by Ali Berg
Morning Ramona!
I know what you’re thinking, where the hell is all of Bea’s stuff?! I’m now living a Marie Kondo-inspired minimalist lifestyle and gave all my worldly possessions to the Salvos.
You should be able to make quick work of the apartment. So shall we call it even on the last clean?
Joking, joking!
But seriously, I’m close to broke.
Chat soon,
Bea xxx
Bea,
Cleaning still took same time, you still owe money. Sorry.
Also, I can’t come next week. I go away with new girl I am seeing, on romantic getaway.
Ramona
Zach: Have you had enough time yet?
Bea rolled her eyes and turned her phone over on her desk. She had just pressed send on emails regarding the couple of freelancing gigs she had managed to finalise and was ready to begin researching crime fiction-buying habits in preparation for the Cecilia Beechworth campaign. Zach’s messages was distracting her from much-needed work time. She took a deep breath, tried to block everyone else out (including the heavy-breathing man standing two feet away from her) and typed. As she did, she could sense the roots of a sharp and cohesive strategy beginning to form.
Zach: What about now?
Bea let out an exasperated grunt. The heavy-breathing man glared at her. Like you can talk, she thought as she glared back. She typed out a quick message before she could stop herself.
Bea: What do you want, Zach?
Zach: To take you out for a meal. For you to give me the chance to explain. Please.
Bea pulled at her hair, frustrated. She had been trying to bury her feelings for Zach, but they were seeping out of her skin like beads of sweat on a hot summer’s day. So many thoughts crept into her mind, polluting her ability to think clearly. Would hearing him out be so terrible? But what’s the point? How could we ever move past what happened? Maybe agreeing to go will finally shut him up? And doesn’t everyone (except for maybe Voldemort) deserve a second chance?
Bea bit her lip, muttered, ‘Fuck it,’ under her breath and gave in.
Bea: Fine, Zach. You win. Meet me at Journeyman Cafe in twenty minutes. You get one chance to explain yourself.
Zach: Done! See you then. Thank you Bea.
Bea sat at a small wooden table, staring at the pastry display in front of her. A very significant part of her (mainly the feminist part which encouraged her to ‘respect yourself?’ and remember that ‘you don’t need a man to complete you’) hated herself for being here. But alas, here she was, sipping nervously on her second skinny latte for the day while she waited with looming dread for the man who had lied to her with soap-opera flair.
‘Thanks so much for coming.’
Bea almost jumped out of her skin at the sound of Zach’s voice. Straightening herself, she smiled coolly and gestured for him to take a seat opposite her. ‘You know I’m only here so you’ll finally stop bugging me, right?’ she said, composure regained. She internally high fived herself for acting so composed. Zach was not going to rattle her today.
Zach smiled and put his hands up in submission. ‘I’m just grateful you’re here.’
Then silence. He stared at her for a moment too long, and she stared back. Up close she could see the faint creases around his mouth, the golden flecks in his eyes. Her whole body yearned to touch him, which in turn made her feel utterly pathetic.
She was the first to break eye contact. Taking another sip of her drink, she wondered how things could change so quickly. How intimacy could so rapidly shred away, leaving a chilly, disarming feeling in its wake.
‘So, landed any more jobs recently?’ Shit, there goes my cool-girl demeanour.
Zach winced. ‘Bea, it doesn’t have to be like this, you know?’
Ha! Easy for him to say. Bea could feel herself getting hot, that prickly feeling in her throat returning. She suddenly felt disoriented, ashamed.
And then his hand was on hers.
‘Bea, I really want to make things better, to regain your trust. For us to go back to the way things were. Would I have really spent every waking minute trying to win you back if you were just some silly “job”?’ Zach said with apparent sincerity.
Zach suddenly appeared gaunt, and she noticed that more stubble than usual framed his jaw. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. Something about the expression on his face made her relent.
‘But where would we even start? How could I even begin to trust you again?’
Sighing, he said, ‘I guess I just have to try everything in my power to prove to you that this is all real. That I love you and want you in my life.’
Bea shook her head. ‘It’s not as simple as that. You know that.’
A waiter approached their table and they each ordered a serve of smashed avocado with an extra piece of toast and halloumi on the side. The waiter diligently took down their order, smiling. Bea fiddled with the salt and pepper shakers, pushing them up and down the table until they were alone again.
‘I just don’t understand how you could do it,’ Bea said softly.
Zach looked down, and at first Bea thought he wasn’t going to reply. But then he coughed and said, just as softly, ‘I’m so sorry, Bea.’ He raised his head, his eyes anxious. ‘I was stupid. And so naive. I was desperate for the extra cash, and I thought it would be an easy gig. I never thought I would meet someone, anyone, as amazing as you.’
‘But that’s just the thing, Zach,’ Bea said, raising her voice a few octaves. ‘It shouldn’t have mattered who I was. It’s not okay to act that way with anyone. To treat anyone like that is, well, it’s evil.’
‘I know, Bea. I know. But wasn’t it Nicola Yoon who once wrote something about not being able to live if all you can do is regret?’
‘You read Everything, Everything?’ Bea asked, surprised.
‘I read everything you recommended, Bea. I ate at every café you suggested too.’ He shrugged. ‘For an out-of-towner, you sure know your smashed avocado. And I guess I also hoped I might run into you.’
The waiter returned, placing a white serviette and cutlery next to each of them. Grateful for the intrusion, Bea took a moment to gather her thoughts, to remember all the confrontations she had had with Zach in her head, which were so damn eloquent. Too quickly, the waiter left.
‘I don’t know if I can get past this, Zach. I’ll never know what was real, and what could be real moving forward. I mean, was that story you told me about learning to read using Enid Blyton’s book even true? Did you actually watch every season of The Bachelor? Are you even a Libra? Or was it all just part of the facade?’ Since their inglorious breakup, Bea had run each little tidbit and story through her head a million times, searching for any clue that not everything was fabricated. He had seemed so genuine.
Zach’s face fell – in fact – his entire body seemed to wilt like three-day-old tulips. No matter how much Bea had resolved not to feel pity for him, to not fall for any heartbroken act he threw at her, she couldn’t help but melt a little at the sight of this new, deflated version of Zach.
‘All the important things were true. Everything I showed you about who I am, the core of me.’ Zach shrugged.
Bea nodded, though she remained unsure. ‘Did you … did you really love—’ she began, then took a long sip of her coffee. ‘Did you really love me?’ Bea was relieved to have finally been able to ask the question that had haunted her since she found out Zach was not who he had said he was.
‘Bea,’ he breathed, and her heart sank. ‘Of course, I did. I loved you. I still do.’ His voice quavered. ‘I would never have slept with you if I didn’t. That’s why I waited so long.’
Bea searched Zach’s face for any hint of deceit or insincerity, but all she found was heartbreak and remorse. Snap out of it, Babbage, don’t fall for this puppy-dog-eyes act!
‘Can’t we try and start from scratch?’ Zach said, extending his right hand.
Bea stared at it a moment, narrowing he
r eyes in confusion, then took his hand in her own. Zach, relieved, shook it vigorously and Bea couldn’t help but remember when he had pulled the same move on their first date.
‘Zach Harris, I enjoy Netflix binges, watching hot air balloons in the morning and moon gazing, and I hate eating orange food.’
Bea nodded absently. This was all too much.
After a moment, Zach raised his eyebrows in anticipation.
‘Oh, right. My turn.’ She paused, thinking that this all felt so unnatural, so forced. ‘Uh, I’m Bea Babbage. I like toasting marshmallows on my gas stove in winter, reading anything mildly romantic, I’ve just started a one-woman marketing agency called Platypus, and incense gives me a thumping headache.’
‘You’ve started an agency?’ Zach beamed, pleased for her, and Bea’s heart ached for only the hundredth time that day.
‘Yeah, and I’ve just landed my first client. You may be familiar with them – I thought you worked there for the first month we dated. Thelma & Clarke,’ Bea replied, a little too venomously. Who was I kidding when I said I was over this?
‘Wow, that’s huge. I’d love to hear more, when you’re ready,’ Zach said without an ounce of bitterness. ‘What else do you want to know?’
Taking a sip of water, Bea mentally arranged everything she wanted to – no, needed to know about Zach, in order of priority. ‘So you’re a personal trainer?’ Bea asked. ‘You even had to lie about your job?’
Zach shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, I needed you to fall for me and Cassandra told me you were a die-hard bookworm. When we first got to talking, the lie just tumbled out. You have no idea how stressful it was pretending I was an editor. Why do you think I went to the toilet so regularly? I was always googling books!’
‘That must have been so difficult for you.’
‘Bea, all that stuff is inconsequential. It’s just a job. I’m still me. Give me a chance to show you that.’
Bea let out a long breath and gestured for him to go on.
‘I’m trying to open up my own gym. That’s why I’ve been picking up the extra odd job here and there—’ Zach stopped suddenly, an embarrassed look appearing on his face.
Bea raised her eyebrows. Was that all I was to you? An odd job?
Zach powered on, trying to brush past the slip-up. ‘It’s going to be called Zed-Fit. My gym. I want it to be all about teaching people how to look after themselves in all aspects of their life – physically, nutritionally and, most importantly, mentally, which is something that’s really important to me.’
‘That’s great, Zach. Dream big,’ Bea said only slightly derisively as she tried her best to acclimatise to this whole new brand of Zach. She wondered if they still had anything in common.
‘This feels weird, Zach,’ she said, rearranging her cutlery again. ‘Starting from scratch, I mean.’ She couldn’t stop thinking about what to do about the complicated, flawed, but supposedly sensitive man sitting in front of her. Was Dumbledore right when he said something along the lines of it being easier forgiving those who are wrong than right? Or was Jane Austen correct when she wrote, ‘I could easily forgive his pride, if he had not mortified mine.’
Zach sighed and flicked some imaginary crumbs off the table. He opened and closed his mouth, appearing to be searching for the right thing to say. ‘I know,’ he eventually admitted.
They whiled away the next fifteen minutes trying to pretend everything was normal and that Zach had never been paid to date Bea in an act of brutal revenge by her ex-best friend. From the outside, you might have even been fooled into thinking that they were no more than just your regular brand of complicated exes, Bea supposed. Zach laughed when she told him about how she had thrown out almost every piece of clothing and trinket she owned, which made her slightly furious, even as she found his soft chuckle endearing. Then their food arrived and Bea breathed a sigh of relief. They tucked into the overflowing avocado goodness sitting before them.
‘Holy guacamole, this is good!’ Bea exclaimed, a tiny speck of avocado landing on her chin.
Zach leaned forward and scooped it up with his thumb, then put it in his mouth with a cheeky grin still plastered to his face. Bea flinched ever so slightly, but hoped she could pass it off as caffeine jitters. There was something electric about his touch, but as much as her heart still longed for Zach, her mind – and gut – told her that pursuing this any further would be a terrible idea. But, for the sake of civility, and to avoid having to see Zach’s forlorn expression, she let Zach drive discussion towards neutral topics and enjoyed her lunch.
Bea left the café full and physically content. She would even go as far as to say that she was relieved she had seen Zach. Relieved that she hadn’t burst into tears, thrown plates against walls in a fit of rage or screamed hysterically. There was still so much that needed to be said, but she was happy to bury the hatchet for now.
With her head practically jammed in her shoulder bag, Bea fumbled for her keys as she moved along the corridor to her apartment door. She hadn’t been home since before the sun had risen, and now, one long day of work and a date with Zach later, it had finally set.
‘Babbage!’ a voice yelled, prompting Bea to let out a loud shriek.
Before she had the sense to grab the portable panic alarm her mum had mailed her, she looked up to find Dino slumped up against her apartment door, wearing a worn flannel shirt two sizes too big.
She fell back against the wall, clutching her chest. ‘Jesus, Dino, you startled me half to death!’ She was panting, adrenaline coursing through her body. ‘What are you doing here?’
Dino bounced off the floor and stumbled towards her, smelling distinctly of bourbon. She pushed him away, and he staggered backwards, catching himself on the opposite wall.
‘Dino! Jesus, you absolutely reek! Where have you been?’
‘I was at the pub. With a mate.’
‘It’s—’ Bea checked her watch, ‘only seven thirty. How did you manage to get so drunk in the three hours since you shut up shop?’
Dino gave a hearty chuckle, which quickly turned into a coughing fit. As Bea looked on curiously, he pounded his chest and winked at her. Dammit, winking is your weakness. Look away, Bea! Look away!
Bea dropped her eyes and resumed fishing for her keys. Finally locating them between the pages of Meeting Oliver Bennett, Bea approached her front door, jammed the keys in the lock and jiggled them until her door opened. Dino followed her into the apartment.
‘Shit, Babbage. Where’s all your stuff?’ Dino asked, looking around Bea’s sparsely furnished living room. ‘Oh my God, did you get robbed?’
Bea swatted Dino away, explaining her Marie Kondo episode, and manoeuvred him to her decorative cushion-free couch. ‘Now, I need to go to the bathroom. Can you sit here for two minutes?’
Dino nodded bashfully.
Bea scooted to her bathroom and locked the door behind her. Closing the seat on the toilet, she sat down, leaned her head against the cool, tiled wall, and closed her eyes. What the hell was Dino doing here? The last time they were in a room together alone, they had kissed. Which had been a mistake. Obviously. He was with Sunday and Bea loved Sunday. And what about Zach now? The waters around her were all kinds of muddy.
All of a sudden, she felt completely drained and very much not in the mood for this. She wanted nothing more than to be in her fleece pyjamas, curled up on the couch with a tea and the movie adaptation of To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before. She would ask Dino to leave. It would all be fine. She flushed the toilet for authenticity, washed her hands, splashed perfume on her wrists just because, and took three deep breaths before opening the bathroom door.
Bea returned to the living room to find it empty. She looked over her shoulder, checking that the front door was still closed. ‘Dino?’
‘In here!’
Bea followed the sound of his voice and the opening and closing of cupboard doors into the kitchen, where she found Dino standing on the kitchen bench, the top part of his bo
dy almost completely submerged in one of the cupboards.
‘I see you’ve taken the minimalist thing to your pantry too. Entertain much?’ he slurred, and then hopped back to the ground, landing effortlessly. ‘I’m starved. Want to order some pizza?’
At the mention of pizza, Bea’s stomach gave a loud grumble of consent. And it’s not like I have anything better to do. ‘Okay, Dino. You’re on.’ But as soon as she said it, she had a feeling she would regret it.
After Bea won the argument over whether pineapple on pizza was a sin or a virtue, Bea and Dino found themselves slumped on her couch, generous slices of Hawaiian pizza in their hands.
Dino swallowed his last bite and began absentmindedly tracing his Delilah tattoo with his thumb. Bea watched him.
‘Want to know about her?’ he asked, his mouth full of cheese and pizza dough.
Bea nodded, surprised by his sudden candour. Dino must be very drunk. She’d never seen him so eager to share.
‘There is nothing more tantalising than a thing like this which lingers just outside the borders of one’s memory,’ Dino quoted. ‘That’s from a story in my favourite Roald Dahl. Kiss Kiss. Remember?’ Dino slurred.
‘But about Delilah?’ Bea prodded him, not wanting him to avoid the topic.
‘She was only the love of my life.’ He gave a cold laugh. Bea swallowed. ‘But unfortunately, I was not hers.’ He looked down at his tattoo pensively, still touching it. Bea put her hand awkwardly on his arm.
