happens.’
‘That’s a great analogy. I majored in law at uni,’ the taxi driver interjected.
‘Really! How did you end up driving a taxi?’
‘Well just like board games, some people who try to tackle the law are really good, and some people aren’t. The people who aren’t don’t pass the Bar exam, and live on their father’s couch for a decade before he buys them a taxi and kicks them out on their own.’ The taxi driver and Lilah laughed. I marvelled at the instant rapport she seemed to form with people—with the small crowd she formed on the ferry in our first discussion, with the waiter at the pizza place, and now with this guy—not to mention me. Every person Lilah met was more potential new friend than stranger. I wondered what it would be like to live life open like that.
She had never been to the restaurant I’d chosen and seemed impressed that I’d found it. The pleasant glow of my success faded quickly when I picked up the menu.
‘What the hell is tempeh?’ The restaurant’s website had said Australian vegetarian cuisine, but half of the dishes may as well have been Greek to me.
‘Fermented soy.’
‘Sounds delicious.’ I shut the menu with a shudder. ‘How about you just interpret this thing and order me something I’ll actually recognise?’
And so, over a bottle of red wine, we shared several dishes. There was something called cauliflower steaks—a most misleading name, given that it was essentially just barely cooked chunks of cauliflower rolled in herbs, and marinated gluten pieces with various other stir-fried vegetables.
‘Gluten is healthy now?’
‘Provided you don’t have celiac disease, it’s fine,’ she informed me wryly.
All in all, the food was nice enough—but the company was divine.
‘You said you moved around a lot growing up,’ I prompted her. Lilah was leaning on her elbow on the table top, and every now and again I saw her entwine a strand around her finger then smooth it down over her shoulders. She was relaxed and chatty, and I again enjoyed the full focus of her gaze on me.
‘Mum is as free a spirit as you’ll ever find. I was born in India, but by the time I was thirteen we’d lived in seven countries.’
‘Yikes!’
‘Yikes is right,’ she chuckled at my surprise. ‘That must appal you, Mr I-had-the-same-bedroom-until-I-was-an-adult.’
‘ Appal is the wrong word. Amaze is better.’
‘It wasn’t amazing. I had some great experiences, but when I was about to hit high school, it suddenly seemed to occur to my parents that I could barely read and didn’t know how to keep friends.’
‘I’m assuming you learnt to read, given your profession. So they hastily settled down?’
‘Oh, no,’ she laughed again and reached for her wine. ‘They left me with my grandparents. Dad wasn’t nearly as flighty as Mum, but by then he was just used to doing as he was told.’
‘What did they do for work? How did they manage to move so much?’
‘Mum is a musician. A singer, actually, and quite a good one, but she was chasing her big break right up until a few years ago. She would spend a term here and a term there, teaching or doing theatre or just lining up for endless auditions. Don’t get me wrong; she had some great successes—but then there were some spectacular failures, like the year we spent in Hollywood. That whole year, she was at auditions pretty much every day without scoring a single role. So on we went. Dad, on the other hand, was a sensible horticulturalist and he brought in at least some money even when she couldn’t.’
‘That’s an interesting combination. Did they meet at school?’
‘No. Dad was a few years older than Mum; they met when he came to do a job at my grandparents’ house. Pa hired him to tend the orchard one spring and he and Mum hit it off. Dad loved to be busy, so wherever we went he found something to do to bring home some money, even if it was packing shelves.’
‘And your grandparents? Hippies
‘That’s a great analogy. I majored in law at uni,’ the taxi driver interjected.
‘Really! How did you end up driving a taxi?’
‘Well just like board games, some people who try to tackle the law are really good, and some people aren’t. The people who aren’t don’t pass the Bar exam, and live on their father’s couch for a decade before he buys them a taxi and kicks them out on their own.’ The taxi driver and Lilah laughed. I marvelled at the instant rapport she seemed to form with people—with the small crowd she formed on the ferry in our first discussion, with the waiter at the pizza place, and now with this guy—not to mention me. Every person Lilah met was more potential new friend than stranger. I wondered what it would be like to live life open like that.
She had never been to the restaurant I’d chosen and seemed impressed that I’d found it. The pleasant glow of my success faded quickly when I picked up the menu.
‘What the hell is tempeh?’ The restaurant’s website had said Australian vegetarian cuisine, but half of the dishes may as well have been Greek to me.
‘Fermented soy.’
‘Sounds delicious.’ I shut the menu with a shudder. ‘How about you just interpret this thing and order me something I’ll actually recognise?’
And so, over a bottle of red wine, we shared several dishes. There was something called cauliflower steaks—a most misleading name, given that it was essentially just barely cooked chunks of cauliflower rolled in herbs, and marinated gluten pieces with various other stir-fried vegetables.
‘Gluten is healthy now?’
‘Provided you don’t have celiac disease, it’s fine,’ she informed me wryly.
All in all, the food was nice enough—but the company was divine.
‘You said you moved around a lot growing up,’ I prompted her. Lilah was leaning on her elbow on the table top, and every now and again I saw her entwine a strand around her finger then smooth it down over her shoulders. She was relaxed and chatty, and I again enjoyed the full focus of her gaze on me.
‘Mum is as free a spirit as you’ll ever find. I was born in India, but by the time I was thirteen we’d lived in seven countries.’
‘Yikes!’
‘Yikes is right,’ she chuckled at my surprise. ‘That must appal you, Mr I-had-the-same-bedroom-until-I-was-an-adult.’
‘ Appal is the wrong word. Amaze is better.’
‘It wasn’t amazing. I had some great experiences, but when I was about to hit high school, it suddenly seemed to occur to my parents that I could barely read and didn’t know how to keep friends.’
‘I’m assuming you learnt to read, given your profession. So they hastily settled down?’
‘Oh, no,’ she laughed again and reached for her wine. ‘They left me with my grandparents. Dad wasn’t nearly as flighty as Mum, but by then he was just used to doing as he was told.’
‘What did they do for work? How did they manage to move so much?’
‘Mum is a musician. A singer, actually, and quite a good one, but she was chasing her big break right up until a few years ago. She would spend a term here and a term there, teaching or doing theatre or just lining up for endless auditions. Don’t get me wrong; she had some great successes—but then there were some spectacular failures, like the year we spent in Hollywood. That whole year, she was at auditions pretty much every day without scoring a single role. So on we went. Dad, on the other hand, was a sensible horticulturalist and he brought in at least some money even when she couldn’t.’
‘That’s an interesting combination. Did they meet at school?’
‘No. Dad was a few years older than Mum; they met when he came to do a job at my grandparents’ house. Pa hired him to tend the orchard one spring and he and Mum hit it off. Dad loved to be busy, so wherever we went he found something to do to bring home some money, even if it was packing shelves.’
‘And your grandparents? Hippies
Similar Books
