by Anita Heiss
His thin lips and narrowly-placed eyes began to look attractive across the table. And I liked his laugh. But I wasn’t going to like him. I didn’t want to like him. I could still feel the humiliation of Ames’ infidelity every time I thought about it. And the disappointment, the pain of the disappointment. There was no way I could like Jake. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.
He finally broke the silence. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you.’
‘It’s all good.’
I wasn’t going to tell him of my disasters back home, or walking in to find Ames in the bath with a skeleton. I didn’t want to keep talking about his relationship either, but curiosity got the better of me. I wanted to know how men simply moved on from one woman to the next.
‘Do you still talk? To your ex?’
‘She sends the odd email and by that I mean “odd”.’ He shook his head. ‘She talks about dreams for her yoga retreat and the next festival she’ll attend to network, but she still hasn’t done much more than that. There’s been opportunities for her to do so, and in hindsight I think I was the goose that made her life too easy, which enabled her to be lazy and just fluff around. It’s funny what we realise when the love-goggles are off.
‘Tell me about it!’ I raised my glass in the air.
‘Libby, can I ask you to keep this conversation between us? No-one knew me when I arrived so I didn’t have to answer questions about my marriage and so forth. And although I’ve just blabbered on to you, I’d rather keep my private life private. Especially in the diplomatic world. Anyway, there’s far more interesting things to talk about than my disastrous love-life.’
‘Oh, I don’t know, I think there might be a musical in that story somewhere.’ It was getting easier to share with Jake as we relaxed with coffees.
‘Just sitting here with you …’ Jake smiled. ‘I actually miss just sitting and yarning with Blackfellas about anything. We have artists and academics pass through but it’s fleeting and discussions are usually short and always about work and community politics back home and …’
‘And what?’
He gave me a look that made me feel uneasy. ‘None of them are anywhere near as pretty as you are.’
My mouth opened in utter disbelief and I put my hand up in the STOP pose. ‘Hang on, you’ve just been raving about the love of your life for the past half-hour, it’s not really timely for you to be trying to flatter another woman.’
I couldn’t believe how men would have a crack any chance they got. Jake was just as sleazy as I thought he was the first night we met.
‘She wasn’t the love of my life,’ he said defensively.
I raised my eyebrows. ‘I think my friends back home might argue that with you.’
‘Fine, I’ll argue it.’ He sounded angry. ‘The one lesson I learned from that experience was that your soul mate or the love of your life is the one who feels the same way about you. She wasn’t either of those. Granted, she was the woman I loved for a lot of my life. I’ve never loved another one. But I tell you what, if you haven’t noticed it, Paris is the perfect place to start believing in love again.’
Of course I had noticed it. It ended up causing me heartache with Ames.
‘As long as you don’t want monogamous love,’ I said sarcastically. ‘Is anyone faithful here?’
‘I’d be faithful,’ he said, as if I had accused him.
‘I was talking about the French, Jake,’ I snapped. ‘I wasn’t hitting on you if that’s what you were thinking. There would be so many things wrong with that, if I was. I wasn’t.’
‘Geez, you know how to wound a man, thanks.’ Jake feigned being shot in the heart. ‘But that aside, what things would be wrong exactly?’
‘You’re my boss, for starters. I thought this was just two Blackfellas having dinner like we should’ve done as soon as I arrived but neither of us coordinated it. Secondly, aren’t there protocols for social behaviour in your job? And finally, and most importantly, it’s clear you’re still in love with whatever her name is.’
I sounded like I was a little jealous, but I wasn’t, I was more annoyed at how stupid men were most of the time.
‘To respond to your accusations or whatever they are,’ Jake said in his diplomatic voice. ‘Firstly, I am not your “boss” as such, Judith is your boss. Secondly, this is a dinner between Blackfellas and yes we should’ve done it earlier but to be completely honest, I was so nervous about you I couldn’t organise it after I sent that text message. I thought you’d think I was a lunatic. And this dinner, well, I kind of planned it, hoping you would join me this evening.’
I was shocked and must have looked it.
‘That’s right. I asked Judith to make sure you knew about the drinks event so that I could see you there – I didn’t tell her that of course. Judith has worked with me since I arrived. She probably thinks I’m asexual, she’s never seen me with anyone, and would never ask. She’s a consummate professional, that’s why I like working with her.’
I just sat listening, fury building up at his sleaziness.
‘I come here quite a bit, so it was easy to have a table on hold for me tonight. I hoped that you would have dinner with me.’
Could this guy get any more arrogant? Who did he think he was, aside from being the first secretary? He was just another fella from NSW. Bazza would put him on his arse in two seconds flat if he had too many assumptions or expectations of me. And then I reminded myself that no man in the history of men in my life had ever pre-booked a table in the hope of eating with me. Still, that hardly made up for the presumptuousness.
He wasn’t finished. ‘And thank you for being concerned about my ability to adhere to policies of behaviour in my position. I am aware of my professional responsibilities and how to behave in my role but, for godsake, and this might surprise you, even I am allowed to have a private life. Having dinner with you is included in that.’
He took a breath as I felt appropriately chastised and, against my better judgement, mildly impressed by his diplomatic tone and mature outlook.
‘Finally, I am not still in love with her. I did love her. Past tense. There’s no need for me to be anything but honest with you. She was my first love. She’s the only woman I’ve ever loved. And quite frankly, with such heartache it was hard to imagine I’d ever be swept away again. And then I saw you outside Nomad’s after Terri Janke’s launch and I was immediately captivated. But you never gave me the chance to even talk to you.’
‘I thought maybe you’d had too much to drink,’ I said flippantly.
‘I’d had three wines all evening, Libby, so I wasn’t drunk.’ He stared into my eyes. ‘I know everyone thinks diplomats are notorious drunks, and contrary to what you’ve seen here tonight, I’m not one of them. And I certainly wasn’t drunk when I woke up the next morning and you were the first thing on my mind. I haven’t been drunk every day since, when I’ve wanted to see you and speak to you.’
‘So you created the job to keep me here?’ I was beginning to think Jake had used his power and position to do something completely unethical and it made me feel incredibly uneasy.
He shook his head. ‘No, I didn’t. The position was in the pipeline long before you even arrived in Paris. It was only finalised weeks ago, as you know. And I didn’t even put your name up for it. Your boss Emma did. There was some headhunting done and some proposals put up, and that’s how you got the job. I really had no say in it.’
‘Fair enough.’ I was glad he hadn’t been involved, and yet strangely disappointed at the same time.
‘It just felt like the universe was finally on my side. You mightn’t agree, but she can be a bitch sometimes.’
I couldn’t believe that Jake thought the same way. All I could say was, ‘Yes, she can.’
‘The truth is, Libby, that I’ve stood back these past months and just followed your work at the musée from a distance.’
This guy really is a stalker!
‘And I’ve heard nothing
but good reports this past week about people you’ve dealt with and it’s not that I’m watching your every move, because I’m not. God knows I haven’t got time.’
Of course he’s not a stalker, he’s the first secretary.
‘But what I like about you, Libby, aside from your eyes and your hair and the way you walk, is that you’re a doer. You get things done. You’re young and passionate and an inspiration to other Black women. That’s the kind of woman I want on my team, and in my life.’ He blushed as much as a Blackfella could blush. ‘You know what I mean.’
‘So that’s it then?’ I wasn’t quite sure what else I expected him to say but I didn’t have anything else to contribute and I was torn between his sleaziness and his extreme attractiveness in being a Black diplomat who was impressed with my own work ethic. I needed to sober up fast.
‘No, that’s not it. I think you’re gorgeous and I like that about you also. But mostly I find you have a positive energy that’s infectious. I feel like I want to smile around you. There are few people in life who touch us so deeply, so quickly. I know I hardly know you, but you’ve done it.’
At that point I thought he was a complete crackpot. Why was he telling me all this stuff? He had to be more drunk than I was. I had to get out of there, but before I could get the message from my brain to my body to move, he put his hand on mine.
I felt a bolt of electricity go through me, right up my arms and into my belly and down to my loins. It took my breath away but I didn’t want it to. Not after everything I’d been through. I’d been cheated on and lied to and disappointed and now this thin-lipped, titanium-framed, curly haired bloke from Deniliquin was making me want to feel from the heart again.
But I liked his hand on mine. It felt right. Perhaps Jake was correct about the universe leading us to this city. But the whole underdeveloped notion went against my plan for Paris – if indeed I were to meet a man, he was supposed to be exotically European: a bum-pinching Italian, a salsa-ing Spaniard, a flirtatious Frenchman. Not a Blackfella from Deniliquin.
I needed to get back to my flat and make a list: pros and cons. My lists always gave me the answers, clarified the situation. At the top of my cons list was the fact that Jake appeared to be an emotionally unbalanced man having just passed a whole heap of very intimate information onto a woman on a not first date. If a man falls for a woman that quickly, he’s likely to fall out of love quickly as well. I was really starting to freak out at his behaviour.
‘I have to go,’ I said.
‘I’ll walk you to a cab.’
As he stood and turned to take his coat from the maître d’, I finally knew what Canelle meant about his nice arse. For a fleeting moment, I imagined him naked: the broad-shouldered, thin-lipped, taut-bummed Mr Universe from Deniliquin.
I’d had too much to drink and followed him carefully to the front of the restaurant and onto the street. The night air was cold and hit my face hard enough to sober me slightly, for which I was glad. I needed my wits about me. Jake mightn’t be my boss, but he was Judith’s and I needed to keep focused on the job and not add any unnecessary hurdles.
Jake fidgeted with keys and looked at the footpath while I looked to the street for a cab.
He moved closer to me, then said, ‘I’m a little embarrassed now, Libby, and I’m sorry for putting you on the spot like that. But I know what I feel inside. I’ve only felt it once before, and I know enough from my experience that it’s best to be honest and straightforward up-front.’
I felt sorry for Jake, and I didn’t want it to be awkward between us at the embassy, so I just said, ‘Don’t be embarrassed. I’m flattered, but I really don’t want to start something. We have to work together.’
He put his hands around my waist and laughed softly. ‘God, you make it sound like we have to abide by a code of ethics to have a drink. I can’t control my heart, Libby. Maybe you can.’
My own heart raced as he pulled me towards him. He didn’t say anything. I didn’t say anything. We just stood pinned to each other.
I could feel the muscles in his torso through his shirt. They felt the way I’d imagined every fireman’s in every calendar I had ever bought would feel. I tried to ignore his hardness that made me weak, or his heartbeat that caused my own to race.
Time seemed to stand still as he leant in closer and I reluctantly met him halfway. He kissed me softly, warmly and he tasted sweet after the dessert wine. My head began to spin with desire and I wanted to pull him even closer. Even though I still wanted his thin lips on mine, I pushed him away.
I was determined but inwardly disappointed, because on paper he was almost perfect for me. ‘No. I don’t want this.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, as if being chastised by a parent.
‘Whatever this is, I don’t want it.’ I looked to the street for a cab and also to avoid his eyes.
‘I’m sorry if you feel I disrespected you.’ Jake sounded contrite as he tried to catch my gaze. ‘I don’t want you to think I took advantage.’
My body was aching with desire in a way I’d never experienced before and I wanted to be taken advantage of, but I didn’t want to ruin my whole professional life by falling into a passionate heap for one night. It was disrespectful, he should’ve known better. He was the first secretary. I was a contractor. It could only end up as another disaster for me.
‘Let’s just stay colleagues, all right?’ I was annoyed that Jake had put me in that position, but I didn’t want to rock the work boat so I told myself to remain pleasant and just get home.
He looked crestfallen but didn’t say anything.
‘Jake, I didn’t come to Paris to meet a man,’ I said gently. ‘Especially not a Blackfella whom I could meet back home.’
‘The thing is, Libby,’ Jake mirrored my tone. ‘We didn’t meet back home. And we were working in Canberra at the same time. We’ve probably been in the same meetings, openings at the same time. We didn’t meet because I was married and you were busy being beautiful.’
I sighed internally. I loved that he thought I was beautiful, and I was glad I had my red bucket-bag and red shoes on to help me. But there was no way I was getting involved with a Black man in Paris after the disaster I’d already had with Ames, and the three-strikes-you’re-out back home.
He was still talking. ‘Don’t you think there’s something serendipitous about us meeting on the other side of the world?’
‘No, I don’t!’ I said, flagging down a cab. ‘I’ll see you at work.’
‘Wait!’ He grabbed my arm.
‘No!’ I was almost yelling as I climbed into the taxi.
I slammed the door in his face.
I was stressed out about that dinner with Jake, but life was hectic with work and helping Sorina’s new business. She’d named her label ‘Roma Designs’, had a growing fan page on Facebook, had started tweeting on Twitter and had her own page on an artists’ collective website where people could order online.
I’d sent promo flyers to anyone and everyone I knew and her business had grown so much that she left the shop she was working in because she was sewing all day, seven days a week, and loving it. She had orders coming in from women at the musée who wanted to be part of the fashionable political statement, my girls and their friends back home were sending orders via email and Catherine even hosted a ‘handbag party’ in her apartment one Saturday where eight bags were ordered. Sorina had now begun to make bags from material that customers brought with them to match their own frocks and shoes.
Canelle and I were delighted to see how well Sorina was doing. She was even looking better with a new hairstyle: she’d gone from long, lacklustre dark brown hair to a sleek cut with flecks of red and blonde through it. And she was wearing makeup.
We decided to take our friend out to celebrate. We sat in the very cool L’Île Enchantée having a drink.
‘I’m making skirts for myself and clients now too,’ Sorina said, standing up and modelling the one she was wearing. ‘I have one
a-line pattern, but with so many different materials they all fall differently and look different and sometimes I wear them with my black boots and sometimes flat shoes and the look is always different.’
She had become her own walking mannequin and I was inspired to do something more with my wardrobe too.
‘The girls back home are so impressed that I have my own designer here in Paris,’ I said, smiling at Sorina. ‘Actually, I’ll need to take them all a skirt when I leave.’
It felt good being able to buy fashion and support an artist at the same time, it was like buying Aboriginal art direct from cooperatives back home.
‘Here’s cheers to Roma Designs.’
We raised our glasses.
‘I have something to celebrate a little also,’ Canelle said, smiling widely.
‘Oh, what is it?’ Both Sorina and I were excited.
‘I have met a wonderful man,’ she exclaimed. ‘His name is Pierre and we are crazy about each other.’
‘That’s so wonderful!’ I gave her a seated hug. ‘What’s he like?’
Canelle spoke non-stop for thirty minutes describing Pierre physically and adding all his wonderful attributes. She was clearly in love.
‘Cheers to Canelle and Pierre,’ I said, making a toast.
‘Now you need to meet someone, Elizabeth,’ Canelle said, sipping her Ricard. ‘It is time. It is not normal to be in Paris this long and be alone.’
I looked at her. She’d obviously forgotten about Ames. I didn’t want to bring it up again, but I did tell both the girls about the dinner I had with Jake, playing down how weird and sleazy I thought he was.
The last thing I wanted to do was defame the first secretary of my country while I was on his payroll. Anyway his politics were all right, and in that job, that’s all that mattered. I told them I enjoyed the kiss though, and wished I hadn’t because without the backstory, it looked like I was the weird one.
‘What are you going to do, Elizabeth? That man is around for a higher reason: destinée – I remember him from Nomad’s. He has the great derrière, oui?’