Annabelle?’ I ask her, hoping she picks up on my disappointment with the way she’s flirting with James, and my disapproval with her ordering more alcohol.

  ‘Gin and tonic, thanks, Joni.’

  She’s talking down to me. Even after we hugged and loved in the Bar Room tonight. As soon as there’s a boy involved, she changes. I always try to be accepting of her when she does this. But tonight—I think I’ve had enough.

  I grab Polly’s empty glass and leave them to it. Juliet’s in the Bar Room, filling an antique silver champagne bucket with ice. She’s singing along to Josephine Baker, but I’ve got too much on to be annoyed by her. Once I’ve prepared the drinks, I place them on a wooden tray and carry them to the Red Room.

  James has the lights set on Annabelle, and she’s posing in front of the red curtains while he snaps away. She looks pretty amazing.

  ‘This is good, Annabelle. You look great,’ James tells her. ‘I’d really like to do some with all those red vases as the backdrop.’

  He looks towards me as I indicate his full glass of beer on the dark oak table. ‘Thanks, Joni.’

  He said my name! He said my name!

  The sound of the front door opening brings with it a gust of icy air. This must be one of the Gatsby twos. I greet them, leave them, check the bookings diary, and then seat them. They look like a husband and wife. Night out while the babysitter minds their two kids at home.

  ‘Just one moment, and I’ll bring you some menus,’ I tell them, tray under my arm, head turning towards James as I make my way back down the hallway.

  When I return with their menus and take their drink orders, I notice James has set up his tripod in the doorway to the Red Room and is shooting towards the vases and urns. Annabelle is staring down the lens, arms above her head, as she works the camera like a born star. I smile at her. How can I be mad at her? She’s incredible.

  The night rolls on, and I begin to feel as though I’m living in parallel worlds. My Trying-to-Impress-James-in-the-Red-Room world is constantly being disrupted by the world of Serving-the-Ordinary-Customers-in-Gatsby, in whom I have no interest whatsoever. Both Lucy and Dave have given me a ‘How’s it going?’, and I’ve informed them that there hasn’t been any progress with me and James. I updated them with the good news, though: Annabelle has cooled off, and I think she’s getting the hint that James is not interested in her.

  When the Gatsby customers are onto after-dinner coffees and teas, I hear Polly call out to me. ‘Joni, we’re sta-arving!’ she cries, hanging onto the ar sound for an awfully long time. She’s a little bit on the tipsy side of town.

  I give her a nod, noticing that James is starting to pack up. I panic, because I don’t want him to leave.

  ‘James is done, and we’re ready to start on the interview,’ Polly says excitedly.

  ‘Great,’ I tell her. ‘Can I help with that?’ I ask James, who seems to be about to carry his camera gear out to his car.

  ‘Oh, I’ll be right. Thanks though,’ he says. ‘If it’s okay, I might stay for dinner too.’

  My heart lights up inside me. ‘Of course, of course. That would be…lovely. Really…wonderful.’

  I feel stupid for using the word wonderful.

  ‘How are those knees feeling?’ he asks.

  ‘Oh!’ I look down towards the scrape from earlier on. ‘I forgot about that.’

  We smile at each other, and then he picks up his heavy light-stands. I open up the front door for him. He says thanks. It’s at this point that I want to touch his shoul
der, or his back, or his hair or his face—but I don’t.

  He walks out into the night-time. I close the door, begin to clear away the dirty glasses in the Red Room, and await his return.

  19

  ‘Menus,’ I say, placing three on the table in front of Annabelle and Polly.

  ‘Lovely,’ Polly chimes. ‘Is James joining us?’

  James overhears as he wanders back into the Red Room. ‘Maybe I’ll leave you ladies to it,’ he tells them. Then he turns to me, taking me by surprise. ‘I might come and sit out the back. Do you think that sounds okay?’

  ‘Oh yeah. Sure, sure. That’s a great idea,’ I say casually.

  ‘Hey Joni, are there any specials?’ Annabelle asks.

  By this stage, her drunkenness has worn off a little. She’s read the rejection signs from James, eased up on the flirting, and reverted to the kinder Annabelle—the Annabelle I love.

  ‘Ah yes,’ I tell her. ‘The special tonight is coq au vin.’ I’m so embarrassed saying cock in front of James.

  Annabelle laughs. ‘What’s coq au vin?’

  I blush. ‘Chicken braised in red wine.’

  ‘That sounds great,’ James says. ‘I’ll have that, please.’

  ‘Make that two cocks,’ Annabelle says, in her cutesy voice.

  ‘Ah, ha,’ Polly ding-dongs on each syllable. ‘Three cocks, Joni. Cock times three!’

  We all have a giggle.

  ‘And I’ll bring some parsley potatoes and a side of peas. How does that sound?’

  ‘Marvellous,’ Polly says, shuffling her notepad around, then picking up her mini tape-recorder in preparation for interviewing Annabelle.

  I look at James. ‘Do you want to…’

  ‘Come out the back with you?’

  ‘Um…yes. That…that’s what I was going to suggest.’

  I turn and notice the last remaining couple in Gatsby are signalling me for the bill, and I acknowledge their request with a nod. Then James and I head for the Bar Room past the ladies in Lillibon, who are all devouring their desserts.

  ‘Do you want to sit down here?’ I ask him. ‘Dave!’ I call out towards the kitchen, and Dave springs out into the Bar Room. ‘Dave, this is James.’

  Dave wipes his greasy hand on his pants and gives James a firm, friendly handshake. ‘Hey mate, how’s it going? Are you the photographer?’

  I leave them to chat. On my way to get the bill ready for the Gatsby couple, I find Lucy already preparing it.

  ‘I’ll do this,’ she tells me. ‘And I’ll take care of Lillibon. You talk to James. Go, go! Take your apron off. Have a drink. Loosen up.’

  ‘Okay.’ Then, shit, I realise I need to give Dave the food order. He beats me to it.

  ‘Joni, have you got their order there in your hot little hand,’ he asks, making me feel self-conscious. ‘I’m sure James here is pretty hungry.’

  ‘Yep.’ I hand him their order.

  ‘Oooh, coq au vin,’ Dave says playfully, in his most over-the-top French accent.

  James laughs. I knew he’d like Dave.

  I untie my apron. James watches me, his mouth forming the beginnings of a smile. It feels wonderful, him watching me. But I feel quite shy around him, so I look down at the floorboards, then place my dirty apron in the basket.

  ‘Can I get you another drink?’ I ask him.

  ‘You know, I feel like a coffee. Would that be okay?’

  ‘Sure.’ I walk over to the coffee machine, worrying that he’s a total coffee snob and will hate the burnt-tasting coffee I’ll make for him. ‘What kind of coffee do you like?’

  ‘Long black, thanks,’ he says, looking out the back window. ‘That cat is so beautiful. I love the colours in her coat.’

  ‘That’s Tiger-Lily, the Harland cat.’

  I set his coffee going and turn towards him. I notice his eyes moving from Tiger-Lily to the quaint deer ornaments on the windowsill; across the elaborately framed oil paintings Lucy has picked up at markets here and there; then up to the two brass wall-lamp holders—both of them shaped like naked women, with their arms stretched up high, holding rosy-pink lampshades.

  ‘I love it here,’ he tells me.

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘You know how I’d describe this place?’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Lovesome,’ James says, looking me right in my eyes.

  ‘What’s lovesome?’ I ask, hoping I don’t sound uneducated.

  ‘Lovely,’ he tells me, in his warm-sounding voice.

  That’s what you are, James. That’s what you are. Lovesome.

  ‘How long have you worked here?’ he asks me.

  ‘About six months.’

  I pull out a saucer, place his full coffee cup on it, and rest it in front of him.

  He smells the coffee up close. ‘Nothing like a hot cup of Joe,’ he says jokingly.

  My mind wanders straight into an episode of Twin Peaks, with Dale Cooper in the Double R Diner, though I’m not sure if that’s what he’s referencing. I watch his mouth as he takes a sip.

  ‘That’s a damn fine cup of coffee,’ he says, definitely impersonating Agent Cooper now.

  I give him a smile. ‘I love Twin Peaks.’

  ‘Me too,’ he says, watching me stand and reach for a bottle of red wine on the top shelf. ‘You know, I went to the real Double R Diner, where they filmed the show. Well, the exterior shots.’ James takes another sip of his coffee. ‘Last year. With one of my best mates, Brett.’

  ‘Oh.’ I fill my wine glass and return to the staff table, sitting near him at the same corner.

  ‘Brett had this nightmare of a girlfriend. Diane. Can you believe her name was Diane?’

  ‘Diane, like the Diane Agent Cooper spoke to on his dictaphone every night?’ Dave asks, exiting the kitchen holding three dinner plates piled with coq au vin.

  ‘Yeah,’ James tells us.

  Dave, who’s obviously been listening to our entire conversation, places a plate in front of James and I walk quickly into the hallway to grab him some cutlery from the sideboard.

  ‘Thanks, Dave. This looks amazing!’ James exclaims.

  Dave disappears, delivering the other two plates to Annabelle and Polly in the Red Room.

  ‘Would you like a wine with your dinner?’ I ask James.

  ‘Oh…just a small glass, thanks.’ He stares down at his full plate, looking immensely happy.

  ‘Red or white?’

  ‘Actually, on second thoughts I’ll just have water.’

  I immediately feel like an alcoholic. I walk in shame to the bar, fill an amber drinking glass with water and place it beside James’s plate. ‘Here.’

  ‘Thanks.’ His head tilts back as he takes a long sip, and his neck stretches beautifully. ‘So, yeah—Diane, this girlfriend of Brett’s,’ he continues.

  ‘Hang on—where is the Double R Diner?’ I ask him.

  ‘It’s in Washington state.’ He eats a button mushroom, and I love the way his face moves. ‘The actual diner from the outside looked amazing. And then we wandered inside, with all these other tourists, and then Diane sort of went crazy.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, we sat at one of the booths. It was actually kind of depressing—none of the small-town charm I was expecting. I wanted there to be smooth, wonky music in the background, for Shelly to walk out from behind the counter, for Coop to be drinking coffee at the bar, the Log Lady sitting in the corner. You know, exactly like the show. For some stupid reason I’d romanticised the whole thing before we got there.’

  ‘Did you have some cherry pie?’ I ask him.

  ‘Yeah, well,’ he laughs, before taking a mouthful.

  ‘Sorry—you eat,’ I say.

  He swallows, quickly.

  ‘So. We were inside, we got the booth seat. I said that already, didn’t I?’ James’s face becomes more animated. ‘Then an incredibly rude waitress came and served us. Nothing like you, of course. The lighting was terrible. Nothing like the show,’
he says. ‘I mean, I love colour, and all the warmth of the interiors on the show.’

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘The reds. It’s so heavy with red, isn’t it? You know, all the flashing signage. I love that about Twin Peaks.’

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘So anyway.’ He puts more food in his mouth and chews and swallows, and I watch him, as a warm, funny feeling weaves through my tummy. This is so nice. He’s paying so much attention to me. And he likes what I like. ‘So finally we get into a booth,’ he tells me.

  He’s already said they were in the booth, but I don’t say anything, because he’s too adorable. The more he talks, the more he awakens amusement and pleasure within me. I’m captivated by his muddled-up delivery. Maybe he’s nervous, talking to me. I think that’s it! He’s stuffing up the story because he’s nervous!

  ‘Oh, and the colour scheme was totally washed out. Fluorescent lighting, and sort of dull. A terribly unflattering wash.’

  I love that he experiences the world through how the light falls around him. A true photographer.

  ‘And the floor was dirty, but not in a good way—old dirty. Disgusting dirty. Grotty. You know what I mean?’

  ‘Yeah, I know what you mean,’ I tell him, not just pretending to agree, but really knowing what he means.

  ‘So anyway, we order cherry pie. I mean, we can’t go there without ordering the Twin Peaks classic. So the pie comes to the table, with three damn fine cups of coffee, and then Diane has one mouthful, and…I admit the pie was pretty poor, not how you’d imagine it would taste on the show, when you’re watching it. So yeah, Brett says some small thing to Diane, something about a lunch they’d had at their place, and Diane goes nuts. She goes in for this long-winded monologue about Brett and how he leaves his dirty underwear on the floor, and how she can’t stand him, and how it’s all over. And then she storms out, and gets in her car and drives off. You see, she drove—she’d driven us all there. So Brett and I, we’re stranded at the Double R Diner. Well it’s actually called Twede’s Diner in real life. So we’re at Twede’s. And then…Sorry, this story isn’t really going anywhere.’