While You Were Reading

by Ali Berg

  Dino laughed. ‘Why can’t she stay at her own house while her hubby and kids are away?’

  ‘Because she’s, quote, “too little to stay in such a big house all alone.”’ Bea rolled her eyes. ‘So, like I said, coffee. Please!’

  Dino went about grinding, steaming and frothing Bea’s latte. He grabbed a pen and drafted a fresh quote across a takeaway cup, then poured the hot liquid into it. He slid the drink towards Bea, who was still face down on the counter, the comforting smell eventually drawing her from her stupor. She straightened and took a long, greedy sip.

  ‘You’re the master,’ Bea sighed, clasping the cup in both hands and holding it close to her chest.

  Dino cleared his throat.

  ‘How could I forget?’ Bea held it up to her eyes, turning it as she read the paraphrased quote. ‘After a strong coffee one can forgive anybody, even one’s own relations,’ she read aloud, and chuckled softly before taking an exaggerated gulp.

  ‘But next payday you’re buying a KeepCup,’ Dino said, before turning his back on Bea to wipe down the milk splatter left behind by her coffee. ‘Heard from Zach yet?’

  ‘Nope, but at least I have his annotations to keep me company. Listen to this quote: “A life spent longing for tomorrow”. Isn’t it so true?’ Bea adjusted herself on the bar stool and without asking, grabbed an apple and cinnamon muffin from the basket display and bit into it immediately.

  Dino nodded noncommittally. ‘Gorgeous. Are you sure you need a sugar rush at this time of the day?’ he asked, looking up briefly from his work.

  ‘It’s got fruit in it, so it doesn’t count,’ Bea said, her mouth full, crumbs flying. ‘Besides, I’m going to need all the pastries I can get to survive this afternoon!’

  Dino, taking advantage of the pre-close quiet, snuck out to the back room and returned holding a large frame. Bea swivelled on her bar stool, leaning up against the wooden bench. She watched as Dino hopped atop the low bench that ran along the back of the café; he kicked a couple of cushions to the side as he flipped the frame and held it against the wall.

  ‘So, what do you think?’

  The frame held a simple print: a long black line. On first inspection it appeared to be a random squiggle, but as Bea continued to stare, a spattering of words appeared: I filter coffee. Not people.

  Bea hid her smile behind her cup. Mental note, in addition to puns, new clothing and PDJ (public displays of joy), Dino really does not like Instagram. ‘So what you mean to say is that I can’t take photos in your café?’

  ‘You betcha bottom dollar that’s what I mean. This is a strictly No Instagram Influencer zone.’

  ‘You are so full of yourself, Dino,’ Bea said. ‘Can exceptions be made for a humble Bookstagrammer?’

  ‘Don’t tell me you’ve crossed over to the dark side?’ Dino said, languishing against the wall theatrically. ‘Just when I thought we could be friends.’

  ‘I couldn’t help myself,’ Bea replied.

  Dino shook his head, tisking audibly. ‘I can’t believe you.’

  ‘It’s nothing pretentious, I’m just sharing my thoughts on Zach’s book.’

  ‘So you’re his manager now? Sexy.’

  Bea rolled her eyes. ‘If you really must know, I started the page before I met him, but – well, I’ve come to quite like the online community of readers, so I ran with it. They’re loving Zach’s scribbles almost as much as I am. Listen to this one: “In a room full of art, I only see you.” ’

  Dino didn’t reply so Bea continued, feeling a strange urgency to make Dino appreciate how special the notes were. ‘That’s not even one of his best. I’m so obsessed with these scribbles, Dino. I honestly feel like a teenage girl, crushing hard on Homer in Tomorrow, When the War Began.’

  ‘I’m so happy for you, Bea,’ Dino said indifferently, giving the glass in the frame a quick wipe. Satisfied, he jumped off the bench and made his way back to his post. ‘Hey, shouldn’t you get going?’

  Bea checked her watch, leaped off her stool and grabbed her bag, suddenly wide awake. ‘Shit! Thanks for the coffee, Picasso!’ she called over her shoulder as she sprinted out the door.

  White knuckling the steering wheel, Bea leaned forward and tried her best to focus on the road. With the traffic piling up, the twins crying bloody murder in the back and her mum silently sobbing in the corner (Maggie was not big on goodbyes), she was regretting everything.

  ‘Honey, just a little to the left. That’s a girl,’ Lizzie cajoled, snapping a couple of dozen photos of her precious, emotionally distraught girls, because nothing screamed ‘I’m so real’ like some bona fide tears on your Instagram feed on Hump Day. Lizzie was all about curating the perfectly balanced aspirational and relatable online profile. Willow, however, was not in a very cooperative mood this morning. She slapped the phone out of Lizzie’s hand, which provoked a measured, but firm telling off from her mother.

  ‘Lizzie, don’t be so hard on Willow,’ Nick interjected. ‘You know we’re trying to use more positive reinforcement with the girls. They need to feel safe so that they know it’s okay to f-a-i-l.’ Nick spelt out the word lest the twins catch onto a sliver of his negative energy.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Nick, they need to understand boundaries,’ Lizzie bit back.

  Maggie, who had stopped crying for long enough to nod encouragingly at Lizzie, sang her praises at what a patient and positive mum she was, while Martin took the opportunity to grill Bea further on her life in Melbourne.

  ‘Sweetheart, I’ve been thinking about it, and if you’re not being stimulated in your current job, why not look for another?’ he said, tapping his fingers along the propeller of his drone, which he refused to pack in his check-in luggage. ‘Why don’t you use Lizzie’s CV as a template? Or better yet, go down the reality TV route. You know Celeste and Barry’s daughter was on MasterChef, and now she gets paid just to take pictures of herself eating brunch!’

  Bea nodded along, thinking that she would rather dance naked in the street than audition for a reality TV show. ‘That’s a great idea, Dad. I’ll think about it.’

  ‘Enough with all the thinking, you just need to take a chance,’ Lizzie insisted. ‘Look what The Bachelor has done for my career. And I’ve never been happier!’

  Bea looked at Lizzie in the rearview mirror. She appeared unfazed as she dabbed at the clump of apple compote which Lola had just thrown into her cleavage. She continued to drone on about how to maximise job opportunities through networking events while her mother chimed in with helpful tips on how to wield LinkedIn to your advantage.

  ‘Please tell me you’ve at least got a Bumble Bizz account? Bea, really.’ Lizzie shook her head dismissively as the M&Ms muttered nervously. ‘Bea, I’ll sort it all out for you. I’m an entrepreneur after all!’

  ‘Shhh,’ Bea hummed quietly.

  ‘What was that, Beatrix?’ Bea’s dad inquired gently.

  ‘Everybody needs to shhh,’ Bea whispered, teeth gritted.

  ‘Huh?’ her family mouthed in unison.

  ‘Shut up! You all need to shut up so I can get us through this nightmare of a traffic jam and get you to the bloody airport without me accidentally murdering you all!’ Bea yelled.

  They fell into shocked silence, not used to Bea being so abrupt. She was usually the calm and placating force in the family. Even Willow and Lola shut their tiny little mouths.

  The rest of the drive was spent in silence, the low hum of evening radio chatter simmering beneath the surface of their bruised spirits. Bea loved her family, adored them and had missed them terribly since relocating to Melbourne. But, crammed between the noise and the chaos and the suffocating affection and concerned glances, she now felt a certain estrangement from them.

  After twenty-seven excruciatingly long minutes, Bea finally pulled up in front of the Qantas terminal with gritted teeth. She helped lug the suitcases out of the boot and hugged her teary mother and father goodbye.

  ‘I’ll miss you, Liz.’ Nick kissed
Lizzie on the lips before picking up a twin with each arm.

  ‘I’ll miss you so much, my beautiful babies. Mummy loves you. Have fun with Grandma and Grandpa and I’ll see you soon.’ Lizzie’s eyes began to tear, as she hugged each of her children fiercely. As Nick, Lola, Willow and the M&Ms trailed through the big glass doors, Lizzie turned to Bea, mascara staining her cheeks.

  ‘It’ll go quickly, Liz. It’s only a week,’ Bea said encouragingly. She knew this was hard for her sister, who had only ever been away from her kids for a couple of nights.

  Lizzie nodded, regaining her composure. ‘We are going to have so much fun! Hashtag girls’ week!’

  Zach: Hey. Sorry for not getting in touch earlier. I had to go on a last minute work trip and hardly had the chance to stop!

  Bea: No drama. My sister is staying with me at the moment and I’ve barely had a second to breathe either.

  Zach: Can I get you out of the house tonight then? I know of a literary pub crawl happening that I think you might love.

  Bea: A literary pub crawl? Count me in!

  Zach: Great. Pick you up at 8 x

  Bea sat on the closed seat of her toilet as Lizzie applied a discreet winged eyeliner to her lids. She played with her shirt buttons. When Bea had received Zach’s message earlier that day, she let out the biggest sigh of relief. One she didn’t realise she had been holding, as she waited for Zach to dump her before anything really began. Knowing that she had a second shot made her stomach flutter. She then immediately googled the event for that evening on her phone. She found the Facebook page for the event, and discovered that it was dress up, and the theme was A Protagonist That’s Changed Your Life. Could this guy be my soulmate?

  Bea had decided she would go dressed as Atticus Finch, the closest thing to climbing into his skin and walking around in it. Lizzie wasn’t sure it was such a good idea that Bea was going on a date dressed as a man, but Bea wasn’t the type of person to lie about her most life-changing literary role model. Wasn’t there a saying – books before good looks? In the end, they had settled on ‘sexy Atticus’, complete with a hot pantsuit and a solemn promise to keep at least three to four shirt buttons undone at all times. Makeup and absolutely no fake stubble were obviously non-negotiables, as well.

  Bea sighed, letting the sound of her sister’s babble wash over her. Now a married woman and reality TV star, Lizzie felt it was her right, no, responsibility, to pass on her dating wisdom to her baby sister. Which she managed to do while name dropping everyone she could possibly think of.

  ‘Osher would always say before a rose ceremony, “just breathe and be you”,’ she was saying, ‘but that’s the biggest crock of shit! Excuse my French. Just be you? Sure, sure, roll out of bed in the morning and slick your hair back in a pony and yabber on about the only accomplishment of your week – avoiding the forty-minute wait at that new hip café and getting seated straight away. Please, Osher. What hogwash!’

  Bea ‘mmmed’ and ‘ummed’ at all the right intervals, letting herself be soothed by the light tickle of the make-up brush Lizzie was now moving rhythmically across her cheeks. Bea loved her sister, but Lizzie had always been larger than life and now she was being larger than life in Bea’s cramped apartment. But after all the years of being dragged to opening nights so that she could hold Lizzie’s purse, or acting as Lizzie’s alibi while she snuck out to fool around in the back of her high school boyfriend’s ute, Bea had realised that it was just easier to go along with Lizzie’s harebrained plans, rather than fighting them.

  Only one week, Bea tried to comfort herself and then let her mind wander to Zach. Golden hearted, golden eyed Zach. Bea willed the doorbell to ring. She just wanted to see him again. To talk about the annotations and get to know this man of many dimensions more. Not usually one to get her hopes up before a date, Bea had decided to throw caution to the wind and let herself be all in. What’s the worst thing that could happen? She was no stranger to heartbreak, after all.

  Makeup ready and hair slicked back into a low bun, Bea squeezed herself into Lizzie’s too short, too tight black shorts and finished the outfit off with a blazer and tie, which, at Lizzie’s insistence, hung loosely around her neck so as not to obscure her cleavage (‘AKA the money maker’, Lizzie had said. The Bachelor had changed her). Thankfully her buzzer rang before Lizzie could insist on Bea swapping her discreet cream bra for the black silky one that left an alluring shadow beneath her top.

  Bea grabbed her hot orange clutch (because we all know Atticus Finch was a man of good taste) and left with a final ‘Don’t rearrange my furniture again!’ to Lizzie. She jogged down to the first floor and practically flew out the security gate, where she was greeted by Zach with a long, slow kiss.

  ‘Hey you,’ he whispered into her ear in his low, gravelly voice. Bea went weak at the knees.

  Reluctantly, Bea pulled back and took in his costume. Zach wore beige chinos, and his bomber jacket was inside out, so that the chocolate-coloured fur lining was on display. He had painted a dark round oval on his nose and wore a pair of floppy ears attached to a headband.

  ‘And you are?’

  ‘Enzo,’ Zach paused, expectantly. ‘The labrador cross from The Art of Racing in the Rain,’ he said, when Bea didn’t immediately reply.

  Bea looked at Zach quizzically. ‘You dressed up as a dog?’

  ‘Um, I dressed up as the sassiest, most insightful, cancer-sniffing, loyal, not to mention unique, narrative voice on the market.’

  Bea couldn’t help but smile.

  ‘And who are you supposed to be?’

  ‘Guess.’

  ‘Corporate Wonder Woman?’

  ‘I’m flattered,’ Bea said, standing a little taller. ‘But no.’

  ‘Give me a clue.’

  ‘Mockingbird.’

  ‘Katniss?’

  ‘Ach, not Mockingjay! I’m Atticus Finch. Duh!’ Bea protested, suitably mortified as she gestured wildly at her barely-there costume.

  Bea watched as the little dimple beside Zach’s lips creased in delight. ‘I’ve never met anybody quite like you, Beatrix Babbage,’ he said before opening the Uber door and ushering her into the car.

  ‘How was the rest of your week of family bonding?’ he asked, casually placing his hand on Bea’s bare knee.

  ‘It’s been extended. Lizzie’s crashing at mine while her husband and kids are in Perth,’ Bea grumbled.

  ‘Trouble in paradise?’ Zach asked, eyebrows raised.

  Bea filled him in on Lizzie’s well intentioned, but total disrespect for people’s personal space, barely able to stay focused because Zach’s hand was inconspicuously traveling further up her leg, until his fingers traced the hem of her shorts. Suddenly, Bea wasn’t so mad about having Lizzie stay.

  Eventually they pulled up in front of the iconic city bookstore, Novel Place, on Bourke Street. Its tall, glass window greeted the pair, displaying a colourful array of children’s picture books like All the Ways to be Smart and hot off the press fiction. Tim Winton, Lisa Genova, Celeste Ng, Jane Harper seemed to wave at her in welcome. Hello old friends. Outside, small pockets of people milled about, cradling cocktail glasses and beers. Bea spotted wizards, detectives, women dressed in long, black dresses à la Holly Golightly and even a man covered in navy blue paint, with a huge dorsal fin strapped to his back. Moby Dick? Bea was enthralled by the sight unfolding before her.

  ‘I think this might just be the classiest pub crawl I’ve ever been on!’ Bea exclaimed.

  Zach grinned and guided her through the bookstore’s cavernous doorway. They wove through shelves, passing two women, one who appeared to be dressed as Lisbeth Salander and, the other, as Daenerys Targaryen, kissing in the travel section, and made their way to the makeshift bar. Bea and Zach grabbed a drink each and huddled between the Brontës and the Austens in the Classics aisle. Bea leaned against the overflowing shelves, drawing courage from the strong female leads hidden between the pages behind her. Zach propped himself casually against a shelf that
sat at a right angle, sipping his cocktail.

  ‘Melbourne. Why?’ Zach dove straight in, jarring Bea ever so slightly.

  ‘Where do I even begin?’

  So she began at the start, well, almost. She politely side-stepped the whole destroying her best friend’s wedding in one fell swoop, sugar-coated (ironic, huh?) the working on dental hygiene thing and got stuck straight into the café culture, the festivals on every other week (which she didn’t admit to visiting purely online) and the bookstores.

  ‘I’m just starting to extend my bookstore horizon, but from what I’ve seen so far, I love them all. The pokey second-hand ones, the secret treasure troves of discarded paperbacks tucked away in op shops, the stores that host a labyrinth of shelves, of whose contents the sales assistants know as well as the creases on their own hands. And then there’s that gorgeous bookstore not far from my work which always has a stand of rainbow garden windmills sitting out the front,’ Bea said all in one breath, feeling herself rambling and only a little embarrassed by her long-winded declaration of love to Melbourne’s literature scene. But Zach had been listening in wonder.

  Just when Bea was about to turn the tables and ask the first of the many questions she had for her date, Zach nudged her. ‘Bea, isn’t that your friend?’ Zach jutted his chin forward. Bea swivelled around to see none other than Dino, his arm looped loosely around Sunday’s shoulders. His head was tilted back, mid laugh, eyes closed in satisfaction.

  ‘Dino? Sunday?’ she called out, beckoning them over.

  ‘Bea?’ Dino looked up, surprised. Sunday waved, still laughing, as she came over to pull Bea into a warm hug.

  ‘What are you two doing here?’ Bea asked.

  Dino shrugged. ‘Same thing you are it seems.’

  Sunday winked and took a swig from Dino’s beer.