by Nicki Reed
The last time I saw Damian, I was misbehaving in his office. I think I told him that he didn’t care. The best bosses are the ones who can move on. I’m going to try it myself; I’ll start by cutting my team some slack about missing office supplies.
‘I’m going to fill the bath to overflowing and dive right in,’ I say. ‘I haven’t felt secure enough in my own home to have a bath for months.’
‘Don’t drown.’
Damian comes up with the predictable goods. It was always going to be one or the other. Don’t drown, or is that what the smell is?
Mark calls at ten o’clock on the dot. Before he can say hello I get into it.
‘I spoke to Dr Himmel today. She’s says there’s nothing wrong and to make sure we’re rooting on the right day.’
‘That’s what she said?’ He laughs. ‘Rooting?’
‘Exactly.’ So great to hear him laugh. ‘Mark, about BJ...’
‘Rube, that was the worst sexual experience I have ever had. Including the time Wendy Wentworth and I were busted by her dad in the toilets at the train station. I didn’t have time to get my pants up and I nearly fell off the platform. So embarrassing.’
I said that every extra-marital affair needs a car. That’s true. And every young romance needs a decent, halfway-clean public toilet.
‘I’m sorry you had such a bad time, Mark.’ No, I’m not, I’m rapt. What if it had been the best sex of his life? What if it had opened a door to something he could never have again and would always hanker after? I’d know. And sooner or later, because I love him, I’d stand beside him, both of us knocking on BJ’s door.
‘Don’t be sorry,’ Mark says. ‘It was our stupid idea. Can I tell you what happened? Then I don’t want to talk about it ever again. Ever.’
‘Where was Peta?’
‘Shhh, let me talk.’
I lie back on the pillow and listen.
‘To answer your question, Peta was at work. I came round, because BJ texted that she was ready. Celeste was at Grandma’s and she said it’d be easier if we just did it.’
‘I wonder if that’s what she said to Peta that night?’
BJ and Peta got together because BJ accepted a lift home from Peta and, to thank for her kindness, BJ had sex with her on the couch. Peta’s had a thing for black leather ever since.
‘Maybe,’ Mark says. ‘Do you know how hard it is to get an erection when the person you’re supposed to have sex with is standing there tapping her watch?’
Doesn’t sound like a rhetorical question. ‘No, Mark, I don’t.’
‘I was trying to think about you, but there’s BJ on her knees in this oversize T-shirt, her head down, and I can’t see anything. It was a million, billion, miles away from what you and I have.’
We don’t mind it on our knees, we don’t mind it any which way, but we do like to see as much as we can. At least it was in her bed, not his, so he doesn’t have to remember it every time his head hits the pillow.
‘I’m sorry about how I reacted.’
‘Rube, I could have told you with more sensitivity. My fault. Anyhow, what if it works? That’s the objective, right?’
What if. Celeste would be the best big sister, she’s ace at saying NO and she likes to share. That’s a rare combination and I think she got it from me. That and her liking for chocolate mousse. I haven’t made chocolate mousse with her since last year. I miss my little step-girl. ‘Have you spoken to BJ?’
‘I texted her, said sorry about being such an idiot. She said it was okay, and remember, Peta is never to know.’
‘And now I know,’ I say. And so does Justine. But Jus is a vault. You can tell by looking at her that she won’t give your secrets away. It could be the glasses, or the earnest eyebrows.
‘And now we’ll both forget about it,’ Mark says. ‘On three. Ready? One, two, three.’
‘Do you ever see the Prime Minister when you’re in Canberra?’ I’m moving right along.
‘I have once or twice,’ Mark says. ‘I keep to the office usually. Hardly ever make it as far as Parliament House.’
‘Huh. I had a bath today.’
‘Tell me about it. Like, were you naked?’
37.
Justine’s article came out today and it’s a cracker. She spoke to our other unmarrying couples, except herself and Stuart, and there are photos of the flash mob and a screen shot of me on Make My Daybreak sitting on the couch like a decent, non-combative, caring person.
I catch up with Peta for a coffee at her local cafe, the boringly named Eastborough Road Latte. Celeste doesn’t care that I’m famous and keeps on with her chocolate ice-cream finger-painting. BJ would never let Celeste do that.
‘I think you’re being recognised.’ Peta nudges me in the side. ‘The woman with the undercut is watching you.’
I have a look in the reflection of the window. Yeah, she’s looking, but I don’t feel like engaging with my fans today. ‘She’s looking at you, Peta, because you have some of that chocolate on your nose. Doesn’t she, Celly?’
When you’re not the aunty-step-mother you can be a rat-fink to the biological one and drag her daughter along with you for the ride. Celeste gives me a big smile. God, I’ve missed her, it’s so lovely to see her smile. She has cute little white teeth and the dimples in her cheeks—from our side of the family—are heartbreaking.
‘I don’t have anything on my nose,’ Peta says.
‘Okay.’ I shrug.
My big sister is beautiful and the love she has for BJ is beautiful. I hope she never finds out about BJ and Mark. I can never stand to see her cry, and have always tipped into tears the second after she does. My bad poker face better hold up. Peta rubs her pretty nose and sees there’s nothing on her hand.
‘Ha!’
‘You are a child, Ruby.’
‘Fancy offending Celeste like that.’
Justine’s article includes the other point of view. But I don’t think it’s balanced, because I think the alternative is stupid. But I guess you can be a fine-ish person, supportive and caring, doing a terrific job like that nurse, Mrs Dean, and still be wrong.
After the article, unmarryme goes off.
‘We’ve been shared over eight thousand times, Ruby.’ Todd is round for dinner and a brainstorm.
‘That sounds good. Is that good?’
‘Why are you so dumb about Facebook, if you don’t mind me saying? It’s about the best tool we have. And it’s free. Yes, it’s a lot of shares.’
Todd doesn’t like green vegetables, and he likes every type of meat, except lamb. He’s not a carrot fan, either. Todd is going home hungry unless I can get some apple pie into him. If he tells me that he doesn’t like cooked fruit, that will be the end of the friendship.
‘I had to order another load of T-shirts, plus more stickers and badges. We were almost out anyway, only extra smalls left.’
It has been years since I wore anything extra small.
We’re planning the next event, an unmarryme breakfast, someplace, sometime not too long away. I haven’t dropped the hot-air balloon idea but it will be a lot of sold T-shirts and badges before we can afford it. Unless a sponsor comes our way soon. Somebody will bob up.
‘Did you make that yourself?’ Todd says. My apple pie, famous in three households across Melbourne. ‘Can I take any leftovers home with me?’
‘Of course.’
We eat in silence. I think we stormed our brains right out of our heads. I pack my good friend Todd off home with the rest of the pie.
As I clean up, I remind myself: ‘Sponsors don’t bob up, Ruby.’ Wash the dishes, dry the dishes, put the dishes away. ‘You don’t get money without asking—everyone at Poverty Project knows that.’
Next morning I’m washing my car, getting the pink paint off once and for all, when my phone rings. Still nervy about phone calls, I let it go. A minute later it rings again.
I wipe my hands on my jeans, check the screen. Todd. Todd is good, I like Todd, I will sp
eak to Todd.
‘What’s up?’ I sing down the phone.
‘Boy, you sound happy.’
You bet. My car’s almost clean. I just saw a guy ride past in an unmarryme T-shirt. And I’ve got a banana cake in the oven. ‘I am. Don’t you have anything other than unmarryme to do, Todd? We have got to get you a boyfriend. Somebody who can direct your interest to other areas.’ I nudge and wink in my head.
‘I don’t know how to talk to boys.’
‘The same way you talk to girls, Todd. With your beautiful face and hot body and gorgeous personality.’
‘Why Ms Wheeler, I’m blushing. Are you not coming on to me?’
‘Yes, I’m not. Anyhow, what’s going on?’
‘You want the good news or the not as good news but could be good news depending on your outlook?’
‘The second one. Hang on.’ I pour the bucket of water onto the grass, sling the sponges into it, and make sure the tap is turned off tight. ‘Okay. Shoot.’
‘Make My Daybreak want you back.’
Water trickles into the gutter.
‘Why? Have they run out of people to beat up? I’m not going anywhere near that place.’
‘But unmarryme needs it,’ he says. ‘And it won’t be just you this time. I’ll be there, and Mum and Dad, and the other unmarryme dudes.’
‘Go without me.’ I lean on my freshly washed car. ‘Say I fell off a ladder or that I’ve got a flesh-eating disease. You know as much about unmarryme as I do, you’d do a good job. Plus, I think Kelly likes you.’
‘He doesn’t. Ruby, you’re the star, they want you.’
God, it’s what Peta said the day of the food fight. I didn’t know unmarryme was going to do this; I wanted profile for the cause, not me. Freedom fighters want to fight in freedom. ‘Explaining marriage equality to obtuse dickheads who don’t want to get it is no fun at all,’ I say.
‘I understand, but repetition might help it sink in. Anyway, they want an answer by tomorrow morning and they appreciate you might be reluctant.’
Colour me reluctant with a capital R. ‘I want to talk to Mark about it. I don’t suppose it needs saying, but this stuff, TV, YouTube, if it goes badly, it can hurt everyone.’
‘Everyone else is onboard if you are.’
‘Todd, are you guilt-tripping me? Don’t bother. I’ve got enough to think about without being emotionally blackmailed.’ I don’t go on guilt trips, never have, that’s Peta’s ride.
‘Ruby, I meant we’ve got it sorted, we’re good to go, people can be there if you want them to.’
‘I’m sorry, Todd. Last time they had that Hunter woman...’
‘Well, we know who came off better, don’t we? She’s gone quiet. We don’t have any skeletons in our closets. Do we?’
‘I don’t. But Todd, they might out you.’ I collect the bucket and the sponges and look back at my car: no pink paint and an unmarryme sticker on the rear window. Job done.
‘I’m ready,’ Todd says. ‘But it’s not about sexual orientation, it’s about love and marriage.’ Everyone speaks about this better than I do.
‘I’ll talk to Mark. If he says to do it, I’ll do it.’
‘I can’t ask for more than that, Ruby. Thank you.’
‘Hey, before you go, what was the good news?’
‘The spot is for Tuesday.’
I hate Tuesdays. ‘My idea of good news is a bit different from yours, Todd.’
Watching movies with your beloved isn’t the same in different beds in different houses, but it’s not without its upside. I can eat whatever I like in bed and Mark can fart to his bum’s delight.
‘I heard that one, Mark.’
‘What?’
‘You farted.’
‘I didn’t. It was an artillery shell.’
We’re watching Saving Private Ryan. Nearly three hours of tanks rolling through smashed European cities, blood, death and a tearful mother awaiting news. Mark’s pick. He doesn’t know it yet, but tomorrow night he’s watching How to Make an American Quilt.
‘Mark, they’ve asked us back on Make My Daybreak. All of unmarryme. Todd’s got everyone ready to go, but I don’t know.’
‘What’s the fear here, Rube?’ He cuts to the chase and I like that in a man with such great shoulders.
‘If it gets personal like last time, I might lose my shit. I reckon I’m about six inches from the end of my rope.’ It would be a blue and yellow nylon rope and I would be wearing leather gloves, but friction burns don’t matter if there’s nothing left to hang on to.
‘It’s terrific exposure. Aren’t you feeling good about unmarryme? What you’ve achieved?’
I correct him. ‘We’ve achieved.’ Then I ask, ‘What have we achieved?’
‘We’ve brought new attention to the marriage-equality debate. If it happened in our lifetime it was always going to be a bonus. I’ll come with you.’
‘You will?’
‘Sure.’
‘What about work?’
‘I told them,’ Mark says. ‘Too may people were asking why I suddenly had a bug up my arse.’
‘Boydy, it’s such a fine arse to have a bug up.’
‘Shhh. I got some raised eyebrows but I think people respect what we’re doing. Besides, I haven’t done anything unlawful.’ Wouldn’t want to do anything against the Law.
‘And you’ll take time off for little ol’ me?’ I say. ‘I’ll let Todd know we’re in then.’
‘Are you eating?’
‘Skittles and Smarties.’ There’s a rainbow of chocolate and sugar in the bowl balanced on my knees. War movies and junk food go together like Mark Boyd and me.
‘Disgusting.’
‘It’s all about the ratio. You’ve got to do seven Smarties to two Skittles.’
‘Rube, don’t be upset when I tell you that I believe this is the longest and hardest you ever thought about anything.’
‘I’m not upset, Boydy. Perfection takes time. Do you think Private Ryan will make it back?’
‘Speaking of going back. How are you feeling about work tomorrow? It could be a big day, what with the Cassandra thing and your gala.’
‘I’m more worried about Charlene Hunter. She’s a mole.’
Mark laughs his head off, ‘Mole. I don’t think I’ve heard that since the famous Blacky High Locker Bay Brawl of ’89.’
When he laughs like that I want him badly. ‘You like that one, huh? I have others. Anyway, as far as work goes, I’ll try to get the gala back on track, no idea how, and Cassandra will be out of my hands. I’m learning, Mark. I’m learning to stop trying to run things. Tomorrow will be what it will be and sweating about it won’t help.’
‘Who are you?’ he says. ‘And what have you done with my wife?’
38.
The champ is here. The champ is here. The champ is here. Maria has dug up a sound bite from some movie. From the iPod docking station on her desk, it plays over and over, drums and all.
I switch it off. I feel different even though everything’s the same. My team, my office, my view. There are taxis blocking the one-way street, yellow, yellow, yellow, on wet asphalt. Yep, it’s the same but I’m not. ‘Thanks, Mars, but I’m trying to keep a low profile.’ If everything the same is a comfort, I should be fine: I’ve got Maria and her notepad, and the fact that I’ve never beaten her to work and I didn’t today. ‘You know, get into work and get things happening, same as always.’
‘It’s not going to happen, Ruby. Everyone knows about Cassandra.’
‘They didn’t hear it from me.’ I haul out my stapler and plonk it on the desk. Home.
‘They heard it from Damian, who came down and spoke to everyone on Friday afternoon,’ Maria says, taking my coat and hanging it up for me.
‘And?’
‘Damian said she elected to leave. That’s about as obvious as “helping police with their enquiries”. Megatron got the chop. And it was the best thing because, I tell you, there would have been a walkout had she be
en allowed to stay. She reckoned she was leaving anyway; she has travel plans, he said.’
‘Well, I hope she remembers her day in court when she’s booking her tickets.’ I also hope a shark eats her but I don’t say that. I sit in my chair. I have missed it. I lean on my desk. I missed you, too, old thing. ‘This is my place, Mars. My desk and wherever Mark is.’
‘On that note, Damian wants to see you at nine, you have an accreditation phone conference at eleven, and a working lunch with the bank at, well, lunchtime. Can you bring me back one of those little chicken sandwiches? And at two-thirty you have a phoner with Elizabeth.’
‘Brutal Betty is back?’
‘On the phone, at least.’
It would be too much to hope for. I remember last night’s talk with Mark, how I was going to make changes in my attitude. Hoping is about the same as sweating: it sounds more positive, but it’s still a type of worry. I’m not going to sweat the gala and I’m not going to pin my mood on hope.
‘We’ll see what happens,’ I say. I turn my computer on. Love that screen firing up.
‘It’s good to see you, boss.’ Mars gives my shoulder a squeeze.
‘Good to see you, Mars. I’ll bring you two of those sandwiches if you can find out who nicked my mouse pad.’
Damian is at his desk, a good sign, and there is a pack of unmarryme T-shirts on the sofa, a bloody good sign. I slide the door closed and take the seat opposite him.
He’s got one of those ball-swing corporate toys on his desk and I can never resist playing with it. I’m surprised he hasn’t put it away. On most of my visits he manages the metal clacking-clacking for about a minute before he holds his hand out: ‘I’ll have that.’
But today the box on the sofa distracts me and I leave Damian’s balls alone. ‘So, what’s with the T-shirts?’
‘Good morning to you, too, Ruby.’ He smiles. ‘We made a small change to the T-shirt design. Check me out.’ Damian stands up. He loosens his tie, unbuttons his shirt at the top, and there’s a flash of pink T-shirt. He takes his tie off, removes his jacket, hangs it on the back of his chair, and pulls his shirt over his head. When he gets to his wrists he stops.