Raspberry Drops

One: the lucky number eight

“I love you, baby.”

“I love you more.”

I turned away from the cuddling couple, pretending to gag. The choking sounds I dredged up seemed to snap my friend out of her lover’s haze. With hazy eyes she looked over at me.

“Are you alright, Eni?” The barely disguised question was interwoven with a touch of genuine concern and I knew that she was regretting her decision to go ‘double dating’. Well, that would make three of us, not including her boyfriend, who I assumed didn’t care either way; he hadn’t looked away from Amelia for more than half the night.

I shot her a sharp look, nevertheless plastering a brilliant smile on my face as I replied with an overly enthusiastic, “Fantastic.”

A flash of guilt winced her features and she cleared her throat.

“Uh, hey Ryan, didn’t your band play at Goldstein’s last Friday?” I was ready to roll my eyes at her poor attempt of starting a conversation when I felt someone’s pointed shoe collide with my shin. My jaw tightened and my fists clenched as I looked over at Amelia, who was concentrating on Ryan. Gee, I wonder who that was?

“Yeah,” he said slowly, blinking. “Weren’t you there?” I suppressed the urge to laugh and looked away from Amelia’s flushed face. She laughed nervously and another kick was delivered to the same shin. The grin that had been dominating my face was lost to a murderous glare.

“Oh yeah, of course. That was a pretty awesome gig; you had a pretty good turnout,” continued Amelia, her embarrassment dying as determination overtook her. I sighed heavily.

This whole double dating scheme was so not my cup of tea, especially when the guy was about as responsive as a brick wall. Since the ‘date’ had begun, he’d said a total of eleven words to me:

“I’m Ryan. My girlfriend’s name is Samantha and I like sports.”

Talk about making a first impression. I’d already surmised that he was trying to prove a point with the ‘I like sports’ campaign and that if he did have a girlfriend he couldn’t have had her for more than five minutes. As if she’d let him on a double date. By the end of the car ride to the restaurant I pitied the girl. He’d be stiff and stoic then entire time and refused to even look at me. I couldn’t decide on whether to be offended or amused.

“Yeah, it was okay.” Ryan shrugged. I tuned back into the conversation.

Lucas, Amelia’s five-month and twenty-one day boyfriend, laughed. “Don’t be modest, mate. It was a damn good crowd. The place was full as, man.”

Ryan smiled shyly and I was surprised at the transition. He leaned forward, elbows on the table as he shook his head.

“Not as impressive as the Ladder gig.” The conversation remained centred on Ryan’s band, Nide, and I learnt that he was lead guitarist and backup vocalist.

I’d received four sharp, painfully kicks to my shin before I begrudgingly added my two cents when there was a pause in conversation.

“What kind of music do you play?” It was such a generic question and although I noted a brief flicker of eagerness flash over Ryan’s face, by the time I’d blinked it was buried beneath a nonchalant mask.

“Local punk rock stuff.”

“Oh, cool.” He was as closed up as a clam. I shot Amelia a ‘do-you-see-what-I’m-working-with?’ glare. She ignored me and tucked her long fringe behind her ear.

“Eni’s sister is in a band. We used to go along and support her sometimes.”

Ryan plastered a fake smile on his face. “That’s interesting.”

It certainly was. Do you sense the sarcasm? Because I’m pretty sure I’m oozing with it.

Amelia fell silent before Lucas scooped her hand up into his own and drew her back into his world of cuddles and kisses. Gag me. As I heard the words, ‘you’re so gorgeous tonight, babe,’ I rudely cleared my throat. I’d made my decision; I was done with dinner, anyway.

“Well, this has been a tonne of fun,” I interrupted gaining the two lovebirds attention again. Lucas looked slightly frustrated. “But I have an early shift tomorrow morning, so I should really be going.”

Amelia’s face fell. “What, already? But it’s only—” she checked her watch quickly, “—nine-thirty!”

“Yes, it is.” I didn’t bother floundering for an excuse until I realised she thought it meant that her date with Mr Kissy-Lips had to end as well. “I’ll catch a cab home,” I said, mentally berating myself for not driving my own car.

Relief surged over her expression but her next words were tinged with guilt. “Are you sure, Eni? We were going to leave soon, anyway,” she tried but there was no way in hell I was spending another ten minutes listening to lovesick fools and sitting next to the most boring person on the planet. I shook my head and moved to stand.

“Nah, it’s okay.” As I withdrew two ten-dollar notes from my purse to pay for my meal—I certainly wasn’t expecting Ryan to pay for me—the quiet voice beside me spoke up.

“I’ve got to go as well.” I looked over at him. He hadn’t driven here either. Man, was I going to have to catch a taxi with him? I handed my money over to Amelia who was smiling with gratitude towards Ryan.

“You guys can go home together—you live like five minutes apart. Thanks, Ryan.” I threw her a dirty look. Where was my ‘thank you’?

“I’ll see you later, mate. You’re coming tomorrow night, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you then.”

I waited silently for Ryan to remove himself from the table before saying our final farewells to the couple. Following him outside to the front of the restaurant, I pulled out my phone hastily, wanting to avoid the loud silence that would come, and requested the taxi to ‘Caesar’s’ on Carravel Street.

The moment I hung up, I busied myself with looking around—anything to keep me averted from the awkwardness. After five minutes passed, I couldn’t stand it.

“So you play sports?” I tried again and watched as he turned slowly to me with an equally gradual nod in confirmation. “Um, what sports do you play?”

“Tennis and soccer.”

“Oh, I play tennis, too. Not so much anymore; I used to play on my school’s team.” I get talkative when I’m nervous. “We barely won a game, though. Kept losing to Gordon College. Have you heard of them?”

“Yeah.” The simple one-worded answer was not enough to discourage me from my stream of unreciprocated conversation.

“The girls on my team hated them—they’d always bring along their boys, who were the most blundering, dim witted idiots I’ve ever seen.” I stopped there. And waited in the dark, realising I was making a complete arse out of myself.

In the silence, I questioned my sanity. I couldn’t believe that I’d actually agreed to come on this ridiculous blind date. I mean, he was practically mute and he already had a girlfriend. I really should have learnt from my seven previous trials of double dating. Of course, I hadn’t exactly consented voluntarily. Under the coercion of my meddling friends, and the promise that never again would there be another blind date forced upon me, I had—

“Look, I’m really sorry that I’ve been a complete prick all night, but I didn’t really want to go on this date. I mean, no offence to you, you’re nice and everything, but this really isn’t my thing, but I owed a favour to Lucas and he sort of forced me into it, really last minute.”

I was stunned at his willingness to speak. Unsticking my tongue from the roof of my mouth, I croaked out, “Is it because of your girlfriend?”

He blinked in a bemused way before wincing apologetically.

“I don’t actually have a girlfriend.”

“Oh.” Well, what else was I supposed to say to the person who’d lied to me from the very moment I’d met him? Instead, I waited for him to continue. His explanation wasn’t a simple: ‘sorry’ either, it was a rambling mess of an answer.

“I don’t know why I lied.” Pause. “I realise what I said was kind of intimidating and uncomfortable. I guess I lied because I didn’t want you to get any misleading ideas about the date. And I know you probably thought I was a terrible person for going out on a double date when I already had a girlfriend, but I really don’t have one.” I was confused but amused at this point. “I’ve never really done this dating thing before—well, I have but that ended up with me cornered by some horrible female thing waving her balloons in my face and trying to eat my ear.” Pause. He stole a quick glance at me and I noted that under the dim lighting of the restaurant’s name, there was some red blossoming in his cheeks.

He took a deep breath. “I’m probably really confusing you now, but I thought I should give you an explanation of why I was being such an antisocial git. Under a different situation, I’m sure you might think of me in a different light.” He stared hard at me as if willing me to understand. My initial interpretation was that he was coming on to me, but that really didn’t make any sense. So I re-evaluated everything and came up with nothing. I blinked at him blankly.

“Okay, I—I don’t have anything against fairy penguins. I mean I get that it's a type of bird, no harm done. They’re just making it worse.”

I stood in front of him completely and utterly stumped. His long tirade of confessions had caught me way off guard. One moment he was apologising, the next he was defending fairy penguins. It was a lot to absorb, especially after spending an hour with the guy who’d remained almost mute after the first eight words, which turned out to be a lie.

I was searching of the right thing to say when the taxi pulled up. Silently, we clambered in through the back doors and worked out that he only lived down the street from me so he gave the driver my address, adding that he’d walk home; it wasn’t that late, yet.

The silence remained as the taxi pulled away from the curb, joining the evening traffic.

“Does it offend you?”

Uh… “That you lied to me?” He shook his head. “That you hate females?”

He frowned. “I don’t hate females.”

“Then what—”

“I’m gay.”

Oh. Well, that explained everything, right down to the fairy penguins. I looked at him through the darkness of the taxi, acknowledging, for the first time that night that he was impeccably well groomed.

“Does it offend you,” he repeated, the eager, some-what child-liked question startling me from my concentration.

“No,” I yipped. “No, that’s great! I mean,” I winced at my high-pitched tone. “Well, er, I’m not sure what to say.” I rolled my eyes mentally. I was ever so eloquent.

Ryan nodded slowly, digesting my reaction.

“I’m definitely not offended—I mean, one of my friend’s is gay. Well, at least I’m pretty sure he is. As you can tell, I’m not very good at picking up signals,” I laughed awkwardly. Ryan’s hesitancy fell to a humorous chuckle. “He caught a lot of flak from the guys at my school because we were a perfect example of how prejudice and discrimination in society hasn’t died. Um,” I was reluctant to ask, thinking it too big a topic to discuss, but blurted it out anyway, “do a lot of people know you’re—gay?” My pause sounded a little off, but I was well intentioned. I tried to convey that through the sincerity of my face.

Ryan rubbed the back of his neck. “Nah. If word got to my parents, I’d be dead and buried.”

“Oh, so you haven’t told them then.”

He looked mildly alarmed. “They’re pretty strict Christians. Lucas doesn’t even know.”

I nodded at the unsaid plea not to say anything to Amelia, or any one. I was aware that we were treading in deep waters and the seriousness of the conversation was surprisingly genuine. I didn’t want to make him feel too unnerved by my questions, so I back off a little.

“Fair enough—it’s your business.” I paused. “So, uh, maybe we could try this again. You’re in a band.”

He grinned at me and I was impressed with the transition. He was very attractive with his golden curls and shining blue eyes.

“Yep. I love music.”

By the time the taxi pulled up in front of my house and Ryan and I dealt out the cab fee, I’d discovered a completely new person behind Ryan the Brick Wall. I also learned that we both loved the same tune of music and I’d finally found someone who shared the same passion for art, as I did.

“Yeah, I saw the Guggenheim last month,” he said as we stood in front of my house, on the footpath. “It was freaking incredible.”

“I didn’t get to go,” I groaned.

“You were in Japan at the time!” he smiled in a teasing way. I laughed and nodded before looking at my watch.

“Damn, I really do have an early shift tomorrow morning; I’d better go inside.”

Ryan nodded and drew me in for a quick hug. I was amazed at how comfortable I felt.

“Thanks for putting up with me and then lending me an ear to rant into,” he said, letting go.

I smiled at him. “No worries.” We’d already swapped numbers so I said; “Call me if you’re interested in going to the Blue Room next Sunday.”

“Of course. I’ll see you soon then.” At least I knew I wouldn’t have to wait on tenterhooks for a call.

“Bye!” I waved before unlocking the gate and slipping into the familiarity of my mother’s front garden. Stepping on the pavement stones, I skipped up to my house, pleased at the finality of my night.

The house was dark when I entered through the front door and I immediately shook off my shoes, letting them drop against the polished floorboards. The sudden warmth washed over me like a blanket of sleepiness and a loud yawn erupted from the back of my throat.

I walked down the hallway, realising that none of the lights were on in the house and was surprised that my dad had gone to bed so early. I retraced my steps and looked up the staircase only to receive the impending stare of the dark. Well, that was unusual.

I knew my sister was probably out again, so I found the door to my bedroom in the darkness and shuffled inside, closing it behind me.

Man, I was tired. The sudden exhaustion was surprising, considering not five minutes ago I’d been wildly conversing with my new friend. With heavy, lethargic limbs I sought out my bed, eyes already half closed.

I collapsed onto my mattress, head planting my pillow and sighing into it with fatigue. Who knew that the Sandman worked this quickly?

I barely registered the movement as the bed shifted and the comforter I was lying on was being pulled away. My first thought was that my teddy bear, Sir Louis, had come alive and was trying to crawl up onto the bed with the sheet. Tainted by the throes of tiredness, I turned to my side.

“I’m sorry I left you under the bed,” I murmured and reached out, only to feel my hand touching the unmistakeable feeling of warm skin. My second thought, before the panic had settled, was that my sister was in my bed. But as my new bed partner groaned, I blinked at the sound, deciding that it sounded very male.

Suddenly, I wasn’t feeling so very tired anymore. In a split second, I’d retracted my arm and launched myself off the bed, ending up in a traumatic heap on the floor. With wide, horror-filled eyes I watched as the body beneath my sheets raised themselves up from my mattress, now awake at the commotion I had caused.

When drowsy green eyes located mine, I screamed.