The Good Sister(30)

‘So let me get this straight. You’ve been bowling tonight, and you were driven home by a man who lives in his van?’

From my kneeling spot on the couch, I replay the sentence in my head and find it accurate. ‘Yes.’

‘Fern, you need to be careful. This man could be trying to take advantage of you. For money or food or even sex!’

I smile at the last part. If only she knew.

There is a knock on the door. I startle and fall off the couch onto the floorboards.

‘Fern! Are you all right?’

‘Fine,’ I say, straightening up. ‘Er, Rose . . . I’ve got to go. Someone is at the door.’

‘At this time of night–’

I end the call and get to my feet. Almost immediately the phone starts to ring again, but I ignore it, flinging open the door.

It’s Wally.

‘I didn’t answer your question,’ he says.

‘What question?’

Wally’s cheeks turn crimson. ‘Well . . . we were talking about Adam and Eve? And you said . . .’

He drifts off. I wait. Wally rubs the bridge of his nose under his glasses.

‘I said . . .?’

Wally lets go of his nose and steps into my flat, grinning. ‘Are you really gonna make me say it?’

‘Say what?’

He shakes his head. ‘You are funny.’

I’m not sure why I’m funny, but as he sweeps me into his arms and presses his lips to mine, it seems moot, as I couldn’t have answered him anyway.





Sex with Wally is a pleasant surprise. The few times I’d had sex with Albert, it had been with duty, even with curiosity, but each time he crawled his way around my body I could barely think of anything else but the moment it would be over. With Wally, I find myself having a lot of thoughts. Thoughts of . . . Maybe we could try this next?, or What is it that you are doing there and why does it feel so good?, and How can I arrange for us to do this all the time? The fact that I was trying to get pregnant escaped my mind entirely until the moment it was over. When I do remember, I can’t find it within myself to care.

‘Is it safe?’ he’d asked, when we were both naked and he was hovering over me.

An odd question, I thought, but then I supposed it was important that one felt safe when they were in a new environment. I’d taken a few moments to ponder this, finally determining that while it wasn’t impossible that a madman could burst into my flat at any given moment wielding a handgun, neither was my flat war-torn Syria. So, after an appropriate amount of consideration, I’d replied, ‘Yes. It’s safe.’

And that seemed to be the right answer because everything commenced rather quickly after that.

Afterward, I couldn’t stop giggling. When Wally asked me why, I couldn’t explain it. A physical reaction, I decided, was the only explanation.

‘I think I had an orgasm,’ I said. ‘I mean . . . I’m not sure. How do you know, do you think?’

Wally rolled over so he was lying on his side. ‘Actually, I’m not sure,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Shall we google it?’

‘Good idea.’

And so we lay there, in bed, googling orgasms and clicking on articles. After reading eight or nine articles, we determined that it was very likely that I’d had one, but it would be better to try again so we could be totally sure.

Wally leaves before morning, which makes me like him even more. As much as I’d savoured the night with him, I am keen to keep my morning routine intact. There’s been enough disruption this week, I decide. But as I go through my yoga poses, I find I’m still thinking about him. I imagine telling Rose about my relationship with Wally. Wouldn’t that be something? On television and in books, sisters always talk to each other about these kinds of things, teasing each other about boys, confiding secrets. I imagined Rose gasping and giggling and demanding sordid details. I imagine her helping me get ready for a date and begging for details afterward. It would be something I’d quite enjoy, I decide.

I’d hoped for this sort of reaction when I started dating Albert.

‘I have a boyfriend,’ I’d told her, even though Albert and I hadn’t specifically used the terms ‘boyfriend’ and ‘girlfriend’. Still, I’d come to recognise our behaviours as typical of those in that kind of relationship, so it seemed a logical conclusion to draw. ‘His name is Albert.’

‘What do you mean . . . you have a boyfriend?’

This should have been my first warning. Unlike the vast majority of the population, Rose didn’t usually ask questions to which she already knew the answer. She knew I didn’t understand it when people did this. But this day, she seemed to have forgotten.

‘I mean . . . I have a boyfriend,’ I replied.

Rose didn’t gasp or giggle, but she did ask dozens of questions about Albert, none of them in the least bit interesting. What was his last name? Where did he live? What was he studying? Her lip curled as she talked, as if a boyfriend was something that personally offended her.

‘When can I meet him?’ had been the last question, something of a surprise given that she’d seemed so disgusted by his existence.

After some prodding, I’d agreed to bring Albert to dinner at her place, where she’d proceeded to ask him all the same questions she’d asked me and more. There was no nudging or winking or giggling. There was nothing fun about it at all. There was nothing fun about it the next day either, when Albert stopped talking to me. So I decide it might be better not to tell Rose about Wally. For now.