Cake at Midnight

by Jessie L. Star

  Still, in that grand literal and figurative way that life worked, the sun did eventually rise on a new day and, as the first pale threads of light crept along the floorboards, Dec had finally – finally – fallen asleep.

  Knowing I couldn’t have stitched together more than a few hours of sleep myself, I was nonetheless glad to have woken before him. It’d be good for Zoë and me to have a bit of time to decompress together. Still dressed in my work clothes from the day before, and with the studio’s customary chill nipping at my bare arms, I dragged my old dressing gown off the edge of the bed and wrapped it around myself as I padded over to her.

  We had a silent conversation that ended with us both agreeing to take our chances boiling the kettle. Thankfully, Dec was thoroughly out for the count and slept straight through the rattling of the water coming to the boil. Teas in hand, we retreated to the couch, tucking ourselves into our respective corners. Zoë had obviously opened a window when she’d woken, trying to clear some of the stale, pungent air and, nippy as it was, I appreciated the breeze on my cheeks.

  I breathed in the lemongrass-scented steam rising from my mug as I leant against the familiar, worn upholstery, and allowed myself a moment to try to organise the past twelve or so hours in my mind.

  ‘It was Theo at the door.’

  The way Zoë chose to break the silence made me jolt. ‘Yeah?’ I asked, my voice coming out as a croak.

  ‘He wanted to let you know that he’s on hand if you need him.’

  I felt a lump lodge in my throat and nodded.

  ‘He’s a good ’un,’ I said, a contender for understatement of the year.

  ‘He is,’ Zoë agreed, sighing and adding, ‘Don’t look at me like that, I give credit where it’s due.’

  Dec made a snuffling noise and we both looked around to see him roll over, his face still worryingly grey, but now with red creases where his cheeks had pressed heavily against my pillows

  I was used to my heart lurching when I saw him, but not like this, not with pity. He’d worked so hard to meet this specific image in his head, to rise above the weight of his father’s behaviour, and, yet, here he was, knocked down to the low he’d promised himself he’d never sink to.

  Turning back to Zoë, I asked, ‘What happens now? Is someone with his mum, d’you think?’

  ‘Yeah, I reckon. If there’s one thing Jarli does well it’s descend on someone who’s got something good to put on Facebook.’

  She was right. Cynicism aside, Jarli was good at rallying round when times were tough . . . we’d all had plenty of practice, after all.

  Several minutes passed as we sipped our teas and attended to our own thoughts, then Zoë said, ‘I don’t reckon there’s much else we can do other than . . .’ She nodded in Dec’s direction and I understood. Our responsibility was to him, to our little club, as it’d been ever since we were kids.

  ‘He’ll be okay,’ she continued. ‘We’re pussy-footing around it because it’s fresh and hard, but this frees him from so much of the stuff that was making life difficult for him.’

  ‘Zo!’ I hissed, horrified by her callousness, even as the teeniest, tiniest part of me knew that there was some truth in what she was saying.

  ‘Dec’s dad has been dying for years,’ she said stubbornly. ‘It was a question of where and when, not if. I know he had a disease and he didn’t choose to be like he was, but after everything he put us through, I’m not going to pretend to be sorry he’s gone.’

  ‘Geez, Beauty, tell us how you really feel.’

  I jumped, some of my tea slopping onto my knees, as Dec spoke. He sounded rusty as an old nail. I immediately put my mug down on a nearby stack of books and went over to the bed, where I saw that he hadn’t even had the energy to open his eyes.

  I would’ve been mortified if someone had overheard me being so harsh; even as only a witness to Zoë’s words, I felt ashamed. Typically, however, Zoë didn’t back down.

  ‘Am I wrong?’ she demanded and, after only the slightest pause, Dec gently rolled his head back and forth in a no. ‘Okay, so give me your key. I’ve got a wedding party to get ready this morning, but I’ve only got trial runs this afternoon so I’ll cancel those and bring you some things from your flat. What d’you need other than a change of clothes?’

  ‘Maybe give him a sec,’ I suggested as Dec screwed his eyes up at the volume of her voice. For a moment it looked like Zoë was going to argue, but then she just shrugged.

  ‘Text me what he needs and I’ll bring it round when I’m done at work.’ She spotted his keys in the mess on my dining table and snatched them up, slugging down the rest of her tea. ‘If he gets to be too much to handle on your own before I get back, give Theo a call. He wants to help and he proved last night that he finds Dec easy enough to control.’

  It was only then, as she made no effort to moderate her words or lower her voice, that I realised Zoë was angry. No. Not just angry – furious.

  Dec had obviously realised it, too, as he’d finally peeled back his eyelids and was making an effort to sit up.

  ‘Hey.’ I put a hand on his shoulder, trying to keep him still. ‘Take it easy.’

  ‘No,’ he grunted, even as the grey tone to his face started to have tinges of green. ‘I have to apologise.’

  ‘No, you don’t,’ I reassured him.

  ‘Yes, I do,’ he said at the same time Zoë snapped, ‘Yeah, he does.’

  ‘I messed up,’ he ground out. ‘I know I did. Doesn’t matter about my dad or how I found out, I shouldn’t’ve–’

  ‘We get that,’ I said, placating.

  But there was nothing even vaguely forgiving in Zoë’s voice as she said, ‘We’ll get it this once because, yeah, it’s some tough stuff that you’re dealing with, but this is your one free ride. We’re not going to spend our lives hunting you down in one dump after another. We’ve played that game, already.’

  ‘I swear I’m not going to be that guy, I’m not putting either of you through that again.’

  Far from appeasing her, Dec’s words made Zoë practically ripple with rage. ‘I don’t want you to swear!’

  And, looking past her perfectly made-up face to the emotions seething beneath, I realised her reaction wasn’t just about last night. It was about the experiences the two of them shared that I, daughter of Boris and Maria Koppelmann, great niece of Agnes, loved and cossetted at every turn and with a safe, secure place to go home to every night, couldn’t possibly understand. I stopped trying to force Dec to relax or to soften Zoë’s combative words, and stood back to let them sort it out.

  ‘We both know that swearing and promising doesn’t mean jack,’ she continued. ‘So do something about not being that guy. I don’t care if it’s seeing a counsellor or going to AA or setting up some elaborate failsafe that means all your accounts get drained if you do something like this again, but do something.’

  ‘It stops with me.’ His hand gripped the bedframe and he held himself up, desperate to be believed. I watched as Zoë worked her mouth a couple of times, a movement I recognised as something she did when she was trying not to cry.

  ‘You know I’ll only be able to believe it when I see it.’

  ‘That’s fair.’

  She held his gaze for a long moment and then nodded. ‘Sucks that you’re having to deal with this,’ she muttered, an admission tantamount to a heartfelt embrace from anyone else.

  And then she turned on her heel and left, banging the door behind her in a way that suggested she still felt pretty damn conflicted about the whole thing. Well, she wasn’t alone there.

  ‘Here,’ I said, picking up the bottle of water we’d been practically drip-feeding Dec from the night before, ‘have some of this and then try to get some more sleep.’

  ‘You’re being too nice to me,’ he murmured as he obediently took a few sips. ‘No, seriously,’ he added, pushing weakly at my arm as I arranged the covers more neatly around him, ‘after the way I’ve behaved–’

  ‘It doesn�
��t matter,’ I assured him, but he was determined.

  ‘It does matter. I’m a jerk to you and you shouldn’t have to put up with it.’

  ‘Go back to sleep.’ I plonked myself down next to him on the mattress. ‘I am.’

  *

  When I awoke again, some hours later, it was to the sound of the shower running. For one confused moment, I thought I was at Theo’s and he was getting ready for . . .

  In the next second I’d leapt from the bed in complete and total panic. I’d not called work. The shift was going to be a team member down and Céleste was going to kill me! Still half asleep, I managed to trip over at least three large hardcover recipe books before I snatched my phone off the bench. I expected to see a tidal wave of furious messages, but, actually, there was just the one. From Theo.

  Stopped @ PPP on way to work. Told C you had family emergency. Hope not overstepping. Anything you need, etc. Theo.

  And, I’m sorry, but I whimpered. Because we may have agreed not to have expectations, but he was exceeding them at every turn anyway.

  ‘Please tell me that’s not more bad news.’

  I looked around at the sound of Dec’s voice and saw him standing in the bathroom doorway, dressed in his rumpled, stained suit, but at least looking freshly scrubbed and with a little more colour in his cheeks.

  ‘No,’ I said, adding without thinking, ‘it’s Theo.’

  I immediately realised how much of a kick in the guts bringing him up was in Dec’s current state, and continued, ‘How’re you feeling? You look a bit better. Have some more water and I’ll get you some aspirin. D’you think you could handle some food?’

  ‘Gio.’ Dec gave me a look and then gingerly crossed the room to flop onto the couch. ‘It’s the twenty-seventh. Thirty days is up, I thought that meant you’d stop avoiding me.’

  I considered protesting that I wasn’t, but he knew me too well. In some ways, fussing over him was an avoidance, a way to not have to deal with the real issues at hand. Still, not in all ways, so I passed him the water bottle and fetched a couple of painkillers before I joined him.

  A month ago, I would’ve loved the way we folded against each other on my small couch, our legs tangled. Now I barely noticed, too busy supervising his recovery.

  Once he’d obediently swallowed the medication and finished off the water, Dec shifted to look at me, his expression grave. ‘I want to put this out there so you can decide whether or not you want to keep giving me the Florence Nightingale treatment. I did know that you were still into me when I invited you to the Allsopp party, I’ve always known.’

  I felt my chest tighten. ‘You don’t have to . . . now’s not really the time . . .’ I tried to protest, but he shook his head.

  ‘No, I want to do it now because I need you to know that I knew that you were still into me after we kissed in high school, but not as in know know, it wasn’t a conscious thing. But deep down . . . I knew there was a good chance you wouldn’t say no to me when I asked you for favours. I swear to you, though, I wasn’t trying to take advantage, I just–’

  ‘Did,’ I finished for him, before admitting, ‘But I let you. I saw the position I was putting myself in and Zo was sure as hell pointing it out every chance she got, but I didn’t stop.’

  ‘Why not?’

  Well, wasn’t that the million dollar question?

  ‘Zoë reckons habit. That I just got used to having a crush on you, and . . .’ I couldn’t meet his eye and stared instead at my hands as I ruffled then smoothed then ruffled the material of the cushion on my lap. Still, he didn’t let it go.

  ‘What do you reckon?’

  ‘It all changed!’ I burst out, surprising even myself. ‘We finished school and moved away from Jarli. Zo refused to hang out with you anymore and then Aggie died. I just wanted something to stay the same. And I’m sure there’s more to it, and you are great, but–’ Explaining something I’d only just started to work out myself was tricky and I faltered, before finishing tentatively, ‘Maybe I’ve been using you as a sort of security blanket? I don’t know, but I think that must be part of it.’

  ‘But not anymore?’

  No. I knew it for sure.

  ‘You know what?’ I said, feeling momentarily so light with relief that I wouldn’t have been surprised if I’d gone floating up off the couch cushions. ‘I love you, but I just don’t want to have sex with you.’

  He recognised his own words from the night before and almost managed a rueful smile before everything else from last night crushed it.

  ‘God.’ He shook his head shamefacedly. ‘The things I’ve said to you, the way I’ve taken you for granted, I don’t deserve you as a mate.’

  ‘Maybe not,’ I said lightly, ‘but you’ve got me and it looks like you’ve got Zo back as well. I still can’t believe she was helping you look for your–’ I stopped abruptly, realising how open that wound still was and seeing the answering tightness in his face.

  ‘Neither can I,’ he agreed hesitantly. ‘But there was no saying no to her when she turned up and told me she was taking your place so I’d leave you alone. She was pretty militant about giving you and McKillop some time to yourselves.’

  It was a clumsy introduction of the next topic I knew we had to cover and the awkwardness in the room ratcheted up a few notches.

  ‘I’m hungry!’ I announced, bouncing off the couch and heading for the kitchen.

  ‘Baker–’

  ‘I can’t talk to you about Theo on an empty stomach. So what can I get you? How about an omelette?’ I stuck my head into the fridge and, catching sight of a greaseproof-paper package, exclaimed, ‘Oh! With gorgonzola!’

  As silence greeted my enthusiasm, I looked around to see that Dec was grimacing, and belatedly remembered that he was in something of a delicate state.

  ‘Right, no gorgonzola. How about Vegemite toast?’

  ‘Perfect.’

  As I bustled about putting bread in the toaster and negotiating a space on my messy counter for the plates, I tried to formulate what I should say to Dec about my relationship with Theo. I came up with a big fat blank, of course. It was all just so up in the air. I mean, Theo and I’d seen each other just about every night for weeks, had spent all our time not at work with each other. And I felt so good when I was with him. Each time I saw him was like listening to the opening bars of my favourite song, or opening a menu to see that there was a dish on offer that perfectly suited what I felt like right at that moment. And yet I wasn’t supposed to be having any expectations.

  The toast popped and I came back to myself, juggling the slices onto the plates and spreading them with Dec’s and my preferred amounts of Vegemite. Along with the colour someone liked their tea, knowing the amount of Vegemite your friend liked on their toast was the most perfect example of mateship Australia had to offer. As Dec took the plate I offered him and gave me the nod to tell me I’d got it right, I wondered that I’d ever wanted more from him. There was none of the zing between us that I had with Theo, no impulse to reach over and kiss away the butter Dec had smeared beside his lip in taking his first bite. I felt warm and comfortable and, in short, what Dec must’ve been feeling around me for years. God, how embarrassing that I’d kept wanting more from him!

  Obviously reading the chagrin on my face, Dec paused midway through a bite of toast to ask, ‘What?’

  I finished my own mouthful before replying honestly, ‘I was just thinking how creepy I’ve been all these years, trying to read more into you and me than there was.’

  ‘Uh, have we moved on to your flagellation already?’ he asked with a frown. ‘I thought we were still on mine.’

  ‘Always has to be about you, doesn’t it?’ I joked and he managed a feeble smile.

  It died quickly on his lips, however, and, when he put his plate down on the floor with half the toast still uneaten, I knew he had more to say.

  ‘Listen, I’m sorry about the way I fronted up to you the other week about McKillop. I was in a messed-up
headspace and convinced myself that you needed saving from him or something. But I wasn’t totally upfront with you when I told you why Killer kicked me off his team.’

  A lump of toast stuck in my throat, and I had to swallow a few times before I could ask, ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Yeah. Like I said, I did forget to include a document in a file, but . . . you have no idea what it’s like working with McKillop, he sees everything, he knows everything and he expects your best every time. When he saw that the document was missing and asked me about it, I panicked. I said that I’d given it to the administrative assistant and that she must’ve lost it.’

  ‘Oh, Dec,’ I breathed, as disappointed in him as his twisted expression showed he was in himself.

  ‘I know,’ he said. ‘And, what makes it worse, she believed me. She thought she was the one who’d screwed up. Ann, her name is, she had a crush on me and–’

  I put my head in my hands and he repeated fiercely, ‘I know. But I came clean the next day, I swear I did. I spent all night hating myself and, first thing the next morning, I went into Killer’s office and told him what I’d done. He looked at me like I was scum, and fair enough, and then he brought Ann in so I could tell her what I’d done.’

  He paused and I lowered my hands to see that he was staring glumly out the window.

  ‘She was just relieved. She wasn’t even angry, she made excuses for me, in fact, saying that she’d seen me working back late and that I had a lot to juggle.’

  ‘And then Theo agreed not to tell anyone what you did?’ I said, and Dec nodded stiffly.

  ‘Yeah, with Ann’s okay, he told everyone that he’d been the one to misplace the document and he waited a couple of weeks before he organised my transfer to another team so that people wouldn’t make the connection.’

  And finally, it all made sense. Of course Theo had moved Dec to another team, he wouldn’t have been able to stomach working in such close proximity to someone whose immediate thought after messing up had been to blame it on someone else. It would’ve gone against all his principles.