The Things We See in the Light

by Amal Awad

  We join Kat and Luke, but only Kat looks happy to be here.

  ‘Did someone die?’ Inez says, her eyes on Luke.

  ‘Let’s just get this over with,’ he says.

  Inez raises her eyebrows and mouths an OK as she takes a seat.

  Then Luke exhales. ‘Sorry. Sorry. Had a shit day.’

  We make eye contact in the darkness, then my eyes flicker to his outfit – black tailored pants and a tight-fitting white dress shirt.

  ‘You look nice,’ he says, managing a smile.

  ‘Thanks,’ I say, unsure what to do with the compliment. For a moment we hold each other’s gaze, then Kat’s voice splinters through and he turns to face her.

  ‘We’ll start gentle,’ Kat says and my nerves thicken.

  ‘Start with beer,’ suggests Luke.

  ‘Yuck. Beer’s an acquired taste,’ says Kat.

  ‘White wine? Or champagne?’ says Inez.

  ‘Yes!’ says Kat. ‘If you can stomach that, we can talk about stage two.’

  My stomach rolls with anxiety. ‘Guys, you’re not planning to get me drunk drunk, are you?’

  ‘Don’t you want to get drunk drunk?’ says Kat, scanning the drinks menu.

  Luke is now watching me, as is Inez.

  ‘Just drunk, maybe? Enough to see what the big deal is.’

  Luke shakes his head, but his disapproval is not the same as Kat’s. ‘You don’t need to do this at all,’ he says. ‘We’re not in high school.’

  ‘Fuck off,’ says Kat. ‘We’re doing it. But Luke the school prefect here can keep an eye on you since he’s the softest drinker.’

  Luke shrugs. ‘Fine.’

  ‘Stage two will be mixers,’ says Kat. ‘Soft drink with vodka. Maybe rum and Coke?’ She looks to Inez, who weighs it up.

  ‘Ooh, vodka lime soda!’ says Inez.

  ‘What about spirits?’ I say. ‘Like whisky.’

  Kat is amused. ‘You have much to learn, little one.’

  Luke chuckles and Inez winces.

  ‘Give her some Pimm’s,’ says Luke.

  At Kat’s disgusted look, he holds up his hands in surrender. They continue offering up and knocking back suggestions, determining my fate, until, as decided by committee, Inez delivers me a glass of white wine. ‘Take your time with it.’

  I raise the glass to my lips, take a gulp and recoil.

  ‘For fuck’s sake,’ Kat practically bellows. ‘Go slow.’

  ‘Be quiet and let the woman ease in,’ Inez says, placing an arm around me and giving me a squeeze.

  ‘I’m getting another beer,’ Luke says, shimmying out of the booth. ‘Anyone need a top-up?’

  Kat holds up her glass, which has only a slosh of something dark red left in it. ‘Another please. Shiraz.’

  Inez gives me an expectant look. ‘Are you OK? Tell me really.’

  ‘I’m fine. It’s just a very strong taste.’

  I take a smaller sip and let it sink into my tongue. I don’t recoil this time, but I’m not sure I can be bothered to acquire a taste for it.

  I make it through the white wine but I don’t feel tipsy. Instead, there’s a thickness in my body, like jelly that has just set.

  ‘Is it supposed to make me feel different?’ I say.

  ‘You’ve had one glass, calm down,’ says Kat. ‘Are you brave enough to try a mixer?’

  ‘How about the rum and Coke?’ says Inez, drumming the table with her elegant fingers, her perfectly painted nails dancing along the surface.

  Luke returns and he takes a sip of his beer before plopping down on the seat at the end of the table. But he seems distracted and his eyes keep flicking back to the bar, searching out someone or something.

  I watch as Kat and Inez turn to each other and have a silent conversation with their eyes. I have no idea what any of it means, only that it relates to Luke.

  ‘Are you OK?’ I say to him, and he looks a bit startled.

  ‘I’m fine. How are you? Drunk yet?’

  ‘Afraid not.’

  I don’t even care about trying more drinks, but I don’t want to hurt their feelings. My primary hope is that I do not become obnoxious, loud and brazen. I assume these are my greatest threats because I am the opposite sober. But as I dip my toes into the alcoholic waters, I know that I’m in no danger of getting addicted to the feeling of intoxication.

  Still a bit antsy, Luke jumps to his feet again. ‘I’ll get you that rum and Coke,’ he says, and we watch him go.

  ‘What’s going on with Luke?’ I ask.

  ‘His girlfriend is here swanning about the place, probably,’ Kat responds. She’s now dancing in her seat, arms outstretched like a belly dancer’s.

  ‘I thought you said they broke up?’

  ‘On again, off again. Have you met obsessive Luke? I mean, he’s not a stalker or anything, but he’s the kind who fully commits. I’ll give him this: he’s annoying but dedicated.’

  Inez makes a face. ‘They always are at the start. But his girlfriend isn’t very nice,’ she says in a near whisper, clearly ashamed for expressing a bad opinion about someone.

  I watch as Luke casually approaches a woman standing in line at the bar. She’s about his height, dressed in a tight red dress that doesn’t hide a single blemish – and she has none. Her hair is long, straight and silky, and she’s standing very straight with her arms crossed. In one hand, she’s clasping a small sparkly black clutch, her hand flashing oversized costume jewellery rings, and a bangle covers a third of her forearm. Beside her, a woman dressed in a similar style stands close, like a bodyguard. No one looks happy.

  ‘That’s Luke’s girlfriend?’

  Almost as if they heard me, Luke and the woman swivel around and she evaluates us, her expression sour and unimpressed.

  ‘Well, fuck me, la-di-da,’ says Kat, brushing away non-existent long hair.

  ‘Don’t be mean,’ says Inez. ‘We’ve all liked the wrong people before.’

  I find myself watching Luke, wondering about this woman’s hold on him. He seems so different to the controlled, masterful Luke of Small and Sweet by Maggie, and it occurs to me that you can be a master in one domain and less successful in another.

  A few minutes later, he returns to the table with more drinks. He hands one to me. ‘Rum and Coke. Give it a whirl.’

  I don’t like this one much better. ‘Do they all taste like medicine?’

  Inez, who is now a bit tipsy, finds this hysterical. ‘Yes. They taste terrible until they don’t.’

  After we finish our drinks, Kat and Inez push me onto the dance floor, and I kind of sway while they dance with more intensity and movement. Eventually, they steer me towards a man who’s making it clear that he wants to dance with us.

  ‘Talk to him,’ Inez says under her breath.

  I walk awkwardly towards this complete stranger, and wonder if it was actually Inez he was moving towards. He’s a bit taller than me, and looks like he’s come directly from an office job. He points at his body as he says loudly, ‘Christopher!’

  I yell back my name and he tries to repeat after me a few times before we spiral into an uncomfortable exchange of mispronunciation. Finally, I just give him a weak thumbs up and sway in my spot while he dances like he is bursting with emotion, eyes closed, punching his arms out.

  I glance over at Inez and Kat, who are feverishly dancing but still have one eye on me. Inez winks and I shrug.

  The rapid song, with its South American instrumentals and Spanish lyrics, picks up in pace. Christopher seems to go into a trance, his eyes rolling back as his body shudders like he’s being electrocuted. I worry that he’s having a seizure, but then he suddenly stops and starts to sway, using his arms like he’s trying to clear a path ahead.

  The song comes to an end and I immediately walk off the dance floor without a second thought about how it looks. But Christopher follows me and leads me to the bar.

  ‘I bet I can guess what you drink.’

  I give him a half-hea
rted smile. ‘Impress me.’

  ‘A Bellini,’ he says slowly.

  ‘Wow. I do like Bellinis.’

  ‘OK, it’s not a Bellini. You don’t have to pretend,’ he says, and I feel a bit sorry for him.

  Christopher orders a drink, but I refuse his offer to buy me one, and he shrugs, non-committal, his eyes wandering across the dance floor.

  We make small talk, which is harder than it would usually be given the pulsing music and people brushing past us to get to the bar. He asks me what I do and I tell him. As I finish a story about a tempering-chocolate fail, he glances around then nods, swigging down the rest of his drink.

  ‘I’ll be right back,’ he says, then walks off.

  Soon after, Kat and Inez rush over.

  ‘Where did he go?’ Inez says, out of breath.

  ‘I don’t know. He said he’d be right back.’

  ‘What happened?’ Kat says.

  ‘We talked.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘Chocolate.’

  Kat and Inez look at me like I’ve just told them I have a terminal illness. Inez closes her eyes. ‘Honey, no. Small talk not work talk.’

  ‘Can I go back to the table now?’

  Another drink soon follows. ‘Mojito. See what you think,’ says Kat.

  I glance at Luke, but he is lost to his thoughts.

  Then a song with a strong disco beat comes on, and Kat and Inez jerk their heads towards each other. ‘Soul train!’ they yell in unison.

  ‘Oh God,’ says Luke under his breath, and I’m starting to wonder if the only reason he came was to see his on-again off-again girlfriend.

  ‘What’s soul train?’ I ask.

  My words sound slow, and I suddenly notice how sluggish I feel, like I could take a nap. I definitely lack the energy and desire to throw myself onto the heaving dance floor.

  ‘You’ll see,’ says Luke.

  ‘You have to come,’ says Inez, already shimmying her way out from the table.

  ‘That’s not going to happen.’

  ‘Luke?’ says Kat.

  He gives her a look and she sighs. ‘Of course, what was I thinking?’ Then she considers me for a few seconds and clocks my expression. ‘Just come and watch.’

  I follow them to the dance floor, where the crowd has parted like the Red Sea. A voice starts booming through the sound system, geeing everyone up. Then it begins: a group of women dance, completely coordinated, while moving down the dance floor pathway. Everyone around me is cheering them on and I clap along, in awe of their confidence and bravery. Next are three men who do the same thing but with different moves. They seem to slide while the women use their hips and arms.

  Then it’s Kat and Inez with a few other women, rolling their arms like they’re part of a school musical and I find myself cheering for them because they look amazing and effortlessly cool.

  It goes on for ages, so eventually I return to our table, where Luke is sitting alone.

  ‘You look really down,’ I say, then feel like I shouldn’t have said it, but my head is starting to throb and my eyes want to close.

  ‘I’m fine. Are you OK? You look a bit pale.’

  ‘I’m OK. Just a bit hot.’

  ‘Come here,’ he says, but he leans towards me. He places the back of his hand against my forehead and pats it gently a couple of times. ‘You’re OK.’

  ‘I think I’ll go get some fresh air.’

  Luke nods. ‘OK, just wait for me, all right? I’ll be back in a second.’

  He disappears into the crowd and I slide my handbag over my shoulder and make my way outside. The crisp night air is perfect. I close my eyes and breathe it in, spreading my arms out wide like an offering of gratitude. I walk to a bus stop shelter a few metres away. The street is quiet and I wonder what time it is and if the buses are still running. I pull out my phone and tiredly study it, forgetting why I pulled it out. Then I remember: I want to get home. I don’t know what bus to take. I search for Lara’s number and wait while the phone rings.

  But instead of Lara, it’s a man on the other end.

  ‘Hello you,’ he says.

  ‘Leo?’

  In the background, I can hear music then a door closing.

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to call you.’

  ‘Sahar, are you OK?’

  ‘I’m experimenting with alcohol. And I’m disappointed.’

  Leo chuckles. ‘Tell me where you are.’

  ‘I’m at the bus stop. I’m just really sleepy all of a sudden. Is that normal?’

  ‘It is if you’re a tired drunk.’

  I snort-laugh. ‘Is that even a thing?’

  ‘Yes, and apparently it’s your thing. Can you tell me where you are again?’

  I look around and locate the name of the bar or club or whatever it is, then begin rattling off my location like he’s an Uber driver. I hang up and close my eyes.

  Someone shakes me awake and I look up to find Luke towering above me, a bottle of water in his hand. He looks stricken, like a parent who’s momentarily lost their child at the shopping centre.

  ‘What are you doing out here?’ He drops down beside me on the bench and seems to be assessing me for signs of harm.

  ‘I needed fresh air. The music was too loud.’

  ‘Jesus. You nearly gave me a heart attack. Have you met Kat? She would have murdered me if I lost you.’

  ‘Why does anyone go to a place like that for fun?’

  ‘To bump into each other and feel alive.’

  My head falls onto Luke’s shoulder, but he doesn’t flinch. He unscrews the cap on the bottle of water and offers it to me. ‘Drink. It’ll help.’

  I take the bottle and manage a few sips before returning it to Luke.

  ‘You were supposed to wait for me,’ he says quietly.

  ‘Mmmm.’

  ‘I think next time – if there is a next time – we stick to something light.’

  ‘Yes.’

  A solitary car speeds past, but otherwise it’s as dark as a graveyard out here, save only for the streetlights and an impressive three-quarter moon.

  ‘She’s pretty,’ I murmur.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Cruella.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘I didn’t picture her to be your type.’

  We sit in silence.

  ‘What’s my type?’ Luke says.

  ‘I don’t know.’ I can’t imagine her, but it unnerves me a little to think of someone captivating Luke more than chocolate. ‘You don’t like me much.’

  ‘I like you just fine.’

  I take a deep breath. My head is still on Luke’s shoulder as I survey the dark sky and its sprinkling of stars.

  ‘The moon is the same no matter where you are in the world, even if, technically, it looks different. Have you ever thought about that?’

  I am incredibly impressed by my own lucidity. Clearly, I am a philosophical drunk.

  Luke chuckles. ‘Never thought about it, but I guess you’re right.’

  ‘I used to think about it sometimes, when I lived overseas – how the sky and moon and stars were the same as they were in Sydney, yet I felt like I was in a different universe.’

  Luke is not immediately responsive. ‘Sounds lonely.’

  I shrug. ‘It was sometimes. Which is weird given how much I like to be alone.’

  ‘You’re a hermit like me.’

  ‘Why aren’t you drunk?’

  ‘I’ve only had a couple of drinks.’

  ‘Why didn’t you go dancing with Kat and Inez?’

  ‘Bloody hell you ask a lot of questions.’

  He doesn’t sound mad, so without thinking I lean in closer, wrapping an arm across his chest.

  He reaches an arm around me and pulls me towards him. ‘Is this OK?’ he says, gently tightening his hold on me.

  ‘Yes.’

  We drop into silence. More cars pass by. In the distance, I can hear the sound of a light rail bell.

  ‘What’
s the worst thing you’ve ever done?’ I ask.

  Luke is quiet for a few seconds. ‘The worst thing is usually the same for everyone. I’ve hurt people.’

  ‘Same.’

  The heaviness takes over. My eyes don’t want to open.

  ‘Don’t fall asleep,’ Luke says.

  ‘I’m just closing my eyes for a bit. Then we can go back inside and I’ll try some whisky.’

  I can hear the sound of light traffic, and a man yelling profanities nearby. I let my eyelids drop, comfortable in Luke’s arms, relieved because maybe he doesn’t dislike me, after all.

  Chapter 17

  I swear I haven’t forgotten you. But I’m letting the light in.

  I wake up in my clothes and struggle to orientate myself. I have a moment of panic before I realise that I’m in my bed. My phone sits on the bedside table and the tiny notification light is flashing.

  I pick it up, my eyes burning, and swipe it unlocked.

  One message from Lara at 1 am checking on me.

  It’s 9 am now. Rousing myself, I head to the bathroom. My make-up is smudged and my hair is tangled and unkempt. I’m still in Lara’s black dress, too. I wrangle myself out of it, then take a shower. I remove the make-up and apply some moisturiser. But the fatigue lingers.

  Stepping into the kitchen, I find Lara sitting at the table, immersed in her phone while nursing a cup of coffee. She looks up.

  ‘Hello, party girl. You had a big night.’

  ‘How did I get home?’

  ‘Luke.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘But apparently, you called Leo from a bus stop,’ Lara says, looking like she’s trying to complete some difficult arithmetic.

  ‘Oh my God.’ The memory quickly populates my mind as I recall the phone call, followed by sitting on the bus stop bench with Luke. ‘Leo really showed up?’

  ‘Uh-huh. But Luke brought you home in an Uber.’

  ‘How embarrassing.’

  ‘Which part?’

  ‘Lara.’

  ‘What? Why is it embarrassing? I think it’s cute. And frankly, a relief. You don’t get stupid when you get drunk, you get snoozy. And you called a friend. That’s just sensible.’