Chapter 8

“So there that is,” she said. “Finally.”

“Um ... yeah,” I mumbled. “What -- ‘finally’?”

“Took you long enough.”

“Huh?” I was confused.

“How long?”

“Eh?” I was still confused. And monosyllabic.

“How. Long. Have. You. Liked. Me?”

“Oh, uh ... Since the first time I saw you, I think,” I mumbled, regaining some of the capacity of speech.

“What? I can’t hear you. Speak up.”

I sighed. Might as well go all in, since this was probably the last time she’d speak to me. “I’ve liked you since the first time I met you. When we raced in warm-ups.”

“You mean, the first time I beat you in warm-ups,” she replied playfully. “Hang on ... that was over six months ago. Geez – you really do take your time.”

“I wasn’t sure that you liked me.”

“What makes you think that I like you?” Nao asked noncommittally.

If she didn’t like me, why would she call me? I didn’t understand. And I was getting annoyed again.

“Okay. Then you don’t like me. You just like beating me, teasing me, and humiliating me,” I huffed. “Glad I can provide you with such entertainment. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Well, you are partially correct.”

“Huh?”

“I do like beating you, although I like beating anyone in the water, so don’t think that makes you particularly special. I didn’t realise that I was teasing you, although I think I might like that as well. But I never said I didn’t like you.” She paused for a moment. “I never said I did, either. I haven’t decided yet.”

“Okay...” I said cautiously, wondering where she was going with this.

“I need further data. What are you doing on Friday night?”

I arrived at five minutes to seven. The sky was a deep indigo, the air clear with a crispness that heralded the arrival of autumn. Nao lived in the seaside suburb of Silver Beach, definitely not working class but really only just the upper side of middle class. I checked my reflection in a parked car to make sure I hadn’t become too dishevelled in my walk from the bus stop. I was still a good six months away from my driver’s licence and when Nao had asked me out, I’d been reluctant to bring it up until the very last minute for fear that my lack of a car would result in the whole event being cancelled.

Nao had said ‘No problem’ and without skipping a beat told me which bus to take from the school to her house. It turned out there was a stop on that route not five minutes from my house, and the bus had deposited me at the corner of the cul-de-sac in which Nao’s home was located. The thought had occurred to me that, if I hadn’t been riding my bike to the pool daily, and then on to school, I would have been taking the same bus as her.

I was wearing olive green khakis, a blue-and-white checked shirt, and a light charcoal jacket against the breeze; not too preppy but not daggy either. I had a good physique because of my hours in the pool, so I preferred to wear proper shirts in a European fit rather than formless t-shirts when going out.

I’d been so concerned about being on a date with Nao, I’d been completely ignorant of the fact that I’d never really been on a one-on-one date before (I’d really just hung out with groups of friends), so when I’d asked for an allowance-advance for a date, my surprised-but-pleased dad had given me fifty bucks, along with some advice:

“Don’t offer to pay, just pay. Don’t make any moves on her, other than opening the door or pulling out her chair. Don’t make her feel like she’s obligated to you for anything. Don’t treat her any differently than you would want someone to treat your sister, or your mother. Or, if you had one, your own daughter.”

He must have seen the confused and embarrassed look on my face at that last comment.

“Well, not like THAT,” he snickered. “I was sixteen once too. I mean, don’t disrespect her. Be classy. You wouldn’t want your sister to be pawed by some slobbering goon, and if you really think about it, you wouldn’t want her feelings hurt by someone who was just playing with her or using her for his own sexual gratification.” I went red. He clapped me on the shoulder and leaned in conspiratorially. “And your mother and I are far too young to be grandparents,” he said with a grin and a wink. “Got it?”

“Oh. My. God! Dad!” I said.

“Father’s prerogative to have a little fun at the expense of his children.”

I rang the bell at Nao’s just after seven. Carriage lights flanked the porch, neat lawn and flowerbeds fronting onto a pale-yellow house illuminated in twin circles of light. From one of the windows to the left of the door I saw the pale blue square of a television flickering behind sheer drapes and heard the muffled music of a news bulletin. A light went on behind the door, I heard a hand on the handle and steeled myself. The door swung inwards and through the screen door I saw a lady who could have been Nao’s older sister, as she looked to be in her mid-thirties, but I knew Nao was an only child. I took a deep breath.

“Good evening, Mrs MacRae. I’m James.”

She smiled, and even through the screen door I could see how her eyes crinkled at the corners, the same as Nao’s. She spoke in even, lightly accented English as she opened the screen and beckoned me into the hallway.

“Hello, James. It’s nice to meet you finally. Nao has spoken so much of you.”

I didn’t know what to make of that. What could Nao have possibly said about me to her parents?

“Uh, huh. It’s–it’s nice to meet you too.”

Her eyes twinkled.

“Nao will be ready in a moment. What are your plans this evening?”

“Um ... We hadn’t really ... I was just looking forward to spending some time with Nao. I think we might grab dinner or see a movie or something.”

“Oh, that sounds lovely. I’m Nao will enjoy spending time with you too. Please don’t have her home too late. You both have training tomorrow for big meeting this weekend, yes?”

“Of course,” I replied, wondering what qualified as too late.

“Mu-um! Who are you talking–oh, hi!” I heard Nao’s voice coming down the corridor. She was wearing a sleeveless grey knit dress, draped off the shoulders with a moderate vee at her collarbone, and cinched and doubled at the waist to create the effect of a separate skirt. I felt my mouth go dry.

“Hi,” I said.

“I hope Mum hasn’t been interrogating you for too long?” she asked, grabbing a purse off a table in the hallway and opening the screen door.

“I don’t need to ask James,” laughed her mum. “You already give plenty of information about him.”

“Muuum!” whined Nao, “Hazukashii wa! Sonnan yuwan totte kureru?!” She grabbed my arm and started walking me rapidly down the path to the street.

Nao’s mum just laughed and waved as she closed the screen. “Have a good time. Be safe!”

“Hey, the bus stop is the other way,” I said after Nao’s rapid pace slowed to a normal walking speed.

“I thought we’d go somewhere local,” she said.

“Are you ashamed to be seen with me in public?” I asked.

“No, but I wanted to get to know you better without an audience. I’ve had enough of public spectacles for a while. And I feel like a cheat night. There’s a great fish and chips place down at the beach.” I noticed she was still holding onto my arm as we walked.

“I could go for that. And what did you yell at your mum before you dragged me off down? Was that Japanese?”

“Oh my God,” she sighed. “I could just kill her sometimes. I told her not to embarrass me by saying crap like that.”

“Oh. Well, I can understand the matricidal urges. My dad had a go at me about tonight too.”

“What did he say?” she asked, coming to a stop, still holding my arm.

“Oh, nothing. Just-- he warned me about ... you know,” I stuttered, wishing I’d said nothing.

“What did he say?” she asked again, this time more firmly, letting go of my arm and turning to face me.

“He um ... he said that he and my mum weren’t ready to be grandparents yet, so...”

Nao looked at me with raised eyebrows for a moment, and just when I thought she might be about to slap me she began to laugh.

“That’s-- oh my God, that’s...” she continued to laugh whilst I stood there confused. She eventually calmed down, put her arm through mine again and resumed walking. “Well, I guess that changes my plans for the end of the evening,” she mused wistfully.

“What?!”

Nao giggled. “Oh relax. It’s a joke, James. Don’t be so nervous. It’s not a job interview. We’re just going to eat fish and chips, talk, maybe take a walk on the beach and I’m going to decide whether I actually like you or not. Then you’ll take me home and perhaps I’ll let you talk to me tomorrow at training.”

“Sounds like an interview to me,” I grumbled.

“Yes, but what a lovely interviewer you have,” she beamed, leaning her head against my shoulder and fluttering her eyes. I couldn’t help but grin. I could smell her hair; clean, shampooed with something lightly floral and underneath it there was the same vanilla scent I remembered from that night at camp. I resisted the urge to inhale deeply.

Nao continued to hang off my arm as we came to the waterfront where a row of shops housed a few restaurants interspersed with suburban necessities: newsagents, liquor store, minimart. She steered me to one named, no joke, ‘Salt & Battery’. It was a little more upmarket than your usual fryery, though. Mentally I thanked my dad for the fifty.

“What would you like?” I asked, as she unlatched herself from my arm to look at the menu board.

“Pan-seared tuna, chips?” she asked.

“Sounds good,” I said. So, a cheat meal but not too crazy. “Two seared tuna steaks and one large chips, thanks,” I ordered from the guy waiting expectantly behind the counter.

“And a medium mayonnaise,” added Nao, pulling two bottles of water from the big drinks’ fridge next to the counter and putting them in front of the register. I looked at her.

“Mayonnaise?”

“Japanese mayonnaise,” she said cheerfully, “to dip the chips in. It’s like liquid crack. You’ll love it.”

I paid and received a blue plastic radio buzzer along with a wad of serviettes. We sat down across from each other on picnic benches at a wooden table to wait for the signal that our food was ready. She regarded me expectantly with those deep soft eyes of hers.

“So...” she said.

“So...” I replied.

“So why do you like me?”

“No, let’s not waste time on small talk or social niceties. I really hate how people beat around the bush. Why don’t you tell me what’s really on your mind?”

“Shut up!” she said with a grin. She opened her bottle of water and took a sip. “It’s a legitimate question. You said you’d liked me since we first met. Why? Why do you like me? For my excellent end-of-lane turn technique? My exotic Eurasian features? Or have I beguiled you with tantalising glimpses of my sweet perky arse?”

I choked. On what I don’t know, but when the coughing fit wore off, she was regarding me playfully. “Okay, well at least I have confirmation you’re straight.”

“Jesus. Did Josh get this treatment?” I muttered.

“Josh ... barely let me get ten words out in the forty-five minutes I was out with him. He spent the first half of our ‘date’ showing me off, and the last half trying to ‘seduce’ me with his wit,” she said sourly, punctuating her words with fingered-quote marks. “I told him I wasn’t feeling well and asked him to take me home. Josh wasn’t interested in me for me, he was interested in me for him.”