Finding Grace (19 page)

I introduce Hiro to Grace. He puts his hand out. He looks surprised and embarrassed when she looks the other way.

“Grace is brain-damaged,” I explain to him.

“Oh … what happened?” he asks me.

“She had an accident.” “What kind of accident?”

I look at him blankly. “I don't know. I have never asked.”

I can hear Bill's voice in my head.
“She had had herself a stroke or some such.”

I've never asked!

I move Grace over to her chair. Prickles limps in the back door.

“The cat had an accident, too?” Hiro asks me.

“Yes,” I say as I pick Prickles up and put him gently on Grace's lap.

“Everyone has had an accident around you,” he says, frowning.

This strikes me as hilariously funny. What, does he think I'm some kind of female version of Frank Spencer? Does he think I gave Grace brain damage and ruptured the cat's guts (
oowa Betty
) in some kind of sitcom slapstick routine? I start to laugh again. Hiro looks at me, perplexed. I'm doubled over, holding my stomach. Hiro starts to smile and soon he is laughing too.

When we had recovered, we sat at the dining table and worked on our assignment for about an hour. When Hiro concentrated he would frown and poke his tongue out a little bit.

After we had finished our assignment, we sat out in the back under the shade of the creeper. He put his leg up on the seat next to him. I could see the muscle in his calf flex and relax, flex and relax.

I was mesmerized.

“I first noticed the smell is very different. I smell the, what you call, eucalypt. The air is much more dry here.”

We talked for a long time. I watched him smile and laugh. I watched him frown and look sad as he talked about his family and friends at home. His skin is smooth and caramel-colored.

He is so beautiful.

As the sun started to fade, Hiro stood up and stretched.

He walked back into the house to pack up his books. “I am playing cello tomorrow evening, at the park—six o'clock. Would you like to see?”

“I would love to!”

“Would Grace like to come?”

“I think she would.”

He smiled, and said, “But not the cat.”

I laughed. “No, I won't bring the cat.”

As he sauntered off down the street I skipped around the lounge room, singing.

Say I love you, say I need you, say all the things that people say when love is new.

I skipped over to where Grace was sitting and planted a big kiss on her forehead.

“We have a date, Grace!”

I sat down at the dining table, where he had been sitting. I sat there thinking about his smile and his muscly calves.

I wondered what it would be like tomorrow. Busking with Hiro.

Later that night, when I had calmed down, I rang my mother.

“What happened to Anna?” I asked her.

“Who?”

“Anna. Remember? They used to live next door.”

“Oh,” said my mother. “Her parents were teachers. They got a transfer somewhere down south, I think.”

“Can you remember where?” I asked.

“Oh, was it Kiama? Somewhere around there. Why the sudden interest?”

“I was just thinking, you know. Anna and I were good
friends and I just wondered what happened to her, that's all. I haven't had that many good friends and I thought I might look her up and see how she is.”

“Good for you,” said my mother.

I made myself a pint of coffee and sat down in Grace's study with the spooky box in front of me.

Grace was pregnant when she had the accident. Mr. Preston knew she was pregnant or he wouldn't have said “both of them” when he talked about how the accident was his fault. Mr. Preston said it was his fault.

I can hear Hiro's casual inquiry,
“Oh … what happened?”
echo in my head.

I never asked!

Why have I never asked? I've never asked because I thought it would be rude, like staring, like commenting on someone's weight gain—one just doesn't.

I remember standing in a line at a shop when I was about three or four years old. There was a woman in front of us. I observed her for a while, quietly hugging my mother's thigh, and then I looked up to my mother and said in a loud voice, “Look, Mummy, hasn't that lady got big boobs?” My mother went scarlet. The woman with the big boobs went scarlet.

“Shhh!” said my mother. I started to protest, “But she has, Mummy, look.” I pointed with one chubby finger.

“Quiet now, darling, you don't talk about those sorts of things,” said my mother.

“Why?”

“You just don't.”

I lifted the lid from the spooky box and removed the ribbon-bound bundle.

Then I picked out the next sheet of paper and read.

Today is
the day of my date with Hiro.

I thought I would make up a picnic for us to eat tonight. There is a picnic basket on top of the kitchen cupboards. It has four plates and cutlery and plastic glasses strapped to the lid with little leather straps. It has a blue and green lining that unfolds into a little tablecloth.

I dress Grace and we walk down to the delicatessen. “Hello there, little chicken,” says the Italian lady. “What can I do for you today?”

I buy some Tasmanian cheese, a big crusty loaf and some cold meats. I buy olives and roasted tomatoes.

I walk to the bottle shop and buy a bottle of white wine and a big bottle of water.

Grace and I walk home with our purchases. I sing loudly as we walk along the street.

“I thought that we would just be friends, things will never be the same again.”

I can't seem to get that song out of my head.

At home, I pack my little picnic basket and take a blanket out of the linen cupboard.

I flick through Grace's wardrobe, looking for something to wear. I put on a long green dress and a little white cardigan. I pull my hair back into a ponytail.

I'm walking out the door and I suddenly have a thought. I run back and grab a bottle of insect repellent from under the sink.

Grace and I walk to the park carrying our picnic basket and blanket. As we turn the corner out of our street I can see a few other people with baskets and blankets.

Maybe there is something else on tonight? Oh well, at least we have the picnic basket.

As we approach the park I can see people flocking through the gates. The grass area is half-filled with blankets. Corks are popping left, right and center. There are fairy lights around the rotunda. It has been set up as a makeshift bar. The teahouse is packed.

I look around for Hiro. I'm never going to find him in this crowd.

Between the teahouse and the rotunda a scaffolding stage has been set up. There are speakers on either side. There are people in tuxedos wandering around the stage and roadies hitching up microphones.

“Rachel.” I hear a voice behind me. Mr. Preston's brother, Anthony, is reclining on a blanket to my left.

“Oh, hello there.”

“You look lovely tonight,” he says, smiling that big gorgeous smile.

I've always been afraid of gorgeous people. They have that smugness about them. They make me feel gangly and silly.

“Come and sit with me for a while,” says Anthony.

“Oh,” I say.

Think of an excuse, quickly, before you fall over or do something stupid.

“I see my brother has got to you and told you what a roguish fellow I am,” he said, grinning. “I don't bite, unless you want me to.”

“Oh, um, no. He hasn't said anything. It's just that I'm supposed to be meeting someone else here.”

“Fair enough,” he said, looking out at the crowd.

“Rachel” booms over the loudspeaker; then there is a squeak as the microphone feeds back.

I look around, startled.

“Well, anyway, I'm not such a bad fellow,” he said with that grin again. “Maybe sometime we could go out and you could find out for yourself?”

“Oh,” I say, surprised. Is he asking me out? “Maybe.”

“Rachel” comes out of the loudspeaker again. I look up at the stage. There is Hiro, standing in the middle of the stage, grinning and waving at me with both arms. He is wearing a tuxedo. His hair is pulled back in a ponytail. Roadies are crowded around him, plugging in leads and taping things down with electrical tape. When Hiro said he played the cello, I didn't know that he meant he was really
good
.

I wave back vigorously.

“I have to go,” I say, turning back to Anthony.

He nods and smiles. “Another time then?”

I don't answer. Instead I smile back and walk away, dragging Grace behind me by the arm, weaving our way between the blankets to the stage.

“Hello!” says Hiro. He's got his hands on his hips and is looking down at me from the stage. “I saved a space,” he says, pointing to a spot about ten meters away from the stage, where there is a pile of instrument cases. “I can sit here too, when we are not playing.”

We move the instrument cases to one side and lay out the blanket. Hiro sits down and I help Grace onto the blanket.

“Are you nervous?” I ask.

Hiro shrugs. “This is not new to me. I enjoy making music with people. I play these when I was …” He holds his hand about a meter off the ground; then he laughs. “… Maybe not. Maybe more.” He holds his hand higher, and laughs again. He leans back on his elbow.

“You look much …” He frowns. “No, what is it? Very beautiful.” He raises an eyebrow at me.

Oh my God! Oh my God! Be cool, Rach. Be cool.

I blush. I turn around to open the picnic basket. “Thank you. Would you like something to eat?” I pull out the loaf of bread and put it in his hand.

He looks down at the loaf of bread suddenly in his hands. “Ah, no, thank you. I will eat after.”

I snatch the bread back and thrust it into the basket.

That was not cool. Do something cool, quick.

I pull out the band that's holding my hair back and shake my hair out like they do on the shampoo ads.

That was fairly cool.

I run my hand through my hair. The buckle of my watch gets caught in my hair.

Ahh! Ahh!

He leans toward me and starts to pick at my hair. I can smell him. He smells sweet. I can see his Adam's apple under his caramel skin, right in front of my face.

“There,” he says, smiling. His face is close to mine.

You could kiss him. Do it! Do it!

“Harold, we're up.” A man in a dinner suit holding a violin is calling down from the stage.

Hiro stands up and brushes down his pants.

“Break a leg,” I say.

“You tried that already,” he says with a laugh. He bows slightly and walks away.

I watched as Hiro and the other three men settled into their places on the stage. They paused for a moment. The whole park went quiet. I felt a little delicious shiver of anticipation. Then they began.

It was beautiful. They had no sheet music, they just played, looking at each other. Hiro was frowning with concentration. A wisp of his hair came loose from the ponytail.

I looked at Grace. She was lying back on the grass with her eyes closed.

They played for about twenty minutes; then they stood up and bowed. The man with the violin picked up his microphone. “We'll just be taking a short break. Don't go away! We'll be back soon.”

I could see Hiro at the side of the stage, drinking a bottle of water, while the man with the double bass was speaking to him. Hiro passed his cello to one of the roadies,
poured some water in his hand and threw it over his head, smoothing down the loose hair.

I reached into the picnic basket and pulled out the bottle of wine. I eased the cork out and poured two glasses, handing one to Grace. I made two sandwiches of cheese and pastrami and roasted tomato and put one in Grace's other hand. I started to munch on my sandwich.

I looked up and saw Hiro waving at me from the side of the stage. I waved back, inhaled a piece of bread and started coughing uncontrollably. I coughed up the offending crumb and quickly looked up again, but Hiro was turned the other way talking to the violin man.