Reunion

by Jane Frances

  “Honey, there’s nothing unusual about feeling that way.” Steph reassured as Lisa confessed her thoughts in a phone call that night. “You’re just adjusting to the fact they’re together.”

  “Yeah I know.” Glum, Lisa stabbed at her phone pad with a pen, and said, “But that doesn’t stop me from wishing they weren’t.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t be seeing Cathy then,” Steph suggested gently.

  Lisa frowned. Up until now, Steph had actively encouraged her to contact Cathy. “You’ve changed your tune.”

  “I know honey. But I had no idea just how strongly you felt until I saw you the other night.” There was a pause over the phone line. “Maybe it’s better if you just stay away. For your own good I mean.”

  “But I really do want to be friends,” Lisa argued. It was the truth. She wanted Cathy in her life in some way, shape or form. And if friendship was the form, then so be it.

  “Okay honey.” Steph didn’t sound very convinced. Again she paused and Lisa knew this time it was because she was still bursting to find out what had happened in Lisa’s lounge room on the night of her birthday. But she didn’t ask and Lisa didn’t offer. “You just be careful Leese.”

  “I will,” Lisa promised and they ended the call.

  Lisa reiterated that promise to herself as she continued to watch Cathy approach. As with every time she saw Cathy, her heart began to thump. She let it thunder in her chest for the time it took her eyes to wander up and down the length of Cathy’s frame. Lisa noted Cathy was dressed as casually as herself. Her jeans were dark denim, exposed button hipsters with—as was the fashion—legs that flared toward the ankle. They looked like favorites, frequently washed, comfortable and lived in. A form fitting T-shirt with a plunging neckline drew the eyes to . . . Lisa looked instead to Cathy’s cardigan, a light-knit affair just visible under the wet weather jacket she still sported. She had no sign of a limp. Instead, the “Cathy walk” was back. The confident stride with just a slight, ever so sexy roll of the hips. The roll was perfect, a roll so many women practiced but few could master. It was the roll that had seen Lisa drag behind Cathy on their way to class, just to indulge in the pleasure of seeing her walk. Aware she was no longer just looking, but outright staring, Lisa gave her heart firm instructions to slow down, closed her mouth, set it into a smile and rehearsed a casual greeting. Lisa also noted it was bang on eleven o’clock.

  “Looks like your ankle is all better.”

  “Uh-huh.” Cathy gave her windswept hair a shake and shrugged out of her jacket. It was draped over the back of her chair before she sat down. “Like I said, I’ve done it before,” she said, smiling, “An old tennis injury that keeps coming back to haunt me.”

  “Oh.” This hobby was news to Lisa. “I didn’t know you played.”

  “Very badly I’m afraid,” Cathy glanced at the waiter who appeared and shook her head, indicating she was not yet ready to order. She turned her attention back to Lisa. “I got a bit too enthusiastic one day and overreached for a passing shot at the net. I should just have let it go as I usually do.”

  Lisa didn’t believe a word of it. She imagined Cathy as a terrier on the court, running down everything and refusing to let even an obvious winning shot get the better of her. “How long have you played?”

  “Let’s see,” Lisa could see Cathy thinking back. “It must be a good eight years now. I took it up when I lived in Sydney.”

  “You lived in Sydney?” This was another bit of news.

  “For six years.”

  “Really.” Lisa’s eyebrows shot up and she leaned forward, ignoring the coffee menu. Obviously they had a lot of catching up to do. “What made you move there?”

  Cathy settled her eyes on her own menu. “I got a job offer and decided I may as well take it.” The menu was pushed to the middle of the table. Almost immediately the waiter returned, pen poised over his pad. “I’ll have a latte please.”

  Lisa ordered a cappuccino. They were both silent until he left. Then, more than a little interested, Lisa launched back into her questions, eager to discover what Cathy had been up to in the last eleven years.

  “Wow Cathy.” Lisa was also more than a little impressed with what she heard. “You’ve done really well.”

  Cathy shrugged away the compliment. “I did have a bigger kick-start than most, you know.”

  “Maybe so,” Lisa conceded. “But I still think it’s kudos to you. A lot of people would be content to take that amount of money and do bugger-all.” Lisa wasn’t exaggerating. Cathy’s trust would be enough to see the average person in good stead for life, so long as they invested wisely and didn’t fritter it away. Lisa could imagine, had she been given that amount of money at Cathy’s age, it would have slipped easily through her fingers. Especially with no lack of “friends” to help her spend it. “But you chose to start your own business. And you go there every day, even though you could get someone to run it for you.”

  “Well, I have to do something to keep myself occupied.” Cathy smiled. “Anyhow, I love what I do.”

  Lisa smiled back, and said, “You were born to be an accountant Cathy.” She reached for a sugar sachet, their second coffees arriving at the table.

  “Boring, you mean?”

  Lisa glanced up from her studied sugar sprinkle. “No. Not boring. I just meant . . .” She trailed away, realizing what Cathy was driving at. If there was one thing Lisa remembered it was her parting shot at the door of Cathy’s apartment. She wanted to say she had been so wrong, that she found Cathy anything but boring. That she found her exciting, in every way. Instead she said lamely, “I meant you are good with figures and things.”

  Cathy just nodded, slowly stirring her latte so the milk swirled into the layer of coffee at the bottom. She pointed her spoon in the direction of Lisa’s cappuccino, and said, “I see you still do that thing with the sugar.”

  “Old habits die hard.” Completing her ritual, Lisa stirred the froth with its even coat of sugar and ate it with her spoon. “Besides, I’ve never managed to get into the lattes. They’re too milky for me.”

  “Speaking of the accounting thing—”

  “Yes?” Lisa interjected warily, Cathy’s quick topic changes making her nervous.

  “How did you make the leap from that to tiling?”

  Lisa relaxed. It was her turn to tell her story. She licked the last of the froth from her spoon and set it onto the saucer. “Well, it wasn’t planned. I saw this program on television—you know the ones where they do all the house renovation type stuff . . .”

  After hearing Lisa’s story, Cathy smiled, and said, “You should be proud of what you’ve achieved as well Lisa. You and Joel have built a great business, and I must say, it’s no wonder. Not if what you did for me is anything to go by.”

  “Thanks Cathy.” Glowing, Lisa took advantage of the time afforded by finishing her second coffee. “But it’s just because I love what I do, too.”

  Cathy rested an elbow on the table, chin in hand. “You know, I should have listened when you started hinting you weren’t sure about wanting to be an accountant. Looking at you now, it’s quite obvious it wasn’t meant for you.”

  Uncomfortable under the thoughtful gaze coming from across the table, Lisa picked up a sugar sachet and began playing with it. The mutual admiration session they had indulged in each other’s achievements was all well and good, but it was time. Time for a long overdue apology.

  “Cathy,” Lisa placed the sugar sachet back in its bowl, determined not to be fiddling with anything. She clasped her hands in her lap. “Cathy, I’m so sorry for how I treated you back then.” The temptation to dilute her statement with excuses to explain her behavior was strong, but she didn’t. “I wish I could take it all back and do it differently.”

  The silence between them was long and drawn, Lisa waiting nervously for Cathy to give some sort of response. Cathy, for her part, seemed taken aback by the apology. Lisa could almost see her mind whirring, looking for somet
hing appropriate to say.

  “How could you Lisa?” she said eventually, eyes glistening. “Do you have any idea how it felt when I got back and found all your things were gone?”

  “I know.” Ashamed, Lisa looked down past the table to her hands. “I’m sorry. It was an awful thing to do.”

  “Why didn’t you at least call me?”

  “I did.”

  Cathy folded her arms and glared. “Don’t lie Lisa, you did not.”

  “I’m not lying, really. I didn’t call you but I called mum, she said she’d passed my message on.”

  “I know,” Cathy said impatiently. “I got your message. I meant why didn’t you return my call?”

  Lisa looked up sharply. “What call? I never got a call.”

  Cathy’s eyes narrowed, “The call I made the very night your mum called me. I spoke to Evelyn.”

  Lisa shook her head, bewildered, “Honestly Cathy, I never got your message.”

  Cathy considered Lisa for long moments. Her eyes softened. “You’re telling the truth.”

  “Yes.”

  They looked at each other, wondering what could have been. All the time that may have been different had Evelyn chosen to pass on the message.

  Cathy was the first to speak. “It doesn’t matter now anyway.” She reached for the sugar sachet Lisa had played with before, pressing the contents from one end of the packet to the other. “If you think about it she probably did us a favor.”

  “How do you figure that?”

  “I don’t think it was our time Lisa.” Cathy shrugged her shoulders, adding, “Do you think if she passed on the message it would really have made a difference?”

  Lisa wanted to believe it would. But she knew, while there may have been a reconciliation, the same problems would have cropped up again. She and Cathy were in two very different headspaces at the time. “Probably not.”

  “And if she’d passed on the message maybe you would never have found your calling.”

  Since Cathy was being philosophical Lisa could too. “And you may never have accepted that job offer in Sydney.” She imagined Cathy would still have received the offer, but Lisa’s own grades were never going to be good enough for a similar opportunity. And she couldn’t see Cathy flying to the other side of the country while she was in Perth working out her own professional year.

  “Yes I would have,” Cathy said confidently. “You’d have followed me.”

  Lisa really couldn’t say what she would have done back then. But she knew if it were in question now, she’d already have her bags packed. “No I wouldn’t.”

  “Yes you would.”

  “No I wouldn’t.” Lisa stood, also knowing if they continued this train of conversation she’d end up blurting something about a willingness to follow Cathy to the ends of the earth. “Where’s the bathroom?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never been here before.”

  “Oh.” Lisa scanned the premises, looking for a sign. Spying one, she headed toward it, wondering that Cathy had never visited here, pleased purely because it meant it wasn’t a hangout for Cathy and Toni. Lisa decided this was now officially her and Cathy’s hangout. The coffee was good, too, she admitted. Well worth the outrageous prices. Well, almost.

  “You should go check out the bathroom,” Lisa said on her return. “It’s really quite something. Although,” she whispered conspiratorially, “The tiling leaves a lot to be desired.”

  Lisa watched Cathy rise from her seat. She watched her again as she sat back down a few minutes later, checking her watch as she did so. Lisa’s mood flattened. Obviously it was time to end their date . . . their . . . meeting. Lisa wondered if she would be pushing her luck suggesting a third cup of coffee. She wouldn’t sleep all night, but she was willing to live with that.

  “Shit Lisa.” Cathy exclaimed. “We’ve been here over two hours.”

  “Yeah I know.” During Cathy’s absence Lisa noticed the coffee and cake crowd had departed, to be replaced with the lunch crowd. The clang of cooking utensils came from the open kitchen and plates of food were being carried to expectant diners. “Time flies huh.”

  “I’m hungry. Do you want to stay and have lunch?”

  “Unless of course you have somewhere you need to be?” Cathy continued, when Lisa didn’t answer immediately.

  “No. Lunch sounds good.” The only official invite she had for the afternoon was the one arriving in the post at her parents’ place a few weeks ago. The one inviting her to the school reunion her mum had pre-warned her about. An early cocktail affair, it would be starting in a few hours, at some yacht club along the river. Hell would freeze over before Lisa would entertain the thought of attending that one. However, elated at this invitation, Lisa grinned, “I’ve got no plans for the afternoon.”

  “Great.” Cathy called to the waiter for the lunch and drinks menus. “Do you feel like wine or would you rather a beer?”

  Already on a natural high, Lisa didn’t really feel the need for anything alcoholic. Sitting on a glass of wine would be much easier than sipping on a warm, flat beer. “Wine’s good.”

  The drink menu was passed across the table. “Do you want to choose?”

  Lisa shook her head. “I need a few goes at the wine club thing before you can trust me with a wine list.”

  “Come on Lisa.” Cathy planted the menu between them. “We’ll decide together.”

  Within minutes, a bottle of dry white wine had been delivered to their table. Lisa studied the lunch menu, deciding just to ignore the prices and have whatever she felt like. She quickly scanned the offerings. One caught her eye: pan-fried barramundi served atop herbed potato rosti and accompanied by the chef’s own mesclun selection with fresh garden vegetables and a lemon vinaigrette.

  Fish and chips with salad. That sounded all right.

  “I think I’ll go for the fish.”

  Cathy’s eyes darted to Lisa’s selection. “That sounds good. But I think I’ll go for the pasta.”

  Once their meals were placed in front of them, Lisa looked from her plate to Cathy’s. As usual, as soon as she was served, Lisa got buyer’s remorse. Why did whatever anyone else ordered always look more appealing than her own dish?

  The food envy was noted. “Have you got grass is greener syndrome again?”

  “No.” Lisa picked up her cutlery.

  “Do you want to swap?”

  “No.” Lisa thought the pumpkin pasta filled with pesto looked really good.

  “Do you want to share?”

  “Maybe.” Lisa took one last envious look to Cathy’s plate. “Can I just have a taste?”

  Instead of being handed the fork, Lisa was offered just the pasta end.

  “What are you laughing at?” Cathy looked bemused as Lisa chewed.

  Lisa swallowed before answering. “You. You still open your own mouth whenever you feed someone.”

  “I do not!”

  Lisa took a little sip of her wine. It was very nice. She congratulated herself on her choice. And it had been her choice, sort of. She’d put her finger on a couple of wines in the list and Cathy had either screwed up her nose or shaken her head. Lisa had chosen the first one that got the nod. She grinned at Cathy from behind her glass. “Yes you do.”

  Cathy’s insistence that she didn’t open her mouth while feeding someone was a longstanding debate. Cathy conceded that if she did, it was just because it was a natural human reflex. Many times, in cafés, restaurants, fast-food joints or the University cafeteria, they had been caught watching intently as diners fed each other. “See!” Cathy would say gleefully. “He’s doing it too.”

  “Well if I do, it’s just because it’s a natural human reflex.”

  Lisa laughed at Cathy’s continued stubbornness. Natural human reflex or Cathy-specific, Lisa found it adorable. Just as she found everything else about Cathy adorable. She cut that thought short, instead cutting off a small section of her fish and offering it to Cathy. Just to prove her point she kept her mouth c
lamped shut, despite experiencing the natural reflex to open it as Cathy opened hers.

  When they were almost through their meal, conversation turned to the renovations Lisa had undertaken on her house.

  “I still think you’re very clever.” Cathy was most impressed to discover Lisa had done a lot of the work herself. “Everything I’ve ever done to my place I’ve called in the experts. You must be very handy.”

  From what I remember you’re pretty skilled with your hands yourself.

  Unsure if she had voiced that thought out loud, Lisa stole a quick glance to the other side of the table. Cathy registered no outrage, so obviously she hadn’t. But inwardly she cringed. For Lisa was failing miserably at this friend thing. If anything, she was acting more like a love-struck adolescent. Steph was right again. She should just have stayed away.

  Lisa had fought against her urges from the moment Cathy fed her the first mouthful of pasta. She’d almost succeeded in cooling her blood, until about three minutes into their meal, when they both reached for the wine bottle at the same time. Their hands brushed. Lisa was the first to pull away, but by then the contact had been extended enough to make Lisa feel like Cathy’s fingers were impressed into her skin. She’d been looking for ways to “accidentally” touch ever since.

  Nothing had come to bear. Cathy didn’t take salt so there was no reason to lunge for the saltshaker. Pepper was offered by one of those staff who seemed to do nothing but wander around wielding an oversized pepper mill, and the damn table had a sturdy four-way crossbar at its base so Lisa would have to stretch her foot and twist it in an awkward manner to make contact. Inadvertent footsies were subsequently out of the question.