The Trouble with Flirting

by Rachel Morgan

  “No, no, no. Everything’s cool with Jackson.”

  “But … the only other boyfriend you’ve had was that orchestra guy. And didn’t you break up with him?”

  “Yes. I’m not talking about him either.”

  “There was someone else?”

  “Oh, you want to hear the story now?” I place my hand on my hip and give him my unimpressed look. “Because when I was getting ready to tell you and Sarah about it before Christmas, you weren’t interested.”

  Adam’s confused expression makes it clear he’s completely forgotten telling me to keep my swooning-over-foreign-boys stories for when he’s not around. “Well,” he says, “I guess I’ve changed my mind.”

  “Ooh, good, a story. Sarah isn’t the only one who can do this.” I place my mug on the floor and clear my throat. “A long time ago in a galaxy far, far—”

  “No. You do not get to rip off Star Wars in this story.”

  “Fine. Not so long ago in a land far, far away—”

  “Seriously?”

  “Just crush all my creativity,” I say with a sigh. “And Germany is far away, in case you’ve forgotten.” I cross my legs and hug one of the cushions against my chest. “Okay fine. Here’s what happened. The family I was staying with in Germany had four kids. The four-year-old boy and the six-year-old girl were the two I was there to take care of, and they were serious brats. There was also a thirteen-year-old, but she was so quiet she hardly ever said anything. Kinda like Luke. Whoever took care of her when she was young must have had it easy. And then there was—” I pause for dramatic effect “—Carl.”

  Adam groans. “I think I remember why I didn’t want to hear this story.”

  “I promise I’ll keep the swooning to a minimum.”

  “Thanks.”

  “So anyway, he was pretty much gorgeous. Blond like the rest of his family, but with these really intense dark eyes. Total fairytale prince.”

  “Was he?” Adam asks. “A prince, I mean. Like an actual prince.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I don’t think so. I think his dad might have been, and his mother had some other noble title. So I don’t know what that made him, but in my mind, he was always … my prince.”

  “Oh my goodness,” Adam says, shaking his head. “I don’t think I need to hear this.”

  “Hey, shh. No more interrupting.” I squeeze my cushion and continue. “We didn’t really interact that much. He was nineteen and not all that interested in hanging out with his little brother and sister. But one morning after I’d been there about a month, we both ended up on a bench outside. The Brats wanted to play out there, even though it was freezing, and Carl had just had an argument with his parents and came outside, he said, to clear his head. We ended up having a long conversation, and after that, things felt different between us. Like there was some kind of connection, you know?”

  “Um, I guess.”

  “Months passed like that. Smiles from a distance, brief conversations whenever our paths crossed, the occasional almost-flirting. And then one night, while his parents were holding some function that involved plenty of pompous people in fancy gowns and suits, we bumped into each other in the library. The Brats were finally asleep, and I’d snuck in there to look for a new book to read—although, as I soon found out, there wasn’t much on those shelves that actually interested me. Carl was bored with all his parents’ friends, so he escaped to the library to get away from them. There was a window seat and a full moon and a forbidden kiss and … oh.” I sink back against the couch. “It was such a perfect fairytale moment.”

  “Hey, no swooning,” Adam reminds me.

  “Right. Yes. So our relationship was a secret because we didn’t think his parents would approve of him dating the girl they’d hired to look after their children. We met up in secluded parts of the grounds where we knew no one would see us, and sometimes I’d have to go days without seeing him. We didn’t send texts because he didn’t want anyone seeing them on his phone, and after I sent him a few emails, he said that was dangerous too, because they also showed up on his phone. So I created a new email address for him that he’d have to go online to check, made up a ridiculously long, random password no one would ever guess, wrote it inside the back of a book, and gave the book to him as a gift.”

  “So, no passing love letters to one another like back in the old days, huh?”

  “Nope. None of that. We arranged our meetings via email, and it was thrilling meeting up in secret every few days. Anyway, when it got to about a month before I was due to come back home, I asked him about the future of our relationship. I said that surely once I was no longer employed by his parents, it would be okay to date publicly. I even told him I’d been looking into studying in Germany so we could stay together.”

  Adam gives me a knowing look. “I’m guessing this is the part of the story where you acquired the Broken Hearted Loser label.”

  “You guess correctly. Carl said he needed to think about it, and the next time we met up, he had the book with him. The one I’d written the password in. He used a whole lot of words to essentially tell me that I’d never be good enough for his family or friends, that they’d never accept me, and that our relationship had reached its end. He gave the book back to me, and that was that. A week later, I saw him escorting another girl around the property, showing off his grand home to her. When I took The Brats out for the day, the driver told me she was some duchess’s daughter.”

  “Wow,” Adam says. “What a royal ass.”

  “Indeed. It may not be as bad as cheating on someone, like Jenna did to you, but man did I feel rejected and worthless after that.”

  “I can imagine.” He frowns. “Wait, I don’t need to imagine that. I’m feeling it already.”

  I lift my mug from the floor and hold it up. “Here’s to moving on.”

  “To moving on,” Adam says, knocking his mug against mine. “Hopefully soon.”

  “Yes. Now let’s stay in our pyjamas all day and eat junk food and see how many episodes of The Big Bang Theory we can watch.”

  I hurry into my first period lecture on Monday to find Allegra sitting alone on the other side of the lecture theatre, far away from Charlotte, Amber and Courtney. Jackson isn’t here yet, so I walk around to where Allegra is sitting and drop into the chair beside her. She gives me a half-hearted smile, then slouches down in her chair and draws doodles on the inside cover of her notebook.

  Oookay. I’ve never seen Allegra so quiet. She’s definitely more allegretto than allegro today. No, that doesn’t fit either. She isn’t even a little bit lively. I pull my notes and pens out of my bag while searching my brain for the Italian musical term for ‘subdued.’ Sotto. That’s the one. Allegra is definitely sotto today.

  “Where’ve you been all weekend?” she asks. “And Friday. You missed every single lecture.”

  “Yes, um, Adam needed me.” He spent most of his non-working weekend hours at the piano, cycling through every depressing Satie composition he knows. And when he was working, I hung out in a corner at Jazzy Beanbag, consolidating all the notes for my various courses and making sure Adam didn’t start yelling at anyone about his demon ex-girlfriend.

  Allegra nods, but doesn’t say anything else.

  I lean closer to her. “What’s wrong?”

  She bites her lip, taps her pen against the page, then glances across at our other three friends. “Charlotte and Damien are officially a couple now.”

  My eyes follow Allegra’s line of sight to where Charlotte is tossing her perfect brown curls over her shoulder. “Damien? The guy from Smuts? The one you have a crush on?”

  Allegra grips her pen tightly and draws over and over and over the star doodle on her notebook cover until I’m worried she’s going to push the nib right through the cardboard. “She knows how I feel about him,” she says between clenched teeth. “And I’ve never seen them together, which means she’s been doing all her flirting when I haven’t been around. Intentionally sabotag
ing any hope I might have had with him.”

  I lay my hand on her arm. “I’m really sorry. That sucks.”

  “How could she do this? Isn’t there supposed to be some kind of girlfriend honour code? Now we can never be friends again, even if she and Damien don’t last. And why are Amber and Courtney siding with her? Don’t they care about me at all?”

  “You know what?” I say. “This all sounds like silly high school drama. You shouldn’t worry about it. If any of the three of them had even a scrap of maturity, they would have spoken to you about all of this like adults. So … just … hold your head high and show them how mature you are.”

  “Mature? Mature?” Allegra looks at me as though she doesn’t know the meaning of the word. “Mature isn’t going to change the fact that she took my guy, Livi!”

  Right. Maturity obviously wasn’t the best line to go with.

  Allegra drops her pen and crosses her arms. “He’s too serious for me anyway. She can have him.”

  I want to roll my eyes, but that probably wouldn’t be well received. “Allegra, I’m sure there’s someone out there’s who perfect for—”

  “Only two weeks to go till the end of the quarter,” Professor Batch booms from the front of the lecture theatre, “and we’ve got lots to cover, so let’s not waste any more time.”

  I pick up my pen and get ready to take notes, but only after glancing around to see where Jackson is.

  He still hasn’t arrived.

  ***

  Jackson never showed up. Which would have been fine if I hadn’t seen him chilling on Jammie steps five minutes after first period ended as Allegra and I were walking to Stats. I was about to wave and run over to him when I realised he was sitting in between two girls. No, not sitting. Reclining in sexy Norse god fashion while laughing at whatever the two girls were saying. I’m not ashamed to admit to the gleeful satisfaction I felt when, about three seconds after I stopped to gape at him, the clouds parted and some of that Cape Town rain I’ve heard so much about dumped itself on top of UCT, putting a quick end to the two girls’ shameless flirting.

  Allegra shrieked, grabbed my arm, and dragged me into the nearest building. And that was the last I saw of Jackson all day.

  Now, after getting drenched while finding my way to my car, then fighting with afternoon traffic on slippery roads, I stomp into my room and throw my bag onto the armchair in the corner. I don’t want to wet my duvet with my soaked clothes, so I sit at my desk while checking my phone for the fifty-seventh time.

  No message from Jackson.

  Ugh, what is up with him? Is he annoyed with me for telling him I couldn’t see him this past weekend because I needed to help out a friend? I didn’t mention the friend was a guy, so he can’t be upset about that. Maybe he’s playing the hard-to-get game. Or maybe what I saw this morning is the way he always acts around other girls when I’m not there.

  With a sigh, I push my wheeled chair away from my desk and travel out of my room, across the passage, and into Adam’s room. “Hey,” I say. “How are you doing?”

  His computer screen goes black, and he swings around to face me with a guilty expression on his face.

  I narrow my eyes at him. “You weren’t looking at porn, were you?”

  He gives me a blank stare. “Seriously, Livi? I wouldn’t even know how to find porn. And if I were going to search for it, I’d probably close my door first.”

  I spin my chair in circles a few times, then drop my feet to come to a stop. “So why do you look guilty?”

  Adam groans. “I was on Jenna’s Facebook page.”

  I sigh. “Probably not the best idea, huh?”

  “No.”

  “But at least you’re not playing Satie’s Gymnopédies anymore, so that’s good, right?”

  Adam shrugs. “I suppose. You know, I never fully appreciated the instructions to play that music ‘painfully’ until now.”

  I nod. “Yeah. It was pretty painful listening to it on never-ending repeat this weekend.”

  Adam throws a dirty sock at me, but he’s smiling, so I know I haven’t offended him. “You need to phone your dad,” he says. “Tell him what you told me last night.”

  I spin around on my chair again. “How do you know I haven’t phoned him already?”

  “If you had, you would have told me about it.”

  “Fine, fine, fine. I’ll go call him now.” I propel my chair backwards, aiming for the open doorway. One of the wheels catches against the doorframe, the flimsy chair topples over, and I find myself lying in a pile of dirty laundry by the door.

  Adam shakes his head. “How have you made it to age nineteen without seriously injuring yourself?”

  I pick myself up and turn my chair back onto its wheeled legs. “I always make sure there’s something soft to land on when I’m about to perform an act of supreme clumsiness.”

  Adam points to my bedroom. “Phone.”

  I point to his computer. “Porn!”

  “What?”

  “Sorry, I thought we were shouting out random—Okay, okay, I’m going!” I duck out of the way of the flying cushion before pushing my chair back to my room. I shut my door and pick my phone up from the bed. A moment later, I’m spinning slowly in my chair in the middle of the room waiting for dad to answer. He said I could call any time, but I didn’t really believe the part where he said he’d answer no matter what. If he’s in an important meeting, he wouldn’t—

  “Hi, Livi.”

  “Oh, uh, hi. Hi, Dad.”

  “I’m glad you called. Did you just speak to Mom?”

  “No. Why?” I wrap a strand of hair around my finger.

  “Oh. Well, I spoke to her earlier. She agreed that some counselling might be good for us. She, uh, hasn’t said if she’ll be coming home, but counselling is a good start.”

  “Okay.” I’m surprised to hear that Mom spoke to Dad. I thought she’d ignore him for a lot longer. “Um, I actually wanted to ask you something.”

  “Of course. What is it?”

  I stop spinning and stand up. “Well, uh …” Just say it. “I want to meet her. Andrea. I want to meet my half-sister.”

  “Oh. I … didn’t think you’d want that. I thought you’d be so angry you’d never want to meet either of them.”

  I begin pacing. “I am angry, Dad. I’m angry with you. And I’m angry with the woman who decided to have an affair with a married man. But that mistake you ended up having? It’s not her fault. She didn’t do anything wrong. And now that I know she exists, my curiosity is never going to go away. I’m always going to be wondering about her. So yes. I want to meet her.”

  My little speech is greeted with a long pause. Eventually Dad says, “Livi, I really don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “It doesn’t matter what you think.”

  “It does, actually. Have you thought about how this will make your mother feel?”

  “Oh, great move, Dad. Use Mom against me. This doesn’t have to have anything to do with you or Mom. Just tell me how I can contact her, and I’ll get on with it my—”

  “Alivia!” he shouts. “I am trying to keep our family together, and you are making that very difficult.”

  “I’m making it difficult? Me? No, Dad, you’re the one who made it difficult seventeen years ago when you COULDN’T KEEP YOUR DAMN PANTS ON!”

  I end the call and throw my phone across the room at the bed. My hands are shaking. I can’t believe I just said that to my own father. If he calls back right away and demands I apologise for being so disrespectful, I wouldn’t be surprised.

  He’s the one at fault here, I remind myself. He’s the one who messed up big time and is trying desperately to hold all the pieces together now that everything is blowing up in his face. All you did was lose your temper.

  I flop onto the bed—who cares about damp clothes—just as my phone pings. Oh, great. Now I’m text fighting with my father?

  It isn’t Dad, though. It’s Jackson.

  Jackson
: Hey, my sexy bunny. Sorry I didn’t see you today. I was catching up with some friends from school. They’re med students, so they’re not often on Upper Campus. Missed you.

  Huh. Friends from school. I suppose that could explain why he was being so friendly with those two girls. I try to remain aloof in my response, though.

  Livi: No problem. I was busy anyway. Lots of work to get through before the vac.

  Jackson: Tell me about it. Next two weeks are gonna suck.

  Jackson: There’s a party in Camps Bay next Friday. I know you said you might be flying home that evening, but if you’re not you must come. Gonna be epic.

  Livi: Decided I’m not going home anymore. So I’ll be there.

  From: Alivia Howard

  Sent: Mon 24 Mar, 5:31 pm

  To: Carl

  Subject: Dear Carl

  I used to hear you fighting with your dad all the time. You wouldn’t think so, would you, with it being such a huge castle, but I guess you guys fought a lot. Sometimes I’d listen and think, well at least your dad pays attention to you. My dad doesn’t really care all that much what I do. But now that I’m fighting with my own father … well, it sucks.

  ___________________________________

  “O. M. G. Is this you, Livi?”

  I turn away from my mirror and look across the room. Crapazoid. Allegra’s got hold of my high school yearbook. Why didn’t I think to hide that before she got here? “Uh, which page are you on? Because there was this other girl who looked a lot like me but—”

  “It is you! Oh my Gucci, you cute little orchestra girl. What instrument did you play? Was it one of the cool ones? Oh, wait.” She taps a finger on her chin. “I don’t think orchestras have any cool instruments, do they? Not, like, guitars and drums and stuff. My brother tried to play the violin for a bit. Horrid, screechy thing. I’ve never heard anything so awful in my life.” She looks up and places a hand on her hip. “Isn’t it weird how different things are popular at different schools? Like, at my school, the orchestra was where all the sad loser kids ended up.”