While You Were Reading

by Ali Berg

  ‘Coffee beans! That’s it! It’s missing coffee beans,’ Ruth cried. ‘It should have at least two to three coffee beans, preferably placed in an equilateral triangle.’

  Sunday let out a long sigh. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. It doesn’t need that showy nonsense. It’s fine as is.’

  ‘I really don’t think it’s showy nonsense, Sunday,’ Ruth replied, placing her mug firmly on the bench. ‘It’s simply protocol.’

  ‘You know what, why don’t I just grab a handful of coffee beans. Keep everybody happy!’ Bea said, freeing herself from Zach’s arms and squeezing out of the kitchen.

  She eased her way behind the counter, running her fingers across its familiar timber surface. Reaching the coffee machine, she leaned over and picked out a handful of coffee beans from the large plastic container that sat on top of the grinder. It was only when she turned to join the party again that she spotted it – Dino’s notebook. The same notebook that Dino would curl himself around, pouring God knows what into. Its cracked spine seemed to call to her.

  She took a step to the right, dragging herself backwards without taking her eyes off its worn, bound pages. Taking a quick look at the kitchen, she stepped forward almost as if the notebook had changed the direction of the Earth’s magnetic pull.

  Her head knew that she shouldn’t, that it would be a huge invasion of privacy and totally out of line. But her heart couldn’t let her ignore this rare opportunity to discover more about the elusive, closed-off Dino. Checking again that nobody could see her, she dropped the beans on the counter and swiped up the little book. Bea flipped open to a random page, running her fingers along the indents left behind by each letter. She threw another sheepish look towards the kitchen. Bea considered putting the notebook back where she had found it, but curiosity overrode her guilt, and she dared to take another look. Turning to the next page, her eyes caught on a compact poem which had been hastily marked along the edge of the page.

  I kissed her.

  I yearned for her.

  I chose her.

  She kissed me.

  She yearned for me.

  She chose him.

  ‘Dino,’ she breathed, quickly turning to another page. There she found another poem, this one titled, ‘Sunflowers’.

  Dancing sun upon your face,

  You light the world in all your grace.

  Standing tall ablaze in colour,

  I long for you through every hour.

  Golden petals everywhere,

  Your scent floats softly in the air.

  I pick you up, my spirit lifts,

  More precious than a thousand gifts.

  She flipped back to the start of the book, eager to take in as much as possible before being sprung. In her haste, she fumbled and the book fell open to the inside cover.

  She froze. It couldn’t be.

  Closing her eyes, she willed what she hoped she was seeing to be true. Cautiously opening one eye at a time, she looked back down at the brief inscription written inside the top left corner of the cover. Hardly believing what she was seeing, her eyes raced across the words over and over again. The words made of letters that curled and looped into each other, like a horde of eager children trying to get to the front of a line. The handwritten letters that ignored capitals. The handwritten letters that she had come to know so well. That she would recognise anywhere. The handwritten letters that belonged to Alena.

  my dearest grover,

  these pages will not judge. write here what you long to speak aloud.

  i will always love you.

  gran.

  Dino’s grandmother is Alena Loris?

  The same grandmother that Dino spoke of with such warmth. The woman who had nurtured Dino, loved Dino, encouraged Dino to realise his potential.

  Bea’s breath caught as she processed what she’d just unearthed. She adjusted her footing, wishing the throb in her injured leg would dissipate. The injury that she had sustained because of this mad detective journey she had been on, which had taken her all over Melbourne, only to lead her to the very place, to the very person who had always seemed to slip through her fingers like sand.

  Bea racked her brain, thinking of all the times she and Dino had discussed the notes in the book. Had she ever actually shown him the writing on the page? Could he have missed a major clue that would have triggered some recognition of his grandmother? But she kept coming up blank. And then, once she had thought the book belonged to Zach, Dino had been borderline agitated whenever she brought it up. It was almost as if he refused to learn more about Zach, or ever acknowledge that there could be some goodness to him. She wished she had pushed him more, forced Dino to be more present with her, more engaged. Anger tinged with sorrow filled with bittersweet relief coursed through her.

  ‘What the hell are you doing?’

  Bea jumped, dropping the book. Dino. Taking a moment to compose herself, she braced herself with a deep breath before turning around.

  ‘What are you doing here, Bea?’ Dino repeated, glancing at the rectangular hole in the kitchen wall, through which he could see flashes of torsos mingling together and hear the sound of overlapping laughter.

  ‘We’re celebrating. Our pitch was a huge success,’ Bea said. She couldn’t look at him; she needed more time to digest all of this. ‘What are you doing here?’ Her eyes were welling up. Not now, Bea.

  ‘I left Agatha’s toy flamingo behind and you know how she is with that thing. She’s been stress eating like crazy all afternoon. Not that I should need an excuse to swing by my own café.’

  ‘What’s taking you so long, babe?’ Zach called. When he entered the room and spied Bea and Dino standing opposite each other, he paused. ‘Dino,’ Zach said curtly, nodding his head slightly. ‘Might be time to bust a move, Bea?’

  ‘I was just going,’ Dino said, his tone changing. ‘Make yourselves at home.’ He bent to pick up Agatha Christie’s mangled toy and pulled his keys from his pocket.

  Bea watched as he took deliberate steps towards the door, the tension in his body apparent. A heaviness descended on Bea. She wanted to say something, to call after him, reveal what she had found, knowing what it would mean to him, but she couldn’t. Not while Zach was there.

  ‘I hope we can put all this to bed finally,’ Zach said, out of nowhere.

  Dino stopped, rolled his shoulders back before turning to face Zach. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Bea and I are together now.’

  ‘Uh huh.’Dino’s vague response seemed to say everything.

  ‘She doesn’t love you. And she’s sick of you pining over her,’ Zach said bitterly.

  Bea shot a look at him. ‘Zach. Please.’

  ‘Really? Did she tell you that herself?’ Dino asked.

  ‘She didn’t have to.’ Zach took a step closer to Dino. ‘I know her well enough, I love her enough, to be able to see it for myself.’

  Bea looked nervously from Zach to Dino to the three faces that stared not so discreetly through the hole in the wall. Martha’s mouth was agape. Sunday’s eyes were wide as she drank from her mug. Ruth bit into a muffin, a little disinterested.

  ‘Why don’t you let her speak for herself?’ Dino replied tensely.

  Zach looked expectantly towards Bea, almost as if he had just remembered she was standing there. Bea shifted anxiously, wishing she hadn’t left her espresso martini behind.

  ‘Let’s not do this here,’ said Bea, suddenly irritable. She couldn’t get into this. Not now.

  ‘Bea, just tell him. Tell him we’re together and committed to each other and that won’t be changing any time soon,’ Zach stated almost condescendingly. His calm demeanour now a distant memory.

  ‘Come on, man. She said she doesn’t want to do this,’ Dino said, sensing Bea’s discomfort.

  ‘No. You have to hear this, so you can finally back off. Is it me or him?’ Zach asked, eerily blank.

  ‘Zach, leave her alone.’

  ‘It’s him,’ Bea said, so quie
tly she wasn’t sure whether anyone had heard. It’s him, she thought to herself again. Of course it’s him.

  ‘What?’ Zach snapped.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Zach. I didn’t mean to feel like this. I’ve been trying not to. But it’s Dino. I want it to be him,’ Bea said, tearily.

  Zach’s whole body tensed. Bea glanced at his eyes, the only part of him that was not rigid, but saw only heartbreak. Her stomach twisted. She so wanted to reach out to Zach, to hug him, to tell him it would all be okay, that she was so sorry. But she knew she couldn’t. She had to stay strong. To finally say what she had wanted to for so long.

  ‘Fucking hell, Bea.’ Zach stormed out of The Nook.

  Bea looked at Dino, her heart completely and utterly on her sleeve. It’s you. Oh, how glad I am that it’s you. A small smile appeared on her lips, just as Dino shook his head.

  ‘Jesus, Bea. It’s too late for this,’ he said, so scathingly it broke Bea’s heart in two. And then he followed Zach out the door.

  Leaving Bea completely and utterly alone.

  ‘Dino, please don’t go,’ Bea called, about to run after him, but before she could get anywhere, she felt a strong grip holding her back.

  ‘Let him go,’ Sunday said into her ear.

  ‘No. No. I need to tell him.’ Bea tried to escape Sunday’s hold, but she wouldn’t surrender. Instead, Sunday pulled her into an embrace, just like Bea had done to Cassandra on her wedding day so many months ago. But rather than fighting as Cassandra had, Bea fell into Sunday’s arms, burying her face into her chest, tears streaming, and struggling to breathe.

  ‘It’s alright.’ Sunday rubbed Bea’s back soothingly. Martha and Ruth stood awkwardly beside them. Ruth was breathing particularly loudly and Martha was cooing variations of ‘It’s going to be okay’, over and over.

  ‘It’s not okay,’ Bea gasped, embarrassed by her tears. ‘Not at all. I’ve been such a fool. I’ve been so fixated on finding the perfect something, when really it’s been right in front of me all along. He’s been here all along. I’ve just been too afraid to see it,’ Bea whimpered, head still pressed into Sunday’s chest.

  ‘That’s normal, Bea. We’re all afraid. Some of us are just better at hiding it,’ Ruth said solemnly.

  ‘I have to tell him.’ Bea pulled her face from Sunday’s now-damp T-shirt. Mascara ran down her cheeks.

  ‘Maybe he needs some time, Bea,’ Sunday said.

  ‘Not about me. About her,’ Bea replied, thinking of Alena Loris. ‘He deserves that at least. Even if I don’t deserve him.’

  Sunday nodded, feigning understanding, as if to question Bea would send her over the edge. She released her arms and Bea apologised to the three of them for ruining the evening, and walked out the blue door into the crisp Melbourne air.

  Bea: Dino, please. I know you don’t want to talk. I know my timing is terrible. But I need to tell you something really important. Bigger than us. Bigger than all of this. I need to see you.

  Bea: Dino, please.

  Bea: Goddammit, Dino! You’re so stubborn.

  Bea: For fuck’s sake, Dino.

  Bea: Sorry. Just please call me back.

  Despite it being close to midnight, Bea, curled on her couch, pressed send on her latest message to Dino. She so desperately needed to tell him what she knew: that his grandmother was the person she had been looking for all along. That her words were magic. And that Bea owned a portal into her soul. When he didn’t answer – again – she threw her phone down and opened up Meeting Oliver Bennett and read a few notes. This Mystery Writer knew Dino.

  She picked up a pink marker from the coffee table and highlighted a line.

  please don’t turn your back on me.

  Bea wondered who Alena was talking about. She dogeared the page and continued reading.

  how can something so small fill my whole world?

  Could she be speaking about Dino? She dogeared that page too, wishing Dino was here.

  scowls won’t cover that big heart of yours.

  the gift of life.

  you were full of rare smiles.

  Bea tabbed page after page. How could she have been so blind? This book wasn’t filled with romantic love – it was a love letter to Alena’s family. To her grandson, the most important man in her world. Suddenly, Bea was seeing Dino in a completely different light. Those black eyes were never angry, they were filled with wonder and anguish and wisdom. His lips weren’t dubious, they were concealing heartbreak and a yearning to be loved. His tattered shoes, baggy denim jeans and loose shirts weren’t messy, they were an ode to giving everything a second chance. And his tattoos. Oh, his tattoos. They were another way of telling his beautiful story.

  She flipped a page.

  She made a mental note of all the things she wanted to ask Dino about his grandmother. But what if he didn’t want to know about this? What if he never answered her calls again?

  Then a thought dawned on her. Grabbing her discarded phone, she brought up Dino’s Twitter account, the closest he would ever get to entering what he thought was the inauthentic world of social media. She scrolled back in time a few years.

  CuppaDino: Roses are red, violets are blue, Trump for president? That’s some kind of sick voodoo!

  CuppaDino: Make America great again? Bitch please.

  CuppaDino: Come to The Dead Poet’s Society @8pm to see me slam.

  CuppaDino: Anyone know where I can buy bamboo cutlery for takeaway? Fitting out my new cafe, @TheNook, and I’ll be damned if we won’t use recycled goods!

  CuppaDino: Date night with Gran!

  And there was a photo of Dino, leaner with slightly longer hair, standing next to a delicate-featured lady, her skin olive toned and leathery. Her eyes were wide, brown and gleaming, as if she had seen the whole world.

  ‘Alena,’ Bea whispered. She couldn’t believe it. There, standing next to the man she adored, was her Mystery Writer. And she was more exquisite than Bea could have ever imagined.

  Bea felt high on the new knowledge. Greedily, she scrolled deeper into Dino’s Twitter feed. Photos of him with friends, excerpts from poetry, more ironic political retweets and pithy book reviews. There were a few more photos of Dino with his grandmother, and Bea stopped at each one, taking time to analyse them, hungry for more information. Despite Alena being almost a foot shorter than her grandson, Dino seemed to look up at her.

  Bea stopped at a photo of Dino, Alena and another woman, ice-creams in their hands. ‘Three generations of waffle-cone lovers,’ the caption read. Bea looked at the unfamiliar woman. Dino’s mother? She was beautiful. And so young. Tall and thin like her son, she wore a white singlet that bared her toned midriff, and a flowing orange skirt. Dino leaned into his grandmother, while his mum’s hand rested loosely on his shoulder. Alena and Dino’s mother both smiled, almost wildly, while Dino was caught mid-expression, his blurred face showing the wisp of a joke just shared. Something about the carefreeness of it, the uninhibited nature of each of them, mesmerised her. She peered at the screen, looking closer, tracing the arches of each smile, glance and posture, until she drifted to sleep.

  Zach: Bea, I’m coming over shortly to pick up my things.

  Bea woke to the sound of her phone vibrating. It was eight am. When did I fall asleep? Drool dotted her mouth and her hair felt rough and untamed. She read the text from Zach again and her stomach dropped at the thought of seeing him. Tapping away from it quickly, she scanned her phone for any response from Dino. Nothing. She texted him again for good measure and then dragged herself from the couch to the bathroom to brush her furry teeth.

  As she spritzed perfume on her wrist, her doorbell rang. Zach. Shit. Bea wasn’t ready for this. She felt awful about the position she’d put him in last night. It wasn’t fair of her to humiliate him in front of so many people. But then, didn’t he do the same to me just months ago? She pushed the thought away. An eye for an eye would not be her trademark move. And she knew this break-up wasn’t about that. She quickly gargl
ed some mouthwash and then ran to the door, took a deep breath, and opened it.

  ‘Zach. I’m so sorry,’ she said instantly.

  Still wearing last night’s clothes, Zach glared at her, then entered the apartment without saying a word. He walked into her bedroom and Bea followed. Opening cupboard doors, he grabbed blindly at his belongings, stuffing them into the duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

  ‘Zach, please,’ Bea said. ‘Let’s sit and talk.’

  ‘I’m not here to talk. I’m just here to get my things,’ Zach snarled. His voice was icy.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Zach. I never meant to hurt you.’

  Zach zipped up his bag. ‘Well, you did, Bea. I am hurt.’ He looked up at her, his eyes watery.

  Bea faltered. ‘I know, and I’m so sorry, Zach. I owe you an explanation. I really did love our time together. But it just wasn’t the same. It wasn’t like before,’ Bea stammered.

  ‘You didn’t even give us a chance.’

  ‘But I did. I gave us one hell of a chance. I just feel like we sort of fell into this without thinking of the repercussions. And I went along with it because I think I loved being loved. As terrible as that sounds.’ Bea was trying so desperately hard to be honest, not just to Zach, but to herself. Now, she would not shy away from the truth.

  ‘I did love you, Bea. With all my heart. And you trampled all over it like it was nothing. Like I was nothing.’ Zach violently slung the duffel bag back over his shoulder and walked towards the front door.

  ‘Jesus, Zach. Like you trampled all over my heart when you were paid to date me?’ Bea replied, hating herself for sounding like a petulant child.

  ‘I thought we had moved past that, Bea?’

  ‘I don’t think I’ll ever be able to move past that.’

  Zach looked up at her again, a tear trickling down his face. ‘If only things were different, Bea. I guess we’ve both been hurt now.’