Joël lifts his parched and gritty eyes from his plate of French toast to see Cherone, flanked by a young girl with the same hair colour and a bored expression. He climbs unsteadily to his feet, trying to avoid Anita’s gaze, which he knows will contain enough venom to kill a dozen elephants.
“Hey!” he says. The little girl stares at him. Cherone claps her hands together in delight. “What a small place, huh? Joël, this is my daughter Lauren,” she says. “Lauren, Joël.”
Lauren removes her eyes from him, evidently finding him too boring to be worthy of her attention. He gives her a friendly nod, the movement causing his skull to feel as it is has been hit by a croquet mallet. Cherone glances towards Anita and then back at Joël, her eyebrows raised expectantly over her light green eyes. She isn’t wearing any make up and doesn’t look much older than her daughter. Anita will never forgive her, thinks Joël morosely.
“Um, Cherone, Lauren, this is my partner Anita,” he says. Cherone darts over and sticks her hand out over the table. After a few nonplussed seconds Anita wipes her hand on her napkin and holds her hand out too, and they shake.
“It’s lovely to meet you, Anita! I was so thrilled to hear about your baby,“ says Cherone. "Congratulations!"
"Thank you,” says Anita, unsmiling despite all the bonhomie beaming from Cherone’s face. “Are you an old girlfriend of Joël’s?” “Uh, no, not really!” says Cherone, throwing a glance at Joël, who is unable to respond, paralyzed. “We went to school together-” “What does not really mean?” says Anita. Cherone realises she is on dangerous ground. She increases the wattage of her smile and crinkles her eyes.
“I think we may have been steadies for about a week in year eight,” she says. “I remember us going to a school dance together, anyway. But the rest of the details are a bit foggy. It was all too long ago!” “So when did you run into each other again?” says Anita. Cherone looks at Joël, who says, “At the pub last night.” “Yeah,” says Cherone. “My cousin Maggie and I ran into Joël and his friends at the pub. It was the first time I’d seen him since high school. It was really great to catch up.” “It must have been, judging by Joël’s hangover,” says Anita. Cherone gives an uncertain laugh. “So you weren’t at the pub with your husband?” Anita asks. “My husband and I are separated,” says Cherone, and glances again at Joël, who has been intently studying the back of Anita’s chair. “I see,” says Anita. “So you’re single.” “Yes, I’m sorry to say,” says Cherone. “Anyway, we’d better get going. It was lovely to meet you, Anita. See you round, Joël.” “See you, Cherone. Bye Lauren,” says Joël. Anita murmurs something noncommittal, picking up her bagel between dainty fingers, and Joël sits back down at the table. Anita throws her bagel back down on the plate.
“Why didn’t you mention anything about seeing her at the pub last night?” she says. “Because it wasn’t worth mentioning,” says Joël. “And because I knew you’d react like this.” “Like what?” “Like this. All jealous and insecure.” “If I’m acting like that it’s totally your fault, not mine,” says Anita. “Okay, yeah, whatever,” says Joël. His hangover has robbed him of any compulsion to argue. “Do you want a cup of tea? I’m going to order a coffee-” “I want to go home,” says Anita in a tremulous voice, her eyes blurred with tears in the soft morning sunshine.
