I know exactly where to find Sophia, even though she thinks I don’t know her little secret. She is so predictable. She’s in the alleyway behind the reception centre. As soon as she hears someone approaching she butts the cigarette out, hoping that no one saw it. As if they wouldn’t be able to smell it anyway.
‘You didn’t have to waste it, Soph.’ I’ve known you smoke since we were fifteen.’ I still can’t figure out why I never used this little bit of information for my benefit. I have had so many opportunities. Probably because somehow she would have made it look like it was all my fault.
‘What do you want?’ There is so much poison in her voice. I can’t believe how much she hates me. ‘Come to gloat about your perfect life?’ Since when do I have a perfect life? You know, she’s not the first person to make that comment and it’s getting pretty boring. And since when has Sophia not gotten everything that she has ever wanted?
‘Peace offering,’ I say as I hold out my packet of cigarettes, inviting her to replace the one she lost when I snuck up on her. I can’t believe she is hesitating about taking one. What? Does she think I’ve laced it with something?
‘Will you relax? I told you, Soph, I’ve known all along. You used to hide your smokes underneath a loose weatherboard behind your parents’ bungalow.’ I don’t think I need to let her know that I used to help myself when I ran out of smokes and was desperate for a sneaky ciggie while I was suffering at her place. She finally relents and takes a smoke, lighting it up with a deep drag. I guess she feels pretty safe in the knowledge that I’m not going to run and tell her mother, given that I haven’t in all these years. What would be the point now anyway? She’s a married woman; she can do whatever the hell she wants and doesn’t need her mother’s permission.
‘So what do you want? Why aren’t you inside basking in the glory of your perfect life?’ She’s starting to sound like a broken record. And just what do I hope to achieve by chasing her out here? A moratorium? A cease fire?
An artillery exchange program? We both have plenty of ammunition we can use.
‘Soph, I just want the bullshit to stop. I don’t want to be friends …’ That is just too scary to even contemplate, ‘… but I don’t want to have to fight the urge to sidekick you to the head every time we are in the same room. No offence, but I’m over that shit.’ And I’m not going to sit here and highlight to Sophia how my life has been far from perfect. Although I have to admit it’s gotten pretty damn good since I met Chris. But Sophia has no right to begrudge me my happiness. I’ve earned it.
‘And I don’t want to have to hear about what a success you are every time we’re in the same room. All I fucking here is “Desi this, Desi that”. No offence, but I’m over that shit.’
Hello? My whole life all I’ve heard is how wonderful Sophia is; what a good girl she is; how she never causes her mother any heartache; how she’s been a domestic goddess since she could bloody walk. Growing up, my mother constantly asked me why I couldn’t be more like her.
‘Soph, you’re dreaming.’ That explains it. Or she’s delusional. ‘All I ever hear is why I can’t be more like you. So if anyone should be upset, it should be me.’
Oh my God, the light has gone on and there is finally someone home upstairs. I get it now. Sophia must have copped the same shit that I did but in reverse. Our mothers have a lot of explaining to do.
‘All my life, Des, you were better. I’d come home with a B on a school project but that wasn’t good enough cause you got an A.’ Okay, so I got good grades, even though I spent most of my time in detention for some reason or another. ‘I got chosen for the school band, but you were the lead in the school play; you had friends, you were popular and you played sports. You were better at everything and I got sick of hearing it.’
So she decided that she would make herself appear better than me. She played the bloody trumpet at school for God’s sake; it’s hard to compare blowing hot air to getting to play Oedipus’s mother in the school play. Unlike normal school, we couldn’t do Romeo and Juliet; we were a wog school – St John’s Greek Orthodox College, a private school for all the good Greek children of Melbourne –so we had to put on Oedipus. She chose to take home economics and eat all the class subject matter instead of playing sports. That had nothing to do with me.
‘So you decided to make my life miserable cause you couldn’t compete with me?’ I cannot believe that she’s been jealous of me this whole time. This is priceless. I can’t wait to tell Chris. ‘You would get me into trouble every chance you got!’ And me being the idiot that I am, gave her plenty of opportunity. ‘All so you could look better than me. I bet you even got married to make sure it happened before me. You wouldn’t have survived if I got married before you.’ Given the look of horror on Sophia’s face, I think I’ve hit the nail on the head. I can’t believe that she would go to such lengths to out-do me. ‘Oh, Soph, that’s sad, even for you.’
‘You weren’t going to win that one, Desi. Not a chance. Now if anyone is stupid enough to marry you, you’ll be following my good example.’ This chick is crazy.
‘I’m not competing with you Sophia. My love life is not open for competition.’
‘But I beat you. For once I beat, you Desi. I came up winner.’ This conversation is going around in circles and I am not achieving anything. Although I’m still trying to figure out just what I am trying to achieve.
‘Well, I hope you’re happy. You won, Soph. You got married before me, and you made all the wogs wonder what the hell is wrong with me because I’m not married. Was it worth it? You’ve married someone you don’t love just so you can one-up me. At least I know if Chris and I decide to get married, the only reason we’d do it is because we want to and it will have nothing to do with anyone else.’
‘It works for me. Besides, Spiro and I care about each other enough. Just because we aren’t all over each other doesn’t mean we don’t care.’
I actually feel very sorry for her. She’s married to a man who wouldn’t take her onto the dance floor for one simple dance tonight, who likes her but doesn’t love her, who sees her as a cash cow given that her father bought them a house and set him up in a business. I don’t need to torment Sophia anymore. Her life will do that plenty.
‘That’s great, Soph. You have everything you’ve ever wanted, so now you can just stay out of my life. Like I said, I don’t want it to turn into a battle every time we’re in the same room. You’ve won. You beat me. So let it go because if you try to screw with me, or my relationship, you’ll regret it.’
‘I’ll have won as soon as I have a baby before you. Spiro and I have already started trying. So I’ll have my family before you have yours.’
I give up. There is absolutely no getting through to her. I pity any children she produces. I know one thing for sure – if I ever have children they won’t be hanging out with any of Sophia’s offspring.
‘You were amazing tonight. No one other than Sophia fazed you.’ She didn’t faze me; she just severely pissed me off. There’s a difference. ‘And no one could keep their eyes off us all night.’ Hmm, yum, I love it when Chris kisses my neck. Maybe we should stop talking now. ‘Mmm, that’s because they were laying bets on how long we’ll last. Hey, babe, you’ve got a message on your machine.’
‘Ignore it, I’ll check it later.’
‘I can’t focus with the bloody light blinking. It’s annoying. Besides, it will only take a second to check it and then there will be no distractions.’
Famous last words.
‘Hey stranger. Remember me? Call me.’
Sexy female voice. Obviously not a stranger. I think there is going to be a distraction. Especially given how fast Chris just hit the delete button and how the colour drained from his face in an instant. I have never known anyone with olive skin to turn almost albino in a matter of seconds.
‘Something you want to tell me?’ Like just who the hell is leaving a seductive message on his answering machine in the middle of the night
when he is well and truly spoken for?
‘Probably a wrong number.’
It would want to be. But why did he say probably? Does that mean he’s not sure? Does he know who the message is from? Or am I being ridiculously paranoid? ‘Come back to bed, gorgeous.’
I’m just being silly. It’s a coincidence. It has nothing to do with the mysterious Danielle and that note I found ages ago. It just can’t. But I can’t question Chris about it because, despite everything, he still does not know that I found that note and it’s too late to tell him about it now. I’m just being paranoid for nothing. It’s just a wrong number.
----------21----------
I hate being kept in the dark. Chris knows I don’t do the whole surprise thing. Besides, it’s just my birthday. It’s not even a momentous birthday. Twenty-nine is kind of a nothing age – a non-event – not like twenty-one, thirty or forty. So there is no cause for this whole mystery thing that Chris is doing. I know it’s the first time we will celebrate my birthday together but this is ridiculous
‘Come on, Chris, tell me where we’re going.’ I wonder if he can hear me pouting through the phone. I so did not do the whole cloak and dagger secrecy thing with Chris’s birthday. He knew all about it. But then again, I suck at keeping secrets so there was no point in my even trying.
‘Patience is a virtue, Des’. In the eight months we’ve been together, what could have possibly indicated to Chris that I am a patient person and that such a cliché would even come close to working with me? ‘Just be ready at four on the dot.’ Four? Okay, my boyfriend has taken complete leave of his senses. Who goes out at four in the afternoon?
‘Chris, that’s not fair.’
‘Stop being a sooky la-la, Des. Get over it and get ready.’ How the hell am I supposed to do that when I don’t know where w’re going?
‘Can you give me a hint then, so I know how to dress?’ Good approach. What if I dress in beachwear and the occasion calls for formal wear? A girl needs to know these things.
‘Don’t stress about silly things like that. Have a soak in the tub and the answer will come to you.’ What sort of an answer is that? That’s it, I’m just going to greet Chris in my bra and undies. Actually, Chris may like that but with my parents and grandmother at home, it may not be one of my brightest ideas to date.
‘Chris …’
‘Gotta go, honey. Love you. Be ready at four.’ Click. What the? I can’t believe he hung up on me. I’ll show him. I’ll be in cut-offs and a tank top when he gets here. Or I’ll be in my daggy, tacky bathrobe. I need to soak in the tub to figure this out.
‘Despina, hurry up. Get out of bath.’ Where the hell is the fire? Why did my mother deem it necessary to snap me out of my fantasy? I was in the tub, Chris was in the tub. There were bubbles and soap everywhere. Chris was scrubbing my front, he was scrubbing my back. I must have been filthy cause Chris was scrubbing me everywhere. And that is the exact moment my mother decides to start pounding down the door.
‘Hurry up, Despina. Something here for you.’
‘Jeez, Ma, I’m coming.’ Quick pat dry, robe on, undies will have to wait.
‘Come, Despina. Hurry.’ This better be good. Where on earth has she rushed to after hurrying me out of the bathroom? What are she and Yiayia doing in my bedroom? And where did Effie come from? She wasn’t here when I went into the tub.
‘What’s going on?’
‘Look, Desi mou.’ What is my mother pointing at? That was definitely not there before. I would not miss a purple gift box and a dozen purple roses sitting on my bed. No wonder my mother rushed my out of the tub. Happy birthday to me. Something tells me I am not going to be disappointed tonight.
‘Where did that come from? These three look way too satisfied with themselves. Like they know something I don’t know.
‘No idea, Des. I met the delivery man at the door when I got here about fifteen minutes ago.’ Yeah, sure. How convenient that my sister showed up just at the moment the delivery man did. She couldn’t have planned it better if she had tried. And why did my mother wait fifteen minutes to call me. ‘What do you think it is?’ Only one way to find out.
I don’t think my mother and sister have ever seen me attack a gift box with such gusto before. Ribbon off, lid open. Oh my God. He’s even wrapped it all in lilac tissue paper. Chris has really gone all out with this. He’s even included a note: Desi, I know you have a million questions but there is only one answer. All will be revealed tonight. And here’s a little something to point you in the right direction of what you should wear tonight. Happy Birthday, baby … I love you … Chris. XXX.
Holy cow! My baby knows how to shop, but he’s not this good. He must have had help with this one, but what’s the bet no one here is going to fess up to it. It’s beautiful, it’s amazing. And it’s my size. This is the ultimate little black dress – will definitely need a G-string. Hope they’re not in the wash. Jeez, there’s more – matching shoes and an evening bag! I feel like Cinderella, but if any fairy godmother tries to impose a curfew I will shove her magic wand up her magic arse.
‘Oh, dear God. Thank you.’ Why is Yiayia praying to God? ‘Beautiful. Tonight special, eh?’ What is she hinting at? Does she know something I don’t?
‘It’s just my birthday, Yiayia. No big deal.’ I am just going to enjoy this and go with the flow. No expectations. This is already more than I could ever expect. Chris has always been more that I ever dreamt about.
Mum is practically jumping up and down with excitement. ‘I help you get ready. I do your hair for you. Effie do your make-ups.’ Huh? This is starting to freak me out.
‘Relax, Ma. It’s not like she’s getting ready to march me down the aisle or something.’
‘I come back. Do your hairs, okay.’ No point in arguing, her mind is made-up.
Two hours later and I’m ready. Effie made me sit still while she did my make-up. I have to admit, it was kind of nice. We didn’t do this sort of thing when I was a teenager and started wearing make-up. Effie was older and was too busy being pushed into a union with sleazeball Andreas.
Mum’s done a fantastic job with my hair. Straighter than straight and silky smooth. And she didn’t cheat and use a straightening iron. If I had known she was this good I could have saved myself a fortune on hairdressers.
‘Ma, Ef, do you guys know what’s going on? What’s Chris got planned for tonight? You have to tell me.’
‘No idea.’ That answer was too rehearsed, too choreographed. They bloody answered at the same time.
‘Yiayia?’ Why am I even wasting my breath? She’s the craftiest of us all.
‘No.’
Chris has got them trained so well. Ding dong. He must be here. Okay, let the fun begin.
‘Hi.’ He looks amazing. Talk about going all out for tonight. New suit, new tie. My favourite aftershave.
‘Wow. You look amazing. Nice dress.’ He’s so cute.
‘What? This old thing? Just something lying around my bedroom.’ I feel like a million bucks. If this is a fantasy, my mother better not wake me up again.
‘You ready to go?’ I think so. I don’t even care where we end up. This has already been the best night of my life. I think twenty-nine is going to be a very good year.
‘You tell me. I’m in your hands.’ Totally, utterly and completely.
Where the hell are we going? I can’t believe he’s doing this to me. That’s it, I’m going to be in a fowl mood all night. He’s blindfolded me. I can’t believe Chris actually has me sitting in his car wearing a blindfold. I am not impressed. Just because he got me this gorgeous dress and these amazing shoes does not mean that he can keep me in the dark. Literally in the dark. Maybe I should fake an attack of car sickness so he can stop the car and he will have to take the blindfold off. At least that way I can try figure out where we are heading.
‘Chris, I feel sick.’ Boy this better be convincing. ‘I think I’m going to throw up.’
‘No you’re not.’ I can’t b
elieve how calm he is at the prospect of me throwing up in his car. ‘You’ve never had motion sickness in your life. You’re not going to develop it now.’ Damn, I’ve got to work harder to get one over on him. ‘Besides, we’re almost there.’ Where? I wish he would turn the stereo off so I can at least hear what is going on around me. Hang on, we’re slowing down … we’re pulling over … We’ve stopped. Radio is off. Shit it’s loud. I know where we are! Why has he bought me here?
‘Why are we at the airport?’
‘Don’t ask questions.’ Obviously we’re going somewhere. It doesn’t take a genius to figure that out. Perhaps now that the destination of the drive is revealed, Chris wouldn’t mind giving me back the power of sight?
‘Can we kill the blindfold now then? It’s not doing wonders for my hair.’ I can see – it’s a miracle. ‘Thank you.’ Now if only Chris would tell me why we are here and where we are going.
Oh my God. I can’t believe he’s doing this. The bloody blindfold is on again. God, as soon as we got to the electronic check-in station he put the cloth over my eyes again. Am I the only person in this whole airport who thinks this is just a little bit strange? There must be hundreds of people in the terminal and not one person thinks it’s strange that there is a blindfolded woman at the ticket counter? I mean, hello, doesn’t it kind of look like he is taking me somewhere against my will?
Holy cow. I can’t believe where we are – on the Gold Coast at the Palazzo Versace. I knew we were coming to Queensland when we boarded the plane – business class no less. Chris let me out of the darkness at the boarding gate. I guess it would have been a tad awkward to go through with the blindfold.
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