Four Little Words | ONC2020

13 | dates and devastation

It turns out that I'm really, really good at shooting people. We are only supposed to play two rounds but we're challenged to a re-match by the group of ten-year-olds whose butts we kick. Trav tries to convince me to go easy on them but there is no way I'm willing to let the little tweens claim that our initial victory was accidental. They go down hard and I love every second of it.

After laser tag, we head to Chinatown for dumplings before walking down Swanston Street towards the NGV.

"You mentioned last week that you wanted to see that new photography exhibition," Trav explains. "I got us tickets."

"But art's not really your thing," I point out.

"Not usually, no," he says. "But it's yours. That's part of the fun of dating. You get to experience the things that someone else likes. When it's Cec's turn to plan a date she's forever dragging me to slam poetry readings and dark wave gigs. They are 100% not my idea of fun but I have fun hanging with her at them."

"Have you and Cec ever tried being more than friends?" I have no idea what possesses me to ask, the words are out there before my brain and my mouth have had a chance to consult each other.

Trav doesn't skip a beat.

"We kissed once. It was weird. Not horrible or anything, there was just no spark. I love her and she's my best mate and objectively I know she's attractive but I don't want to jump her and she doesn't want to jump me. And that's kind of a relief, you know?"

"Mmm hmm," I say, like I have any idea what he's talking about.

"What about you and Cass? Have you guys ever kissed?" He waggles his eyebrows at me so I know that he's joking.

"Don't be that guy Riordan."

He shrugs his shoulders and turns his hands up in defeat but he's still grinning like a demented Cheshire cat.

"Fine," he says. "What about you and Darver then."

"Yes, we've kissed," I deadpan.

"Burton, the whole world knows you've kissed. You guys have turned kissing into an Olympic sport. There are actual support groups that have been set up for the benefit of those of us who've stumbled upon the two of you in a darkened garden. But... It...ahh... looks like there's been a bit of tension since Robbo's party?"

I sigh.

"He's not speaking to me," I admit.

"Why not?"

"I don't really know."

"Okay, let me ask this a different way. What would you say that Felix is to you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, if he was currently talking to you, how would you describe your relationship?"

(I'm sure I mentioned that I don't do relationships. Or talking about relationships. Or talking about feelings. I so do not want to be talking to Trav Riordan about what is or isn't going on between me and Felix Darver. Why, oh why, did I have to ask him if he'd ever hooked up with Cecily?)

"I wouldn't say we have a relationship. We flirt a bit at school, we kiss at parties. End of story."

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe that answer is why Felix is upset with you?"

"Huh?"

"Frankie, by my calculations you and Felix have been hooking up for a little over nine months now. I think maybe he sees your non-relationship a little differently than you do."

"How do you know that?"

He shrugs.

"I eat chips and I pay attention," he repeats the line I threw at him at Robbo's party.

I stick my tongue out automatically but my conscience twinges. Maybe I really have hurt Felix without intending to? God, I hope not. I so do not want to be that person.

In the face of conscience twinges there's only one logical thing to do – change the subject.

"I heard that you and Bethany broke up."

"Yeah, we did."

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he says. He gets this funny look on his face like he wants to say more but isn't sure whether he should.

"What?"

"I don't know," he says. "I guess I feel guilty because I'm not more upset. Don't get me wrong, Bethany's a great girl and I really like her but... probably not enough. She was mad at me that we weren't spending more time together but with everything that's going on with my Dad I just... I don't have more time, you know?"

Forget the twinging conscience, guilt hits me like a freight train – hard, heavy and sudden.

"Trav. God, I'm so selfish. What are you doing here with me? You should be home with your Dad. You..."

Whatever I was about to say flies clear out of my head as Trav grabs my hand and links our fingers, pulling me to a sudden halt on the pavement.

"Frankie, stop. I'm here because I want to be. Besides, my parents are also having a date day today, just the two of them. So, I couldn't hang out with Dad right now even if I wanted to."

I start to smile at him but freeze as I spot another couple over Trav's shoulder. They're standing much as we are – stationary on the pavement, close together, smiling. As I watch, she hands him a small navy bag and reaches up to kiss his cheek. He pulls her in for a hug and whispers something in her ear. She laughs, before teasingly blowing him a kiss and walking away.

I try to take a deep breath and realise that I can't. Instead a strangled sound escapes my throat, a primitive noise somewhere between a sob and a wail. It's loud enough that the man glances in our direction and I step behind Trav to avoid being seen. My ears are ringing and I'm shaking so hard I wonder if I'm about to pass out.

I'm vaguely aware of Trav saying my name, of him tugging gently on my hand as he leads me towards the State Library and sits me down on a park bench. He's talking but I can't hear him. Or really see him, even though he's right in front of me. My vision blurs and my heart races. All I can see is that woman and that man. Like a car crash on slow-motion repeat, I see her touching him, laughing with him, standing on her tippy toes to lay her lips against his skin, over and over again.

And I see him. Even though I don't want to. Even though I try to block it out. I see him. With her. Her with him.

Him.

He.

The man who used to be my Dad.

With a woman who is very definitely not my Mum.