‘Maybe,’ I said, and we both smiled.
‘So for weapons I have given your character a set of knives. These have a dual purpose. Obviously they’re for stabbing and slashing if you’re faced with an unavoidable physical encounter, but your character is also a renowned chef. Tieflings are naturally proficient with fire, so it makes a lot of sense. Your character uses the knives, a copper cookpot and a high charisma score to forge unlikely alliances.’
‘I like that.’
‘Your last item is a trinket. I even painted it on, see?’
Aggie pointed to a yellow mark on the figurine’s wrist.
‘It’s a Golden Enchanted Watch. You can use it to suspend time. Or whatever. I don’t know. It’s stupid.’
‘It’s not. It’s really not. What does this part mean?’
I pointed to the top of the page.
‘Oh, that’s your alignment. Okay. So, this is actually the most important distinction because it speaks to the soul of your character. It’s like the essence of who you are.’
‘It says “chaotic good”.’
‘Right. Let me explain. Chaotic good means that you’re governed by your own conscience above all other laws. You’re benevolent and considerate and you’ll take ridiculous risks and make stupid sacrifices if it means doing what you believe is right, even if it contravenes accepted practices or social orthodoxies. You’re, like, a bit of a maverick. You’re one in a million basically.’
It was so nice and thoughtful that I didn’t know what to say. I hugged her, and she hugged me back.
‘I feel bad,’ I said. ‘I didn’t get you anything.’
‘Of course you did. You’re here. Oh, and actually, you got me the rarest gift of all.’
‘What?’
‘You outsmarted my dad.’
‘What do you mean? How?’
‘On Christmas night, I read him the text you sent about Elliott’s broken family and why he was helping ET. He went super quiet and we were all just staring at him while he thought about it, because he actually looked a bit sad. And I’ve never seen my dad get upset in front of me, like, ever. He’s very solitary when he processes things emotionally. Anyway, so my mum asks if he is okay, and he looks at her with, like, tears in his eyes and he says, “I forgot what it felt like to be young.” It was so sweet and the whole movie suddenly made sense to him.’ There was a knock on Aggie’s door. Mrs Meemeduma poked her head inside.
‘Sam, would you like to stay for dinner? I promise you we won’t cook, we’ll order something in.’
I thought about it.
‘Maybe not tonight. But I’d like to soon. I could cook something for you. I’m going to stay at Vic’s house. Like, all the time. He said I could. It’s in his will.’
‘Really?’ Aggie asked. She sounded excited.
I nodded. Mrs Meemeduma looked concerned.
‘On your own? What about your family? Who’s looking after you?’
‘There’s someone staying over for a little while. His name is Peter. He’s a nurse. And a … performer. He knew Vic.’
Mrs Meemeduma frowned.
‘And what’s happening with the house? You’ll need to pay council rates and water, and the utilities will have to be transferred into your name.’
‘Ma!’ said Aggie.
‘I’m sorry Agnes, but it’s true.’
I hadn’t thought of any of that. I felt small and overwhelmed again and I was tempted to lie, but instead I looked up at Mrs Meemeduma.
‘Will you help me?’
Brick by Brick
When I got home, I plugged my phone into an old charger that Aggie gave me. She had written me dozens of texts. There were none from my mum.
But there was one message from a new number.
I deleted it and blocked the number. Then I turned off my phone and switched off all the lights. I sat on Vic’s bed with my arms around my knees.
Around eight o’clock, I heard a key in the door. Peter called out to me and I got up. He was turning on all the lights.
‘What are you, a bat? Why is it so dark?’ he asked.
While Peter had a shower, I prepared dinner. I made croque monsieurs and a salad with a white balsamic vinaigrette. Peter sat in Vic’s chair and ate really fast and told me I was spoiling him.
‘I don’t know how I’m going to go back to Lean Cuisine and packet ramen when I eventually return to my apartment.’
‘You don’t have to go back. You can just stay here,’ I said.
‘Don’t tempt me.’ He smiled. ‘What’s this?’
The figurine that Aggie gave me was on the table. I told him what it was, then I got the character sheet and explained what all the terms and numbers meant.
‘She is so spot on! What an insightful girl.’
‘You think?’
Peter put a big forkful of food in his mouth and nodded. I picked up the figurine and looked at it.
‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘It’s like she can see things that I can’t. At first it was like she was talking about somebody else. Sometimes it’s like she sees a whole other person to who I really am.’
Peter swallowed and shook his head slowly. He got serious.
‘It’s you who can’t see what the rest of us can. I was the same until I started going to see Diane.’
‘Who is Diane?’
‘My friend, the one I was telling you about. It took me a while to hear what she was saying. I resisted her for the first few sessions. I’d been sent to a lot of counsellors when I was about your age, because praying the gay away hadn’t been very successful, and all I learned from them was new ways to be ashamed of myself. So by the time I’d moved out and had a couple of breakdowns and a friend recommended that I see Diane, I was so entrenched in these cycles of self-sabotage and disgust that I couldn’t accept that there was any other version of myself. But eventually she got through to me. It was like meeting myself for the first time. And she helped me understand how and why everything got dark and distorted, and who was actually responsible for that. I know it’s strange that somebody else can teach you things about yourself, but she changed my life. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for her.’
‘Really?’
‘Really really. Sweetheart, I’ve been down for the count. I had weeks where I couldn’t get out of bed. Months where I drank myself stupid. Had a lot of bad sex with people I didn’t like. I was lonely and scared of crowds and shy and quiet.’
‘But you’re so …’
‘Obnoxious? Damn fucking straight. Because I know who I really am. Because I discovered drag and I have a real family now. Because I am worthy of love and I have a beautiful voice that deserves to be heard. Because I am ferocious and loyal and I am dedicated to healing myself and others. But even now I sometimes forget that, and I go under the covers and I lose my voice and I know that I need guidance and reassurance and redirection. And that’s why I go to see Diane. And it helps. And you know what else?’
‘What?’
‘She wants to meet you.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I spoke with her on the phone today. She’s on a break, but she said she can see you anytime this week.’
I looked down. I wasn’t sure. Peter put his hand over mine.
‘If you don’t like it, you can just get up and leave.’
‘But you’ll be disappointed in me.’
‘Of course I won’t, Honeybee. Do you trust me?’
I nodded.
Peter looked at my plate. I had barely touched my croque monsieur.
‘Now,’ he said, ‘more importantly, are you going to eat that?’
Diane worked from her home, which was a small red-brick house in Mount Lawley.
Peter drove me there and parked on the street. He kept the car running and said I should go in by myself.
‘What if she doesn’t like me?’
‘You’ll be fine. I’ll be just around the corner having a coffee.’
I got out of the ca
r and opened the garden gate and walked to the front door. I looked back and Peter gave me two thumbs-up.
I pressed the doorbell and waited. I heard footsteps on a wooden floor. The door opened.
Diane was tall and well dressed. She wore a pastel peach silk blouse and a tweed pencil skirt. She had bangs and tortoiseshell glasses. I thought she was going to be older, but she was probably under forty. She smiled.
‘You must be Sam. I’m Diane. It’s nice to meet you! Come on through.’
Her voice was soft and soothing. She looked over my shoulder and waved to Peter. I turned and saw him wave back and drive off.
I stepped inside. Her house was really tidy. She led me into the first room on the left.
There were two low armchairs facing each other on a round rug. Between them was a small table with a box of tissues on it. A greyhound came to the door and walked in like it was on tiptoes. Its ears were pinned down and it stood behind Diane.
‘Oh, this is Brick. Is it okay if he joins us?’
I nodded. Diane brought her hands together.
‘Now, I just boiled the kettle. Would you like some tea?’
‘Um. No. It’s okay.’
‘Well I’m dying for some. Shall I bring a cup for you just in case?’
‘Okay.’
‘Take a seat, I’ll be back in a minute.’
She left and I sat down. Brick and I nervously avoided looking at each other. I glanced around the room. One whole wall was a bookshelf. There were framed certificates hanging up behind a wooden desk. There was a lace curtain across the only window.
I could hear Diane in the kitchen and I could feel my pulse under my jawbone. I thought about getting up and walking out. I thought about stealing something on the way so she would never invite me back.
Then Brick came over and sniffed my feet. I held out my hand to pat him and he flinched.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said.
He smelled my hand carefully. Then he let me pat him. He was bony and his coat was smooth and shiny. He sat really close to me. He had big brown eyes and he made me feel calmer.
Diane came back carrying a tray with a teapot and two cups and put it on the table. She smiled when she saw Brick by my side.
‘He’s usually quite wary with people.’
‘That’s okay. He’s nice.’
Diane sat down.
‘He had a rough start to life. He was bred for racing but he was too timid to compete. He is so fast, but he was frightened of the crowds and the other dogs. His trainers tried to race him twice but he wouldn’t even leave the gate, so they retired him to be a breeding male. They kept him in a pen on his own all day. He got an infection from flea bites on his back paw and no one bothered to treat it. Then he was rescued, and that’s how he came to be my special buddy. And yours too, by the look of it. Can I pour you some tea? It’s peppermint.’
‘Okay. I mean, yes please.’
Diane poured out two cups.
‘His racing name was Dynamighty Crackerjack. So alongside mending his paw and working on his socialisation and trust issues, I figured we had to find a new name for him too.’
‘What made you choose Brick?’
Diane smiled. She was so peaceful and elegant. She spoke like she had all the time in the world.
‘It was his choice, actually. The first week I got him he was very skittish. He’d just had his infection treated, so he had the bucket of doom around his collar. He hid under my bed or the table and peed on the floors and he was very unsure about me. I just gave him space, because you can’t force a threatened animal to trust you. But one night I finished work late and I sat on the couch with a glass of wine and flicked around some channels until I settled on a movie, which was Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, because who doesn’t like to wind down with a good tempestuous psychosexual melodrama, right?’
I smiled and nodded, though I didn’t know what any of those words meant. I took a sip of tea. It was too hot.
‘Anyway, within moments of Paul Newman appearing on the screen, he limped into the lounge room and sat right in front of my television and just stared. It was the strangest, funniest thing. He had no interest in any other characters, but when Paul Newman was in shot, he sat very still, like he was transfixed. That’s when I knew that not only did my boy have outstanding taste in men, we were going to get along just fine. I asked if he had a thing for Brick, which is the name of the character that Paul Newman plays, and the moment I said it he turned around like it was his name, so it was decided.’
She took a careful sip of tea. Then she set it down.
‘He was a different dog after that. There’s great power in choosing your own name and taking ownership of your identity. It’s like the title of a new chapter.’
I nodded again. I still didn’t understand why he was called Brick, but I didn’t want to sound stupid, so I didn’t ask. Diane was a bit intimidating.
We sat quietly for a little while. It was uncomfortable.
‘Tell me about you,’ she said.
I blushed and shrugged. Diane’s voice was soft and gentle.
‘I understand you’ve lost somebody close to you recently.’
I shrugged again. I didn’t know where to start. I hadn’t just lost Vic, I had lost my mum too. I kept patting Brick, who tilted his head and looked straight at me.
Diane gave me a lot of time, but I felt like I must be disappointing her.
‘You know, I spoke with Peter about you a number of times. He cares about you a great deal.’
‘He’s been nice to me.’
‘He told me you’re an amazing cook.’
I squirmed in the chair.
‘I don’t know. I like to cook.’
‘What do you like about it?’
‘Lots of things, I guess.’
‘Like what?’
I scratched Brick behind the ears and thought about it.
‘I like that there are so many things you can make even if you don’t have many ingredients. If you just have flour and sugar and eggs and maybe butter and milk, you can still make anything, like pastry or biscuits or bread or custard or pudding or ice cream or cakes. And I like that everyone has their own way to cook. Even if two people follow the same recipe, what they make will taste a bit different. I like when I find an ingredient that I’ve never used before. I like that some people find cooking really hard, but I can do it. And I like it when people eat something I have made and they think it tastes nice. That makes me feel good about myself.’
‘What else makes you feel good about yourself?’
I shrugged and didn’t say anything.
‘I’m impressed by how passionate you are. People can rarely articulate themselves so well about their interests. Who taught you how to cook?’
‘Nobody.’
‘Nobody? Someone must have shown you a few things.’
I took a deep breath.
‘Do you know who Julia Child is?’
Diane gasped and spread her hands.
‘Julia Child is amazing!’
After that we talked for a whole hour about how generous and loving and wise and funny Julia Child was. Diane even knew things about her that I didn’t, like how she had worked at a spy agency and had invented a kind of shark repellent. I told Diane about the conversations I had with her while I watched episodes of The French Chef, like she was talking just to me. I told her that I liked to pretend she was my grandmother and how I thought about her when I felt anxious.
Then Diane asked about my real grandmother. I shrugged. She asked about my parents, and I shrugged again and looked away.
Everything went quiet for a long time. I patted Brick.
Diane checked her watch then put her hands on her knees.
‘We’re out of time for today, I think.’
I felt like I had let her down.
‘Okay. I’m sorry. Do I need to give you money now? I don’t know what to do.’
‘No. Not at all.’
‘Okay.’
There was a pause. Brick nuzzled my hand. He had sat with me the whole time. Diane stood up and led me to the front door.
‘Listen, Sam. Would you like to come see me again tomorrow?’
I made Peter a leek and mushroom risotto for dinner. He had three bowls then leaned back and said he didn’t leave mushroom for dessert. Afterwards, he sat on the couch while I looked through Edie’s DVD collection. I found what I was looking for.
‘Is that Paul Newman?’ I asked.
‘The one and only.’
‘He’s good-looking.’
‘Don’t even get me started. You know, I still can’t believe that’s how that dog got its name.’
‘Diane never told you?’
‘Nope. You’re clearly her favourite already. And Brick’s, by the sound of it. That dog does not like me. I’ve tried so hard, but he always backs away like I’m a rolled-up newspaper with legs.’
‘He’s friendly. I like Diane too.’
‘Listen, you don’t have to tell me anything that you discussed with her. That’s between the two of you.’
‘Okay.’
‘And she won’t ever share anything about you with me either. What you say to her is private and sanctified by her professional oath. Just so you know.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean that, by law, anything you tell her can’t be discussed outside that room.’
I thought about it.
‘What about illegal things?’
‘Child, have you never watched television? It doesn’t matter if you confess to a spree of murders, Diane would only be duty bound to report something if you were in imminent danger, or if she considered you a threat to someone’s safety.’
‘Okay.’
‘Are you a threat to anyone’s safety?’
‘No.’
‘Are you in imminent danger?’
I thought about the messages on my phone. I thought about Steve getting bail. I changed the subject.
‘Do you want to watch this with me?’
‘Do I want to gaze at a sweaty, emotionally vulnerable Paul Newman for the next two hours? That would be a yes.’
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