The Lines We Cross

by Randa Abdel-Fattah

  I can feel my cheeks burning. Is he flirting with me?

  “Aragorn’s hot,” I declare.

  “Right. Okay, but that doesn’t really explain why you’d dress up as him.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” I say, grinning. “But I didn’t feel like doing the whole pretty elf thing.”

  “See, I think Arwen’s gorgeous but I’m not going to come dressed in a white dress and crown, now am I?”

  “You’d be fetching in a dress, Michael,” Paula says as she walks past us with some soft drinks.

  “And what’s that badge say?” he asks, pointing to me.

  “Mrs. Ryan Gosling,” I say seriously.

  He bursts out laughing.

  We all mingle around the food for a bit, getting all the introductions over with.

  I go to the bathroom and find Jane standing outside waiting for me when I’ve finished.

  “Hey, do you know if Paula invited Terrence?” she asks shyly.

  “She didn’t,” I say.

  Her face crumples. “Oh, okay. I thought she must have because Michael’s here.”

  “Nope. Neither of us have a good history with Terrence, do we?”

  She looks uncomfortable. “I think he just does it to show off. I don’t think he means it. We were paired up together in math the other week and he was really nice.”

  “It’s not my problem if he has multiple personality disorder. I get the racist, angry personality and Paula gets the juvenile bully. Don’t blame us if we can’t see his good side.”

  “Hmm,” she murmurs.

  I take pity on her. It’s not her fault she’s fallen hard for him.

  “Come on, let’s go inside now. Forget about him for the next few hours at least.”

  I drag her along by the arm.

  My phone beeps. It’s Maha telling me she’s about to ring the doorbell and she wants me to answer so I can assess the suitability of her outfit. I text her back and run to the door. She’s standing with another one of our friends from Auburn Grove Girls High, Tammy Xiang. Maha looks slightly nervous. I burst out laughing. I should have known she wouldn’t be caught dead wearing a Lord of the Rings costume. She’s come as Marilyn Monroe: white dress, high heels, blonde wig, fake eyelashes. Tammy’s dressed as Galadriel.

  I throw my arms around them and we jump up and down squealing.

  “Do I look okay?” Maha asks, self-consciously tugging at her dress. She looks down and her blonde wig tilts slightly to the left. She fixes it, grinning widely at me.

  Tammy looks equally nervous. “You’re sure everybody’s dressed up?”

  I grab them by the arms. “You both look fabulous.”

  Tammy leans in close to me. “Are they snobs?”

  “No!” I laugh. “Not this group. And certainly not Paula.”

  “Paula’s the one who owns this mansion though?” Maha looks at me quizzically. “I thought it was an apartment complex at first.”

  I giggle. “So did I. Wait until you see inside.”

  “So Paula’s cool with us being here?” Tammy asks as she adjusts her pixie ears. “Man, these are itchy.”

  I laugh and throw myself at them again. “God, I’ve missed you guys!” They hug me back.

  “What’s with the street?” Maha asks in an urgent whisper, as I lead them inside. “I swear to God it felt like we were driving in a national park.”

  Tammy rolls her eyes but laughs affectionately.

  “I bet you they have millions of redback spiders and funnel web spiders here,” Maha says. “Guaranteed. So introduce us to your friends. Any cute guys? Actually, hold that thought. We’re at a costume party for a trilogy about hobbits. It would never work.”

  Paula, Leica, Michael, and Cameron are huddled together by the food table. As I lead Maha and Tammy toward the table I feel nervous. What if they don’t get along? What if Maha thinks Paula’s geeky and uncool—especially if she drops an Oscar Wilde quote? And what will Paula think if Maha says “youse”? I close my eyes for a moment and inhale sharply.

  Paula catches my eye. She breaks from the group and quickly comes over to welcome Maha and Tammy. When Paula introduces Michael, my body tenses with the fear that Maha might throw me a knowing glance. But to my relief she doesn’t so much as flinch. It’s only when Michael’s looking the other way that she furtively winks at me. I smile into my drink.

  “So, Lord of the Rings,” Maha says, facing Michael and Paula. “Is it some kind of religious wedding rom com?”

  Maha is deadpan and I lock eyes with Tammy and snort.

  “I’m joking,” Maha says with a grin. “It’s all about power and temptation, death and courage, and is based on Tolkien’s iconic fantasy series.”

  “Wikipedia’s awesome, isn’t it?” Tammy says, grinning at Maha.

  Leica is trying to use a straw to collect a piece of strawberry out of the bottom of her glass. “I’m not a fan either,” she says casually. “I just came along to see who’d have the guts to show up in elf tights.”

  “Um, excuse me, your boyfriend,” Michael says, motioning to Cameron, who’s pulling his fake beard down so he can scratch his chin.

  It’s like this for the next fifteen minutes. Everybody cracking jokes and telling funny stories. Tom, one of Paula’s poetry slam friends, is especially animated and bounces off Maha’s self-deprecation and bubbly personality. When we eventually make our way back to the cinema room, I catch myself feeling a wave of anxiety about who Michael will sit next to. It turns my stomach to think he might not choose to sit next to me.

  We file into the large room and Maha leans in close enough so only I can hear her. “You’ve got a good group here, Mina,” she says in a hushed tone. “I was expecting some alphas but they seem really nice. As for you: I was expecting to find you curled into the fetal position, confused and disoriented. But you’re part of the designer overpriced furniture around here now.”

  I chuckle. “I miss Auburn badly. But I’m starting to settle in here too.”

  Maha glances at Michael and then nudges me and grins. “Yep. I can see why.”

  I roll my eyes at her. “I owe it to Paula, not Michael.”

  The gleam in Maha’s eyes tells me she’s thoroughly unconvinced. “I’m grabbing a beanbag with Tammy. Sit here and I’ll bet he’ll be beside you before the opening credits are done.”

  She’s right and I want to shout for joy. Before I know it, Michael plops down next to me as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. My heart is hammering away so fast that I’m worried he’s going to hear. But as the movie unfolds, I relax. We end up sharing popcorn, and when he gets up to get himself a drink he brings back one for me too.

  It’s nighttime when we make it to the end of the three movies. Surprisingly, people generally remain quiet as we watch. We take breaks in between, manage to stretch our bodies. Some of the hardcore fans get up and recite lines during dramatic scenes, which makes us all laugh. Tom throws a plastic spider on Paula in the spider scene toward the end of the third film and she screams, sending us into hysterics.

  For the first time since the beginning of the year I feel I’ve found a new corner in the world that I can also call home.

  I’m waiting in front of the house for Mum to pick me up. I’m one of the last to leave. She called to say she’s five minutes away. Michael comes outside and leans against the rails of the wraparound veranda to face me.

  “So what’s so special about Ryan Gosling?” he jokes.

  “He’s not just special. He’s perfect.”

  “Oh, well, if you say so.” He watches me, a playful look in his eyes.

  “You do realize you’re questioning Gosling’s looks while dressed as a wizard, don’t you?”

  “I bet Gosling couldn’t pull off Gandalf the way I can.”

  “You started okay. But once you took your beard off to eat, you kind of just looked like a badly dressed, sexually confused busker.”

  He points to his robe. “This could be the next big look.”
>
  We laugh.

  “So, did you have fun?” I ask.

  He stretches his arms up overhead. “Yep. It was great! I feel like I need a run though after sitting down all day. I’ll probably go for a jog when I get home. Do you want to have coffee next Saturday?”

  “Huh?”

  “Yeah, sorry, that came out quicker than I planned.” He looks at me sheepishly.

  “You think?”

  “So how about it? To celebrate The xx album drop. Have you preordered?”

  “Obviously. You?”

  “Obviously.”

  I drum my fingers against the front porch rail. “Coffee where?”

  “Wherever you want.”

  I think for a moment. It’s surreal. Michael is asking me out for coffee and I’m about to say—

  “Okay,” I blurt out.

  I cringe wondering if I’ve come across as too eager.

  But he smiles. “So, do you want to suggest a place?”

  “The library.”

  “You know, one day parents will realize that most books are online and it will be RIP to the library excuse.”

  “Hopefully not while I’m a teenager.”

  We agree to meet at the Chatswood food court at one and he asks me for my number.

  I give it to him, and he gives me his. He smiles again. I smile back. There’s a lot of smiling going on.

  Who would ever have thought: Michael Blainey is in my contacts list now.

  I try not to get too excited, to read too much into Mina saying yes, but who am I kidding? I go home buzzing. I feel slightly tragic asking her out the way I did. Luckily she said yes so maybe the Gandalf costume saved me.

  The next night Mum, Dad, Nathan, and I are in front of the TV watching one of those reality talent shows I can never keep up with but have to pretend to enjoy for Nathan’s sake as he is fascinated by them. I’m finishing off a sketch for an art assignment, Dad’s multitasking, watching and working on his laptop, and Mum’s putting leaflets in envelopes for the next Jordan Springs mailbox drop-off.

  Nathan takes the competition seriously and is on the edge of his seat as one of the judges rips into one of the performers. I get up to grab a snack.

  When I return, Mum’s flipping through the pages of my notepad.

  “You’re so talented, Michael,” she says.

  “What’s that?” my dad says, looking up from the laptop screen.

  “Michael’s sketches. They’re lovely. Here, look at this one. It’s of Nathan at the beach.” She holds it up and Dad takes it from her.

  “The effect of your shading and outlining is really impressive, Michael,” he says as he studies the picture, nodding with approval. He goes to turn the page. “Can I have a look?”

  “Sure.” I nod.

  He turns the pages slowly, attentively. “What’s this one of?” he asks, holding up the book to show me.

  “A group of men out in Auburn.”

  “Auburn?”

  “Yeah. I went out there during break.”

  Dad looks surprised but just shrugs, inspecting the picture more closely. “Good, strong lines here. Are they using the traffic cones as seats?” he asks, amused.

  “Yeah.”

  He lets out a faint laugh.

  “Who are the men?” Mum asks, peering at the picture.

  “Refugees from Sudan.”

  “There’s something so wretched about them,” Dad says. “Sad and pathetic and unfortunate. It’s not their fault really.”

  I look at him in surprise. “Do you really mean that?”

  “I mean the whole refugee situation is the government’s fault. They bring them in here when they shouldn’t and then they squeeze them all into one suburb, create these ethnic enclaves, and look at the result: These men probably never mix with Australians, they seek out the company of people from their own country only, and they never assimilate.

  “I saw one of them working as a trolley boy at Coles the other day,” he says. “I wanted to be friendly. I said g’day, asked him how he was. He didn’t even return my smile.”

  “Maybe his English wasn’t so good,” I suggest.

  “Hmm, maybe,” Dad says. “That’s kind of the point though, isn’t it?”

  Coffee with Michael.

  Outside of school.

  On the weekend.

  Not because of an assignment.

  Voluntarily.

  I’m just going to put it out there once and for all. This will be my first date.

  Except is it a date?

  And even before I waste brain cells contemplating that one, I have to think of the minor matter of my parents’ dying from self-immolation if they discover me alone with a guy on something that maybe isn’t a date but looks like a date. And even if, for argument’s sake, I manage to see Michael behind their back—something I can manage easily enough based on Maha’s expert advice given she’s positively perfected the I’m going to the library/study group/charity raffle excuse—how can I ignore the fact that Michael’s family resents people like me?

  This is what’s going through my brain as I go for a walk around the block on Sunday morning. As I’m walking, thinking myself into a frenzy, it hits me that I’m being a complete moron.

  It’s two people meeting for coffee.

  He hasn’t actually asked me out.

  Do people actually get asked out officially or do you just go with the flow?

  Can you actually die of a brain aneurysm through overanalyzing whether your date is, in fact, a date?

  Baba comes home from the restaurant in a good mood tonight.

  “Adnan and Mustafa are excellent,” he says, grinning at Mum and me as we sit down for dinner. “I put them onto Ehssan—”

  “Ehssan who runs the money-exchange shop?” Mum asks.

  “Yes. He knows a guy who’s good friends with Saaleh—you know, he has the mixed goods shop on Alan Street—and he’s the one to go to if you want to find shared accommodations. So he’s helping them until they can stand on their own two feet and find their own place.”

  “That’s great,” Mum says. Then, her tone stoic and quiet, she says: “So the after-school-care job hunting is officially over. I applied to all the local schools. A lot of them are after temp workers so it would suit me before the baby arrives. But nothing. Don’t say I didn’t try. So I am embracing being a stay-at-home mum before the baby is due, and I’ve joined that women’s gym in the mall.”

  “That’s great,” I say with affected cheeriness. Having seen her in action at the school where she worked in Auburn, I try to hide my disappointment for her.

  I see a flicker of sadness in Baba’s eyes. He seems to be weighing how to respond but he’s saved when Mum speaks up first.

  “I met two lovely women at the gym too. We’re going to have coffee this week.”

  This makes Baba smile. “New friends? That’s really good to hear.”

  “And I tried out the yoga class.”

  Baba suddenly looks concerned but Mum interrupts him before he can say anything.

  “Don’t fuss, Farshad,” she says. “It’s the best thing for pregnant women. Wait until you see me. Nine months pregnant and doing a handstand.”

  “You’re joking?”

  Mum and I laugh.

  Baba shakes his head. “God help me if we have a girl. I’m already outnumbered.”

  “Girl, boy, they’ll always take my side anyway,” Mum teases.

  “So who’d you meet at the gym?” I say.

  “A woman called Emily. Would you believe she lives here too? In the block closer to the park. She used to work in IT but had twins so she’s home now. Poor thing. She put on so much weight, so she’s trying to lose it. I told her to eat nothing but chicken for three months. And I met a Muslim lady too. Rojin. She’s Saudi, here on a working visa for two years. She’s a gynecologist working part-time at Westmead. Her husband’s in the ER there.”

  “If you become a yoga junkie and get a better body than me I’l
l die of embarrassment,” I say.

  Saturday can’t come soon enough. I won’t receive the CD until Monday but there’s no way I can wait. I’m ready to buy it online as soon as possible. I wake early to see if The xx has dropped their album. It hasn’t happened yet, so I distract myself getting ready and head out a little early.

  Terrence texts to join him and some other guys for a game of basketball in the park. I text him back and tell him I have to work. The album drops when I’m at the shops, checking iTunes as I walk up the escalator to the food court. I buy it, connect my earphones, find a table, and do some people-watching as I wait for Mina.

  I spot her from afar, walking slowly, looking around.

  It’s as though the shopping center suddenly empties of everybody. It’s not like the first time I saw her. Now it’s different.

  Maybe you only get one chance at meeting somebody who really gets inside you, wakes corners of your mind and heart that you didn’t know were asleep.

  Eventually she spots me.

  “Did you listen to it?” she cries, her eyes beaming at me.

  “Incredible! Well, the first two songs anyway. I haven’t heard all of it yet though. I only just managed to get it. You?”

  “Three songs. I just got it too. Oh my God, I love them!”

  I laugh. “Have you watched The Great Gatsby? The soundtrack is unbelievable.”

  “I missed it at the movies and I never got round to seeing it.”

  We grab some lunch and frappes and sit down. It feels like we sit there for hours, talking about music and movies and school and whether Carlos has a crush on eleventh-grade Zoe not twelfth-grade Zoe, which would be weird given she freakishly looks like his sister, and whether Ms. Chalmers, the chemistry teacher, who can be heard having psychotic episodes in the lab at least twice a day, is sexually frustrated or just born angry, and what’s on our bucket list and whether we believe in life after death.

  When we eventually say good-bye it feels like we’re actually at the start of something, not the end. There’s so much promise in her good-bye that it makes my insides feel all funny.

  Yeah, it’s kind of the best day that I’ve had in a long time.