The Hollywood Effect (13 page)

“Oh, yeah, right. I’ve been to Warrnambool before. It’s nice.”
 

“Well, then. Chances are you drove through Tarang and didn’t even notice!”
 

“I do apologise to the citizens of your fine town.”
 

I laughed. “It only takes a few minutes to drive through it, don’t worry, we don’t mind.”
 

“Coffee no good there?”
 

“Weeeeelllll, they’re getting better. I’ll give them that. I have high hopes for a new cafe that’s opening up soon. One of my old friends from school is opening it. She’s worked as a barista in Melbourne, so she hopefully knows her stuff.”
 

“Well, for your sake, I hope so too!”
 

“Cheers to that,” I said and took a sip off coffee.
 

“Have you always lived in the countryside?” Will asked after a moment.
 

I wobbled my head. “Yes, no. I grew up there, but I moved to Melbourne for uni when I was 18. I didn’t think I’d ever end up back there though, to be honest. I’ve only just moved back there a few months ago for work.” I didn’t really feel like our first coffee date was the time to unload about my depressed father and dead mother. “Where abouts do you live?” I asked.
 

“Yarraville,” Will said. “I’m sharing a house with a couple of friends at the moment.”
 

“Nice, I like Yarraville. My sister used to live in Seddon. She took me to the Sun Theatre a few times.”
 

“It’s lovely there,” Will said. “Where’s your sister now?”
 

“Canada,” I replied. “She was only meant to go for one year, but it’s been…” I thought for a moment. “Almost five years. We’re starting to wonder if she will ever come back.” I was only half joking. I missed having my sister around. We weren’t the kind of sisters who were best friends, but we got along just fine… and with Mum gone, sometimes I really could use a female family member around. I heard myself sigh.
 

“My brother’s been living in the UK for ten years,” Will offered. “Married to a Brit and they’ve got three kids now. I don’t think he’s coming back.”
 

I snorted. “You never know. Maybe they’ll get sick of weather. Do you have any other brothers?”
 

Will nodded. “Two younger than me. The older one is in London.”
 

“Four boys,” I whistled. “Any sisters?”
 

“Yeah, actually. My sister Mary just turned eighteen.”
 

“Poor kid,” I said. “Four older brothers?”
 

“She was the spoilt one,” Will laughed.
 

“Did you grow up in Melbourne?” I asked. I wanted to ask about his background, but didn’t want to seem rude or racist. He seemed to know what I was getting at though.
 

“Yeah. Mum and Dad arrived in Australia in the early Eighties. Mum’s from Zimbabwe and Dad’s South African.”
 

“Wow,” I said. “Do you still have family there?”
 

Will leaned back and took a long sip of his coffee. A little bit of froth caught on his lip. I stared at it, slightly mesmerised, until he wiped it away.
 

“Yeah, my grandma is still there, and a bunch of cousins. We try to go back and visit every few years. Do you see your sister much?”
 

I shrugged. “Not as much as I’d like to.”

“Have you ever been to Canada?”
 

I nodded and drained the last of my coffee. “Yeah, once. It’s so nice over there. Although she’s always complaining about the weather. Too much rain.”
 

“Rain? I thought it would be snow,” Will laughed.
 

“You’d think so, being Canada and all, but she’s in Vancouver, and apparently it’s mostly rain there. She gets excited when it snows.”
 

“So do I,” Will said with a smile and put his cup down. “Shall we go?”

“Lets. The ruins of Pompeii await!”
 

We spent a very interesting and enjoyable couple of hours, slowly wandering through the exhibit. I lost track of time as I stared at the plaster casts of the poor people caught in the eruption. What a horrible way to die. Will turned out to be a fantastic museum partner. We both seemed to go at around the same pace, and I didn’t feel rushed at all by him like I usually did when I was with someone else at a gallery or museum. I liked to take my time. Once we’d reached the end, my stomach was getting pretty gurgley.
 

“Are you busy this afternoon?” I asked, suddenly a bit tentative as we walked through the gift shop.
 

Will shook his head and picked up a cheese grater. “Just where I always go to get my cheese graters; the museum.”
 

I let out a laugh.
 

“And no, I’m not busy,” Will added.
 

“Do you want to grab some lunch on Lygon Street and then come back and make the most of our free museum pass?” The Pompeii exhibit was seperate to the main museum, but our tickets got us in to the main part as well.
 

“Sure. That sounds great. I haven’t been for awhile. I got a bit museum-ed out, if that’s possible, during the first MTeach year - we came down here so many times for History class.”

“Yeah, same.”

The museum was only a couple of streets away from bustling Lygon Street, full of Italian restaurants and men (and the occasional woman) out the front, accosting half the passersby, trying to persuade them to come into their restaurant with specials and deals. I had intended to walk up and down and have a look at some menus, but me being me said yes to the first young man who promised us a free glass of wine and garlic bread.
 

“I’m sorry,” I whispered to Will as we took our seats. “I hope the food’s good. I’m terrible at saying no to people.”
 

Will laughed softly. “It’s all right. I’ve been here before. The food was pretty good, if I recall correctly.”
 

“I’m shocking, really. You know those people who hang out in shopping centres trying to sell you perfume or skin care products or whatever? I have to avoid eye contact, because they always suck me in and I end up buying their stupid stuff. It’s terrible.”

“I guess there are some advantages of being a tall, scary looking black man. I don’t get approached very often. Those annoying charity collectors at the train station always never bother me. It’s kind of great.”
 

“Pfft, you’re not scary looking. You look like a nerd. Sorry. But it’s kind of true.”
 

Will shrugged. “I guess I can’t deny it.”
 

The waiter came out with our wines.
 

“It’s not too early for wine is it?” I asked, slightly worried he’d think I was an alcoholic. Will checked his watch.
 

“Nope. It’s school holidays. No time is too early.”
 

“Cheers to that,” I said and raised my glass. Will nodded and clinked his against mine.
 

The food did end up being delicious, to my relief, and lunch was nice. No one apart from our waiter paid us the slightest bit of attention. There were no photographers in the bushes, and I didn’t have to worry about my students gossiping about my private life. Not just yet.
 

“So what are your plans for the rest of the holidays?” Will asked as we walked out of the museum.
 

“I’m going to America tomorrow, actually,” I said, trying to be casual.
 

“Wow! That’s awesome. Where are you going?”
 

“Los Angeles mainly. Have you ever been?”
 

“Once. I didn’t like it much to be honest. I preferred San Francisco.”
 

“I’m visiting a friend, that’s pretty much the only reason I’m going. One of my best friends from high school has been living there for the past few years, and another friend has been travelling around a bit. We’re gonna have a bit of a reunion in LA.”
 

“That sounds great.”
 

“How about you? Holiday plans, I mean.”
 

“Nothing as exciting as going overseas. I’m going up to Sydney for a few days with one of my brothers, but that’s about it. I’m teaching Year 12 Revolutions this year, so I need to stay close to home for revision classes.”
 

“The joys of school holidays for teachers,” I said. “You spend half of it at school.”

“Yep, sounds about right. And the other half you spend convincing yourself that drinking beer while marking essays is a
great
idea.”
 

I laughed. We reached my tram stop and I stopped to look up at him.
 

“I’d like to see you again, Jen.”
 

I smiled at him. “I’d like that too.”
 

“Call me when you get back.”
 

“I will. Thanks for the company today, I really enjoyed it.”
 

“My pleasure. Have a safe trip.”
 

The tram pulled up and I waved as I climbed on.
 

Normal. Nice and normal. I smiled to myself all the way back to Brunswick.
 

I got up early the next morning, and somehow managed to wake Sammy up. She threw a few choice swear words in my direction before she full woke up and remembered that she’d promised to drive me out to the airport. I bought her a large coffee to make up for the early-ish hour. The car ride was still far quieter that I was used to with Sammy around.
 

“Everything all right?” I asked.
 

“Sorry, dude. Mornings are not my time.”

“How to you go in term time?” I asked, slightly amused.
 

“Not well,” Sammy admitted. “I have well trained housemates. The coffee is already ready when I finally drag my sorry arse out of bed. And I have my morning routine down to a tee. I can go from bed to door in fifteen minutes.”
 

“I’m impressed,” I said. “I’m usually still writing last minute lesson plans before I leave the house.”
 

“You nerd. Lesson plans are for pussies. You haven’t really taught until you totally wing a double lesson on the themes and symbolism of a book you haven’t even read yet.”
 

I just shook my head and laughed.
 

“Have fun!” Sammy said when we pulled into the Departures drop-off area.
 

“I’ll try,” I said, with a wry smile.
 

“I fully expect to see you grinning up at me from the pages of a glossy magazine before you get back.”
 

I rolled my eyes, stuck my tongue out at her and got out of the car. I went around to the back and got my case out.
 

“Take care of Gertrude,” I said, coming back around the side and leaning through the window. My friend, Sophie, had dubbed my car Gertrude when I’d bought it years ago. The name had stuck, and started attend amongst a few of my friends. Sophie had Wilma, Katie had Dulcie and Ruby had a motorbike she’d named Gustav.
 

“Of course. Now get going before you miss your flight.”
 

“Thanks!” I stood there and waved to her as she drove off.
 

I had always liked coming to the airport. A subtle thrum of excitement always seemed to underlay everything. People coming and going. The endless possibilities of destinations, people excited to go on holiday, people excitedly reunited with their loved ones, people crying at their departure. I’d always got a quiet buzz whenever I’d come to the airport, even before I’d gone anywhere myself. I still remembered coming when I was around ten years old, to see Mum and Dad off. I couldn’t even remember where they’d gone, but I remembered looking around me in awe, Grandma clinging firmly to my hand. I’d had a reputation for wandering off when I was smaller, and Grandma hadn’t seemed to let that go. Even back then, I’d wanted to go on one of the planes. I imagined what it would be like for me to be going somewhere exotic, and how exciting it would be. Of course, when it finally was my turn to go through the big metal doors, I was in tears and Mum had to push me through the doors when I’d baulked at the threshold. I shook my head at the memory, and had a faint pang, wishing Mum could have been there to see me off this time. I knew some families who would just give their kid money for a taxi, but my family had never been like that. Not before Mum died, anyway. We all, always came to see anyone off. Every time Steph left the country, we would all trek out to the airport to stand there, hug and wave, and then try to pick which plane she’d be on.
 

I handed my passport to the tired looking lady behind the ticket counter. She barely looked at me as she typed in my details.
 

“Any checked bags?”
 

I nodded, which of course she did not see. “Yes, this one,” I said.
 

“Put it on here.”
 

I lifted the suitcase up onto the scales and held my breath. I’d forgotten to weigh it at home. I hoped it would be under. I needn’t have worried. It was way under. The lady tore her eyes from the screen and tagged my bag. She handed me my ticket, with a slightly more cheery, “Have a lovely flight!”
 

I felt one of my eyebrows raise. I don’t think I’d ever had what I’d call a ‘lovely’ flight. Bearable was about as generous as I’d get.
 

“Uh, thanks,” I muttered, taking back my passport and ticket. I glanced down at the ticket to see if I had an aisle or window seat and frowned.
 

“Um, excuse me. I think there’s been a mistake,” I said.
 

The lady just looked at me.
 

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I booked an economy seat, not first class.”
 

The ticket lady held her hand out and I gave the ticket back to her. Why did I open my big mouth?

“There has been no mistake,” the lady said after tapping away for a minute. “Your ticket was upgraded last week.”