Call Me Joe

by Martin Van Es

  “Well then, we definitely need to do something about that,” he said, draining his wine and holding the cup out for a refill.

  “Are you teasing me?” she asked as she topped him up.

  “Would you mind if I was?”

  “You’re still doing that thing.”

  “What thing?”

  “Answering every question with another question.”

  “There’s a lot of things I’m trying to understand. I have a lot of questions that need answers.”

  They lay comfortably together for another hour, talking about whatever subject came to mind or popped up on the television screen as it flickered in front of them, until eventually Sophie felt her eyelids becoming too heavy to hold open any longer, no matter how much she wanted to keep talking. Resigning herself to the fact that Joe was not going to make a pass at her, she slid off the sofa and stood up.

  “I’m off to bed,” she said. “Make yourself comfortable, help yourself to a towel and anything else you need from the cupboard in the bathroom, there’s a sleeping bag over there and I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Thank you,” he said, showing no sign that he was going to try to stop her leaving the room.

  Plucking up her courage she leaned down and kissed him gently on the lips. He tasted sweeter than she could ever have imagined. He responded but gave no indication that he expected to go any further. She straightened up, pretending that to her it was no more than a goodnight kiss and went through to her bedroom, hoping that she might have lit a spark of desire in him and that he might follow, having realised that he had to have her.

  Despite her exhaustion, she found it hard to get to sleep once she was lying in bed, her mind spinning round and round, listening to the sounds of him moving about in the other room. He had told the children his name was Jesus, and he’d certainly made himself look like someone from the time of the Bible, but he hadn’t tried to preach to her when she announced she was an atheist. He had also hinted that he had something to do with the blacking out of the sun, which seemed ridiculous, unless she accepted the fact that he actually was Jesus, and therefore the Son of God. But all her life she had believed that everything to do with religion was nonsense and that only science held the answers. So did that mean that she was as blinkered to other possible answers as she always thought religious fanatics were towards scientific facts? Was it actually possible that she had the Son of God in her apartment? Even thinking that made her want to laugh – it was laughable, after all. Wasn’t it?

  Eleven

  When she woke, Sophie could hear loud banging and crashing noises coming from the other room and it took her a few moments to remember that for the first time since she joined the school she had a guest in her tiny home. The memory of the previous day flooded her with an unexpected feeling of joyousness, igniting her to jump out of bed with an unusual amount of enthusiasm. She also checked her appearance in the mirror before opening the bedroom door, something she never normally had any cause or any wish to do. She was pleasantly surprised by how good she looked considering she had just lifted her head from the pillows. For the first time ever she noted that her smile was wide and her eyes bright with excitement. Her short hair was sticking up at some odd angles but she didn’t think Joe would be one to judge such things and, if she was absolutely honest, she thought it made her look kind of cute and rumpled.

  Joe was kneeling on the floor, rummaging through the kitchen cupboard with a puzzled look on his face. He had examined virtually every cooking implement and grocery item that she possessed and was no nearer to finding anything that he could turn into breakfast.

  “I wanted to make you breakfast,” he said, looking up at her, “but I’m not sure where to start.”

  “Nice thought,” she laughed, “thank you. But toast is probably the only option unless you want a protein drink.”

  “A protein drink sounds good.”

  “I’ll make you one – and I’ll do some toast.”

  “Okay,” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender, “and then I will teach myself how to cook something better for you next time.”

  “Cool,” she said, “you can watch cooking videos on the internet all day long, not that there is much here for you to work with.”

  She felt a flutter of excitement in her stomach at the easy way in which he suggested that there would be a “next time”. Was he planning to move in permanently? Was he assuming that they were in a relationship already? She turned her face away from his gaze and towards the blender so that he couldn’t see the grin she was unable to suppress. “No,” she told herself firmly, “he said nothing about a relationship. He just wants to learn how to cook eggs! Get a grip, girl!”

  Having whipped up a thick, greenish health drink from what was left in her vegetable rack along with some protein powders, and having produced a few slices of nearly burned toast, Sophie made coffee and they sat together on the sofa for breakfast. A knock on the door made Sophie jump but Joe kept on eating as if no interruption had occurred.

  “This could be awkward,” she said as she went over to open the door, expecting to be confronted by a furious headmaster or perhaps a couple of stone-faced security guards.

  “Hugo?” she said. “How did you get in?”

  “The door downstairs is open for the cleaners,” he said. “Can I come in?”

  Sophie was too surprised to do anything but stand back and let him past.

  “Good morning, Hugo,” Joe said, as if it was the most normal situation in the world. “Did you sleep well?”

  “Not really,” Hugo admitted. “I kept thinking about you.”

  “Oh,” Joe grinned. “Would you like some toast?”

  “Yes please.”

  Joe patted the seat beside him and passed the plate of toast over.

  “Drink?” He held up his glass of green sludge for Hugo to see.

  “No thank you.”

  “Why are you here, Hugo?” Sophie asked, quickly closing the door before any passing members of staff decided to poke their noses in.

  “I spoke to my mum last night.”

  “What, after leaving here? You know you’re not supposed to use your phones in the dormitories.” Sophie tried to sound as if she actually believed that such petty rules should be enforced, but Hugo didn’t seem convinced enough to bother to reply.

  “She asked if you two would like to come home with me at the weekend, unless you have anything else that you need to do. It can be quite interesting at her house sometimes. She knows a lot of interesting people.”

  “I’m sure she does.” Sophie sat down and tried to get her head around the invitation. “That’s very kind of her. Isn’t there anyone else you would rather ask?”

  “Not really.” Hugo wrinkled his nose up at the thought of introducing any of his classmates to his mother and her friends.

  “Any reason why we can’t accept?” Joe asked, apparently as unsurprised by the invitation as he was by Hugo’s early-morning arrival. “I would like to meet Hugo’s mum – and her interesting friends.”

  “No,” Sophie said after a moment’s thought, “no reason at all, I guess. That would be great, Hugo, thanks. Please thank your mother for us.”

  “Okay,” Hugo said, standing up, still holding his piece of toast, “I will. She says can you ring her about the arrangements. This is her number.” He passed her a piece of paper.

  “Oh.” Sophie felt unaccountably nervous at the thought of having to make such a call, but took the paper from him. “Okay. Thanks. I’ll do that.”

  “See you later,” Hugo said, letting himself out and taking another bite of toast.

  “Oh my God, do you have any idea who his mother is?” Sophie asked once she could see from the window that Hugo was safely out of the building. “She and her husband are two of the richest, most
politically high-profile and well-connected people in China. They made a fortune. They make the smartest machines in the world. Yung – Hugo’s mum – is a world-class expert in AI and Information and Communications Technology. His dad, Liang, is a world-class expert in genetic engineering. Yung is one of the most brilliant women in the world. They have been outspoken in their opinions of their government and on the course that they believe China should be taking when it comes to human rights and freedom. I think they believed they were so rich they were untouchable. Anyway, the authorities decided to show them otherwise and imprisoned Liang, with no explanation. At least that is what everyone assumes has happened because he just disappeared one day on the way to work and no one has seen or heard of him since, which is the way the government over there works. They had already built this amazing house in New Zealand, so Yung fled here for her own safety, and for the safety of Hugo.”

  “I wonder why her government just let her do that.”

  “Who knows what their plans are for her? The point is she’s a very important figure and it will be fantastic to be able to talk to her in her own home. She has shown huge courage in speaking out against powerful people and she has been politically active on a number of fronts on behalf of the planet.

  “She is also a great champion of China as a country, which she believes is doing almost everything right, while at the same time campaigning for changes to the law which will make it impossible for the government to simply ‘disappear’ people like her husband, seemingly on no more than a whim of someone at the top. It will be awesome to get to spend some time with her.”

  “Awesome,” Joe agreed.

  “You don’t seem that overwhelmed by the idea.”

  “No, really. It’ll be interesting.”

  “Plus we get to hang out all weekend together.”

  “That will be interesting too,” he grinned, and she got the distinct impression she was being teased so she concentrated on putting Yung’s number into her phone.

  “Hugo seems an unusual name for a Chinese child,” Joe mused.

  “Not really. A lot of the younger generation in China give their children English names as well as Chinese ones, especially if they are planning to send them overseas for education.”

  She dialled the number and to her astonishment Yung picked up after just two rings.

  Twelve

  “The headmaster wants to see you in his office,” his secretary announced from the door of the classroom, causing almost all the children in her class to simultaneously let out one of their favourite ironic “ooh” sounds.

  “Be quiet, all of you,” Sophie told them before turning to the smirking secretary. “Thank you. Please tell him I’ll come as soon as class is over.”

  “He’s asked to see you now,” the secretary said, turning on her heel and walking smartly away before Sophie could say anything else, and at the same time removing the need for them to walk together to the office in an awkward silence.

  “You better go, Miss,” one of the more theatrical boys said, clutching at his heart and throwing his head back dramatically, “or the headmaster might die of unrequited love.”

  “Don’t be so cheeky,” she said as the others laughed noisily.

  In fact in her current mood she rather liked the idea of herself as a femme fatale. What she didn’t like was the thought of being in his office again having to explain why she had a strange man hidden in her room.

  “Just get on with some work until I get back.”

  “Come in, Sophie,” the headmaster said in a voice that sounded too friendly to be genuine. “Sit down.”

  “I’m okay here,” she replied, saying nothing more, biding her time until she found out what was on his mind.

  “I’m told that you have a man in your room,” he said, averting his eyes from hers, “and that he spent the night there.”

  She said nothing, looking at him questioningly, as if waiting for him to get to the point.

  “Is that true?” he asked.

  “Yes it is.”

  “But did he get clearance? Have security been informed? We can’t have people living on the premises without knowing anything about them.”

  “He’s the most trustworthy person I think I have ever met,” she said.

  “That’s not the point. We are in positions of responsibility here, particularly those of us who live on the premises—”

  “I understand that,” she interrupted, annoyed at being lectured again, “but I am happy to vouch for my guest’s good behaviour.”

  “But who is he?”

  “His name is Joe.”

  “Joe what?”

  “Just Joe.”

  “You don’t even know his full name?” Now the headmaster seemed genuinely shocked. “How long have you known him?”

  “He turned up yesterday, during the darkness.”

  “Seriously? You just met him yesterday and you let him stay at your place, a guy as weird as that?”

  “What makes you think he’s weird?” Sophie felt herself blushing angrily at the insult to someone she already felt close to.

  “I’ve seen the security footage, and the kids have been overheard talking about him…” Aware that he was starting to raise his voice he paused and took a deep breath.

  “Listen, Sophie, you know how much I value you as a teacher and how much I like you as a person…”

  She decided this was the moment to lay all her cards on the table. “He is staying with me until he sorts himself somewhere to live and we are going together this weekend to visit Hugo’s mother.”

  “Yung Zhang? You are going to stay with Yung Zhang? That’s ridiculous!”

  “Why is it ridiculous?”

  “She’s a global political figure and…”

  “And I’m just a humble teacher?”

  “Don’t put words in my mouth!” He slammed his palms back down on the desk, making Sophie jump back closer to the door. Seeing that he had scared her he took another deep breath and tried to speak in a level voice. “This is exactly what I have been warning you about, getting too close to the children. This is inappropriate. Not to mention the possible political implications of befriending someone like that.”

  “Someone like what?”

  “Someone who is such a high-profile activist.”

  “Who I visit at a weekend is nothing to do with you. I am informing you as a courtesy; that is all. I am a great admirer of Yung Zhang and her husband and I think it is a measure of the sort of woman she is that she is happy to invite her son’s teacher for the weekend. She is making me feel very welcome.”

  “You have already spoken to her?”

  “Only to make the arrangements for a car to pick us up.”

  The headmaster fell silent for a few moments as if processing the information. This was not a situation he had ever had to deal with before and he wasn’t sure how to proceed. If he were to be honest he was experiencing a twinge of jealousy. He too would have jumped at an invitation to get to know Yung Zhang and stay in her famous home.

  “All right,” he said eventually, “your friend can stay until he sorts himself out with somewhere more suitable to go, but he must remain in your apartment while he is here. He cannot be seen wandering around the school. If a picture got into the media we would start to look like some sort of religious cult.”

  “I will be taking him shopping to get some more normal clothes,” she said, making a small concession in the negotiation.

  “And maybe a haircut?”

  “I will ask him. I can hardly order a grown man to cut his hair.”

  She had actually been planning to get Joe tidied up before the weekend anyway. It had never occurred to her that she would ever be invited to the home of such a wealthy person as Yung. Now that she had got used to the i
dea, however, she was extremely keen to make a good impression and not to feel out of place. She had also already realised that Joe’s wild appearance would be inappropriate for visiting someone famed for her taste and elegance. She remembered briefly shaking Yung’s hand at a recent parents’ evening and feeling painfully dowdy by comparison.

  “I am warning you, Sophie,” the headmaster was saying, “you are getting way out of your depth.”

  Sophie thought it was entirely possible that he was right about that, and she found the prospect of embarking on such an adventure into the unknown thrilling.

  Thirteen

  “We’re going late-night shopping,” Sophie told Joe when she got back to the apartment from class that afternoon.

  “Shopping?” he asked, putting down the autobiography of Nelson Mandela which he was already halfway through and standing up to give her a welcoming embrace, like they were an old married couple.

  “We have got to make ourselves look at least slightly presentable if we are going to be staying in someone’s house.” Sophie breathed in his scent as he wrapped his arms around her, wanting the moment to last for ever.

  “Do I not look presentable?” He spread his arms out wide, releasing her and looking down at his robe.

  “You look amazing,” she said before she could stop herself, “but a little too unusual. It’s polite to fit in with other people a bit, especially if you are going to be in their homes.”

  She could hardly believe she was saying such things, having always prided herself on her individual and unorthodox style. Her parents had tried for years to persuade her to just occasionally trade her jeans and T-shirts for a dress or skirt and the more they had told her how pretty she would be if she “just made a little effort” the more determined she became to do no such thing. Now she was advocating doing exactly what they would have wanted her to do in the circumstances.

  “You don’t want to look like you are trying to draw attention to yourself,” she added lamely. “I never normally spend any money on things like clothes, so it will be an interesting experience for both of us.”