Bastard Tales - Chapter 1 - Sarah Ranft

Cheese has never been orange, thought Jeremiah as he removed the steaming saucepan from the stove. The tender packet macaroni made a sloppy, bubbling noise when he stirred it, which was both comforting and sickening. This was not real food, and certainly not real dairy. He left it on the bench to congeal.

The shadows were long in the courtyard outside now. Too late to be having lunch. Carly would know that he’d slept in again. Sitting at the kitchen table, he lifted the laptop screen and opened Facebook, not knowing how many times that day he had already repeated this action. Facebook was his friend and derailing, defeating nemesis. A loathing fatigue overcame him as he looked at the photos and tales of past acquaintances. Venezuela, Zaire, Alaska. It seemed to be the goal of his class to spread themselves to the geographical limits, like margarine over bread. Jeremiah repeated these countries to himself. They all looked so buoyant, smiling in bikinis, winter coats and sunglasses.

A shadow over the front door and rustling of plastic signaled Carly’s return home. Jeremiah quickly shook off his mood and scanned the kitchen for signs of slovenliness. She was not going to be impressed that he’d missed work today for no reason. He quickly decanted the macaroni into two plates to distract her with an early supper. Carly bustled down the hallway and dropped shopping bags on to the bench. Her breathy kiss on his cheek smelt faintly of incense.

“What’s going on, why aren’t you at work?” she asked as they sat down together to eat the pasta.

“I told Chris I had a family emergency.” Jeremiah said sheepishly. He had felt in his bones this morning that going to work was not a possibility, and short of developing any real illness, he had twelve hours remaining to put together a convincing narrative for his boss tomorrow.

Carly sighed. “I’m surprised he believed that since your whole family’s in Adelaide. Aren’t you going to ask me how my day went?”

There was a good chance Jeremiah would not be enthralled with these details either. Carly was two years into her course in Natural Medicine, a pursuit that he neither cared for, nor saw an illustrious future from. When they first met, her spiritual dancing and passion for alternative remedies lent her an air of mystique and defiance. Jeremiah was also grateful to move from South Australia to Melbourne so that she could study here. The interest in her career had quickly faded however, and he nodded vaguely as she regaled him today with her new facts about tongue health and the dangers of eating grains. Surely fake cheese macaroni was not a desired part of her diet then.

Carly’s wealthy parents had provided their daughter with steady financial support as they settled into Melburnian life - a key element to her appeal for Jeremiah. He couldn’t help but think however that she had brought an end to this opulent family dynasty by becoming a tree-hugging witch doctor. Was this the future, the couple life, he really wanted? Carly often hinted about getting married, which regularly produced mental images of some sort of nude, forest commitment ritual. Children was a far greater nightmare. As they lay in bed that night and he felt her knees nudging his legs open, he reached into the bedside drawer. There was no chance of them starting a future family together if he could help it.
……….

The morning brought new dread; the emergency story. Jeremiah walked warily into the large, budget seafood restaurant which provided him with an income and a barely interesting social network. Most of his table staff peers were students balancing their working hours with study in real estate, economics or tourism. Jeremiah told himself that his goals were more travel-based, even though his efforts to save so far would not have bought him a plane ticket to the next suburb.

“My great uncle had a stroke and my mother was on the phone to me the whole night.” Jeremiah said carefully when confronted by his boss, searching his facial expression for signs of compassion and understanding. Instead he was met with a slight smirk and a pat on the back. Jeremiah felt slight anger and self-pity, this could be a very difficult time for an especially close family. Lucky the distress was not greater.

The lunch rush was morose. Winter did not inspire a large amount of people to eat fish and chips, or a basket of prawns. A break in the afternoon afforded him a walk in the milky, chilly sunlight, towards a familiar sight in the busy plaza. Jeremiah’s legs felt weak and his posture awkward. There she was.

Her hair was short, a natural red. She had a boyish figure, well concealed under an ill-fitting uniform shirt. Jeremiah had never figured out why she was so attractive to him, sitting at her desk typing in brief bursts and handing over brochures to customers. He already had a collection of paraphernalia at home which they had mused over together with no result. Japan, United States, Fiji. It was no doubt becoming clear to her that he had no travel strategy or genuine need for her professional services. Nevertheless, he found himself sitting in front of her again.

“Haven’t we seen you in here before? How was your last trip?” she asked politely. Jeremiah felt his face becoming hot with the attention and a forthcoming lie.

“Really good, caught up with some friends in the UK and we ended up in Spain.” Jeremiah hoped that the continuation from London to the Mediterranean was a believable one. Scenes of drinking in local seedy bars and salsa-dancing senoritas filled any necessary gaps in his memory.

“Sounds like fun.” She waited for the reason for his visit. There was an awkward pause as he glanced at the magazine rack behind her. Where was somewhere suggestive he could start with?

“Looking at going to Brazil.” Surely this was a sexy place they could wistfully dream of together. She stood up and lifted a brochure out from under the wire rack. The bushy Amazon river glossed the cover. Jeremiah was not exactly a hardy, muscled jungle-beater but he hoped that would be overlooked.

“Are you thinking of traveling anywhere yourself?” he volunteered. She met his gaze and shook her head faintly. Jeremiah felt a bit put off. How can you trust a travel consultant if they haven’t traveled? She also hadn’t shown any interest in what was obviously a bit of a come-on - they could have planned a great itinerary together supported by meaninglessly cool casual work.

“Well thanks, I’ll just take this brochure and have a think about it.” He stumbled off the chair and out of the centre. Holding travel information had the effect of making him feel healthier and more alive, in the same way that trying on hiking boots and sitting in canoes in an outdoor equipment shop did. These experiences didn’t require any real adventure.

Dinner that night consisted of some buckwheat salad with cannelloni beans. Jeremiah tolerated Carly’s vegetarian preferences because the food was not unpleasant, just bland. She supported herself with iron tablets, he ate steak when he went to the pub. Carly was a good cook, imaginative with what she had to work with. They had experimented with soy meat substitutes from the deli in the past but fortunately were both unmoved by them. Surely vegetarians did not need a visual substitute to trick themselves into believing their meal included animals, so nugget and drumstick-shaped items were not required in their house.

That evening included a visit from one of Carly’s many college friends, Samara. Samara had a pierced lower lip and smelled like damp hay. She wore tight and flowing non-descript rainbow garments, the type which are seen abundantly at weekend markets. Jeremiah didn’t like the influence Samara had over Carly - she had a daughter in primary school called Sunflower, and was forever passing on future childrearing tips and non-hilarious anecdotes. Several months ago they had spent an afternoon smoking pot and Samara had confessed that she didn’t think Jeremiah was good enough for her friend Carly. Jeremiah saw it as the other way around and wished she’d piss off.

Jeremiah knew what was coming. When Samara finally left, Carly draped herself on the furniture and spent some time staring at him fondly. Jeremiah pretended to be engrossed in the latest escapades of his Facebook foes, noting their countries of choice for future reference.

“Canwehaveababyyyy………”

Carly strung the question together as if to lighten the impact.

“Mmm, we’ll see.” Jeremiah knowing exactly what his answer was, but aware it was inappropriate. They had been through this many times in the past and he could escape any verbal commitment without injury.

“Don’t you want to see the world first?” he inquired as a means of diversion. Carly had seen Africa and Europe with her parents as a child however, and if he was honest with himself, she was not his ideal travel companion.

“Yeah, probably a good idea, then we can settle down. Grace from school got married the other weekend on the Daintree beach, with a Buddhist priest, and everyone wore orange robes. Wouldn’t that be heaven?”

I would rather throw myself to the crocs, Jeremiah thought. Have one drag me away so it looked like an accident. The wedding party could burn herbs and wait for my spiritual resurrection. Her weird excitement was endearing however, and he smiled at her. This exchange satisfied them both for now.
……….

The next day it was raining, and he sprinted towards the travel agency during his break. Seated in the waiting line, he suddenly realised how embarrassing it was to be there two days in a row. Sure enough he was seated at the desk promptly, and before he began, he noticed her small name placard. Adrienne. It was quite old fashioned and exotic, he could imagine that her parents were foreign and conceived her out of dark, Parisian passion. Quite how she ended up in St Kilda would be something he’d have to find out.

Asking about a new destination would be indicative of mental illness at this point, so he blurted out something new.

“Have you been to the new café down the promenade, the one that serves organic coffee?” It was the most interesting place nearby he could think of. Carly had dragged him there several times because she liked the gay and lesbian culture there, and the organic cake with organic cream.

“I’ve been past it but haven’t been inside.” she replied, raising her eyebrows in unspoken question. Did this girl have any sense of adventure? He would need to labour the point further.

“Did you want to head down and try it out after work? I’m free most of this week.”

She cocked her head and stared at him for a moment, presumably weighing up how attractive it would be to become involved with a seasoned world traveler.

“I’m pretty busy but I‘ll be out on Thursday night if you want to meet up.” Oh dear, meeting at night would complicate things quite badly. And a coffee at night was a pathetic anticlimax - hard liquor at the Espy would be a better option. But no going back now. There was no way of knowing whether it would be just the two of their either - being out suggested friends. But it was a start either way. A start he didn’t know if he should make.