by Ali Berg
Bea opened her eyes, stared at him and laughed. ‘Oh, I will.’ She brought out her phone, wanting to message Cassandra about the man she had just met. She sent her a quick text, and then added a post to her Instagram account, using a photo she had taken a couple of days ago.
Helloisthisyourbook
Scribble of the day: desert your inhibitions.
GUYS, I MET MYSTERY WRITER! THE Mystery Writer! I was out at a bar and he recognised the book. And he’s just as dreamy as we dreamt he would be and has a facial structure to rival that of Joshua Templeman.
‘Drinking makes people more interesting.’ Bea read the messy writing on her coffee cup.
‘It’s by—’
‘I know. Hemingway. Ha. Ha. Very funny,’ she said. Bea had stumbled into The Nook looking worse for wear and begging for her caffeine fix. Her usually loose waves were pulled into a messy bun which sat unevenly atop her head, and her shirt was creased in every direction. Dino had scowled at her and served up her coffee without uttering a word until after she’d read the quote.
Bea gulped down her coffee. ‘What?’
Dino shrugged and turned to serve the next customer. Bea rolled her eyes and played with Agatha Christie’s fur, kneading it between her fingers. She watched Dino as he dusted chocolate on his latest creation, then swiftly placed a takeaway lid on top.
‘So, anything happen with you and that ridiculously conventional guy last night?’ he asked finally. She enjoyed how Dino reverted to talking like a gossipy teenage girl when under pressure.
She laughed. ‘“Ridiculously conventional”? What on earth are you on about? By the way, is Agatha looking a little chunkier than usual?’
‘Don’t change the subject,’ Dino said as he rearranged the croissants on the front counter so that they sat in a perfectly symmetrical pyramid. He placed a miniature statue of the Eiffel Tower beside them. ‘Come on, he looked like he was straight off the set of Gossip Girl.’
Bea felt a flush race up her neck simply thinking about the Gossip Girl-like character she had recently smooched. She dismissed Dino with a wave of her hand. ‘I just got his number, that’s all. He seemed sweet.’ Apparently she had become one of those women who didn’t kiss and tell. ‘And he’s hardly conventional. He reads! And writes!’
Dino stared at her. ‘Am I supposed to be impressed that he’s literate?’
‘He’s not just literate. He’s a fucking poet!’
Dino simply raised one eyebrow.
‘Well, not a poet like you,’ Bea said. ‘But, I happened to find a copy of a book he donated to The Little Brunswick Street Bookstore – you should so go there, by the way – which he had written all over! Almost from top to bottom! He’s jotted down these incredible insights into the themes of the book and these worldly observations and parallels he draws to his own life.’ At this point Bea was gesticulating so wildly, even Agatha Christie seemed to look up at her in surprise. She could no longer keep her discovery to herself. ‘Anyway, he seems really interesting.’
‘Sounds like quite the catch. Well done you.’
‘Mmm, the book – well, Zach – he seems pretty amazing.’
‘Just don’t go counting your chickens before they hatch.’
‘Ever the optimist, aren’t we? Is it so terrible to dream a little?’ Bea huffed, tossing a serviette at Dino, which he swiftly dodged. ‘Now please hand me a chocolate muffin before I die of hunger,’ she said.
Dino cautiously handed over the pastry. ‘So, I know I’m no jotter of marginalia poetry, but will you come to my poetry slam again tonight?’
‘Sure. Any poetry’s good poetry!’ Bea said, her mouth full of muffin.
Bea shuffled her chair to the very corner of her desk and opened her copy of Meeting Oliver Bennett. She was waiting for the painkiller she had just taken to kick in, and for her parents to arrive. They had insisted on an office tour and lunch date. Unable to ignore the scribbles, she ran her eyes slowly over each one, absorbing them.
how can something so small fill my whole world?
Now that she knew that Zach was behind the inscriptions, they all felt so much more personal. So real. What was running through his mind? She imagined his big hands curved around a ballpoint pen, his mind ticking, as he poured his thoughts onto the paper. She had never in her life seen so many annotations, each imbued with such meaning. They spread across the pages as if marking their territory. Her fingers traced down the page of the book, hovering over the detail of the tightly bound lowercase letters.
‘Bea, my darling,’ a warm voice cooed, dragging Bea back to the surface. ‘I can’t believe this is your desk!’
Quickly shoving Meeting Oliver Bennett under some loose briefs, Bea pushed her chair back, enveloping her mum in her arms. She thanked Anika for showing her parents where she was stationed, and then kissed her dad hello on the cheek.
‘So tell me love,’ Maggie leaned in, wrapping her arm behind Bea’s back, ‘Show me where you have your big meetings.’
Bea led her parents to the boardroom, smiling meekly at those she passed, hoping she could feign being a valued part of the professional and social make-up of the place. Maggie and Martin were thrilled, stopping every few steps to wonder at a whiteboard with a clumsy brainstorm splashed across it or ask to be introduced to a colleague – the requests were delicately ignored by Bea. As they neared the glass windowed office, Bea felt her phone vibrate in her back pocket. Leaving her parents to take in the wonders of the corridor, she pulled out her phone.
Zach: Lovely meeting you last night, Bea.
‘Oh my God,’ Bea whispered under her breath.
‘What is it darling?’ Martin asked.
‘Oh just a work email, congratulating me on my last submission. They’re very impressed.’
Maggie clapped her hands in delight, ‘Oh let us see!’ She sung, grabbing Bea’s phone and reading what was on the screen. She frowned, ‘Who’s Zach?’
Bea visibly shuddered, dreading the conversation she knew she was about to have. ‘Just a friend, Mum.’
‘With benefits?’
‘Mum! Ach.’ Bea’s mum had officially taken being a Gen X wannabe too far.
‘Darling, this is wonderful. You must respond immediately!’
Bea took the phone from her glowing mother and replaced it in her pocket, ‘Thanks Mum, I will.’
‘Now.’
‘You heard your mother.’ Her parents stared at her expectantly.
Without breaking eye contact, Bea slowly retrieved her phone and pulled up a new message.
Bea: You too, Zach. I’m just sorry you had to meet blind-drunk-off-her-face Bea so soon.
Before she could put her phone away, it vibrated again. Bea’s parents nodded at her encouragingly.
Zach: Not at all. It was a pleasure to meet her. I’d love to meet sober Bea too, though.
Bea: She’d like that.
Zach: How about tonight? I’ve got two tickets to Alice Underground, and one has your name on it.
Bea sighed, tonight?
‘So?’ The M&Ms said in unison.
‘He wants to see me tonight.’
Both Bea’s parents cheered, collected Bea in their arms and jumped up and down in a circle. Bea jerked away, reminding her parents that they were at her place of business.
‘I’m supposed to be going to Dino’s poetry slam tonight.’
‘Your barista friend who doesn’t do coffee art?’ Maggie asked. ‘I’m sure he’ll understand. When’s the last time you went on a date, honey?’
‘We are not discussing this right now, Mum,’ Bea smiled half-heartedly as two of her colleagues brushed past them on their way to a meeting.
‘Darling,’ Martin held Bea’s hands in his. ‘Give it a go. You need to put yourself out there. Just think what your sister would do.’
It had, in fact, been ages since Bea’s last date. Not long before Cassandra’s wedding, she had been casually dating a particularly elusive gentleman, Paul – dubbed ‘Why Did I Swipe Right?’ –
who had made a run for the hills when an invitation to said event was extended. The rejection coupled with the trauma of the wedding fallout had Bea sworn off men. Until she met Zach.
‘Come on darling, YOLO,’ Maggie muttered softly.
Bea: The immersive theatre show? I’ve been dying to go!
Zach: Fantastic! Meet me under the Melbourne Central clock at 8?
Bea: See you then x
‘There, are you happy now?’ Bea held out her phone for her parents to see, her head hung low as she realised that her social life had so deteriorated that she was now taking dating advice from her parents.
‘Ecstatic!’ Martin chirped. ‘Now who’s up for a bite to eat?’ Martin draped his arm around Bea and Maggie’s shoulders and guided them to the elevator while Bea took out her phone.
Bea: Need to take a rain check on tonight. Sorry, Dino! I’ll come to the next one. Promise!
‘Open wide.’
Bea did as Zach requested and he placed a tiny pink marshmallow bearing the phrase ‘Eat me’ on her tongue. They were standing in a room festooned with chandeliers, dusty books, an old piano and a handful of actors dressed as characters from the Lewis Carroll novel. A man in a pink faux-fur Cheshire cat costume tapped Bea on the shoulder. They were officially immersed in this alternative reenactment of Alice in Wonderland.
‘We’re all mad here,’ he said, and cackled in her face.
Zach took her hand. ‘Are you glad you came down the rabbit hole with me? Or do you think I’m bonkers?’
‘You’re entirely bonkers!’ Bea exclaimed. ‘But I’ll tell you a secret.’
‘All the best people are.’ Zach grinned, finishing off the quote and making Bea’s insides smile.
A tall man with a grizzly beard dressed in Alice drag brushed past them, pushing Bea up against a wall of yellowing book pages. Zach stood over her, his arm resting against her hip casually. He swept a piece of hair from her eyes.
Bea tilted her head sideways. ‘You know I’m going to bring up that book of yours. I can’t stop thinking about all the insightful notes. I can barely focus on the words written by the actual author anymore.’
‘I guess I don’t like to take things at face value,’ Zach said smoothly.
‘What did you mean when you wrote “I know the fastest way to travel”?’ Bea asked, blurting out the first question of many she had for him.
‘Why, books, of course!’ he laughed.
The Mad Hatter, complete with a tall purple hat and striped yellow and black stockings, offered them a cocktail in a teacup. They each took one gratefully.
Zach clinked his cup against hers. ‘I feel like you’ve had an unfair head start. You’ve read all of my deepest thoughts. You’re getting curiouser and curiouser, and I know not a thing about you.’
Bea tipped the sweet pink liquid into her mouth and swirled it around before swallowing it. She was desperate to know about Zach’s annotations, but was cautious of coming on too strong. So, somewhat reluctantly, she let him change the topic. ‘What do you want to know?’
‘What’s your favourite book?’ he asked.
A man after my own heart. ‘Easy. The Secret History.’
‘I love that book.’ He smiled, shuffling a fraction closer.
‘Really?’
‘Wasn’t it Donna Tartt who said something along the lines of: “to know a book intimately is better than understanding a thousand superficially”?’
‘Show-off.’ Bea pushed him away, giggling. Referencing Bea’s author idol made her swoon on the spot.
A Queen of Hearts strolled past them, carrying jam tarts on a silver tray. Zach picked one up, ate a mouthful and then held the rest of it to Bea’s mouth. She took a bite, then licked her lips.
‘How do you know so much about books, anyway? Are you an author, editor, publisher – or just a book nerd like me?’
‘Zach Harris. Editor at Thelma & Clarke. Nice to meet you.’ Zach held out his hand and she took it in hers.
‘Oh, that’s sexy.’
‘And you are?’ he asked.
‘Bea Babbage, Marketing Manager at AKDB, working next door to the Melbourne Writers Festival.’
‘Next door?’
‘It’s a long story.’ Bea guzzled the rest of her drink. Zach watched her with a thoughtful gaze, like he was making mental scribbles of her.
‘I never thought I’d ever meet anyone who loves books as much as I do,’ Zach said, in – was that awe?
‘Me neither,’ Bea replied. ‘Speaking of, I have more questions! Firstly, when did you start leaving these scribbles in your books?’ she asked, eager to steer the conversation towards the topic of that book again.
Zach fidgeted with his jacket for a moment, perhaps searching for the right words. ‘I guess it’s always been a habit of mine. Believe it or not, reading never came easily to me. Thankfully I was a stubborn little kid. And I really, desperately, wanted to read The Famous Five. Thank God for Blyton, hey?’ He put a hand against his teacup in silent prayer. ‘I would stay up late every night reading under the covers with a torch strapped to my head.’
Bea couldn’t help but picture a curly-haired little boy, squinting at the pages of the book with that little crease in his forehead she saw now.
‘And I would underline every word I didn’t recognise or couldn’t understand. Then the next day I would pester my mum with questions and shove the scribbled-on book in her face while she tried to make breakfast.’
‘And now look at you! Writing your own stories on the margins of your favourite books! I swear, when you wrote that thing about how if you’re one in a million, there’s still over seven thousand people like you, or something—’
‘I guess it just made me think how we’re always so afraid to be alone, but even for the most lonely people, well, there’s always someone out there, who’s just the same as you.’
Bea nodded. This couldn’t have rung more true for her at this very moment. She still had more questions, though. And she felt like she couldn’t ask them quickly enough.
They ended the evening covered in a light glitter mist and smelling just faintly of alcohol. On their journey they had experienced Alice’s adventures and Bea and Zach sipped drinks (it turned out that the Cheshire Cat was an actor-cum-magician-cum-bartender, and spent the evening making vodka shots miraculously materialise out of thin air), shared stories and savoured each other’s company. Bea had learnt that Zach grew up in the leafy suburb of Camberwell, was famous for being the class clown, had loved and lost three golden retrievers, developed an aversion to dumplings after being dared to eat one hundred in one sitting (he did, but suffered the consequences) and was a serious Netflix documentary fiend (‘Did you hear the existence of aliens is a mathematical and statistical certainty?’ he had said earnestly).
After they had both yawned a few times, they pushed past the small pockets of guests who still remained and made their way back through Melbourne Central until they reached the entrance to the train station. Checking the various timetables flashing across screens, they searched for the fastest route home.
‘Which line are you?’ Bea inquired, trying to act casual.
‘Alamein. You?’
‘Sandringham.’ She faltered, slowly searching for her train card.
Bea had such a great night. In fact, it had been one of few good evenings since moving to Melbourne. And she was afraid for it to end. So, she took a deep breath, and for the first time in a while, did something brave.
‘Want to come back to mine for a drink or something? I make a mean cosmopolitan,’ Bea blurted.
Zach smiled. He pulled out his train card and followed her to the turnstiles, ‘That does sound very appealing, but it’s been a long day. I should probably call it a night.’
‘Oh yeah, of course,’ Bea replied, a little dejected. So stupid, Bea! Way too soon!
‘I’ll catch you around, Bea.’ Zach waved goodbye. Bea waved back, not even a goodbye kiss? she bemoaned to herself. She shifted awkward
ly, feeling foolish, and as she made her way to her platform in the opposite direction from Zach, she couldn’t help but feel more alone than ever.
Dear Ramona,
Just the usual clean sweep for today (or whatever’s included in my prize)! Heads up – tech guy swinging by between 10-11am to check my router. My wifi crashed mid-stalk last night. Do you think it’s weird or refreshing that Zach’s not on Facebook?
Thanks a bundle!
Bea xx
Bea,
I let the tech man in. He said, turn switch on.
Ramona
PS No one on Facebook anymore. You not hear about Russian spies?
‘Coffee. I need coffee.’
It was just before closing time when Bea stumbled through the doorway of The Nook and flung herself dramatically across the counter. It had been a trying couple of days. She had endured back to back meetings upstairs, during which she was forced to take minutes, coffee orders and her colleagues’ creative bullshit. This was only exacerbated by her late nights. In an attempt to deal with two days of no communication from Zach after she had stupidly asked him back to her place, Bea had been staying up reading until the wee hours of the morning, trying to home in on Zach through his jottings.
‘Long time, no see,’ Dino said, just a bit too cavalierly for her current state.
‘I’ve got half an hour before I enter my very own living nightmare. Coffee. Please,’ Bea replied.
‘Do tell.’
‘In thirty minutes I’ll be driving a hired, impractically large people mover, on the freeway during the worst roadwork period Melbourne has ever seen, apparently, to drop off my parents and my sister’s husband, Nick, and their twin daughters – at the airport. Nick and the twins are visiting his parents, and the catch is, my sister has “sponsorship meetings” for her Instagram page, so has to be in Melbourne, and will be staying with me, in my cramped, one bedroom, shoebox of an apartment! For an entire week!’ Bea exclaimed.