Silver

Chapter 70 - then

I got into the Architecture and Design course at RMIT. My father organised a dinner for all of us to celebrate at Voma on Collins Street. I wrote a note to Alistair and slipped it under his door. 'I've been accepted into Architecture at RMIT. My father has organised a celebratory dinner Saturday night. You are expected to make an appearance. Leaving at 6.30pm.' I felt like adding at the bottom, 'No diapers allowed,' but I really needed him to come so I didn't try to get smart. He hadn't seen my family in months and they'd even stopped asking about him.

Alistair did as he was told. He crept out of his room at 6.30pm. His hair was longer and he looked as though he'd put on some weight around his belly.

'We walking?' he asked.

'Yep,' I said, grabbing my handbag.

We walked to the restaurant in total silence. He walked slowly and I walked fast. I waited for him to catch up on each street corner.

My father was waiting for us outside the restaurant. He gave me one of his greatest bear hugs and whispered in my ear, 'I'm so proud of you. I knew you'd do it, Sylvie.' Inside, my mother, sister and Lachlan were already waiting.

'Where's Ruby?' I asked, disappointed, because I always loved seeing my niece.

'With the nanny. We thought we'd have a night out,' Marion replied.

'Well done, Sylvie,' mum said, giving me a peck on the cheek, that actually misfired onto my ear. 'You must have really lifted your game in the second half of the year.'

We all sat down and mum ordered wine and food for the table.

'It's a great course,' dad said, holding his glass of red in one hand. 'I think it's overtaking Melbourne University. It's far more practical.'

'You'll be able to get all their secrets out of Sylvie, Dad,' Marion joked. 'A bit of espionage.'

'So what do you think, Alistair?' dad asked. 'Are you proud of your Sylvie?'

Alistair's mouth fell open. He wasn't quite sure what to say. He'd only heard the news two days ago, via a note left under his bedroom door. He shrugged his shoulders, 'It's great,' he said. It was almost inaudible.

'Maybe you'll be approving her designs one day at the City of Melbourne?' dad said. It was supposed to be a joke, but Alistair didn't laugh, because the guy had no humour.

'He'll rubber stamp them all,' I said. Still Alistair didn't crack a smile. He was almost grimacing, this banter across the table was painful to him, there was no screen to hide behind, no one to shoot, nowhere to run, no virtual wall to duck behind.

'How's work, Alistair?' dad asked.

'Good,' Alistair answered, shifting his weight uncomfortably on the chair. 'Busy.'

Small plates of roquette, pinenut and pumpkin salad arrived and saved him for the time being. My sister and mother embarked on a passionate conversation about the virtues of using blood orange moisturiser over hemp serum. My sister, of course, had read all the latest research, and was leaning towards blood orange. My mother, a long-time user of hemp, was reluctant to change.

'You should start using eye moisturiser,' Marion said to me. 'Preventative. You're young now, but the sun will be giving you wrinkles.'

'Try Rosehip Oil, it's amazing,' added mum.

Small plates of slow-roasted lamb arrived, sprinkled with pistachio nus, and served with brown lentils. Alistair looked at the lentils disapprovingly.

'Lentils,' dad said. 'Have you eaten them before?'

'It's hippy food, isn't it?'

Dad screwed up his eyes. He didn't know how to take Alistair. He ate a couple of bites of his food, watching as Alistair scraped the lentils away from his lamb.

'Do you two eat out much?' dad asked. Alistair and I looked at each other.

'Not really,' I said.

'You should. You've got so many great choices on your doorstep. I thought you'd be eating out all the time. What do you have for dinner most nights?'

How could I tell dad that my meal plan consisted of cheesy toast, scrambled eggs, a salad once in a while? I ate to fill the spot, not for enjoyment. 'Just the usual. Basic stuff, mostly. Nothing fancy. I'm often tired by the time I get home from school.'

'What about you, Alistair? What do you cook?'

'Whatever. I'm not really a foodie,' Alistair said, shrugging his shoulders. I cringed. I could see that dad was getting his first real insight into the drip they'd married me off to.

'Do you two eat together?' he asked.

'Usually,' I said quickly, before Alistair could respond. But Alistair was looking at me with contempt. 'This lamb's amazing. Did you get a piece of the skin? So tasty. I went to the redeveloped museum the other day, did I tell you? They've done such a great job. You should see the roof in there ...'

Dad followed my breadcrumbs away from the eating together topic. But after desert, when we were saying goodbye on the street, I hugged him and he whispered in my ear, 'You'd tell me if things weren't right, wouldn't you?'

'Of course, of course I would,' I said reassuringly. As we walked away, I thought sadly, 'I wish I could.'