*******
“Hi!”
“Yeah, hi.”
“What are you up to?”
“I didn’t know whether to hide behind this tree or pretend I didn’t know you.”
“Thanks for talking to me,” she said sincerely.
“I didn’t know if you were with that boy, or if it was Dave, or what…”
He didn’t bother to ask where she had been. She had changed into different clothes overnight, so he knew that she had been home. She was wearing a black velvet jacket, tight black jeans, and his homemade black t-shirt. He hadn’t realised that she had taken it.
“Nice shirt,” he said as he pulled on it.
Rachel grinned at him and Sean tried to remain cold and distant in her presence. She grabbed his can of coke and took a pull. He rolled his eyes and sighed, mirthless.
“What are you doing?”
“What am I doing? What am I doing?” Sean pretended to think. “I guess I’m walking down the street.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“Will you, Blixa Bargeld?”
“What?”
He threw his empty can in a bin. “Blixa Bargeld. That’s who you look like right now,”
“Who is… Blixa… Blixa Bar…”
“Who’s Blixa Bargeld? I’ll tell you who Blixa Bargeld is, Blixa Bargeld,” he tried not to warm to telling her this information, remaining as blank voiced as he could. “Blixa Bargeld is the lead singer of the band Einstürzende Neubauten. Have you heard of them, Blixa Bargeld?”
She shook her head.
“You kids these days, dressing like Goths – ”
“I’m not dressed like a Goth!”
“ – and not knowing who Blixa is. Einstürzende Neubaten are a German, industrial music group,” Sean could tell she didn’t know what industrial music was. “They, I don’t know, bang metal pipes on concrete walls and turn it into music.”
“Can we get something to eat?”
“No, I’m going shopping.”
“I’ll help you shop.”
“My God you’re crazy. You know you drive me fucking crazy? I could just strangle you.”
Sean tried not to sound serious when he said this. Rachel looked at him and he lightly wrapped his hands around her throat. She grabbed his wrists and squeezed his hands, like the lover she was, and mimed convulsing. They held the position for several seconds, him rocking her back and forth on her feet as she pretended to choke.
“No, I’m going food shopping. I don’t need you to help me, Blixa Bargeld.”
“Oh.”
They walked in silence. The William Street intersection lay before them.
“You know how everyone thinks Germany started World War Two?”
“But they did?”
“No! It was the Finnish, they’re the real Nazis!”
“The Finnish?”
“Yeah, they let the Germans take the blame for it. But it was the Finnish who really killed the Jews!”
Sean stopped and looked at Rachel, she was smiling at him. “I don’t know about that.”
“The Finnish did it.”
“Did they now?”
“Did they now?”
“Yup.”
She frowned at him, happy to see him.
“I think you need me to help you shop.”
Sean smirked at her. He could see the Coles Supermarket, a block away.
“Do you know if there are any pool halls in Sydney?”
She thought for a few seconds. “There’s one at Central.”
“Central?”
“The Central train station. There’s a snooker hall opposite the Central Train station.”
“Right. How interesting.”
He measured his words carefully.
“I’m not going to go shopping just yet. Instead I have to go… somewhere secret.”
“Where?”
“Wouldn’t be a secret if I told you.”
She grabbed for him. He squeezed her hand and then let go. He walked away from the Supermarket. In the clear blue sky, the sharp incline to Williams Street created the optical illusion that the city skyline hung over the surrounding inner-city suburbs.
“Look.” Sean draped his arm across her shoulders. “I’m going to my secret location for a few hours. Then… we might meet up after that.”
“Ok.” She thought about this.
“Hey, that’s where I found that dress.” She pointed at a clothes shop specialising in vintage clothes.
“I’m not buying you the dress.”
They came closer to an Irish Pub named Paddy MacGuires. Outside the front step stood three English backpackers, dressed in singlets and shorts.
“Take your arm off me.”
He did so and Rachel stopped in front of the men. Sean walked for a few more paces, not bothering to stop. She ran to catch up with him.
“I’m going to hang out with them for a while.”
“What?”
Sean looked at the men.
“You can’t go with them!”
“Why not?”
“They’re English. And if that’s not bad enough, they’re backpackers. English backpackers are the scum of the earth!”
“What?” she laughed.
“After the next world war there will only be cockroaches and English backpackers scurrying about.”
She chortled again. “Ok, I won’t go with them.”
“I tell you what.” He thought for a moment. “How about we get some lunch, then I’ll have to do some stuff by myself.”
“Hmm, ok.”
“But on one condition, you take me somewhere nice. Somewhere I haven’t been before.”
“Where haven’t you been?”
“Rachel, I’ve lived in Sydney for like, over a week. There are heaps of places I haven’t been.”
“I know a place.”
“I’m serious, I don’t want junk food. No food from a service station for me.”
“Ok, I know somewhere.”
“Alright,” he said, not believing her.
They descended William Street and turned left on Crown Street, stopping at Oxford Street.
“How about some sandwiches?”
“Sandwiches?”
“Yeah, like, gourmet sandwiches?”
“Oh yeah, I could go for something like that.”
“Ok, follow me.”
Sean looked at the cafés on the street as they walked away from Oxford.
“I thought I saw something over there.”
She ignored him and turned onto the first side street. A red sign overhung a red door. It read: Afrolounge.
“What’s this place?”
“Come on.”
They stepped over the threshold. The Afrolounge was a bar and a courtyard, with tables and lounge chairs set-up for alfresco dining. Paintings and photography by local artists hung from the walls.
“Wow, look at this, it’s like a Spanish villa.” Sean admired the clientele and the way they were dressed.
“Told you I knew somewhere.”
Rachel picked a table and Sean sat down next to her.
“Hey, I can drink in here too. Rachel Neutron, you’ve outdone yourself.”
She scanned the menu as he debated with himself whether to have a midday beer.
“Do you know what you want yet?”
Like all good Sydney restaurants, the waitress was five minutes too early.
“What do you want lady?”
“I’ll have the big breakfast, and a fruit smoothie, and a tomato juice.”
“What flavour? For the smoothie?”
Rachel looked at the menu. “Mango.”
“Do you want avocado?”
“Yup.”
“And for you?”
“God, I’m not sure… I’ll get…”
“I’ll come back later?”
“Yeah. No wait, I’ll have the big breakfast too.”
“Any drinks?”
“An apple juice. And a Corona.”
“Avocado?”
“God no. Thank you.”
Sean and Rachel sat in silence. She looked at the other patrons. He enjoyed the sun.
The waitress returned with their drinks.
“The food won’t be long.”
“Thanks.”
Rachel took a sip from her juice.
“How long do you think she meant?” Sean held his index fingers three inches apart. “This long?”
Rachel snorted and then emptied two teaspoons of salt into her tomato juice.
“I didn’t think… that… juice and salt went together.”
She hummed in reply and sipped her juice. Sean noted that she took a long time swallowing.
The waitress returned with two platters of food, loaded with bacon, scrambled eggs sprinkled with pepper, sausages, hash browns, and sun dried tomatoes.
“Ok, you have really outdone yourself here.”
Rachel ate her food like someone who had not eaten breakfast that morning or dinner the night before. Sean, never having much of an appetite in the morning, was more sedate in the speed he ate.
Rachel lifted up her tomato juice. “Do you want to swap?”
“I don’t think so, there’s salt in that. You ruined that juice.”
She smirked and listened to the group of people sitting next to them. They were talking about films.
“It’s a terrible movie. Like all recent French movies,” opined a man with ornate, thick-rimmed designer glasses.
“Yeah, absolutely,” the man next to him agreed, speaking to a woman opposite. “Whenever it starts getting good, a character will look straight at the camera and recite a five minute monologue about philosophy.”
“I mean, who cares!”
Everyone laughed.
“And, also, – ”
“Yeah, that’s like Bodard!” interrupted Rachel.
The men stopped talking.
“Yeah, right,” replied the man in glasses.
“He’s like, got all this action, but then there’s lots of talking.”
The group all nodded and then continued their conversation without her.
“I think you meant Jean-Luc Goddard,” whispered Sean.
“Oh yeah.”
“You were trying so hard, don’t get down on yourself.”
“Masculine Feminine.”
“Wow, you know that?”
Rachel stared at her plate and the leftover food that she didn’t like. Sean picked at his plate slowly, silently. She poked at a piece of bacon with her finger.
“Hey, I have a fly.”
The group looked at her again. Rachel had a live fly balanced on her finger.
“Is that really a fly?” asked the man with glasses, genuinely interested.
“No, it’s plastic,” said his friend.
“No, look! It moved. It’s real!”
“Whoa, it’s just sitting there!”
Rachel held out her finger so they could get a closer look.
Sean didn’t look away from his plate. “For five dollars she’ll swallow it.”
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