Dessi's Romance (11 page)

I grin.
‘Isn’t it?’ I remember the DVD. ‘Thanks. I’ll watch it when I get back from the
physio.’

‘Physio!’
Graham springs to his feet. ‘Nearly forgot.’

‘How about
I drive this girl?’ says Nanna.

Graham
looks openly relieved. Pearl pushes herself away from the table and slowly
stands up. ‘Growing old isn’t for wimps,’ she says. Everyone laughs. But I
can’t imagine growing old. Right now, even my twenty-first seems a long way
off. I’m following Nanna Pearl when my cell phone rings.

‘Hi, Dessi?
Abdul.’

My heart
flutters. ‘Hi.’

‘What are
you up to?’

‘Not much.
Off to the physio.’

‘How about
I pick you up and we go for coffee?’

‘Great.’ I
give him the address. But after, I keyboard:

Emma…

We’ve been as
close

as the books
you like to read

your voice on
the phone

the way you brush
your hair

the sweat
stain under your arm.’

After sun-baking all afternoon on the
balcony, us four return to the same beer garden we found the first night. I
can’t help comparing Kaz and Jodie’s friendship with me and Dessi. I like the
part of Kaz that looks after Jodie like a big sister while Jodie expects Kaz to
take care of her if she gets into trouble. I see them as an emotional see-saw
that only levels out because of their difference. Just like Hannah and Julie.
Thankfully, the friendship I share with Dessi is far more equal, far more
adult.

‘Gotta get some action,’
says Kaz gazing around with calculating eyes.

‘Well,’ says
Jodie, ‘well if you got out of the unit, you might find there’s lots to do.’
Out all day, she came back looking secretive. Her plump face is swollen and red
and she can’t stop squirming. ‘We should go to Seaworld tomorrow,’ she adds.
‘Then there’s Dreamworld…’

Kaz snorts.
‘All kid-stuff. I’d rather spend my cash on more clubbing. Wouldn’t you, Emma,
Sacha? All those clubs that need looking into…’

‘There
is
a club I’d like to check
out,’ Sacha butts in.

Kaz’s eyebrows
shoot up. ‘Which one?’

‘It’s…it’s a gay
club,’ he says awkwardly.

‘Oooh, I don’t
think I want to go to one of
them
,’ Jodie says. ‘Well, you can’t, can
you? Unless you’re gay, I mean.’

‘I wasn’t asking
you to come with me,’ he retorts. Right then Bodie and Jeff lope over to our
table. I settle back to listen to their rave about waves and the best places to
surf and promise myself to try capturing those huge green-blue waves carrying
cappuccino crests in watercolour.

Next minute, Kaz
is on her feet. ‘C’mon Jode. Emma? Sacha?’

‘Uh, where are
we going?’ still wondering how to best capture those waves.

‘Driving down to
Tweed,’ Jeff says smoothly. ‘Got a party on. Wanna come?’ He somehow manages to
exclude Sacha. Angry for Sacha, I reach for his hand. ‘No. I don’t think so.
We’re going somewhere else.’

‘All right
then,’ Kaz snaps. ‘Let’s go Jodes. I’ve just spotted McKenna and his mates.’

Jeff moves
closer. ‘Sure you don’t wanna come? We got plenty of gear.’

Sacha grips my
hand even tighter. I say, ‘No, thanks,’ though the temptation is always there
to lose myself in another space, what with Abdul letting me down, meeting
Robert and Laura, and feeling so confused and angry...

Jeff takes off
in a huff. Giggling and fooling around, the others follow.

Sacha waits for
them to disappear. ‘Thanks, Emma,’ he says. ‘You’re a real mate.’

An hour later
we’re back at the unit. While Sacha is in the bathroom I realise that I don’t
mind sharing with a guy if the guy is Sacha. On his return, he’s wearing
skinny black pants and a midnight blue satin shirt. ‘What do you think?’   

My eyes pop.
‘Wow! Dazzling, Sacha. Absolutely stunning!’

The midnight
blue shirt highlights his golden hair and turns his eyes dark blue. He strikes
a pose and smiles. He’s so handsome he reminds me of Michaelangelo’s beautiful
statue of David, only without the outsized hands. What do straight chicks wear
to gay clubs? I choose the new silver halter top, match it with loose scarlet
harem pants, silver strappy sandals, more bracelets and anklets and lots of
glittery make-up.

Sacha kisses my
cheek. ‘You look…great.’

Suddenly this
feels all wrong. ‘Look, Sacha, are you sure you want me to come with you? I
mean, I don’t…’

‘Oh, pul-eeease,
Emma,’ he groans. ‘You have to. I…I’ve never been to a gay place before.
I’m…nervous, you see.’

But I’m edgy.
What if I’m the only straight person there? If only Dessi were with us I
wouldn’t feel this awkward. Confronted by too many questions in this last week
– such as Who am I? What am I? Can my problems with my father and
previous guys mean that I’m really gay? I ask, ‘This place we’re going to…is it
just guys?’

He looks
uncertain. ‘I think so.’

I panic. ‘Oh
Sacha, I don‘t want anyone coming on to me.’

‘It’ll be fine.
Don’t worry, Emma. I’ll take care of you,’ he says and grabs my hand. ‘Let’s
get a cab.’

We do and pull
up outside a softly lit doorway with a flight of stairs leading upwards. There
is nothing to indicate that this is a club. Sacha pays the cab driver and we
head up the stairs.

‘Membership?’ An
old guy is perched on a high stool behind an elaborate desk. He examines us
with piercing blue eyes. ‘Or just visiting?’ He smiles at Sacha. For him I
might well be a spot on the wall.

‘Visiting.’
Sacha says in a shaky voice.

‘You’ll need a
visitor’s card then,’ the guy purrs and slaps a book down on the desk. ‘Just
fill that in for me dear, will you? And your guest’s name, if you please. I
take it she
is
with
you?’ His gaze is dismissive.

I glower back.
One day I’ll use him to draw someone nasty. Sacha pays forty dollars for two
small glittery pieces of cardboard.

The old guy
smirks. ‘Enjoy your evening.’

I let my scowl
hang out.

‘Stay cool, Em,’
Sacha says softly and steers me into a gently lit room with leather couches and
gilt framed mirrors. Small groups of guys are scattered around, some sprawled
on couches, others posing at tables. It seems that a million pairs of eyes turn
on us as we stumble to a bench against a wall. Sacha is breathing too quickly.
‘I’ll get us a drink,’ he says.

While he’s gone
I check out the clients. Everyone is in tight fitting jeans and tank tops. The
only difference is the stitching on their boots. When I remember the jerks at
our school, all acne and smelly feet, these men could come from another planet.
Two men begin dancing together. They’re really close, gazing into each other
and then kissing. Sacha almost drops the drinks when he sees them.

‘Hi. Would you
like to dance?’

Standing in
front is a tall, slim guy. Sacha glides on to the dance floor. He doesn’t even
notice when I swallow my drink, pick up my bag and head for the stairs.

I manage the two stairs to my physio’s
rooms. Joyce would be okay, if she didn’t ask me every single time: ‘How do you
feel?’

‘Fine,’ I
say, when I really want to scream, ‘Get this bloody boot off me!’ Then of
course I get an extra long lecture about ‘thinking positive, and how these
exercises must be viewed as necessary homework, all delivered with a fixed
smile and a piercing gaze. Until that happens, Joyce is keeping my other
muscles in shape. But she must know how I feel because she says in her usual
brisk way, ‘Soon as we get rid of the plaster, we’ll use deep tissue heat and
massage your ankle back to the way it was.’

I smile
politely. No point being rude. I know Joyce is only doing her best to keep me
going.

This over, I
hop out to the pavement to wait for Abdul. Three minutes later his white van
lurches round the corner. I can’t help feeling smug. This is the man who
couldn’t find time to take Emma to the airport. Any lingering doubts disappear.
Now I’m quite sure he’s interested in me and only wants Emma as a friend.

He kisses
my cheek. He smells of toothpaste, after-shave and a faint spicy scent that’s
his alone. I swing myself into the car and he comes around to help me hoist my
ankle inside. He closes my door and jumps into the driver’s seat. ‘Brunswick or
Acland Street? You get to choose.’

‘Acland Street,’
I decide.

We tear
around the corner at breakneck speed. He glimpses my face and slows down.
‘Sorry,’ he says, repentant. ‘Forgot.’

‘That’s
okay!’ I try to hide my relief.

We park
behind Luna Park. ‘Where to?’          

‘Anywhere
they make a decent coffee.’

‘Oh,’ his
brow crinkles. ‘For that you’ll have to walk...’

‘Hop…’

‘But not
far,’ he hastens to add.

We set off
through the summer crowd. Halfway down the street, I ask, ‘Where are we going?’

‘Best is
here.’ He guides me to a café further along and we settle at an outside table.
The weather is perfect, a warm sun with just enough wind to keep us cool. Abdul
orders, then leans back and stares. I feel my cheeks flame.

‘Something
wrong?’

He leans
forward to rub my cheek and run a finger over my upper lip. Then he laughs and
says, ‘You look fine. Even prettier than yesterday.’

I redden
some more. I’m not used to being flattered.

The waiter
brings our coffees. I ask, ‘Had a busy morning?’

He shrugs.
‘My folks driving me nuts. How about you?’

So I tell
him about Nanna Pearl. He listens very carefully. I ask, ‘Do you have any
grandparents?’

‘One
grandfather. He lives with us.’

I lean
forward. ‘Tell me how your parents came to be here.’

‘You mean,
why they chose Oz?’ He shrugs. ‘Seemed the best place to settle. But it didn’t
happen all at once. They first went to Italy and stayed there until they
finally got Australian visas. With too little English the only jobs they could
find were in a hospital. They’re still there. We lived upstairs from a kebab
shop, only moved to the suburbs four years ago.’ His lips twitch in a half
smile, ‘Reckon my grandfather brought us up.’

His phone
buzzes. Abdul pulls it out, glances at its face and frowns. ‘Yes?’ A quick
gesture and he walks further down the street. The conversation only lasts a minute
or so. When he returns his face is thunderous. ‘Sorry about that,’ he says
hooking the phone onto his belt.

Though it’s
none of my business, I can’t resist asking, ‘Who was it?’

He stares
silently at me. ‘No one important.’

But I can tell
this call has jolted him.

‘Tell me
about your school?’ I ask. ‘Where did you go?’

His tension
visibly drops. ‘Weshill Secondary.’ He laughs. ‘Great place for a
general
education. You’re forced to learn
certain skills. Some of your Aussie mates don’t like Muslims.’

I grimace.
‘Tell me about it.’

‘What’s there
to tell? Skips don’t like Wogs or Slopes and vice versa. No one likes Muslims,
and Muslims don’t like anyone, either. We had to do some quick thinking to stay
alive.’

‘What’s
happened to the rest of your class?’

‘The lucky
ones got to Uni or went into the family business. Others got into party drugs
or jail. How about you?’

‘We’re
still waiting to find out.’

Inside, I
quake.

‘Course.’
He glances at his watch. ‘Got to make a delivery before two.’ He goes inside
to pay. Then we slowly make their way through the pedestrians and back to the
car. I wait for him to fire the engine. ‘Tomorrow night,’ he says. ‘You busy?’

I pretend
to think. ‘Well apart from a meeting with Stephen Spielberg who’s promised me a
scriptwriting job...’

‘Let’s go
out for dinner?’

‘Love to,’
I say.

We don’t
speak much on the way home, though I can tell he’s battling some hidden
problem. Finally he takes a deep breath and says, ‘How about my place?’

‘Sure.’ If
only I could stop that stupid smile. So uncool. But being with him sends me
half-crazy. Anytime Emma pops into my mind, I quickly dismiss her. Of course
Emma’s having a great time up north. I’m sure that given this accident and
everything, she won’t resent me having a little fun down here.

Abdul draws
up in front of our house. He opens my door to allow me to lurch out. Then waits
for me to unlock the front door. This time it’s lips on lips, tongues meeting,
bodies clamped together. A charge surges through me. Head to toes vibrate. My
hips, thighs, stomach press helplessly to his. For a moment I feel that if I
died out here, died on the gravel in front of my door, it will all be worth it.