The Trivia Man

by Deborah O'Brien

  Sport had been compulsory at Kevin’s high school. You couldn’t get out of it unless you had a broken limb. Or Osgood–Schlatter disease. That had enabled him to escape sport during Years 5 and 6 and spend Friday afternoons helping out in the library. When he started Year 7, the doctor said the problem was better now – ‘self-limiting’ was the term he used – and Kevin could return to his normal sporting activities. But Kevin didn’t see sport as normal at all. It was a perverse activity affording opportunities to make a fool of himself and for others to poke fun at him. He couldn’t wait until he left school; then he would never have to play sport again.

  Summer was worst because he had to play cricket. Kevin was always in the bottom side. Even among peers devoid of cricketing prowess, he was still the worst. He couldn’t throw straight and couldn’t catch. If a ball came in his direction, he closed his eyes and prayed another fielder would race across and catch it. As for bowling, he had done that once, but never again. After giving away five wides, he bowled straight down the wicket and the batsman hit it over the fence for six.

  One day when Kevin was fielding the opposing batsman hit a ball directly at him.

  ‘Catch it!’ everyone called out.

  But instead, he closed his eyes and waited for someone else to do it. Then the ball hit him hard in the shoulder. He picked it up and threw it at the nearest player, who just happened to be a member of his own side. The ball missed, of course. But the umpire sent Kevin from the field with the words, ‘You’ll have to learn to control your temper.’

  In wintertime he played rugby league. It was compulsory. Although that might have seemed worse than cricket, he didn’t mind it as much. The coach put him out on the wing, which meant the ball rarely reached him and he could avoid scrums and tackling. If the ball did happen to come his way and he managed to catch it, all he had to do was run. Kevin was quite good at running. People were always chasing him in the playground. On the football field he had to run for his life because if he didn’t, two or three forwards would spear him into the ground. Once, he had run so fast, he scored a try. For a few brief minutes he’d been a hero. Nobody could believe it.

  Trivia Night

  Kevin took a seat at table ten, which was right at the front of the auditorium, dead centre. Some people might call it a ringside seat, but Kevin found it far too exposed. Maybe he should have stayed on table eight. What had made him want to join another team, anyway? There was still time to speak to the Professor and reclaim his old table and one-man-band status before Teddy and the Dreamers arrived. Then he caught sight of Maggie coming towards him, smiling and waving.

  ‘Hi, Kevin,’ she said. ‘I’m so glad you decided to join us. The others will be thrilled. They won’t be long – they’re just finishing their dinner in the bistro. I had to stay back at school for parent–teacher interviews, but I had a sandwich on my way here.’

  What he found comfortable about Maggie was that he didn’t have to make conversation. She did it for him.

  ‘Would you like a drink?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, but I can get it.’ Then he remembered his manners. ‘Would you like something yourself?’

  ‘Just some water. We might as well get a jug and enough glasses for the whole table.’

  They went to the bar, where he ordered a lemon, lime and bitters. As he opened his wallet, Maggie noticed a photo of a fair-haired child inside.

  ‘Your son looks just like you,’ she said with a smile.

  ‘He’s my nephew.’

  ‘Well, he’s adorable.’

  They returned to the table to find Teddy and the Dreamers were already there. Maggie introduced Kevin to the others. There were two free seats beside Teddy, and Kevin was relieved when Maggie took the one right next to the hefty ex-footballer, leaving him the seat on the end.

  Round one started badly, with one of those ambiguous questions which should be the subject of an essay, rather than a right or wrong answer in a competition: What is the longest man-made structure in Australia?

  Before Kevin could offer a comment on the controversial nature of the question, Edward said, ‘It’s definitely the Dingo Fence. Write it down, Maggie.’

  Maggie seemed to be the team’s official recorder.

  ‘What do you think, Kevin?’ she asked.

  The team members turned towards him, awaiting an answer. In a barely audible voice he replied, ‘I would have thought it was Highway One.’

  ‘That’s not a structure,’ said Edward.

  ‘I think it is,’ said Ash.

  ‘A structure is something that’s above the ground,’ said Edward.

  ‘Well, a road isn’t exactly underground, Edward,’ Ash countered. ‘Anyway, isn’t a subway a structure?’

  ‘It all depends on your definition, doesn’t it?’ said Mei Zhen. ‘It’s like asking what is the largest organ in the body. You could argue that the skin isn’t an organ, but technically it is. You’d know that, Edward, being a doctor.’

  ‘I’m not a bloody dermatologist.’

  Kevin whispered in Maggie’s ear, ‘The largest organ in the human body is the liver. If she was referring to both external and internal organs she should have used “of”.’

  ‘That’s a good point, Kevin, but let’s focus on the matter at hand,’ Maggie said, not unkindly.

  ‘How long is the Dingo Fence?’ Carole asked.

  ‘How the hell would I know?’ Edward replied.

  ‘About 5000 kilometres,’ Kevin said quietly.

  ‘Well, how long is the highway?’ Mei Zhen asked him.

  ‘Over 14,000. It goes right around the country.’

  ‘I just thought of something else,’ said Maggie. ‘What about those gas and oil pipelines?’

  ‘Forget the pipelines,’ said Edward. ‘You’re only complicating things.’

  ‘Let’s have a vote,’ Mei Zhen suggested. ‘Who’s for the highway?’

  Kevin put up his hand, Maggie followed and so did Mei Zhen and Ash.

  ‘Four against two,’ Ash said.

  Edward’s face had turned an odd puce colour that Kevin found unnerving.

  ‘You’re wrong,’ Edward muttered.

  ‘Why don’t we put down both answers, Maggie?’ Carole suggested. ‘Since it’s such a controversial question.’

  ‘Wouldn’t that go against us?’ said Ash. ‘If one of them is wrong, they won’t give us the point.’

  ‘What do you think, Maggie?’ asked Mei Zhen.

  ‘Maybe we should write both, like Carole says.’

  ‘Give me that answer sheet,’ said Ash, leaning across and snatching it from Maggie.

  When Ash passed the sheet back, Kevin could see only one answer.

  At interval, Teddy and the Dreamers were still in fifth place, but they had made up much of the gap between them and the top four. Before the karaoke began, Kevin slipped away to the men’s and then headed outside. Not long after, Maggie appeared.

  ‘I think Edward may have worked out what we’re up to,’ she said, joining him on the low brick wall. ‘Then again, he’s probably too busy sulking about the way we ganged up on him.’

  ‘We didn’t gang up on him. It was the correct answer.’

  ‘That’s not the way he would have seen it.’

  Kevin didn’t reply. He found the nuances of human behaviour difficult to grasp. Things were always clouded by agendas and perceptions beyond his comprehension. It should have been clear-cut. If your team was doing better, wouldn’t you be pleased?

  ‘He doesn’t like to be shown up,’ said Maggie.

  ‘So we should let him get away with a wrong answer?’

  ‘No, I didn’t say that. It won’t hurt him to be challenged. But I’m glad Ash suggested the vote and not me.’

  ‘Do you think he blames me for giving the other answer in the first place?’ Kevin didn’t like the idea of a prop forward having a grudge against him from the start of the game.

  ‘He’s probably just a bit ruffled that there’s another man
in the team. Up to now, he was the lion king, lording it over his pride of lionesses.’

  Kevin squirmed. He was uncomfortable about being an interloper.

  ‘You’re not regretting your decision to join us, are you?’ asked Maggie.

  ‘I’m not sure yet.’

  Maggie laughed. ‘Don’t worry about Teddy. He’ll come round. Besides, the Professor said we were the only team to get that question right.’

  For a few minutes they sat on the ledge in silence.

  ‘How old is your nephew?’ Maggie asked.

  ‘He just turned eight.’

  ‘A nice age. But wait till the hormones set in.’

  Kevin cringed. For some reason, he found the word ‘hormones’ off-putting. ‘Do you have children?’ he asked, in order to change the subject.

  ‘No,’ she replied. ‘Do you think the karaoke is over yet?’

  ‘I’d give it five minutes, just to be safe.’

  Kevin was glad to have Maggie as a buffer between himself and Edward. It was like wearing padding in a football match. She understood the need to be safe. When he’d first met her, he had wondered if she was just another female, playing jokes on him and saying things she didn’t mean. But Maggie seemed different and, while she might teach foreign languages, she spoke a language he didn’t have to struggle with. She’d even interpreted Edward’s behaviour in a way he could understand, and for a brief moment Kevin was able to glimpse what it might be like to have a guide steering him through a strange land.

  WEEK

  FOUR

  Maggie

  Maggie kept all her memorabilia in archive boxes that filled shelves of her garage. There were old exercise books, school reports, birthdays cards dating back to when she was a child, and boxes of photos. It was the latter she was looking at today. Specifically the box marked ‘University’. She needed to find a good shot for the ‘Name the Teacher’ competition that her senior students were running to raise money for charity.

  ‘Miss, you’d have some good retro shots from the sixties, wouldn’t you?’ said the boy who was organising it.

  ‘I’m not that old!’ she replied indignantly.

  In a yellowing envelope she discovered a picture from her first year at uni. There was Josh Houghton, tall and handsome, with a woollen scarf tossed casually around his neck, and Maggie, achingly young, her long brown hair pulled into a high ponytail. It was the kind of photo which would be ideal for the competition. Except for the presence of Josh. She could imagine the questions it would provoke.

  ‘Who’s the bloke, miss?’

  ‘Is he your hubbie?’

  ‘She’s not married, you imbo.’

  Maggie took a pair of scissors and cut the photograph in two. Now it was perfect. She considered throwing the other half away but couldn’t bring herself to do it. Instead, she replaced it in the envelope.

  Afterwards, she scanned the image of herself into the computer and printed it onto photo paper. Best not to lend originals. Then she did something she had never thought of before. She typed ‘Joshua Houghton’ into the search engine and pressed ‘Enter’. She wasn’t prepared for the plethora of entries that appeared.

  Good heavens. The man was famous.

  She clicked on the first entry.

  Kevin

  Kevin examined the business card that Danielle had given him. He had no intention of calling her. It hadn’t been a serious invitation on her part, merely a throwaway line. He couldn’t even recall the last time he’d been on a date. It must have been years ago. Anyway, he had a lot on his mind with a big case at work and the new trivia competition. No time for frivolous things like after-work drinks when he could be doing valuable research and revision instead. Besides, they were still in fifth place. If they weren’t careful the Usual Suspects would rocket ahead in the point score.

  On Wednesday he received a text from Danielle:

  Kellys on Bridge 5.30 2day

  R U free? Danni

  With her shiny hair and generous breasts, Danielle was far too intimidating. He framed a reply, minus the abbreviations she had used in her own message:

  Dear Danielle,

  Thanks for your kind invitation. Unfortunately I have a prior commitment.

  Regards

  Kevin

  Five minutes later, another text appeared:

  How about Friday?

  I have 2 work L8 so is 6 OK 4 U

  Danni

  While Kevin was deciphering ‘L8’, his mobile rang.

  ‘Kevin Dwyer speaking.’

  ‘Hi, Kevin, it’s Danni.’

  Her breathy voice made him light-headed.

  ‘Oh hi, Danni.’

  A colleague at the next desk looked up from his computer.

  ‘Can you make it on Friday, Kevin?’

  The phone call had caught him off guard. Texts were so much easier to deal with – plenty of time to contemplate his course of action. And no seductive voice.

  ‘Kevin, are you there?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So I’ll see you at Kelly’s on Friday?’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘I’m looking forward to getting to know you better.’

  He had no idea how to respond to that remark, so he said, ‘Me too.’

  He heard soft breathing, then, ‘Cool. See ya Friday. Bye.’

  Kevin’s hands were shaking. Danni was Beth’s friend. And she used colloquialisms like ‘cool’. This couldn’t possibly end well.

  Maggie

  Well, well, Josh Houghton had certainly spread his wings. After a glittering academic career from which he had departed as a professor, he was now running seminars – ‘Top Tips for Mending Relationships’. Who would have thought the man who was so good at ending relationships would have morphed into an expert in mending them? Yet the evidence was right there on the computer screen. Whether it was a problem with your teenage children, your partner or your workmates, Josh seemed to have a seminar on the subject, together with an assortment of merchandise – books, CDs, DVDs, diaries, journals and T-shirts, all available from the Dr Josh website.

  Maggie examined the portrait on his home page. Apart from the greying hair and a matching beard, he looked much the same. And although he had to be in his late fifties, there was barely a wrinkle on his gently tanned face. In a box beside the picture were the words: ‘Let Dr Josh Help You Rebuild Your Relationships’. When she clicked on the box, a video clip began playing – a promo for his merchandise. The voice was the same. She had forgotten how melodic it was. But when the camera zoomed in for a close-up, she had to look away, because it was as if he were in the room speaking directly to her.

  She tried not to notice that he was running a seminar at a CBD hotel later in the month. It would be ridiculous for her to attend. She had left Josh Houghton behind fifteen years ago.

  Nevertheless, she went to the page entitled ‘Bookings’, just for a look. One hundred and twenty dollars for a two-hour seminar and refreshments – that wasn’t bad. It was called ‘Building Ties with Your Teenager’. As a teacher of teenagers, she might even be able to claim it on tax. Just as she was considering whether to complete the booking form, Rufus woke from his nap and nudged her foot with his damp nose. She closed the page and turned to the dog.

  ‘Don’t worry, Rufus. I’m not going to do anything silly. And I suppose you want your dinner.’

  Kevin

  On Friday afternoon Kevin lingered at his desk after everyone else had gone, saving emails to file, deleting others, rearranging his hard copy folders, shredding obsolete material. Meanwhile, the cleaners vacuumed around him. At ten to six he shut down his computer, picked up his briefcase and headed downstairs. A security guard opened the main doors for him.

  He made it to Kelly’s in five minutes, rather than the ten he had anticipated. He was early, but not embarrassingly so. Better than being late. Kevin had been there once before for a colleague’s farewell, but as a rule, he didn’t attend after-work functions unless it was oblig
atory, and even then he left as soon as he could, usually after his presence had been noted by his boss. Like a schoolchild slinking off following roll call.

  Kevin went to the bar and ordered a lemon, lime and bitters. On either side of him, executive types – men and women in dark suits with wine glasses held aloft – were engaged in conversation. In his black suit and white shirt, he might have been one of them, but it was simply the disguise he adopted every day to look like other people. He had no place in a bar.

  Ten past six. No sign of Danielle. All day he had wanted to text her and call it off. However, that would have required an excuse, and Kevin wasn’t good at excuses. They were predicated on concocting an imaginary story and telling it convincingly, and he just couldn’t do that. Yet he knew others who did it all the time. For years he had taken people at their word: ‘Sorry, I’ve come down with a virus’ or ‘My brother just turned up from New Zealand’. Later he would hear that they’d been out on the town, or they didn’t have a brother at all. Sometimes when he spoke with them later, they couldn’t even remember their excuse.

  In fact, it was hard to trust anything he heard from other people. How often did someone say ‘I’ll call you’ when they had no intention of doing so? Or ‘Good to see you’ when they meant ‘You’re the last person I want to see’? It was a language of lies and subtext he couldn’t decipher.

  And it wasn’t simply words. There was also the code related to facial expressions and body movements. A smile didn’t necessarily mean approval. A sigh could suggest just about anything. And although a frown might indicate unhappiness, it could be something else altogether. Kevin had gone so far as to buy a book on body language, thinking it would provide the answers. However, there was a variable called ‘context’ that he didn’t understand. So he’d abandoned the book after chapter two.