Page 13 of The Moon Also Rises
“That’s possible.” My shoulders sink as I concede this point. “He also made it clear that he wanted the wedding date to be a bit more than just a buddy thing. The wedding is for his ex, so he’s actually looking for someone to pretend to be his boyfriend.”
“And you offered to do that for him? He’s a complete stranger to you too.”
“I felt sorry for him. And I also thought that was what friends did for one another.”
“But you’re not…” Radia pauses, her hands in her pockets, and she rocks on her heels like she’s always done when thinking something over. “Youwantto be his friend.”
“Wanted. I think that ship has sailed. And it’s probably for the best,” I add.
“Right,” she says but she doesn’t sound certain at all. “Come on, let’s go eat our body weight in chickpeas.”
We go in and after my sister is greeted by the staff like a long-lost family member, we place our orders and take fresh mint teas to a small table. Radia quickly starts telling me a story about a customer who just placed an order for wedding suits, and how she managed to convince them to go for a teal silk blend rather than the traditional black morning suits they came in for. It’s so brilliantly Radia. Despite her dark sense of humour, she lives life in technicolour and tries to encourage everyone to do the same.
“That reminds me,” I say, after waiting for a good moment to interrupt. “I told Jake you may be able to do a suit for him, for this wedding. I reckon he’d be very up for something colourful and loud. Could you do it mates’ rates?”
“When’s the wedding?”
“Three and a bit weeks, I think.”
“Are you high? Three weeks? I haven’t even fitted him yet.”
“His proportions are pretty standard. Similar to mine actually. Maybe you have something off-the-rack you could tailor to him?”
“You’ve noticed his proportions, hey?” Her eyebrows bounce.
“Radia,” I warn just as our food is placed in front of us, smelling and looking delicious.
She holds her hands up. “If Jake really doesn’t mind something off-the-rack, tell him to pop in but soon. Like yesterday. And yes, I can do mates’ rates. I think if Giles knows it’s for a friend of yours, he’ll practically pay for it himself.”
“Thank you.”
“Oh, listen, I’m not going to be coming up on Sunday now,” she says as she breaks off a chunk of pita and starts scooping up hummus, falafel and pickles.
“Really? Why?”
“I have a date,” she says with a smile that would be smug if it also didn’t make her eyes sparkle.
“With Barista Babe?” I lean forward.
“Yes! I asked her out yesterday morning and she said yes! We’re going to Somerset House for an exhibition.”
Something slices into the excitement I feel for my sister. It’s an ugly-shaped feeling and I know its name immediately: jealousy. I’m jealous my sister was brave enough to ask someone out. I’m jealous she was confident enough to put her heart on the line like that. And I’m also jealous of Barista Babe for getting my sister’s time. Because I’m terrified too. Terrified if Radia does enter into a new relationship with this woman, that will mean I lose time with her. My sisters and my mother have been more than my rock the last few years. They’ve pulled me out of the darkest place and I will never be able to express how grateful I am for their loving, warm, caring presence in my life. Grateful and undeserving.
“You’re so grown-up,” I tease instead of even hinting at the unwelcome sick feeling swirling my stomach.
“Rami, I’m thirty-five. I’m ancient.”
That’s the thing about living away from home for so long. You think people stay the same age as when you left, when you last saw them. But as I look at Radia now, with the gentle creases at the corners of her eyes and laughter lines that frame her smile, just like I have, I see how wrong that is and how much I have missed with her and even more so with Roxie.
“So what’s her real name?” I ask.
Radia opens her mouth to answer, but we are interrupted by a shrill ringing noise. I wait for her to pull her phone out and answer it but she doesn’t move, she just looks at me.
“Aren’t you going to answer that?” I ask her.
“Aren’tyou?” Her forehead furrows and there’s a puzzled look on her face.
“Oh, shit, it’s my phone!” I bring my hand up to the jacket pocket where my phone is and am still surprised it’s ringing as I pull it out. It’s a number I don’t recognise.
