‘Whoa,’ he says, reverentially.
CJ leans into Ash and whispers, ‘Look.’ She points at the lower point of the signage.During the breeding season, a mature male persistently follows a female, occasionally biting the area between her dorsal fins. This form of courtship behaviour often leaves the female with permanent scarring.
‘Lol,’ says Ash. ‘I know how these girls feel, then.’
‘Right?’ chuckles CJ, and they look at each other, grin, enjoy finding the same things funny. Ash reaches out a hand, rubs the lower part of CJ’s firm back. CJ grins some more.
Later, once they’ve dropped Jorge at home to have a boys’ night with his uncles, the women grab some food at a seafood restaurant at the bottom of the hill. They really are just BFFs, having their breakfast coffee at Querido bleed into a fake-family outing with Jorge, bleeding into a stop-off at the park, and then a date for two with sardines and white wine, before they decide to get a nightcap at the cute bar with the old stone steps where people sit with their drinks instead of at tables.
Very, very normal, that. Two almost-forty-year-old women platonically hanging out from sunrise until sunset, hands on backs and elbows, and arms across shoulders, knowing looks, finishing each other’s sentences, sharing the minutiae of their days, and their lives, several times over, giddy off each other, their reflection in the eyes of the other.
‘You seem really happy, you know,’ CJ says, where they nurse beers from the bottle – CJ really is rubbing off on her – at the top of the stone steps, looking down on all the other patrons. ‘It makes me happy. To see Lisbon work her magic on you.’
‘Who decided Lisbon is female?’ muses Ash, tugging at the label on her bottle. ‘Why isn’t Lisbon a man? Why is Lisbonshe?’
‘Hmmm,’ reflects CJ. ‘Interesting question. To me, Lisbon has always been female.’
‘What other cities are female?’
‘Munich is male,’ CJ says.
And Ash laughs. ‘Obviously.’
‘Barcelona is male too, but enjoys playing with the gender binary.’
‘The definition ofgay or European?’
‘Exactly, yes. But that’s hot. I enjoy that.’ CJ looks up into the night sky like she’s considering the thought.
Ash admires her thick lashes, the searching in her eyes. Jorge has the same twinkle of curiosity. The longer Ash knows CJ, the more she understands she isn’t cold, not like she first thought, she just has no tolerance for bullshit, fools or small talk.
‘London is male,’ CJ states. ‘And actually kind of an abusive one, too.’
‘And not even that good-looking.’
‘And not even that good-looking! But, has that rizz, man. London has rizz, and that’s why he’s the toxic boyfriend you keep going back to.’
‘Edinburgh is female, though,’ Ash counters. ‘And she’s taken for granted.’
‘Co-signed,’ CJ says. Then: ‘Copenhagen? Female. Florence? Female. Rome? Male. Tokyo? Male. Vienna, female. Havana, female. Sydney, female. Lisbon … yeah, female. I think it comes back to how much a city takes you as you are, or how much a city tries to mould you into something else, something that hardens you. Lisbon is quintessentially female because she is warm, and welcoming, and nurturing. She wants you to be more yourself, more rested, more looked after. Happy as you are. She’s home. And home to me feels inherently … girl.’
‘I wonder what Freud would say,’ Ash teases.
CJ whistles through her pout. ‘I think it’s probably very straightforward.’
Ash readjusts her energy. She’d only meant to be playful. ‘I’m listening.’
CJ rocks her head back and forth. ‘Mum left. Dad did a terrible job. I mean, I’ve tried to find the good over the years, tried to give him the benefit of the doubt, but since I became a parent myself my empathy for his situation is basically zero. Have a kid, step up, you know? It baffles me that there is anyone in existence who can’t make their child, their flesh and blood, the centre of their world.’
‘Yeah,’ agrees Ash. ‘In my time I have definitely felt the unfairness of inadequate parents seemingly able to pop out kids at will – kids they’re not even bothered about – and then me, who used to be desperate for it, knowing I could do it so much better than them, given half the chance.’
‘Past tense?’ observes CJ. ‘Used to be desperate for it?’
Ash shrugs. ‘No flies on you, huh?’
‘We established this a long time ago.’
‘Hmmm,’ reflects Ash. And then: ‘Potential past tense. Which is progress.’
