by Harper Bliss
“What do you say, Josephine?” she asks.
“I’m here if you need me.” I down my glass of wine in a few big gulps.
Chapter Nine
The next Monday morning at the Pink Bean, Micky is alive and kicking again—and in great verbal form. Probably because she’s had to shut up for the better part of a week.
“And do you know what Olivia said to that?” she asks. I haven’t really been listening. The first few weeks she worked here, Micky was so shy. Now she won’t shut up.
“No,” I say.
“She told Christopher ‘to go fuck himself’! Can you believe that? I truly thought I had raised them better than that. But kids these days have so many outside influences…” She goes on and on about video games and violence and foul language in movies. I’m relieved when Amber walks in.
When you work in a coffee shop, the regulars become sort of like extended family. Now that she’s back, I certainly see much more of Amber than I do of my own family. It makes me think of what Bea asked me this morning.
“When are you coming to visit me, JoJo?”
I could almost hear her heart break when I said I didn’t know, even though her birthday is coming up. I can’t take my old Honda on a long road trip to Northwood and money for air fare is hard to come by after the fee for another term of Bea’s boarding school has just come out of my bank account. But she doesn’t know that, of course.
I see a look pass between Micky and Amber and after a beat, Amber asks me, “Can I have a minute of your time, please, Josephine?”
“Sure.”
“I’ll hold the fort,” Micky is quick to say. “I’ll bring over the drinks.”
All thoughts of my sister are pushed from my mind. I’m curious to find out what they have been talking about behind my back.
“The other night at Micky’s dinner,” Amber starts, “you didn’t really say much about all of us doing a yoga class together. I wanted to talk to you about that in private.” She clears her throat. “Is it because you have a special dislike for yoga or because you think the classes are not inclusive or any other reason?”
The thing with Amber is that her entire demeanor is so open and inviting and non-threatening, she can get away with saying anything. Not that this is particularly offensive. I’m glad she asked—I’ve been asked much worse.
“I’ve never really tried yoga. I’m just not much of a group exercise person. I run. Alone.”
“You’re a runner?” A hint of surprise in her voice.
I nod. “Have been for a very long time.”
“I have lots of runners in my class. I’ve been thinking about offering a yoga for runners class when—well, if, I guess—I ever open my own studio. Would you be interested in that?”
“I don’t know. I also run because it’s free. I don’t have much spare cash lying around.” I narrow my eyes. “Is this some kind of one-woman survey?”
Micky brings over our drinks and scurries off.
“No, no,” Amber says.
“Just level with me, Amber. Ask me what it is you really want to know.”
“Micky told me about your thesis subject and it made me think. The stereotypical image of yogis is people like me. Or housewives in designer gear strolling through Darlinghurst with their mat rolled up under their arm. I see it in my classes all the time. In some of them, everyone looks so alike. There’s no diversity. But I want my studio to be for everyone. That includes all body types.”
“That’s great.” What else can I possibly say?
“I’m not just trying to sell something here, Josephine. I’m nowhere near going out on my own yet. I just want to start a conversation. For me, yoga is about the absolute opposite of what kind of pants you wear when you practice it. And it’s not about how far you can bend over and whether you can reach your toes or not. It’s about breath.” She taps her chest. “The most vital part of life. And listening to your body. That’s why I wanted to talk to you. Because of what you’re working on. I believe we operate in the same field.”
“Well, apparently even Caitlin James is going to write a book about body positivity now. You can always consult with her.”
Amber waves her hand dismissively. “I’d rather talk to you.”
“You don’t like her very much, do you?”
Amber sighs. “I don’t know her all that well. Though I’m guessing that will soon change. Everyone here seems to think the world of her.” Amber intertwines her fingers. “What do you make of her now that you’ve gotten to know her better?”
This question rattles me more than all the ones that have come before combined. “I—I quite like her,” I stammer.
Amber nods in a way that indicates she knows exactly what I mean by that. “Be vigilant. That’s all I will say about it.”
“We’re just friends. Nothing’s going on between us,” I hurry to say.
“I should probably have a conversation with her about what happened two years ago. I shouldn’t let it stand between her and me getting on. She probably doesn’t even know how I feel about how she treated me.”
“What did happen back then?” If Amber can ask me uncomfortable questions, so can I.
Amber inhales deeply, then locks her gaze on mine. “It was the opening night of the Pink Bean. I was over-excited about the fact that a couple of lesbians were opening a coffee shop between my place of work and my home. Sheryl introduced us and I might have had a bit too much champagne. The waiters just kept refilling my glass without me having much chance to notice. I had no idea how much I had actually drunk—something I usually keep vigilant track of. Caitlin pretty straightforwardly hit on me and we went home together.” She finally drinks from her tea. “Things, er, happened. Fun things. I liked her. She was very outspoken and confident and unafraid to communicate in bed, you know?”
I nod, even though I don’t know a thing about it.
“She stayed the night. We had a nice morning together. Then—and only then—she said she was flying back to Boston the next day.” Amber shakes her head. “It’s not as if we didn’t have time to chat before she ended up in my bed. She willfully omitted the information to get her way. I didn’t appreciate that at all.”
“Did you tell her?”
“No. She was leaving anyway. In hindsight, I should have said something.” Amber puts her cup down. “It’s just that when it comes to meeting new people, I tend to trust my gut. I didn’t see through her at all. The champagne had something to do with it as well. I’m not really one to sleep with someone just after meeting them. It doesn’t really excite me. I’d much rather know the woman. I guess I was equally upset with myself for lacking judgement. Micky has been mercilessly teasing me about it ever since.”
“She sure is at the tip of everyone’s tongue.” I can’t help but smile a little when I talk about Caitlin.
Amber shrugs. “It happened two years ago. Time to move on.”
“For what it’s worth, I hope you’ll be able to open your studio soon. I think it’s great that you’re trying to be as inclusive as possible.”
“I think it’s important.” She shifts in her seat. “Anytime you’re interested in taking a free private lesson, let me know, okay? The offer will never go away.”
“Thanks. Was there anything else you wanted to ask me? You and Micky seemed to be totally in cahoots about something?”
“You know Micky, she likes to make a fuss over nothing. I might pick your brain later and I would love it if you could recommend some literature on the subject of body positivity.”
“I’ll make you a list.” I look at Amber and get the impression there are quite a few things she hasn’t asked me yet.
“Aha, two people I wanted to see.” Caitlin’s voice booms behind me. I hadn’t even noticed her coming in. “Dinner. Saturday. My place. Don’t worry, I won’t be cooking any of the dishes myself.”
Both Amber and I look up at her. Amber speaks first. “You know I’m vegan?”
“I sure do.�
� Caitlin gives a little bow. “Will you ask Martha for me? She doesn’t hang around here that much.”
“You want me to ask Martha?” Amber asks, vexed.
“Aren’t you two seeing each other?” Caitlin’s appearance is much like a bull’s in a china shop.
“I’ll ask her. I’ll probably see her at uni later,” I say, helping Amber out. Her relationship status with Martha is still very vague.
“And you, Jo. Bring a friend. Didn’t your roommate want to meet me?” Caitlin says it as though it’s the most normal thing in the world.
“If she can tear herself away from her boyfriend for a night.” I’m sure Eva will gladly cancel any plans with Declan for an evening at Caitlin’s penthouse.
“Just let me know a few days in advance.”
As Caitlin walks away in Micky’s direction, it strikes me that she didn’t even ask Amber and me if we were free.
“She’s a force of nature,” Amber says. “I really can’t blame myself too much for taking her home with me that night.”
“I’d better get back to work. I’ll think about that yoga class.”
As I head behind the counter, I wonder if Amber is still a little hung up on Caitlin.
Chapter Ten
“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” Eva says. “I can’t believe this.” We’re in the elevator to Caitlin’s penthouse. Eva has come by the Pink Bean a few times and has met most of the others, but this experience is just as daunting to me as it is to her, even though I’ve been to Caitlin’s place before. I’m glad to have my best friend by my side.
When we ring the bell and the door opens, I have to blink twice.
“Hi. Come on in. I’m Zoya.” Zoya Das, barefoot and looking very much at home in Caitlin’s apartment, lets us in.
“And the evening has only just started,” Eva murmurs.
Zoya kisses us on the cheek as though Eva and I are old acquaintances.
“Who is it?” Caitlin yells from somewhere deep in the apartment.
“You must be Josephine and…”
“Eva.”
“Ah, yes. Welcome to our soirée. Well, it’s not my soirée. But I’m delighted to meet you.” She leads the way through the sitting area and onto the patio. We’re the first to arrive. “I’ll be right back with some drinks. You both drink champagne?”
Eva and I nod like school girls asked if we want to go on a trip to the zoo.
“Jesus Christ,” Eva says. “Pinch me, please. Is this real?” She puts her hands on the balustrade and takes in the view over the city. “And did Zoya Das just ask us if we drink champagne? What kind of circles do you travel in these days, Jo?”
The kind that make me feel very dumpy and unglamorous, I think. “This is all very new to me.”
“Here we go, ladies.” Zoya returns with an open bottle of Perrier-Jouët. Behind her, an actual waiter carries out a tray of champagne flutes. “Caitlin will be right out. She’s just bossing around the chef.”
I catch Eva’s glance. She looks just as wide-eyed as I feel.
The waiter silently pours us a glass each.
“Let’s not wait for the host. Cheers.” Zoya holds up her glass. I look into her dark eyes. She’s casually dressed in jeans and a sleeveless shirt and she looks absolutely beautiful. I make it my mission for the night to find out whether she and Caitlin are sleeping together. I’ve had ample time to google Zoya Das and all recent articles I found were about her and her long-term partner breaking up a few months ago.
The bell rings and Zoya dashes out.
“Are they—?” Eva whispers, reading my mind.
I shrug. “I don’t know, but I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough.” I can’t drink from my glass of champagne fast enough.
Amber, Martha, Micky and Robin all arrive together. As though she’s been waiting to make her entrance, Caitlin only comes out onto the balcony a few minutes later.
“You’ve started already. Good.” She kisses everyone hello.
“You must be Eva.”
“Very nice to meet you, Miss James.” I can’t believe how composed Eva is all of a sudden. “Thank you so much for inviting me into your home.”
“Any friend of Josephine’s is welcome here.” She shoots Eva a wink, then takes a step in my direction.
“Hey.” Her voice is so low and sultry a dagger of pure lust pierces through me. “Good to see you.” She lays a hand gently on my shoulder and plants a slow kiss just below my left cheekbone.
“No need to wait for Sheryl, as usual,” she announces to the group with a smile. “Cheers.” Just then, the bell rings again. “I’ll get it,” Caitlin says.
I watch her walk inside. She’s wearing thigh-hugging jeans and a black satin top which make her look like a movie star on holiday. If I weren’t surrounded by a group of people, I’d ask Eva to pinch me now.
Of the two of us, Eva has always been the suave one, but I’m still baffled at how well she carries herself amid these women she barely knows. It must be the champagne, of which she eagerly partakes.
After drinks on the balcony, we retreat inside. To my surprise, name cards are set on the plates and I find myself sitting in between Micky and Caitlin, which is quite possibly the worst combination for my nerves. Zoya sits on the other side of Caitlin and Eva across from me.
Because I’m sitting next to Caitlin, her elbow bumps into mine occasionally which keeps igniting that arrow of lust that has lodged itself somewhere deep inside of me. But I can’t see the looks that pass between her and Zoya. To figure out if they’ve been getting it on, I can only rely on what I hear and on what I’ll ask Eva later—she has the best view. I hope she’s wearing her observation lenses. By the look of things, she appears to be more bespectacled with champagne goggles.
“I love this song,” Zoya says when “Breathe Me” by Sia comes on the elegantly tucked away speakers. “Now there’s a fellow Australian to be proud of.”
“I believe Josephine is a big fan as well. She was singing some Sia at the top of her lungs when I ran into her the other day.” Caitlin looks at me and I tell myself to stop drinking immediately because it’s as though I’m melting under her gaze. And to think I could have been out on a date with her. Perhaps even this very night. Why did I blow that off so clumsily and swiftly again?
“Jo is an absolutely amazing singer. I live with her. I should know,” Eva says.
“Is she?” Kristin asks. “Because I’ve worked with her for almost two years and I had no idea.” She looks at me quizzically. “All those open mics we’ve had, Josephine? And you never said a word?”
“Eva’s exaggerating,” I say.
“She doesn’t sing in public,” Eva is quick to add.
“You’ve got me all curious now,” Micky chimes in. “We’re having an open mic next Friday, aren’t we?” she asks Kristin, then turns to me again. “You should give it a go.”
I shake my head. “I’d really rather not.”
“Leave her be,” Amber says. “Don’t force her.”
“Forget about an open mic night,” Eva says, “she should go on The X Factor or something. She’d win the whole thing without even trying.”
I try to shoot her a look and make her shut up, but Eva is not intoxicated by alcohol alone. She’s under the influence of the sparkling vibe of the night and it’s making her ultra-chatty and forward. She’s not going to shut up unless I kick her shins under the table. I try, but I can’t reach them.
“You’re really that good?” Caitlin looks at me. “A woman of many talents.” She smiles and I feel my insides go liquid again.
“Not really,” I say. “To make it very clear to everyone, I’m not going to sing next Friday. It’s just not going to happen. No matter how hard you insist.”
“It’s your choice,” Amber says. “No one else’s.”
“Thank you.” I nod my head solemnly.
“Speaking of many talents,” Zoya says. I crane my neck to see her while she speaks. “I’m this close to having
this talent sign a contract with ANBC. Wouldn’t her lovely face make a welcome change from all the ugly old-man mugs we seem to specialize in?” She slings an arm around Caitlin’s neck. The two of them look breath-taking together.
“So you only want me for my face?” Caitlin swats her arm away, but it lingers.
“That’s not very feminist,” Robin says in between chuckles.
“I know. My bad. You might be too pretty for what we have in mind for you, dear Caitlin. Sorry.”
“The other day,” Sheryl says, “I read this article about manxiety and how men these days need our fempathy.” She shakes her head. “I couldn’t believe it.”
“She stormed out of her study looking as if Germaine Greer had just died,” Kristin says. “I was really worried for a while.” She grins at Sheryl.
“Even the notion,” Sheryl says, her face serious.
“Men have it so rough these days,” Robin says, a touch of irony to her voice. “Look at the sector I’m in. Over the past five years, the number of females in banking has risen by one whole percent. They must be shaking in their hand-made leather shoes.”
“At least there’s someone else at this table who has had to deal with white male privilege on a daily basis,” Zoya says. “I was beginning to think I was the only one.”
“What you have done is beyond comparison,” Sheryl says. “The number of girls who have grown up watching you be smart on television. A million lectures in Gender Studies couldn’t have the same effect.”
“If their fathers let them watch it,” Caitlin says.
“Aren’t we being a little harsh right now?” Micky asks.
“I agree,” Martha says.
“You two only agree because you were both married to men,” Sheryl says.
“Decent blokes who are excellent fathers to our children. Darren has always treated Liv and Chris exactly the same,” Micky says.