by Ali Berg
‘Oh, my dear, my poor, poor dear. I’m not Martha. I’m Catherine Bradley, the CEO of this “godforsaken hellhole”.’
Bea’s heart stopped.
‘And you, my darling, are fired.’
Shit. Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Shit!
Bea wiped muffin crumbs from her chin while simultaneously scoffing down a chocolate croissant. Her eyes were bloodshot from crying, her mouth burning from the string of profanities she hadn’t stopped mumbling.
‘Fucking hell, I’m such a fucking fuck!’ Bea slurred incoherently.
‘Bea, if you say the F word one more time, I’m going to have to ask you to leave,’ whispered Dino, glancing at the group of school-age children drinking hot chocolates in the corner with their dad. Dino was dressed in his usual dark green apron, under which he wore an out-of-character tight white T-shirt that showed off his tattoos. He had just gotten a haircut; his hair was less shaggy and more spick and span, yet it still hung over his brow.
As soon as Bea had been fired by Catherine Bradley, she had come running to The Nook, begging Dino for as many chocolate-filled pastries as he could offer. Thankfully, Sunday had been in that morning and baked up an absolute storm. Too embarrassed to face Zach, or be alone, redemption in the shape of a choc-chip muffin was the only thing that could fill the mortified hole in Bea’s heart. She had been sitting on a bar stool for the past two hours and was currently on her third baked good and second caffeinated beverage, but still she didn’t feel any better. Although she was as buzzed as a bloody honey bee. Cass would know what to do, Bea couldn’t stop thinking. She would’ve said, ‘They don’t deserve you anyway. You’ll find a better job.’
‘Missed a spot.’ Dino tapped his right cheek with his finger, while nodding towards Bea to do the same.
Bea’s hands shot to her face as she brushed away the stray crumbs.
‘Bea, I’m telling you, this is a godsend. You hated your job, and now you have time to pursue what’s really important to you.’
‘Yeah, and with what money am I going to do that?’ Bea scoffed.
Dino paused to make an extra strong cappuccino for a woman dressed in lycra then placed another croissant in the microwave for Bea. Bea took the moment to finally text Zach. If she wanted to give this thing between them a go, she figured honesty and relying on each other was a good place to start.
Bea: Just got the sack. Drowning sorrows with coffee and sugar. May need to switch to harder stuff. Available to be my drinking buddy/patient companion while I line up at Centrelink later? x
‘J.K. Rowling,’ Dino said, placing the warm croissant in front of her, which drew her attention away from her phone.
‘What?’ Bea asked, biting into the chocolatey goodness.
‘She got fired. She was working as a secretary when she got the boot for secretly writing stories on her computer. Now she’s a multi-billionaire and one of the most famous authors of all time.’
Bea shrugged. ‘I’m no J.K. Rowling, Dino.’ She took a sip of her coffee.
Agatha Christie nestled herself underneath Bea’s arm, and she stroked her therapeutically. The poodle responded by nuzzling up to Bea’s croissant.
‘Don’t even think about it,’ Dino said, eyeing the piece of croissant Bea had just torn off for the dog.
Frowning, Bea popped the croissant piece in her mouth. The memory of the afternoon washed over her again, causing her to shudder. What was she doing with her life? It was like catastrophe followed her wherever she went. Bea’s eye caught on a drawing of a tornado, etched on Dino’s elbow. So very apt. She let her eyes wander down his arms, desperate for something to take her mind off the events of the day. Dino’s tattoos were like pieces of art, and she couldn’t draw her attention away from them. She took in the intricate sketches of paw prints, soaring mountain tops, croissants and coffee cups, melting timepieces and words that she couldn’t quite decipher. It was as if she was reading a book in another language; each section of his arm told a story that she couldn’t quite understand.
‘Who’s Delilah?’ she asked, pointing at the name printed faintly in small cursive on his wrist, and needing any excuse to change the topic from the disaster that was her career.
Dino froze, shook his head, and muttered croakily, ‘Maybe another time. I’m working here!’ He handed a chai tea to a waiting customer. Seeing Bea’s disappointed expression, he relented a little. ‘Fine, pick another.’
Bea nodded. ‘What about the marbles?’ She gestured to the colourful drawing of an upended bag of marbles near his elbow, which stood out among the other tattoos thanks to its fresher appearance.
He touched the spot on his arm where the tattoo was etched, and then spoke. ‘Miss Marbles,’ he said.
‘Excuse me?’
‘Miss Marbles. It’s what I used to call Miss Marple when I was little. My grandmother was obsessed with Agatha Christie.’
‘Go figure,’ Bea said, holding up Agatha Christie the toy poodle.
‘Yeah, well, maybe it was a little more than an obsession. She was fixated on Christie’s stories. It was as if real life to her was inside the book, and the real world was fiction.’
‘I know how that feels,’ mumbled Bea, so softly it was almost to herself.
‘She had copies of all her books: The Murder at the Vicarage, The Moving Finger, A Caribbean Mystery, They Do It with Mirrors … They filled the house like her children. Maybe it had something to do with her real child, my mum, sort of not being that present in her life. Or mine, really, for that matter.’ Dino leaned across the benchtop to scrunch Agatha Christie’s fur, then propped his hands on the counter.
‘Where is your mum?’
‘She’s around. When she wants to be. But when there’s a festival in Byron Bay, or a guy in Daylesford, or Mornington, or Sydney, she’ll be there instead. Her life motto is “fend for yourself ”. Dino shrugged.
‘That must be tough,’ Bea said. Dino’s usual unwillingness to let people in, suddenly making more sense.
‘Anyway, so I never met my dad, not that I remember anyway, and my mum was otherwise occupied. I mostly lived with my grandma growing up. And every night, every morning, every second, she would read me chapters from Agatha Christie’s books. I would always beg for more “Miss Marbles” stories, and Grandma laughed so hard every time I called her that.’ He smiled. ‘When she died last year, it hit me pretty hard. I inherited her dog, each and every one of those tattered crime books and got this tattoo in her honour.’ Dino looked away.
Bea placed her hand over his on the counter. She wished she knew what to say right now. Cass would know. She always said the right thing in every situation. ‘I’m so sorry about your parents, and about your gran.’ She smiled at him. ‘And here I am looking all sorts of ridiculous, crying over some stupid job.’
Dino’s brow furrowed and he turned his back to her, his hand sliding from her grasp, and started making a coffee that no one had ordered. He took out a pen from the pocket of his apron and quickly scribbled across the cup, brow still creased. He then slid the drink towards Bea, and she picked it up, reading the words written on the cup. The saddest thing in life, is what one remembers.
‘It’s Agatha Christie,’ Dino remarked, busying himself with rummaging through the cabinet behind him.
Then Bea felt someone’s arms wrap around her from behind.
‘I came as soon as I heard,’ Zach said.
Bea leaned into his embrace.
‘This is bullshit. They can’t fire you on a whim like that. It’s complete and utter bullshit! Tell me word for word what happened. We are going to sue their arses.’ His face was flushed red, as though he had run all the way to her. Bea watched as a bead of sweat dripped down his perfectly smooth forehead and onto his cheek.
‘Well?’ Zach repeated. ‘Bea, it’s important you recount the incident as soon as it happened so you don’t forget anything. I’m going to write it down.’ He took out his phone and opened up the notes app, thumbs ready.
‘We
ll, I, uh,’ Bea stuttered, starting to well up again. Stop being a baby, Bea.
‘Jesus, man. I don’t think she wants to talk about it right now,’ Dino said a little too tersely. His face was steelier than it had been a moment ago, like he was suddenly a cold, brand new book instead of a dog-eared, weathered, well-loved one.
‘Is that so? I think I know what’s best for my girlfriend,’ Zach snapped.
A shiver travelled down Bea’s spine, caught off guard by Zach’s brashness. She wasn’t used to him speaking to anyone like that. And girlfriend? That was the first time he had ever called her that. She had pictured them becoming boyfriend and girlfriend in a more romantic setting. Oh well, I guess that’s that.
‘Whatever. No need to be cruel,’ Dino said.
‘The world made me cruel,’ Zach said, looking at Bea for approval.
‘If you’re trying to quote Emily Brontë, it’s “My heart made me cruel”,’ Dino replied.
‘No, it is not.’
‘It is too. I think I would know. I actually read more than just comic books,’ Dino said, stone-faced.
‘I work at a publishing house, you twat.’ Zach slammed his hand on the bench a little too hard.
Bea looked back and forth at the two men – boys – having this childish argument before her very eyes.
‘Terror,’ Bea said.
‘What?’ Zach and Dino said in unison.
‘“Terror made me cruel”. That’s the quote from Wuthering Heights. You’re both wrong, you idiots.’ She laughed, allowing a small piece of tension to fall away.
‘Oh.’
‘Oh.’
Bea glanced at Dino slightly apologetically before turning to Zach. She took his hand and stood up shakily. Filled with caffeine and pastries, she was worried she wouldn’t be able to walk in a straight line.
‘Zach, can you take me home?’
‘Of course,’ Zach said, not just taking her hand, but picking her up and throwing her over his shoulder. She gave a squeal as Zach carried her out of the store, Dino’s farewell grunt echoing in their wake.
After walking a block, Bea laughing and kicking playfully all the way, Zach placed her down delicately next to him. She grabbed his hand and they walked past bustling bars full of people who still had their jobs, sipping on after-work drinks. The sky was a misty pink; it was that special time in the day when the sun hadn’t quite set but the moon was already starting to rise.
‘Thanks for coming,’ Bea said a little bashfully. ‘And thank you for managing to make me laugh.’
‘You feeling okay?’
‘Well, today has been pretty shitty,’ Bea sighed.
They walked in silence for a while. Bea was relieved that Zach wasn’t throwing a ton of platitudes or solutions at her, but rather stayed quiet, letting her have this moment to feel low, realising that perhaps Dino was right, that she needed the space to feel and process the day.
He paused, turning so that he was facing Bea. ‘You know I really care for you, Bea.’ They were standing in the middle of the footpath, hand in hand, a gesture that would usually make Bea nervous, in case she accidentally blocked a stranger’s path or drew too much attention. But Zach was looking down at her with such earnestness that she couldn’t help but melt into this moment. Still, all Bea could muster in return was a discreet nod, suddenly feeling a bit out of her depth.
‘I know it hasn’t been long, but I don’t know what it is about you that makes me feel as if I’ve always known you.’ Zach laughed, seemingly embarrassed by his own candour. ‘What a line, hey?’
‘I like you too, Zach. I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you.’
‘That’s the thing though, it’s more than that, I think.’ He dropped his head slightly, giving her a look she couldn’t quite put her finger on. A woman lugging a bursting green supermarket bag in each hand side-stepped around them.
‘These hands.’ Zach pulled her hands a little closer to him, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles. ‘They are the most beautiful hands I’ve ever seen.’ He kissed each one lightly. Then he looked at Bea again and squeezed her hands three times, gently.
Bea smiled, at a loss for what to say. Nobody in all her thirty years had ever looked at her that way before, or given her butterflies like this before.
Again, Zach gave Bea’s hands three squeezes, this time with a renewed eagerness. ‘Bea, you’ve done a real number on me.’
‘What’s gotten into you today, Zach?’
‘You – you’ve gotten to me. You’ve crawled under my skin in a way I’ve never experienced before. When I met you, I never expected that you would be … you.’ He squeezed her hands three more times and kissed her slowly.
Bea kissed him back, sighing into him, her skin erupting in goosebumps. She gave Zach’s hands one long squeeze back.
‘You’re not doing it right,’ Zach said, pulling away only the slightest bit. ‘Let me show you. I,’ he said, and squeezed once. ‘Love.’ He squeezed again. ‘You.’ And he squeezed once more.
A rush of, Bea didn’t know what, flooded her body – the three little words triggering a visceral reaction. Not quite believing what she thought she’d heard, she stood there, mouth slightly agape, stunned. I’m loveable?
‘I know, I know, it’s crazy. We’ve only been together a few weeks,’ Zach said sheepishly. ‘It’s not like me to move so quickly. Seriously, if only you knew. But I couldn’t keep it in.’
Bea, realising that this was, in fact, not a daydream, tugged Zach forward, looking him in the eyes and willing herself to give in to this moment. You can do it. Be brave! ‘It’s not too soon,’ she said and squeezed his hands three times.
Zach’s face lit up, his eyes creasing in that way that made Bea’s stomach flip. ‘Really?’
‘Really.’
A small ginger dog ran up to them, tugging on its owner’s lead and scratching and jumping at their legs. Laughing, Bea and Zach freed their hands to pat the insistent pup. The dog lapped up the attention and then, satisfied, followed after its owner.
‘You know, my mind is consumed by thoughts of you, Bea Babbage,’ Zach said as, hands once more entwined, they resumed their walk. ‘And I thought you should know right here, right now.’ He smiled at her and Bea smiled back. ‘There’s nowhere else I’d rather be because, let’s face it, I’m pretty crazy about you, Bea.’
Bea stood on her tiptoes and grabbed at his neck, pulling his face down so she could kiss him with everything she had.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: I miss you more than I miss Richard Mercer’s Love Song Dedications.
Hey Cass,
I just lost my job for being a complete idiot – typical Bea, right? I’m currently drowning my sorrows in our favourite ice-cream while crying hysterically over the ending of Me Before You. Why did it have to end that way, Cass? Why? She was so happy the way he was – couldn’t he be happy too? COULDN’T HE?
I know you’re probably sick to death of hearing from me, but I really wish you would reply just this once.
I need you.
Bawling Bea xo
P.S. I know I don’t deserve to find love after everything that’s happened, but I’ve been seeing somebody and he seems really fantastic and it felt weird not to tell you about it. Fingers crossed I don’t screw it up this time.
Bea didn’t sleep that night. Zach had left her heart full, but that beautiful and pure sensation of floating on cupid’s cloud had dissipated in the wee morning hours. Alone and racked with guilt and regret over how things had fallen apart at work, she couldn’t help but stare into the darkness of her bedroom and agonise over every terrible mistake and micro-tragedy (as she and Cassandra preferred to call first-world problems) Bea had caused in the last few months. She lay awake, in a cold sweat, listing them in her head over and over again.
Humiliated best friend in front of nearest and dearest and destroyed her future happiness with man of dreams. Landed dud j
ob with little future prospects at dud agency in a new (thankfully, at least, less dud) city. Put foot in it majorly and got fired from suddenly not-so-dud-seeming agency. Spilt freshly made latte on innocent bystander three days ago. Felt worse about lost coffee than person. Never have cash to buy The Big Issue magazine. Have zero patience for sister and gave her lacklustre goodbye hug. Don’t call mother enough. Binge-watches true crime like it’s entertainment when really it’s about real people who were murdered! Only had four people attend stupid book club event. Definitely not an innovator. All in all, most likely, a very unlikeable human.
At 4.10 in the morning, utterly fed up, Bea dragged herself out of bed, pulled on sneakers and a hoodie and went out to the little balcony that poked off her living room. She sat down, cross-legged, on her rickety blue seat and attempted to ground herself in the moment. The cool early morning air washed over her, cleansing her of guilt and concern over her lack of concrete direction. She tried to think of the good things – the lady who’d held the lift doors open for her the other day and the latest drone footage of the roof of her family home sent by her father. And Zach. Zach, Zach, Zach. But then the weight of her worries and fears bore down on her again. Somehow life seemed easier when she was just playing it safe and following in the footsteps of the charismatic, but mildly controlling, women in her life.
With her head resting against the brick wall, Bea stared up at the sky. She searched for extraterrestrial life and shooting stars, just like she and Cassandra used to do as kids, their heads poking out of a tent erected in her backyard. If the latter was spotted, Cassandra made Bea swear she’d wish that they would each meet somebody as charming as Laurie Laurence, get married and buy houses next door to one another, each with a purple picket fence. Bea gazed up at the sky and sighed as if she shared a secret with the stars.
‘A little to the left. Yep, okay, tilt it down a fraction. Now, up a smidge,’ Bea directed, sitting atop the counter in The Nook. Arms extended in front of her, she squinted through the rectangle made between her thumbs and index fingers, attempting to measure the wall opposite her.
