‘Mum, language,’ Lucas said.
She sneered. ‘Oh, shut up.’
When Mrs P headed back inside, Shaun apologised for his sister. ‘Apparently this is a fix-up,’ he added.
‘I don’t think Kath picked up on it,’ Damo said, ‘what with the candlelight and the Kenny G.’
I was looking into the house. When Mrs P reappeared with Joel in tow, I quickly turned my attention to my steak.
‘Lucas, there’s someone here for you,’ Mrs P said.
I was trying really hard not to smile. Sticks was dumbstruck.
Joel had one hand in the pocket of his beige trousers. He waved with the other. ‘Hey, everybody, Lucas.’
Lucas was staring at him, stunned.
‘Joel, it’s good to see you again,’ I said.
Lucas looked to me. I cocked an eyebrow to let him know I was completely responsible.
‘Well, go on, don’t be rude,’ Mrs P said, retaking her seat. ‘Stand up and get him a plate.’
Lucas hesitated for a brief moment, then placed his hands on the edge of the table and pushed off. Everybody kept eating, and in the background, Lucas did something monumental.
Only two other people noticed.
After dinner, Joel and Lucas retreated to one corner of the yard. They sat by the herb garden. Joel kissed him eventually. Mrs P clapped her hands together and called out, ‘My baby!’
Lucas pulled away and hid his face, embarrassed. Joel was grinning.
‘It’s that bloody Kenny G,’ Mr P joked.
‘How long have they . . . ?’ Mrs P asked me quietly.
‘They’re relatively new,’ I answered.
‘Okay.’
As awkward as it was to sit in on what was essentially Mum’s first date with Shaun, it had been worth it to sit in on Lucas’s with Joel. Having to get up and walk, unassisted, in front of him had been a baptism by fire I hadn’t anticipated, but it worked out beautifully. When he was done, and Joel was still there, Lucas had nothing to fear. He was more like he was around me than I had ever seen him with somebody else. And I couldn’t help but feel quite chuffed with myself.
And theirs wasn’t the evening’s only successful match-up. Mum and Shaun were standing on the other side of the yard. He said something and she playfully pushed his chest. They both laughed.
Joel and Lucas had paired off, Mum and Shaun had paired off, and Damo had left to meet some mates at the Cross. I was alone with the Ps, who were snuggling.
I excused myself and escaped to Lucas’s bedroom.
Everything looked pretty good from his second-storey window.
Lucas came and found me after Joel left. For a while, we didn’t say anything.
Below us, Lucas’s dad was trying to clean the barbie and Mrs P was hugging him from behind, and Shaun was walking Mum around the patio he’d built, pointing out the finishes. She nodded enthusiastically.
I turned away and leaned against the sill. Hanging on the opposite wall, among the borrowed traffic signs, was an envelope. It was addressed to Mr A Tsiolkas.
I waited for it to bother me but it didn’t. It was just a stolen token to commemorate our Melbourne adventure.
‘Thanks,’ Lucas said eventually.
‘Don’t mention it.’
He produced a bottle of Coopers from nowhere and popped the cap off with the window sill.
‘Mad skills,’ I said.
‘I’m going to get you back, you know that, right?’
I knew Lucas well enough to expect that.
‘Bring it on.’
Shaun offered to give us a lift home. Mum resisted, but Mrs P insisted, and when Mrs P insisted, the battle was lost.
Mum didn’t say anything about the night until she’d seen Shaun take the first right turn off our street. ‘Well, that was unexpected.’
She pushed down on my shoulder with one hand and took her heels off with the other. She was instantly three inches shorter.
‘Good “unexpected” or bad “unexpected”?’ I asked as I followed her up to the house.
Mum hesitated. ‘Good “unexpected”. But I’m not going to see him again.’
‘Why not?’
‘It was fun, but no, he’s your friend’s uncle.’
‘So?’
Mum opened the door. ‘I won’t risk it.’ She turned back and kissed my cheek. ‘End of discussion. Goodnight.’
If Lucas was going to get me back for setting him up with Joel, I had to be ready.
He was going to surprise me with Hayley, that much was certain. But our situation wasn’t as clear-cut as theirs. He and Joel had both wanted something more than a fling, but I wasn’t sure what I wanted with Hayley.
Mr P said she could be one of three things: a girlfriend, a friend, or just a girl I used to know. I had to decide which.
I liked Hayley and I liked the idea of dating her, but I had fallen for her in a bubble. She had a kid from a previous relationship and I’d never even had a previous relationship. Even if Hayley didn’t expect me to help raise Rory, I would have to do my part to fill that space his father left. At seventeen, was I ready? Did I really want to? And after being so eager to date her before, did me asking those questions make me a terrible person?
I tried to tell myself that it was reasonable for me to dismiss my feelings for her, reasonable because she’d hidden Rory from me, reasonable because she was in a completely different stage of her life to me, but I couldn’t escape the reality.
She hadn’t changed. Hayley was still Hayley. She just had a slightly larger family.
If I decided to friendzone her, what then? Was I supposed to roll my pre-existing feelings for her into a ball and stuff them away somewhere dark, pretending they didn’t exist? And what if she met someone else? Was I supposed to shake his hand, introduce myself as her non-threatening male friend and watch him have everything I gave up on?
And then, there was the final option. The controversial ‘drop her’ option. Could I? And if I couldn’t handle the other options, did I really have a choice?
By the time Lucas exacted his matchmaking revenge on Sunday, I still hadn’t made a decision.
We were going to Brighton Le Sands for a mid-afternoon gelato, but after Mr P dropped us there, Lucas led me past Mama Crowley’s to Gazette. His brother had opened early. Through the front window, I could see one table had been made up at the front.
There was already someone sitting at it and it wasn’t Hayley.
‘Surprise,’ Lucas said.
‘Wait, what?’
‘What?’
‘That isn’t Hayley.’
‘I know, it’s Maria.’
She was sitting on a slight angle, looking out onto the street.
I tried not to move my lips when I asked, ‘Why isn’t it Hayley?’
‘I don’t know who Hayley is, remember? Never met her, don’t know her surname. But Maria Cheng, I know her name, I can stalk her online and get her to come to a restaurant.’ He turned to me. ‘What? You don’t like? I can send her home if you want. I’ll send her home.’
‘You can’t send her home.’
‘I’ll tell her you’re sick.’
‘She can see us.’
Maria waved uncertainly. I forced a smile.
‘Why her?’
‘You gave me a second chance at my first time,’ Lucas said. ‘I wanted to give you the same opportunity.’
‘But she doesn’t like me.’
‘My best friend’s first kiss was with a girl who ran away afterwards. I find that unacceptable. Whether she likes it or not, she is going to treat you like a human being and sit through a dinner with you.’ He pushed me towards the door. ‘In you go.’
Maria’s smile was slight. ‘Hi.’
She was sitting at the same table we had at Easter. I took my seat opposite her and glanced out the front window. Lucas was already gone.
‘Is that Bill?’ his older brother asked from the next room.
‘Yeah,’ I answered.
Damo emerged from the kitchen holding two plates. He placed one in front of me, ‘The bacon-cheese fries for the gentleman,’ he said, before placing the other in front of Maria, ‘and for the missus, I have the wild Fijian albacore sashimi with the pea tendril salad and the melon cilantro vinaigrette.’ He bowed slightly. ‘Bon appétit.’
He disappeared. After a moment, the mood music kicked in and the lights dimmed.
‘You have got to be kidding me,’ I muttered.
Maria listened carefully. ‘That’s Barry White, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, it is.’
‘Hm.’ She raised her eyebrows and reached for her pinot grigio. She took a long, long sip.
‘I had nothing to do with this, I swear,’ I said. ‘I’m really sorry.’
She waved her hand. ‘No, it’s fine,’ she said. ‘I didn’t handle last time as well as I could have. I should have been more mature.’
‘Lucas said that, didn’t he?’
‘Yes, he did.’
‘How did he even find you?’
‘I don’t think Maria Cheng is a very common name.’ She picked up her cutlery and started her meal.
Even looking at it, I still had no idea what it was.
I cleared my throat and grabbed a chip between two fingers. I pulled until the elastic band of melted cheese snapped. She cut a small piece of the wild Fijian whatever with a smooth swipe of her knife.
We ate quietly.
It was Easter all over again. For all intents and purposes, this was that first date, only properly catered. I should have felt something, but I didn’t.
She took a chip off my plate.
A couple of weeks ago, that would have driven me wild. But now? Nothing.
‘What happened at the Easter service?’ she asked.
I couldn’t believe she was dredging it up.
‘I kissed you and you ran away?’
‘No,’ she forced an awkward laugh, ‘when the priest called your name, what was that about?’
I’d forgotten she wasn’t there for the bit that came after the kiss.
‘Yiayia got sick. We had to take her to hospital. It was this whole thing.’
‘Oh, your poor yiayia!’
‘She’s fine, turned out it was a kidney stone and an infection. They had to operate and she lost part of her kidney, but she’s on the mend now,’ I said. ‘She just got out of hospital.’
‘That’s good to hear,’ she said.
‘How’s yours?’ I asked.
‘She,’ Maria chewed hard on her food and swallowed, ‘had a stroke. She died last week.’
I felt instantly heavier. Exhaling didn’t help.
‘I’m so sorry.’ It was all I could think to say.
That was why Maria had been at the hospital. It made sense now.
‘She never taught me how to make moussaka. Oh.’ Maria blinked up at the ceiling. ‘Yeah, this happens.’ She reached for her napkin and dabbed the corners of her eyes. ‘It’ll pass, I just . . .’ She was losing a fight with her eyes. She sniffled. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be,’ I said. ‘Is there anything I can do?’
She shook her head, but as soon as I had asked it, I’d realised there was.
‘What are you up to for the rest of the day?’
Peter answered the door. ‘Hey.’
The residual goodwill from Flippant hadn’t worn off. I was beginning to think it might actually be permanent.
He stepped back to let us both in.
‘Peter, this is Maria. Maria, this is my younger brother.’
‘Hi.’
‘Hello.’
I could smell frying mince. ‘Who’s cooking?’
‘Guess,’ Peter said.
I had called ahead to find out what we’d need to make moussaka. Yiayia had enough meat and the ingredients to prepare the bechamel. I told her not to start before we got there.
Yiayia was standing at the stove, casually stirring one of two pots. ‘Hello, darling.’
I placed the shopping bags down on the table. ‘I told you not to cook.’
‘I just get it ready.’
There was no use arguing, it was already done.
Yiayia rested the wooden spoon over the top of the pot and crossed the room. She embraced Maria. It was the sort of embrace only a grandmother could give and nothing needed to be said. Yiayia said something anyway.
‘The pain, it never go away.’ My grandmother’s was a well-meaning kind of insensitivity.
‘Yiayia!’ Peter and I said in unison.
‘What?’ she asked.
Maria pulled out of the hug. She was laughing.
‘Okay,’ Yiayia said, ‘we start?’
Maria nodded. She seemed a little overwhelmed.
I’d borrowed the idea from Lucas. Just as he’d lent me Mr P, I was lending her Yiayia Filyo.
‘You grab?’ my grandmother asked, pointing to the closest grocery bag.
Maria brought it over to Yiayia, who peered inside.
‘You buy too much,’ she told me.
‘Fine, make two,’ I said.
She reached in and produced two eggplants. ‘Another day.’
I stepped back to give them some space and Peter followed my example. I leaned against the brick archway that separated the kitchen from the living room.
Yiayia placed the eggplants on the chopping board and lightly pressed down on one of them with a knife, marking the first cut. She handed the knife over to Maria and with an encouraging, ‘You go,’ she set her to work.
My grandmother stayed close to her, making sure Maria started from that exact spot and cut evenly.
‘Thin!’
And thinly.
When the eggplants were sliced, it was on to the zucchini. Maria held the knife out to Yiayia, expecting her to mark the cut.
‘No, you go, darling,’ my grandmother said.
Maria’s hands had started shaking. It was only then that Yiayia Filyo realised Maria was crying.
‘Why you cry?’ she asked. ‘We cook moussaka. Moussaka happy.’
Maria laughed and blinked her tears back as she made the first slice.
‘Bah, too thick,’ Yiayia said.
Peter laughed. It was part way between an exhale and a cough and I loved hearing it.
The potatoes were peeled and cut into centimetre-wide slices. Maria was then led to the stove. Yiayia Filyo had a fondness for cooking with oil, so Maria was left to quietly observe while she sautéed the ingredients.
Then came the assembly. My grandmother brought the fried ingredients back over to the table, where she had a tray waiting.
‘I put eggplant in bottom of dish,’ Yiayia instructed, placing a layer of eggplants down. ‘After, we put jucchini.’
Yes, she said it with a ‘J’.
Layering the zucchini over the top, she adjusted the slices’ placement with her index finger. ‘After, we put potatoes.’ She added the potatoes on top of the vegetables. ‘Now, we put mince.’
Yiayia stepped back to the stove, to the pot of beef mince.
Maria looked up at me as Yiayia poured the mince out of the pot and over the potatoes. She mouthed, ‘Thank you.’
I nodded slowly.
My grandmother handed a fork to Maria and mimed a spreading motion. Maria mimicked it and flattened out the mince with the fork until only the larger slices of potato were visible.
‘Now, potato first.’
Yiayia watched as Maria laid out the potatoes.
‘Jucchini.’
Maria laid out the zucchini.
‘And then eggplant?’ Maria asked.
My grandmother nodded and Maria laid out the rest, until no mince or potato was visible. Yiayia flattened the layer of sautéed vegetables with her hands.
‘Now, the bechamel,’ she said, fetching the pot of cream-coloured sauce off the stove and pouring it evenly over the top until the entire contents of the tray disappeared.
‘And how did you make that?’ Mar
ia asked.
That was why I’d wanted Yiayia to wait until we’d arrived.
‘The bechamel, I put milk with . . . No, no milk. Flour with little bit butter and fried,’ she explained. ‘And after, put milk and flour and stir it and when finish it, I leave it to cold and make it . . . put eggs inside.’
‘And that’s it? We’re done?’
‘No,’ Yiayia said, lifting the tray. ‘Then, we eat. Most important part.’
Well, there was the whole waiting-for-it-to-cook part, which took forever, but yeah, then came the eating. It was strange, having a meal with Maria at my grandmother’s dining table.
I had already accepted that I would never see her again and yet there she was, eating with my family, listening as Yiayia rattled off stories of me as a child.
Afterwards, I walked her out to her car. She hugged me.
‘This is a less dramatic way to end things,’ she said.
‘We can’t really do the other way without a crowd,’ I said, glancing around, as if expecting one to materialise out of nowhere.
‘I’m glad your friend stalked me online. Today was nice. It was really nice.’
‘It was nothing.’
‘It was really something.’
She was standing close. A couple of weeks earlier, I would have leant in for a big kiss.
‘Well, drive safe,’ I said.
‘You too,’ she said, before she heard herself. ‘Wait, that made no sense.’
‘No, it did not.’
She opened her car door. ‘Do you even drive?’
I grimaced. ‘I have my Ls.’
She laughed. ‘Of course you do.’
I watched Maria drive off and I wasn’t sure I’d ever see her again. But I couldn’t complain about the way the day had unfolded. I messaged Lucas. Thanks.
His reply was instant. How was it? Is she your guuuuurlfriend?
No, she wasn’t. And she hadn’t been the girl I’d wanted to be waiting for me at Gazette either. Lucas had used his revenge matchmake on Maria, which meant if anything was going to happen with Hayley, it was up to me.
I started scrolling through my inbox until I arrived at the only message she had ever sent me. Sorry. It’s complicated.
Yes, it was. And I wanted to give it a shot. I wrote back. Hey, what are you up to tomorrow?
The First Third Page 16