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Joel hadn’t seen or heard from Liz for over twelve months, not since their mortifying encounter at uni shortly before he left for England. Then a postcard from her arrived at his parents’ place a week ago. Mum read it to him over the phone. “Lovely picture of the Vienna Opera House, I’ll bring it when I’m next up. She says she’d like to have a coffee with you when she’s back in Australia at the end of January. That’s nice of her, isn’t it? Poor girl, she’s been through so much.”
“Has she? I didn’t know,” Joel replied, adopting his most innocent, clueless tone.
“For heaven’s sake, don’t you pay attention? I wrote to you about it. She’s getting divorced. Andrea said they started having problems when one of the daughters got sick, though she wouldn’t tell me the details, but anyway, Liz left him at the end of the year before last and Andrea thinks she’s seeing someone else, though she hasn’t met the young man in question. I must say, I think divorce is far too easy these days. You have to work at a marriage, not throw it in the too-hard basket when things are difficult …” Joel tuned out his mother’s theories on how to succeed at relationships and the iniquity of no-fault divorce, having heard this diatribe numerous times. “And you young people are far too picky. It’s time you met a nice girl and settled down … What happened to Natasha, I liked her ... ”
“Thank you, Mum! Give me the number, I’ll ring her when I get a chance.”
He put off the call for several days; each time he lifted the handset, his heart raced and his palms became slippery. Weird – he’d managed to ignore his guilt over Liz for months, yet now he was overwhelmed by it. Eventually, coincidence solved the issue for him – he ran into her near the State Theatre the night after Steve’s Family Court hearing. Liz greeted him with a kiss on both cheeks and an exuberant “Ciao bello! How’ve you been?” and insisted he join her for a drink at a small bistro nearby.
She went straight to the point once they found a table with some privacy. “Is it still on?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s been, what, two years? It must be serious then.”
“It is. I really am sorry,” he said.
“I know. You’ve said that already.” She pushed an errant lock of hair behind one ear.
“But still … I do feel bad.”
“Don’t. I think it was always going to end this way. You know we had the hearing yesterday?”
“Oh, right.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“That’s why I wasn’t sure if you two were … you know. I didn’t see you there.”
“We decided better not. Anyway, his daughter’s up from Melbourne, so I’m giving them some space while she’s there.”
“Yeah, I spoke to her. She obviously doesn’t know. You told your mum and dad yet?”
“Fuck no!” He shuddered, making her laugh. “I’m nowhere near ready for that.”
“Just rip the band-aid off and get it over with. I told my parents after six weeks, once I knew I was serious about him.”
“Easy for you when you’re straight.”
“So you’re finally admitting you’re not?” She grinned.
“Don’t have much choice, do I? I finally got up the courage to tell my best friend, after he tried to set me up for about the tenth time, that I was seeing someone and it’s a bloke. He was a bit weird about it at first but he’s okay now. Though he was offended when I told him I wasn’t consumed by lust for him. Now, that I don't get. He starts out worrying I'm after his arse, next minute his nose is out of joint when I say I'm not interested. Make up your mind.”
“Guy got the same reaction from his mates when he came out to them. Some guys think they're irresistible, irrespective of age, sex or species. Anyway, well done! See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“Maybe, but Mum and Dad are different. I think my sisters might be all right with it, but … you know my parents aren’t quite as open-minded as Andrea and Kev.”
“Yeah, I know. Hey, my folks didn’t take it too well at first either. Okay, fine, I wasn’t coming out as a lesbian, but I was in an adulterous relationship with a much older guy who’d been married twice and had kids. They thought it was a terrible idea. They said they’d support me no matter what, but … well, my mum wasn’t above saying ‘I told you so’ after I moved out. She got out the champers last night.”
“I thought they liked him …”
“They do. They’re actually quite fond of him. They just thought he wasn’t right for me. Anyway. How is His Lordship?”
“We haven’t spoken for a couple of days. It’s funny, I didn’t appreciate how close it was getting until he rang me the day before, and he sounded a bit out of it. I’m glad his daughter’s with him. He’s been increasingly on edge over the past few weeks, so …”
Liz leaned back in her chair. “You’ll get used to that.” She took another sip of her cocktail and appraised him.
“Was he okay, as far as you can tell?”
“I think so. I didn’t talk to him.”
“Are you okay?”
She tilted her head to one side and shrugged. “Yeah. Relieved, mainly. A strange sense of ‘What now?’ But yeah, I’m all right.” She blinked rapidly and swallowed hard. "Sometimes I miss him. Maybe I miss the image of him in my head that never existed. I don't know." At Joel's look of concern, she added, "Don't look so worried. I'm fine, honestly."
“Why did you want to meet?”
“Firstly, to reassure you there’s no hard feelings.” She smiled. “To quote his second ex-wife, if it hadn’t been you, it would’ve been someone else. The odds were stacked against us from the start.”
“Okay. And the other reason?”
“To give you an idea of what you’re taking on. In retrospect, there weren’t warning signs, there were massive fucking piercing sirens and flashing lights. But I was completely besotted and ignored them. If one of the wives had sat down with me before I passed the point of no return, I might still have gone through with it, but I’d have done things differently.” She picked up a few hot chips in her fingers and chewed them thoughtfully. “Or maybe not. I mightn’t have wanted to hear it. We’ll never know. So I thought I’d do for you what I wish someone had done for me.”
“Right.” Joel swallowed a mouthful of wine, suddenly apprehensive. “What do you mean?”
She regarded him solemnly for a moment. “You need to understand that Stephen Walker is not the easiest man to live with. He’s a bit fucked in the head, though I suppose we all are to a greater or lesser degree, really. He’s not a bad person - in so many ways, he's a wonderful person - but he’s got his issues. You probably already know that.” Joel nodded, but didn’t interrupt. “He gets migraines and panic attacks. He’s supposed to take medication for them but often doesn’t, so you need to keep an eye on that. He drinks way too much …”
“He is cutting down,” he said defensively.
“I’ll believe it when I see it. Has he really stopped smoking?”
“Yes, thank God. He quit for good when we were in London – one day, just threw the packet out and went cold turkey. Hasn’t relapsed in months.”
“Well, that’s a positive sign. He doesn’t shout or throw things and he’s never been violent, at least, not with me, and the other wives assure me he wasn’t with them or the girls either, but … sometimes he’s ice-cold. Like, he withdraws to some place that you can’t get to and freezes you out if you try to push past the barrier. When he’s angry, he speaks to you like he’s lord of the manor and you’re a misbehaving underling. Like, think of the most obnoxious, supercilious, pompous private school fuckwit you’ve ever met and multiply it by a hundred. You’ve got to tell him to pull his fucking head in when he does that. You will get the silent treatment at some point, but usually that only lasts a few hours, maybe a day, and then he’s all apologetic and affectionate again. He used to get frustrated with me because I let him down at social occasions – talking too much when I get nervous, telling people things that should’ve stayed between us, my outfit not being quite right, using the wrong words for things, being too Aussie instead of upper-class Brit. I used to tell him he should build an android to his specifications and take it instead. It might be different with you, though.”
“Yeah, well, he’ll have to get used to the fact that I don’t do suits and ties except for weddings, job interviews and funerals. Feels too much like school uniform. Last time I put on a tux was my year twelve formal and that was hired, I’ve never owned one and don’t plan to. And I didn’t get my deposit back because fucking Trent spewed all over the jacket at the after-party. Never again."
"Ewww. Yuck." Liz made a face and giggled softly.
"It was foul. And me putting it in the washing machine made things even worse. No amount of dry cleaning could save it.”
She spluttered. "Why would you put a suit jacket in the washing machine? You idiot."
"I was seventeen! I never did my own laundry back then, how was I to know? I thought if I put it on hot wash, it'd get the stink out."
"RIP tuxedo jacket. God rest its soul."
"Yeah. I hope the formal wear place gave it a good send-off. Full Requiem Mass and flowers, then a wake in an Irish pub."
"No more than it deserved after a lifetime of faithful service. But please, babe, don't do that to any of Steve's good suits, he'll never forgive you. Although ..." A mischievous grin accompanied her next words. "Might be a salutary experience for him."
"Don't worry, I have no intention of risking it! Cold wash and drip dry's fine though, yeah? Chuck in a bit of fabric softener, she'll be right."
She hooted with laughter, needing several seconds to catch her breath. "Fuck you're hilarious. Megan and I made some progress, but hopefully you’ll knock the rest of that posh twat upbringing out of him!”
“I’ll give it a red-hot go. But seriously, I don't think I'll be rocking up to too many business functions as his plus-one. I reckon most of the French and Spanish guys he deals with are pretty conservative. A lot of the Asian and Yank connections definitely are, and the Aussies and Poms, to be frank. There's a big risk he'll lose business if they find out, so he flies solo while I do my own thing. Some countries, it's still illegal, so we'll book separate rooms or I'll stay home.” Liz looked troubled. "What's wrong?"
"It struck me how unfair that is. How come they get to parade their wives around yet you two can't ..."
He shrugged. "It's a fact of life. Anyway, I'd never tell him this, but I can't imagine anything more boring than an interminable dinner listening to rich pricks crap on about yield and market share and import tax and whingeing about unions, so I'm happy to stay out of it."
“Oh, Mother of God. They were so boring! Sometimes I was sure I was going to fossilise at the table. And most of the other wives only talked about their kids, designer clothes, holidays in the Riviera and Step classes. I swear I could feel each brain cell screaming in pain as it died. You're well out of that. Though I'm sorry you can't be open about it."
"Don't be." An awkward silence ensued for a moment. "Anyway, you were saying...?"
"Right. Where was I? He’s not forthcoming about his childhood, especially whatever he went through at that fucking awful school, but you can tell he’s carrying a lot. When we were together, he’d joke about it, but only up to a point, and there were some things that I only found out by accident. But there’s no point pushing him, because he’ll clam up or lash out verbally if he feels threatened. You’ve just got to take advantage of the moments he’s ready to talk and let him go. And for fuck’s sake don’t talk about his personal stuff, like boarding school or past relationships or shit like that, at social occasions. He won’t show it, but it really upsets him.”
“I wouldn’t!” He was surprised she’d think so little of him. “Why would I have any reason to?”
“I’m only saying that because I made that mistake. I’d never do that with his business acquaintances, but … yeah, a few times with friends of his I’d just met, I got carried away and crossed the line.”
“Like The Tool business?” Joel’s ears warmed as he heard the sharpness in his voice. He hadn’t meant to sound so terse.
She looked away, shamefaced. “Yep. I feel bad about it now. I don’t know why I thought it was so funny. Him being so sensitive about it made it even funnier. Then of course, you know me – I get anxious around new people and it’s open mouth, change feet.” Her straw made a slurping sound as she drained the rest of her margarita. “Oops, excuse me!” She giggled again. “Steve’d hate that. That’s another thing, he’s obsessive about table manners. D’you know how to use chopsticks?”
“Yeah. I had a girlfriend in year eleven who taught me, and I used them nearly all the time when I was in Hong Kong.”
“One up on me then. That’s good. He never said anything, but I was convinced he cringed every time I had to ask for a fork in a Chinese restaurant. And of course the Walker wunderkinder have known how to use them since they could hold a spoon, so I always felt inadequate.” She expelled another soft laugh. “You know, I think you could be good for him.”
Joel smiled back. “Thanks.” A young waiter approached them and he decided more alcohol was in order. “Do you want anything else?”
“Why don’t we share another bottle? And some more chips, please.”
“Sure.” He didn't continue until the waiter withdrew. “He has told me about some things …”
“Good. That’s a good sign. Has he talked to you about Sophie? Or his Mum?”
“A bit. And I remember hearing Sophie was in hospital, that wasn’t long after we met.”
“I’m not sure how much you know about this, but he’d been up and down for several months after we got back from Spain. He caught up with his boarding school ex – he pretended it was a coincidence, but I worked out he’d invited the guy to meet us in Granada months before. Let’s just say the reunion didn’t go as he’d hoped, and he was pretty depressed about that. After Sophie attempted suicide, he lost his shit. Completely dropped the bundle. For a while I was terrified he’d try to kill himself, too – I know he was thinking about it. I thought I’d have to call a CAT team at one stage and get him committed, or that one day I’d get a knock at the door and it’d be the coppers telling me they’d found his body.”
“Shit, that’s awful. I remember running into him one night. I think it was mid-January. Yeah, must have been, I was out for a mate’s birthday which is on the thirteenth. He was in a shocking state. I remember I thought, maybe if I sit and have a yarn to him till he calms down, that usually works with Alyssa when she’s having one of her moments … We ended up talking for hours.” He glanced over at a couple of teenage Goths at the next table – the girl was in the middle of an agitated monologue while the boy looked bored, slumped so low in his chair that he was in danger of sliding on to the floor. “I didn’t realise how bad things were though … that must’ve been hard.”
“It was a horrible time. He has a bad patch every year around the anniversary of his mother’s death, but this was the worst anyone had ever seen him. He was a mess for ages.” She drew back slightly, eyes widening, as if an idea had struck her. “God, it all makes sense now.”
“How do you mean?”
Her lips curved in a slight, sorrowful smile. “I just remembered - the only times he really cheered up during those hideous few months were when he saw or talked about you.”
“I’m so sorry. But I promise nothing happened then …”
“I know.” Liz shrugged. “It’s funny, I realised he had a crush on you early on but never expected him to act on it. I didn’t expect you to reciprocate either.”
“Neither did I …”
“I know. I didn’t think much of it at all, really. I thought it was a bit too coincidental, him continually running into you in Blairgowrie or wherever it was, but …”
“The first time really was a coincidence. I know it’s hard to believe, but I saw him on the main road as I was coming out of one of the shops. I was there for my cousin’s twenty-first. Neither of us knew the other would be there that weekend. The next time, and the ones after that, yeah, they were pre-arranged, I admit that. But by then I considered him a friend, and you would’ve been welcome to come along too. That’s all it was. The stronger feelings ... well, they crept up on me gradually and didn't hit me till much later. I thought, I've got to ride it out and hope to God it doesn't show. I never thought he'd ...”
“It doesn’t matter.” She gazed out of the window absently. “I’d seen him get crushes on attractive young guys before. They were always fleeting and he never took it further, at least, not that I know of. He’d just flirt atrociously with them and have them eating out of his hand. The number of free hotel room upgrades we got thanks to a cute guy on the front desk succumbing to Steve’s charm ... my God! He didn’t even ask, they’d just give it to us. He’d flirt with female receptionists as well, but never had the same success. I remember about six months after our wedding, we went to New Zealand. We were in, where was it, Rotorua? No, might’ve been Napier or Hamilton. Old mate spends five minutes chatting to the guy as if they’ve been best friends forever, and we go from a normal double room with a view of a concrete wall to a full-on suite with a spa bath. I never felt threatened by it, I thought it was hilarious. Rather that than flirting with other women!” She emitted another melodious giggle, then became serious. “He never did with you, though. He was always circumspect, much less demonstrative than he usually is with male friends. Maybe that’s what made me subconsciously twig this could be serious if you felt the same way. But I didn’t know for sure until the year before last.”
“Can I ask … how did you find out? Steve still thinks you only suspect, so obviously he hasn’t told you.”
She smiled gently and reached across the table and covered his hand with hers. “I think I’d known for a while that you’d fallen for him, though I didn’t pay much attention to it. I could tell when you came to the barbecue at our place. You’d hoped he’d be there and looked crushed when he wasn’t. Then I saw you together one day.”
Joel recoiled. “What?”
“I’d forgotten a heap of stuff I needed for the tour and came home to get it. I saw you through the big glass doors on the terrace. I was going to say hi, but you were completely wrapped up in each other. And then …”
“Oh my God.” He stared at her in horror. “Oh, fuck.”
“Oh, sweetie … you didn’t see me? I was standing right there for what felt like hours until I thought, hm, better get out of here.”
“No … Jesus. The sun was coming from behind us and with the reflection hitting the glass, it was right in our eyes so you couldn’t see anything … God. Really?”
“Yeah. And I heard some of the discussion. That’s when you first got together properly, wasn’t it?”
“Yep.” He lowered his eyes to the table, brushing some grains of salt away. “I’m not proud of it.” He took a large gulp from his glass.
She snorted. “Mate, I’m the last to judge. I’d been after him since I first met him, and finally picked him up at my brother’s boyfriend’s funeral with his wife in the next room. We left and went straight to the nearest hotel.”
Joel choked on his mouthful of wine. “Jesus!” He grabbed a couple of serviettes from the next table and wiped his face and their table down once his laughter subsided. “Sorry about that.”
“True story. Though not many people know, so if you tell anyone I’ll deny it. So, yep, I’ve known for a long time, and even when I found out it wasn’t a shock. The next night I slept with one of the violinists and that made me feel a bit better.”
Joel blinked. “Um … wow. Fair enough. Was he good?”
“The violinist? Amazing. Best sex in ages. But then he decided he wanted a relationship whereas I was only after casual, so it became a bit delicate.”
He scoffed softly in amusement. “Good on you. Nice one.” She raised one hand and he responded in kind, smacking them together in a high-five. “Does Steve know about that?”
“I never told him, though he probably twigged. At times he’d get it into his head that I was having an affair even when I wasn’t. Paranoia or guilty conscience, I imagine. Possibly both. I know he rooted a couple of other women in the first year of our marriage, one of whom being his second ex-wife. I couldn’t begrudge her that.”
“How did you …”
“He told me with a look of abject remorse on his face, like a tragic hero coerced into it against his will. He does that. So if you’re thinking you have a mortgage on moral turpitude, don’t. None of us has covered ourselves in glory.”
“I’m …”
“Sorry. Yes, I know. I’m okay about it now, really I am, though I was upset for a while once I realised my marriage was beyond saving. Mainly the sense of failure. Everything I’d put into this relationship had been for nothing.”
“I never wanted to hurt you. I hope you know that.”
“I know,” she said lightly. “I never set out to hurt Megan or the kids, either. But here we are.”
“Shit, Liz. I wish I could make it up to …”
“Don’t. It’s not all about you. He chose to cheat on me with you, just like he chose to cheat on Megan with me. If he’d rejected you, you wouldn’t have pushed it, would you? You can’t steal someone’s husband – he has to want to be taken.”
“Yeah, I know.” He held up his hands as if in supplication. “I still feel a bit shitful about it. Fidelity and commitment’s a big thing in our family.”
“Mine too.” She propped her chin on her hands, lower lip caught between her teeth. “When I saw you that day, you know, after I’d moved out, I’d planned to confront you about it, really tear strips off you, but when I finally found you, I realised I wasn’t angry at all - just sad. And there you were, so obviously besotted, and I felt so much sympathy for you, because … Joel, believe me, I understand, probably better than anyone. The heart wants what it wants. Someone famous said that, can’t remember who.”
Joel thought for a moment. “Wasn’t that old mate who was trying to justify rooting his stepdaughter? Whatsisface … Some actor. God, I remember Briony going on about it but I’ve blanked on the name, I think I’m drunk.”
“I know I’m drunk. Anyway, I didn’t mean him, well, I’m pretty sure he didn’t come up with it. A famous poet … Steve’s friend Jimmy would know, he’s like a walking random quotes encyclopedia. Emily Brontë? No, I’ll probably remember it in three hours’ time and ring you at stupid o’clock to tell you.” She giggled again, then took his hand. “Steve and I made a colossal mistake. I don’t regret marrying him as such, but I wish we’d recognised that earlier. We did our best to pretend we were the happiest happy couple on the planet, but when you’re lying to yourself as well as everyone else, you can only keep that up for so long. I don’t have any ill will towards him. If he’s happy with you, then … I mean, I can’t exactly compete with what you’ve got to offer him, can I?”
“How do you mean … oh.” Joel blushed as she grinned wickedly at him.
“Your face! Oh, bless you. Seriously, I’m glad it was you and not an even younger woman.” She gazed out of the bar’s window. “And I hope it means he’s starting to accept who he is.”
“In what way?”
“Come on, you’re not that obtuse. He’s had a weird hang-up about his sexuality all his life, you must have picked up on that by now. I reckon that’s a major source of his psych issues. He doesn’t care about other people being gay, I mean, his best friend is, his daughter is, heaps of people he’s fond of are. But we had a deep-and-meaningful one day which made me realise he can’t accept it in himself. He still thinks liking men means there’s something wrong with him. Maybe that’s starting to change, but he’s going to need help with that, otherwise he’ll freak out and either drive you away or dump you. Chip?” She tilted the bowl towards him. He shook his head and she scooped up the rest, delicately using her fingertip to pick up the crumbs and particles of chicken salt. “Mm, those were really good.” She signalled the waiter and ordered another bowl. “I’m starving, I haven’t eaten since lunchtime.”
“Anything else you think I should know?”
“You’ve probably worked this out already, but he hates it when you forget to hang the towels up after a shower or leave dirty dishes on the table.” Joel smiled wryly and nodded, remembering the pained look Steve had given him one morning when the towel he’d used had fallen from its rail onto the floor. Liz smiled back and allowed her gaze to drift to a point past his head. When she spoke again, it had a dreamy quality, as if she were partly talking to herself. “He’s very particular about the dishwasher, so my advice is let him load it, he’s got a system. He also gets twitchy if you don’t rinse dishes after you’ve hand washed them. He’s got a thing for spicy food. He doesn’t normally eat breakfast, unless it’s a weekend and he’s slept in, and if he’s super-stressed, he can go forty-eight hours or more without food if you don’t make him eat something. He projects this image of this outgoing, life-of-the-party, charming, brash businessman but I think he’s actually a bit of an introvert. Not that he’ll admit it. He claims he’s allergic to zucchini and asparagus but I reckon he just doesn’t like them. He’s definitely allergic to penicillin – if he ever has to go to hospital because of an infection, don’t forget to tell them. He keeps a stash of Diet Coke in the fridge just because the girls like it– he doesn’t drink the stuff himself, in case you were wondering. What else? He sometimes watches Rage with Sophie purely so he can hang shit on it. Though he likes all kinds of music – even listening to the Top 40 stations to stay up to date with the younger guys in his office, he just pretends he doesn’t. If you’re watching the news with him, be prepared for a constant running commentary, he loves paying out on politicians and footy coaches. He used to swear every time a clip of Maggie Thatcher came on. He likes going for long walks for hours by himself - usually it’s best to let him unless he asks you to come. He loves the beach. He’s a good dancer. He thrives in hot weather but struggles when it’s cold. He goes over to Spain every couple of years, sometimes more, he’s obsessed with the place, and he’s constantly going interstate or to New Zealand because of work, so unless you can go with him, you’ll be spending a fair bit of time apart. He's super smart, one of the most intelligent people I've ever met. So are his daughters - that's why they're so fucking intimidating. He reads voraciously. He's adventurous - loves trying new things. He can swear in Chinese but can’t remember much else. He speaks fluent Spanish, though he always claims it’s crap, and sometimes he deliberately pretends he can’t understand during meetings with the importers, he’s found out a lot of useful info that way. Sophie’s Spanish is excellent, though not quite as good as his, and you’ll have to get used to them switching to Spanish when they don’t want anyone else to know what they’re talking about. It’s extremely irritating, but try to ignore it. His French isn’t bad and he can hold a conversation in Italian. It pisses him off that my German’s better than his, though. He can be ridiculously competitive over minor shit – it’s annoying. He still keeps a toy giraffe Sophie gave him for his birthday when she was little. He loves buying the women in his life jewellery, including the ex-wives. He bought Jill this gorgeous black pearl necklace with matching earrings from Broome for her fiftieth. Megan’s birthday’s a week later and she got rose gold set with emerald jade. This was around the time we first got together and he was asking my advice, would you believe? I was like, ‘Yeah, gorgeous, she’ll love it,’ all the while seething with jealousy. As for Sophie’s collection … you’ll see, no doubt. Sophie’s his favourite child by the way. He'll deny it if you ask, but it’s obvious. What else? He works bloody hard. He’s very … intense, though I suppose I don’t need to tell you that. He can be obsessive and moody. He loves and hates with equal passion – God, he’s probably the most passionate guy I’ve ever known, sometimes it’s a bit too much, too overwhelming. He can be breathtakingly generous and appallingly selfish, sometimes at the same time. The rest … I’ll leave to you to discover. Or ask the other wives, they’ve known him for a lot longer.” She topped up their glasses with the remainder of the wine bottle and excused herself to go to the ladies’.
Joel gazed out the window at the now darkening street. It was drizzling outside and the footpath sparkled with the reflected street lights. It surprised him how normal the outside world looked. He wondered how many other men were having drinks with their lover’s ex-wife and snorted with laughter at the thought. The combination of a couple of cocktails and half a bottle of wine produced a dreamy lassitude that wasn’t unpleasant, though it was an unwelcome reminder that he could no longer put away what he used to at twenty and still be able to function the next day. He’d have to draw stumps soon. He’d deal with the evening’s revelations when he was sober.
“Cool change’s coming through,” Liz observed as she returned to the table with a couple of shot glasses. “Here, I got us B-52s.”
“Oh, no …”
“Come on, get it down ya.” She pushed one shot towards him with a mischievous chuckle.
“All right, I suppose it would be rude not to, but if I end up legless, you’re paying for the taxi. Slainté.”
“Bullshit, I’ve seen you put away a slab and still function. You can handle spirits. Prost. Cin cin. Whatever.” Liz downed her shot and licked her lips. “Mm. Haven’t had one of these for ages. Delicious. Hey, have you met Steve’s family yet? Not just the kids, but his adopted family, the surrogate brothers and sisters he keeps collecting? He’s even trying to turn one of his old boyfriends’ mothers into a stand-in mother, can you believe that?” She laughed. “It’s quite sweet, really. There are all sorts of Freudian implications but we won’t go there.”
“I met his mate Jimmy and his partner in London. I liked them. He wants me to go to Hong Kong with him in August to visit his old friend there.”
Her face lit up with a bright smile. “Yeah, Jimmy’s a lovely man. And is he built like a brick shithouse or what? The first time I laid eyes on him I'm going, hello!"
"Yep." Joel nodded in vigorous agreement. "He's pretty easy on the eyes."
"He's hot as. Is it true he’s with Chris now?”
“Yeah, though Steve always calls him Kit for some reason. He's cute too.”
“I know, he's gorgeous. How were you introduced?”
“Steve said I was his ‘friend’” – he sketched inverted commas in the air with his fingers – “but they obviously knew what that’s code for. Steve and Jimmy were talking among themselves which left me to make conversation with Chris. It was hard going at first.”
“Yeah. I’ve only met him once, but he’s quite shy. Takes a bit to draw him out.”
“Believe me, I noticed! He was very nice to me though. He did ask me at one point what the hell I thought I was doing. We were all fairly maggotted by then and I think I said, ‘I’m in love with him and I don’t care what anyone thinks.’ He goes, ‘Well, that’s not half obvious.’ Then he told me to be careful. I just said thanks and changed the subject.”
“You know who Chris is, right?”
“Ex-boyfriend. They went to school together.”
“The ex-boyfriend, though I didn’t know about that when I met him. Has Steve told you the story?”
“He’s given me the executive summary. I know it’s not a happy one.”
“It wasn’t, though I never knew until much later. I was just told they were friends who’d lost touch. I thought Chris was very sweet, though he seemed to carry a lot of sadness. Now I know why. I hope he and Jimmy are happy.”
“They seem to be.”
“That’s great, I’m so pleased. He’s right, you know.”
“I can take care of myself. Though now I’m nervous about meeting the rest of them.”
“I’m sure they’ll like you. I never got to meet Raji unfortunately - he and his wife were invited to our wedding but couldn’t make it over. Money and work was the official excuse, but I actually think they were Team Megan and didn’t approve. Anyway, the other ex-wives are great, and I’ve always thought it speaks well of them as well as him that they stayed friends. They’ll be nice to you, and if old mate gets into one of his depressive episodes and starts spiralling, ring Jill, she can usually get him to snap out of it.”
“What about the girls? What are they like? I mean, what should I expect?”
Liz paused, her expression sombre and contemplative. “Don’t expect to become instant friends. If Miranda doesn’t hate you on sight, you’re doing well.”
“Well, that doesn’t sound daunting at all,” he drawled.
“I’m just keeping it real. Apparently her mum and dad splitting up hit her hard. No, let’s call a spade a fucking shovel – her dad ditching her mum and shacking up with someone else hit her hard. Sophie was too little to remember any different, but Miranda was old enough to understand what was going on and it knocked her for six. She took a while to fully accept Megan, then when it happened again … well, I now understand why I was as popular as a turd in a swimming pool!” Liz flashed a resigned smile. “She mightn’t react as badly this time since you’re replacing me, but even best-case scenario, she’ll be hard work. I don’t know if she’ll freak out over her dad going out with a bloke – she’s not homophobic, but you know, a guy liking other guys is one thing, a guy fucking her dad is quite another, so brace yourself for the possibility. She’ll definitely be uncomfortable with you being younger than she is, even though it’s barely a year. She’ll need time to warm to you, so don’t push too hard too early. I cannot stress this enough: do not, I repeat, do not assume you’re invited to her wedding unless she says so to your face, no matter what Steve tells you. Just don’t do it. It won’t be well received and it’s not worth the hassle it’ll cause. That goes for any family occasion, actually – they took Megan’s side and were already hostile, but I made things worse by tagging along with Steve to lunch with his girls for Sophie’s birthday and making it all about our engagement, when Miranda had just got engaged and was planning to announce it. And I insulted the ring without realising. I thought she’d picked it up from one of those cute little stalls at the Vic Market and was trying to find common ground, you know, ‘I’ve found some great stuff there too’. It was her boyfriend’s grandmother’s, so as you can imagine, that went down like a fart in a lift.” They both giggled at the metaphor. “Overall, it was a debacle of epic proportions. So don’t follow my example!”
His instinct had been right, then. When Steve spoke of them both going to his daughter’s upcoming wedding as if it were a fait accompli, Joel had privately decided to ensure he had something else on that he couldn’t cancel unless the introductions to the family went spectacularly well. “Gotcha. I was thinking the same. I’ll pretend to have the flu if I have to.”
“Good idea. Though it’s equally important to go if you are invited, even if you’re on your deathbed. If you’re not invited to a major family thing, don’t talk Steve out of going by himself. In fact, insist he goes, don’t let him cancel unless you’re both really crook with some contagious disease. I was the reason he missed Sophie’s eighteenth. I never bothered with an eighteenth or twenty-first, so I didn’t appreciate what a big deal it was. Our rationalisation was that he’d celebrate with her in Melbourne the next weekend and a bunch of kids wouldn’t want her parents around, would they? Another diplomatic misstep on my part.” She looked away and sighed, fiddling with a lock of hair. “Speaking of her, Sophie should be easier to win over - she’s pretty good these days. She knows Steve had same-sex relationships when he was younger, so it won’t be as much of a shock to her, and she knows what it’s like to struggle with your sexuality. Plus she’s devoted to him – textbook Daddy’s girl - so if she sees he’s happy, in the end she’ll be all right with it. I wasn’t her favourite person to start with, and for the first year we didn’t get along well at all – partly my fault - but to be fair, she was going through a hard time and did make an effort. When she heard Steve and I had separated she wrote to me to say she was sorry and to make sure I was all right. And she said after court she’d like to stay in touch, even invited me to her birthday party and Miranda’s wedding.”
“Are you going?”
“Her birthday? I’d like to. I should still be in the country. The wedding – fuck no. I learned that lesson the hard way.” She helped herself to another handful of chips. “Then there’s the stepkids.”
“What?”
Liz laughed. “Oh yeah. ‘But wait, there’s more!’ Hasn’t he told you about Megan’s kids?”
“A bit. I didn’t realise they’d be on the scene much though. Do they come with a free set of steak knives?”
“Ha ha, could do, if you’re into that! Heh. He thinks of them as his, and he was the closest to a dad they had. Apparently their real dad’s not in the picture. I only met the son once, he was basically your standard-issue surly teenager surgically attached to his GameBoy then. Did not like me one bit. He’d be around … twenty-two, twenty-three now maybe? Just graduated from Monash, science degree. I never met her daughter. She didn’t speak to Steve for three years after he left Megan for me, but I hear they’re both keen to rebuild a relationship with him now. So you’ve got them as well.” She topped up her glass. “They might be all right about it, but again, don’t go too hard too soon. Megan will smooth the way, she’s the resident peacemaker.”
“Right. No-one’s got a weird and exotic pet that I need to know about? Like a croc called Fluffy or a foul-mouthed parrot? Tiger snake named Cuddles, maybe?”
Liz giggled again. “Not that I know of, but give it time. Megan's son Brett loves snakes. Wants to be a herpetologist.”
"Amazing. How do you know all this? I didn’t think you and Steve …”
“… Were talking? Not really. We’ve mostly communicated through his lawyers of late. But I catch up with Jill and Megan for dinner every now and then, when we’re all in the same city. You never know, you might also get an invite one of these days.” She laughed again.
They moved onto other topics – their families, Joel’s thesis proposal for his PhD and a couple of articles he was working on, Liz’s performances and upcoming tour of North and South America – and the evening passed quickly. One of the waiters ostentatiously stacking chairs and wiping down tables caught Liz’s attention. “Shit, I had no idea it was so late. I think they’re about to kick us out.”
He walked her to a nearby taxi rank. “Thanks for the talk. I’m … well, I’m glad things are okay between us.”
“Me too. Hey, I just remembered something funny."
"What?"
"Remember how our parents used to crap on about wanting us to end up together?" She stifled another giggle.
"Yep. God, that was annoying wasn't it? They practically arranged our marriage when we were eleven and twelve, publicly embarrassing the living shit out of us. Then we moved away and didn't see your family for nearly fifteen years, which doesn't say much for their matchmaking skills."
“So annoying! Painful!" She reached for his hand and squeezed it. "Funny how life turns out, isn't it? Now we're connected for all time in a different sense." Joel didn't answer. "Where are you headed?”
“Camperdown.”
She wrinkled her nose slightly, blinking in surprise. “You haven’t moved in with him yet?”
“No. We see each other a few times a week but no, not yet. It’s a big step. I’m sharing with a mate until the lease is up, then I’m moving to Melbourne in a few months.”
“Taking it slowly then?” He nodded. “Probably wise. I hear he’s planning to sell up and relocate as well?”
“Yeah, but that won’t be till the end of the year. We’ll see how we go long-distance in the meantime. He’s keen to retire in the next few years, so he’ll start handing daily management of things over and take a step back, spend more time in Melbourne with his kids. Once he sells the house and finds a new place, then we’ll talk about living together. Or maybe we’ll do what his mate Jimmy and his boyfriend do – separate houses so we don’t end up killing each other.”
“Best of luck.” Liz reached up and kissed his cheek. “I hope it works out for you. I mean it.”
“Thanks. So do I.”
She rested one hand on his arm and tilted her head slightly to look up at him. “You’ve got it bad, haven’t you? Your poor thing.”
He laughed. “Yeah. Suppose so.”
“For what it’s worth … it was obvious to me that he deeply loves you too.” A shadow of sorrow and regret crossed her face. “Anyway. If you ever need to talk to someone who gets it … ring me.” She hugged him tightly as she bade him goodnight, and waved through the back passenger side window as the taxi pulled away from the kerb and disappeared into the darkness.
He decided to walk home. With his Walkman on, he didn’t notice the car pulling up alongside at first until a muffled, “Hey! Hey!” penetrated his consciousness. He paused to see Liz half-hanging out of the taxi’s window.
“You right?”
“Emily Dickinson!” she called.
“Say again?”
“Emily Dickinson! That’s who said it. ‘The heart wants what it wants or does not care.’ Jill quoted it recently. I told you I’d remember!”
Joel shook his head, grinning. “You’re mental.”
“You’re mental. Anyway, g’night! See you soon! Byeeeeee!” The taxi took off before he had a chance to reply.