Chapter Twenty Six

 May 2003

Steve and I go to the pub quiz again. Only Tom comes with us this time. Rachel is working.

   The quizmaster asks what the 'C' in CNN stands for.

   'Cable,' says Steve.

   'Really? I thought it would be central,' I say.

   'I thought it was central,' says Tom.

   'Its definitely cable,' says Steve.

   I'm holding the pen. I don't know what to write.  

   'Two against one for central,' says Tom.

   I write central. 

   'It's cable,' says Steve.

   Steve is in the toilet when the answers are read out.

   'The 'C' in CNN stands for cable,' says the quizmaster.

   'Steve was right,' says Tom.

   'Yeah,' I say.

   'Don't tell him.' 

   I shake my head. I'm not sure why we shouldn't tell him, but I think I sense a warning note in Tom's voice.

   Tom leaves after the quiz, going to meet Rachel after her shift. Steve and I stay longer. As we're walking back to the hostel he says, 'what's a nice girl like you doing with a retrograde like me?'

   'What's a retrograde?' I say. I don't think it's the word he meant to use but I can't think of the right one.

   'It's like a criminal, a bad boy,' he says.

   I laugh. 'You are not a bad boy.'

   Later, in bed, I remember the right word: reprobate.

   He is not a reprobate.

   

We make lasagne. We chop the vegetables together and I stir the cheese sauce into the right consistency.

   We take it to the courtyard to sit at the picnic tables.

   'That looks good,' says the hostel owner. 'Did you cook that?' he says to me.

   'Cook? She can't cook,' says Steve. 'She'd burn water.'

   Maybe that's true. I never really cooked before because I never really ate before.

   I finish mine quickly but Steve only eats half of his and says he can't finish it, it's so filling.

   I pull his plate towards me and start eating. I'm hungry, so very hungry. 

   The others at the picnic table stare. They laugh. 'She's finishing off your dinner?

   'It should be the other way round,' says Tom.

 

In our room Steve sings the song Wicked Game by Chris Isaak at me.

   'You don't want to fall in love with me?' I say.

   'I might not want to, but I have,' he says.

We go to Fremantle for the day. We take a tour of the prison. 

   There is a cell decorated with paper butterflies. The tour guide says its occupant was a child abuser who said butterflies were a symbol used by paedophiles.

   I feel sick. I wish we'd never come to this place where so many bad men were held. I feel the ghosts of their presence, the air is thick and cold with them. I shiver suddenly, violently. 

   We see a room with a large rectangular hole in the floor with something that looks like a torture contraption.

   'Usually,' says the tour guide, 'I get women begging me to put their partners  in here.'

   He glances at Steve and me. We are the only couple on the tour. But I can't make that kind of joke about Steve.

   It's dark outside when we get the train back to Perth. We share a packet of M&Ms. He eats all the peanut ones because I don't like nuts. I have the rest. I lean into him and look at our reflection in the window. I wonder if we look right together.

Wicked Game by Chris Isaak

Chapter Twenty Seven