Avoiding Mr Right

by Anita Heiss

'Stop stressing. I saw Sylvia,' he said, suddenly serious.

  'It's Sylv-eye-a,' I corrected him.

  'Of course, Sylv-eye-a.' He pronounced it slowly, as everyone did when first saying it. 'At the reading last night. She told me where she worked and that you worked together. So I rang the switchboard, they put me through to your voicemail and your mobile number is on there. There is absolutely nothing illegal or improper about that process at all, is there? You've even got me doubting myself now, and that doesn't usually happen. I called you is all. It's not like I'm following you – but I do think you should be arrested.'

  'What for?' I was totally confused.

  'It's gotta be illegal to look as good as you do.'

  'Where are you?' I started to look around me. 'You're a bit stalker-like, don't you think?'

  'Stalker-like? Hell no. I just think it's the normal behaviour of a man who wants to take a very difficult woman out to dinner.'

  'So a woman who's not interested in eating with you is considered difficult, is she?'

  'A woman who constantly accuses someone of wrongdoing and claims she doesn't eat lunch because she's a bit, let's say, frightened of new friends, is pretty much being difficult.' I laughed – he was probably right.

  'Ahah! I made you laugh! That's a good start,' he said, so I stopped laughing. I almost stopped breathing completely. There was silence.

  'Are you there?' he asked.

  'I'm here.'

  'So, can we have dinner? Come on, be unique and different and just say yes.'

  'Look, I'm just about at the office and I've got work to do. I'll think about it and let you know. I've got your number on my phone. I'll call you.'

  'Don't call me too soon though, cos that'll mean you're interested in me. I know how you women work. Transparent as anything.'

  'Goodbye.' I hung up with a smile that spanned my entire face and found I had an odd spring in my step.

  ♥

  'Do you think I could be friends with a cop?' I asked Shelley as she made a stir-fry for dinner.

  'Do you want to be friends with a cop?'

  I looked at the postcard her parents had sent from the Big Banana and frowned, wondering why Australians were obsessed by our 'big foods'. So far her mum and dad had been to the Big Avocado, the Big Prawn and the Big Oyster.

  'Well, he seems nice and genuine. And he's funny. He comes out with these weird one-liners all the time. Really cheesy pick-up lines.' I grabbed a piece of broccoli out of the wok.

  Shelley slapped my hand. 'Get out of it! Does the "cop" have an actual name? You think he's referring to you as "the public servant"?'

  'Oh all right, let's give him an identity then. Constable Care, Mike the cop . . . whatever. He comes out with really bad pick-up lines. He's . . . kinda quirky.'

  'You like him. I just saw a smile. You like Mike-pick-up-line cop.'

  'I don't like him. I just think he's quirky. A quirky cop. Anyway, I can't like him, even if I wanted to. I'm in love with James, remember?'

  'James, of course. Oh, there's a message on the machine from him. But check after, I want company while I cook. Which you're supposed to be doing, seeing as I unhooked you, remember?' and she grimaced at the memory. 'Now back to Constable Care . . . where was I? Right, cops are human too, you know.'

  'You think so?'

  'Yes, and sometimes my dear cultural affairs friend, you are not all that broadminded. Being friends with a cop might be good for you. You might actually learn something.' And Shelley raised her eyebrows, as if to say, I'm trying to say this as gently as I can, but you're being a coppist!

  ♥

  Hi, u free 2 skype? Px

  Loggin on now, x Alice

  I logged onto the computer in the living room and fixed my hair as I started to dial Alice's address. Skype was fantastic in that it was free and you could see the person at the other end, but it also meant you couldn't really talk in your underwear, like you could do on the phone. I tried to look as respectable as possible and only had the table lamp on so it wasn't too bright. I liked talking to Alice on Skype because she had a laptop from school and would move around her flat, and sometimes I could see the ocean behind her. It was almost like sitting in her flat with her. Gary the Garbo had Alice on a bit of a budget since they got engaged, and although she didn't admit it, she was doing it tough, not being able to do all the girly things, like going to the beautician regularly. The sacrifices women made for love sometimes made me wonder. Or maybe when you were truly in love they didn't feel like sacrifices?

  'So, I met this, um, rather interesting cop at a poetry reading a few weeks back and he's asked me out for dinner.'

  'I don't think it's a very good idea,' said Alice. 'I mean, if he's a cop. And what about James? Aren't you supposed to be celibate?'

  I knew she wouldn't approve. 'Alice, it's not a date. It's just as friends.'

  'Could you really be friends with a cop?'

  'I don't know. He's funny. I kind of like him.'

  'No way, Peta. Jews, Nazis, Blacks, cops. Get it?' Alice was using the same argument I'd used with Mike.

  'You think too much, Alice. Reality is I have to eat, so I might as well eat with him.'

  'Yes, but you'll have to talk too – can't just sit there and shovel food in your mouth and say nothing. It's the talking that's going to be the problem.'

  'I don't have to talk politics.'

  'Well, it's hard not to talk politics when you're Black and you work in policy.'

  'Can't I just go, eat some food, and talk about the weather or Melbourne or poetry?'

  'Poetry? Fuck, well that'll kill the night, won't it?' And she laughed.

  'Yes, true, so I'll talk football or something, I don't know.'

  'The problem will be the whole Black deaths in custody thing. You know that, don't you?'

  I took a sip of the Pimm's that Shelley had brought in for me after dinner and adjusted the computer screen. Alice took a sip of tea. She didn't drink near as much gin'n'tonic since moving in with Gary.

  'Why would I be talking about that at dinner?'

  'Well, what's the point in having dinner or being friends if you can't talk about the stuff that's important to you? No point six weeks or months down the track realising that very significant aspects of the way you view society and the world are diametrically opposed, now is there?'

  'Six weeks? Six months? I'm just having dinner with him, for God's sake.'

  'Firstly, no guy just wants to have dinner, that's crap. It's always about sex, some just take a longer, less direct route, but in the end they're all playing the same game, and the ones who say they aren't are either lying to you and themselves or they're gay. In Melbourne, they're just lying.'

  'I'll just have lunch, maybe. It can be my little bit for reconciliation. I'll be doing it to bridge the gap between our community and theirs.'

  'You're mad. I've gotta go, I'll Skype you later in the week.'

  'Okay, next time put some lippy on and grab a glass of wine and we can pretend we're out and about.'

  'Excellent idea, see ya.'

  eighteen

  No pig jokes, no pick-up lines

  After a restless night's sleep I decided that I'd call Mike. I'd suggest dinner, not lunch, so I could have a wine and relax properly and perhaps not be so uptight. When he answered the phone I simply said, 'It's Peta Tully.'

  'My Koori rose, how are you?' He had a deep but playful voice.

  'What? Where did you get that phrase?' I was a little surprised.

  'You think you guys are the only ones to listen to Koori Radio here in Melbourne? I have it on in the wagon sometimes.'

  'Whatever. I'm just ringing to say I'll have dinner with you this weekend.'

  'Oh, no can do. Sorry, but I'm working nights this weekend, six pm till six am.'

  'You're the one who suggested dinner, but now you can't go.' It was already too hard.

  'I can go, just not this weekend. I'm off next weekend.'

  I hesitated.
>
  'What about Friday this week?' he said, but before I could respond he added, 'Shit, no, sorry – I just realised I can't do Friday. It's Anzac Day, I have to be out and about, it's a uniform thing.'

  'So you'd rather drink with old men than a gorgeous young woman?'

  'Peta, let me assure you that you'd be hard-pressed to find any guy who would choose a woman, as gorgeous as you are, over two-up on Anzac Day. Sorry, but it's the truth.'

  'Actually, I did some research last year and you'd be surprised to know that when I polled one hundred men about whether they'd prefer to go to the pub and play two-up or make love to a gorgeous woman on Anzac Day—'

  'But—'

  'Sshhh, you know what I found?'

  'But—'

  'Don't interrupt; it was a rhetorical question – it doesn't require an answer from you.'

  'I know what a rhetorical question is, Peta.' He laughed, which only annoyed me further.

  I continued, 'My survey found that seventy-three men chose two-up, twenty-five chose the woman, and two were undecided. Eight proposed marriage, five asked me out for dinner, and three had to be asked to leave the bar because they tried to touch me. So, not all men, Mr Mike-the-stalker cop, will choose two-up.'

  'Can I say something now, Miss Tully? Firstly, you didn't offer me a choice between two-up and making love, you said lunch or dinner. Of course I would have chosen that option had it been the question posed.'

  'Well my friend, that's an option you're never going to be given.'

  'Ah, but you just called me your friend, so that's a start. I'm going to lock in lunch for this Sunday before you change your mind.'

  'But won't you be too tired after night shift?'

  'Oh no, it'll be worth it. It's ladies' choice, so just let me know where you want to go the day before and I'll organise it.'

  I was proud that I had agreed to eat with a policeman. It was the grown-up thing to do. Shelley was right, I might just learn something.

  ♥

  We met at what was commonly referred to as Melbourne's 'most famous restaurant on the beach', the Stokehouse. It was bustling with families and birthdays and young people in groups and the odd couple peppered throughout. It was unusually warm for April (at least that's what everyone told me) and I had a sleeveless dress with enough cleavage to be sexy but not saucy, and pair of brown boots. The space was large, open, with a wood-fired oven, and Mike was seated at a table in the middle of the room between the bar and kitchen. It was very beach-shack-meets-a-Californian-bungalow, or as they said in Melbourne a 'Cal Bung'. I studied the casualness of moneyed Melbourne and wondered what the Sydney equivalent might be. Ravesi's at Bondi perhaps? Nick's on the promenade at Cockle Bay? No, they were both flashier than the Stokehouse. It was more like the Clovelly Hotel. The full glass frontage could not hide the fact that St Kilda beach was dirty, and the wind was up so there was lots of white wash swirling around.

  The wait staff were young and funky in jeans and white shirts. I stood at the bar just taking it in before Constable Care spotted me and I walked over. He put one hand in the small of my back and kissed me on the mouth. Whoa, I thought, you don't lip kiss someone you've just met. I pulled back with a jerk, which he apparently didn't notice or chose to ignore.

  'Damn girl, you've got more curves than a racetrack.'

  'Okay, stop with the lines, please.'

  'Sure, but you do look beautiful.' He seemed sincere.

  'You look all right, too, I suppose,' I said with a smile. 'What else looks good, I mean besides both of us?' And I opened the menu as soon as I sat down.

  'Well, I can tell you everything on the menu, I've been here a while.'

  'Am I late? I thought we agreed on noon.'

  'No, you're on time, I just got here early, to get the table and be waiting.' God, he was stalker material. 'I think the suckling pig looks good.'

  'What, a whole pig?'

  'No, it's just cut from a suckling pig.'

  'So can pigs eat pig?' And as soon as I said it I knew I'd gone too far.

  'Okay, are you done? Any more pork jokes you want to get off your very beautiful chest?'

  'Okay, truce – no pig jokes, no pick-up lines.'

  'Truce. But can I flirt with you?' He just never stopped; he was the perpetual comedian.

  Flirting was technically acceptable, wasn't it? I could look but not touch, read the menu but not order, wasn't that right? I'd have to tell him I had a boyfriend sooner or later, but I didn't need to do it right away. It might look weird – and he might want to just be friends anyway, and I'd look like a right knob assuming, the way Alice did, that all men just wanted to have sex.

  The waiter came and took our drink orders so the moment had passed anyway.

  'Pimm's and lemonade, please.' I'd been terribly influenced by Shelley.

  'Coopers, thanks mate.'

  Just relax and be normal, I told myself. I'd always been the easygoing, happy-go-lucky girl in our group and now I was acting like a nervous schoolgirl, freaking out, thinking too much. Maybe Melbourne wasn't that good for my state of mind after all.

  I decided I'd just jump straight in.

  'So, give me your details, then. Siblings, birth date . . .'

  'I'm twenty-nine and I have two brothers – PJ and Shaun – and two sisters – Lily and Patricia. We're a close family, so I'm lucky. With my schedule though, I hardly get to see them, even though I'm big on family and want to have one of my own someday. Yeah, life in the force means you need stability at home,' he said, as if he'd given it a lot of thought.

  'The hours must make it hard to meet people, though?'

  'Hey, I met you.'

  'Yeah, that was just lucky!' I tried to brush off the compliment. I'd have to tell him about James soon, but I didn't know how to introduce the subject.

  'To be truthful, the hours do play havoc with your social life. Sometimes it means having to hang out with cops all the time, because they're on the same roster and so on. Our happy hour might be seven in the morning, because we finish at six am. It's the kind of lifestyle that's not easy for most people to cope with.'

  'I know what you mean. I travel a lot for my work, and it's hard to find someone with a compatible lifestyle. So you end up sometimes having to trade off one for the other. Most guys I've met can't cope with a career woman either. They seem to want attention exactly when they want it, and not just after the report has been finished or the field trip is complete. It's such a juggling act. I want to be able to manage both somehow, to have a balanced lifestyle.'

  'And you should have it.'

  'What about you? Do you have to date cops to have that compatible lifestyle?'

  'Oh no, never date cops; don't dip the pen and all that stuff. Anyway, I do have a lot of other interests that make me attractive to all kinds of women, you know!'

  'Really?' I laughed at his cheeky confidence. 'And what would they be?'

  'I actually like hanging out in museums and galleries. I find them really soothing after long shifts on the beat. And don't laugh, but I love chick-flicks. That's what comes from having two dominating sisters I really like hanging out with. See, it's not all about cops and robbers.'