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She sighs. ‘I did get baptised. Then I guess I changed my mind.’
Then she changed her mind. She changed her fucking mind.
Bridget returns to the kitchen and fetches a bottle of wine from the fridge. ‘Are we good?’
I wait for Annie to answer. If she wants me gone, I’ll go without a word.
‘Of course,’ Annie says. ‘We’ve both moved on from high school.’ She looks at me. ‘Right?’
‘Absolutely,’ I say with confidence.
Bridget nods. ‘Great. Then you can come meet my work colleagues.’
‘I think the correct term is friends,’ Annie says, stealing the words directly from my mouth. ‘You guys go ahead.’
‘You’re just going to stay in here by yourself?’ I ask.
‘If I want to.’
Bridget ushers us both towards the terrace. ‘Just go. Both of you. They’re debating whether graffiti is art.’
I blink slowly and follow the girls out of the kitchen.
I use the opportunity to check Annie out from behind. She’s wearing a long skirt, but not like the ugly ones she used to wear. This one’s yellow and flowy. On top she has a simple white singlet with an elaborate leather necklace threaded with colourful beads, which I assume she made. Bracelets in various designs cover both arms. She’s gotten better.
The names of the people I meet go in one ear and out the other. The older guy keeps asking if I’ve seen this exhibition and that exhibition. I tell him repeatedly that I’m a farmer and don’t get into the city much.
Annie positions herself as far away as is politely possible, and my eyes keep going to her like they always do when she’s in the same room. I want to speak to her, ask her a million questions, but it’s not the right time.
At one point she disappears into the kitchen and returns with a plate of lamingtons. She moves from person to person, leaving me until last. She somehow manages to avoid all eye contact in the process.
When she goes to leave, the older gentleman says, ‘You know, we didn’t even know our Bridget had a sister.’
Annie has no choice but to have this conversation in front of me. ‘I think I succeeded in surprising her.’
The man laughs warmly. ‘It’s nice to see her like this.’
‘Like this?’
‘Happy.’
Annie drops her eyes to the plate. ‘Well, it is her birthday.’
He takes a second lamington. ‘Where’d you stay when you got here?’
I love this man for asking the questions I can’t.
‘At a hostel,’ Annie replies.
I brush a finger down my nose to hide my irritation. ‘You were staying at a hostel?’
She meets my eyes. ‘Yes.’
‘And I heard you found a job already,’ the man says. ‘Good for you.’
‘What job?’ I ask, unable to help myself.
‘At a pub, in the city.’
