more to her, that she’s hiding something massive. But what if I’m wrong? Or what if I finally find out the big secret – and it’s not the amazing revelation that I want it to be. Or what if I’m inventing all of this, because I want there to be something there to find – when there’s actually nothing at all?’
Sebastian the florist frowned back at her as he stirred his coffee, giving India the impression that he was playing for time as he attempted to come up with an intelligent sounding response. ‘Uhh,’ he said eventually. ‘Well, I think everyone has their own story, don’t they? I mean, I would have said my year eight teacher was nothing more than grey checks and horn rimmed glasses . . . all I ever thought of her was that she was a teacher. Like, that was her whole world; when the classes were done for the day, she just folded herself up into a box and waited quietly until the bell rang again the next morning. But that was just my thirteen-year-old perspective. Obviously she was more than that. For all I know, she could have been writing erotica in her spare time. She might have done rally car driving on the weekends. Or she might have just liked to collect postage stamps – but regardless of what it was – it would have been something to her, wouldn’t it? Everyone holds the spotlight in their own story and no matter how bland their plot might be, to them – it’s still everything. Know what I mean?’
Sebastian sat back and watched India nervously. India smiled at him. ‘You worked hard on that response huh?’
‘A little,’ he replied shyly.
‘Ah, you’re a sweetheart, Sebastian. You’re right, it doesn’t matter what it is – but as long as there’s something there, it means everything to her. I’ll keep digging.’
Later that day, India met up with Hannah as she finished her shift at the gift shop. Sebastian’s advice had made her resolve to persevere with Hannah. She stood waiting outside the museum, her back leaning against a sandstone pillar. But when Hannah stepped out through the front door, India immediately felt guilty about her ‘vanilla’ comment. Hannah’s eyes swept the ground; her shoulders were hunched and her hands fidgeted at her sides. Hannah wasn’t vanilla, she was just plain scared.
What are you running from?
Why won’t you let me in?
‘Hannah!’ India watched as Hannah’s head snapped up in surprise.
‘Oh hey,’ said Hannah, a nervous smile twitching the corners of her mouth as she approached India. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Waiting for you, obviously.’
‘Right,’ said Hannah. ‘Of course,’ and she looked irritatingly unsure of herself. India couldn’t help it – she reached out a hand and gripped Hannah’s upper arm. ‘Hannah! Lighten up, woman!’ she said as she shook Hannah, possibly more violently than she had intended.
‘What do you mean?’ Hannah sounded alarmed.
‘I mean stop being so nervous around me. I’m not THAT GREAT! Just, you know . . . be yourself for once.’
‘Oh.’ Hannah paused. ‘What if I don’t know how?’
India felt like screaming. Instead she spoke evenly, ‘Well the obvious thing would be for you to tell me the truth. But since it’s clear you’re not going to do that, we’ll have to figure out something else.’
She stood still, thinking, and was taken aback when Hannah suddenly spoke up. ‘Do you want to come back to my flat? We could have sort of a girls’ night. Pizza, wine, maybe watch a movie? Or is that lame?’ Hannah looked visibly frightened as she waited for India’s response.
‘YES!’ India exclaimed. ‘I mean, yes to the girls’ night, not yes it’s lame,’ she clarified. She immediately linked her arm through Hannah’s and they set off walking. As they passed a collection of cardboard boxes, haphazardly stacked to create a small shelter for a homeless man tucked inside, Hannah pulled away from India. ‘Hang on one sec,’ she said. Reaching into her
Sebastian the florist frowned back at her as he stirred his coffee, giving India the impression that he was playing for time as he attempted to come up with an intelligent sounding response. ‘Uhh,’ he said eventually. ‘Well, I think everyone has their own story, don’t they? I mean, I would have said my year eight teacher was nothing more than grey checks and horn rimmed glasses . . . all I ever thought of her was that she was a teacher. Like, that was her whole world; when the classes were done for the day, she just folded herself up into a box and waited quietly until the bell rang again the next morning. But that was just my thirteen-year-old perspective. Obviously she was more than that. For all I know, she could have been writing erotica in her spare time. She might have done rally car driving on the weekends. Or she might have just liked to collect postage stamps – but regardless of what it was – it would have been something to her, wouldn’t it? Everyone holds the spotlight in their own story and no matter how bland their plot might be, to them – it’s still everything. Know what I mean?’
Sebastian sat back and watched India nervously. India smiled at him. ‘You worked hard on that response huh?’
‘A little,’ he replied shyly.
‘Ah, you’re a sweetheart, Sebastian. You’re right, it doesn’t matter what it is – but as long as there’s something there, it means everything to her. I’ll keep digging.’
Later that day, India met up with Hannah as she finished her shift at the gift shop. Sebastian’s advice had made her resolve to persevere with Hannah. She stood waiting outside the museum, her back leaning against a sandstone pillar. But when Hannah stepped out through the front door, India immediately felt guilty about her ‘vanilla’ comment. Hannah’s eyes swept the ground; her shoulders were hunched and her hands fidgeted at her sides. Hannah wasn’t vanilla, she was just plain scared.
What are you running from?
Why won’t you let me in?
‘Hannah!’ India watched as Hannah’s head snapped up in surprise.
‘Oh hey,’ said Hannah, a nervous smile twitching the corners of her mouth as she approached India. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Waiting for you, obviously.’
‘Right,’ said Hannah. ‘Of course,’ and she looked irritatingly unsure of herself. India couldn’t help it – she reached out a hand and gripped Hannah’s upper arm. ‘Hannah! Lighten up, woman!’ she said as she shook Hannah, possibly more violently than she had intended.
‘What do you mean?’ Hannah sounded alarmed.
‘I mean stop being so nervous around me. I’m not THAT GREAT! Just, you know . . . be yourself for once.’
‘Oh.’ Hannah paused. ‘What if I don’t know how?’
India felt like screaming. Instead she spoke evenly, ‘Well the obvious thing would be for you to tell me the truth. But since it’s clear you’re not going to do that, we’ll have to figure out something else.’
She stood still, thinking, and was taken aback when Hannah suddenly spoke up. ‘Do you want to come back to my flat? We could have sort of a girls’ night. Pizza, wine, maybe watch a movie? Or is that lame?’ Hannah looked visibly frightened as she waited for India’s response.
‘YES!’ India exclaimed. ‘I mean, yes to the girls’ night, not yes it’s lame,’ she clarified. She immediately linked her arm through Hannah’s and they set off walking. As they passed a collection of cardboard boxes, haphazardly stacked to create a small shelter for a homeless man tucked inside, Hannah pulled away from India. ‘Hang on one sec,’ she said. Reaching into her
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