Chapter Twenty-four

The next two days go by excruciatingly slowly. I have work, though we aren’t very busy, I finish three books and I let Elliot through the flyscreen twice. He seems a lot happier and freer compared to before we left, though I hadn’t really considered him to be sad before.

Ever since I got home, Aaron has seemed very reserved. Most of his sentences have fewer than six words and he doesn’t speak unless absolutely necessary.

After dinner, he goes up to his bedroom almost immediately.

‘I don’t know what’s wrong with him,’ Mum mumbles to Dad. ‘It’s like when Jen went through her moody phase.’

‘Hello,’ I say loudly. ‘I’m right here.’

Her face tells me she hadn’t expected me to be able to hear her.

And for the record, I didn’t have a ‘moody phase’. I did, however, go through a period where I had nothing worth saying so I stayed quiet. But regardless of my emotional state as a fifteen-year-old, I’m kind of worried about Aaron.

I wash the dishes, Dad dries them and Mum puts them away. We have a dishwasher but Mum thinks it wastes too much water, so we usually have to do it by hand.

The soapy water drains down the sink and I head upstairs and knock on Aaron’s bedroom door.

‘What?’ comes the irritable response.

I open the door slightly. ‘Can I come in?’

‘Free country.’

I step through the door and gently close it behind me. Aaron is sitting on his bed with his iPod but only the left earphone is in his ear. I sit myself at his desk and swivel the chair to face him. ‘Is everything okay?’

‘Fine,’ he says without looking at me.

I stare at him for a bit. ‘You know you have the same genes as me, right? The ones that determine whether or not you’re a good liar? Spoiler alert, but just like me, you’re not a good one.’

He tugs the earphone from his ear and it falls onto the bed. ‘It’s nothing, okay? I’m just being stupid.’

I don’t say anything for a while. ‘You know I used to be your age, right? You can talk to me.’

‘Please don’t try to parent me.’

‘Okay,’ I say, holding my hands up in surrender. ‘I’m just worried about you.’

He smiles a little but then corrects himself straightaway. I remember doing that – thinking that when you’re in a bad mood you have no right to smile or show any sign of happiness.

If he truly didn’t want to talk to me he’d tell me to leave, so I stay at his desk. I pick up the copy of Romeo and Juliet he used for his homework and flick through it for a bit.

‘It’s just …’ he begins, my patience paying off, ‘I feel stupid even admitting it …’

‘Everything said stays in here, all right?’

‘Thanks.’ He pauses for a while longer but I still don’t prompt him. ‘It’s … I’m supposed to be hanging out with some guys from school tomorrow. I don’t really want to go. I feel like everyone’s watching me or something.’

I remember the feeling. ‘Like everything you do is up for scrutiny? You have to please everyone and any mistakes you make will be judged?’

‘I … exactly,’ he said. ‘The guys all want to talk about sports and cars and girls they hooked up with. I don’t really care about that stuff.’

‘So you feel like an outsider?’

He swings his legs over the side of the bed and rests his feet on the floor. ‘Yeah. I get asked if I’m gay a lot.’

‘Are you?’

‘No.’

‘Well, what does it matter? a) You aren’t lying and b) “gay” isn’t an insult.’

‘I know, but … How did you get through it?’

I pause and try to think how to phrase it. ‘It wasn’t an overnight change,’ I say, ‘but I spent a lot of time thinking about myself. What I was doing, how I appeared, how I behaved, the impression I gave off. Does that sound like you?’

He nods.

‘Eventually I figured that everybody else was thinking about themselves just as much as I was thinking about myself. If they were devoting that much attention to themselves they simply wouldn’t have had time to think about me.’

‘I … that makes a disturbing amount of sense.’

‘Got to be good for something, don’t I?’ I say with a smirk, and he tries to restrain another smile. ‘Oh and another thing,’ I add. ‘Just because you’re in a bad mood doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to smile.’

I’m not sure if he stops inhibiting himself or can’t help it, but he lets out a full smile. ‘I’m glad you’re my sister,’ he says quietly. ‘And I’m glad you’re home.’

‘I’m glad, too.’

I leave him in his room. I feel all fuzzy from making him smile. I kind of wish I’d had a big brother or sister who I could’ve talked to about this stuff. I hope I can be that person for Aaron.

As it turns out, Mum has to cover for another doctor on Friday night so she isn’t going to be home when Marjolijn comes for dinner. I invite Sophie, Elliot and Teddy to join us, and tell them to come any time between six and seven. Inviting Sophie is a bold move but I want her to come, regardless of how Mum might react.

In the end it doesn’t matter what Mum would think, because Sophie rings me in the morning to say she can’t make it – Luke has a fever so she needs to look after him. The boys both rock up around three, citing boredom as an excuse. Dad knocks off work early and arrives home at about four. He takes a quick shower and then starts cooking a roast. I offer to help, but Dad says he’s happy to do it. Besides, I figure it’s probably a better idea to serve food that’s edible, which automatically eliminates anything I cook.

To kill some time I challenge Elliot, Teddy and Aaron to a game of Monopoly.

‘What time is she getting here?’ asks Teddy for about the four hundredth time, moving his counter a few squares forward.

‘Six- or seven-ish. Stop asking,’ says Elliot.

‘Also, I’d appreciate it if you kept the fanboying to a minimum,’ I add, rolling the dice. ‘She’s a human, so please treat her like one.’

I collect two hundred dollars for passing Go.

‘Roll again, you got doubles,’ says Aaron, sliding the dice back towards me.

‘Marjolijn,’ says Teddy slowly. ‘Marjolijn. Am I saying it right?’

I’m beginning to regret inviting him.

‘Just promise you won’t try to speak Dutch, because you barely speak English,’ says Elliot. Teddy looks slightly resentful, so Elliot adds, ‘You mispronounce more words than you get right.’

‘Give me one example,’ he demands.

‘ “Aks” instead of “ask”, ’ says Elliot.

‘ “Dialate” instead of “dilate”, ’ I say.

‘ “Expresso” instead of “espresso”. ’

‘ “Irregardless” instead of “regardless”. ’

‘ “Lieberry” instead of “library”, ’ says Elliot.

‘ “Basketti” instead of “spaghetti.” ’

‘Okay, I get it,’ says Teddy. ‘And I asked for one example. I’ve also never said “basketti” in my life.’

I shrug.

‘Also, since when is “irregardless” not a word?’

‘The prefix “ir-” means “not”. The suffix “-less” means “without”. It’s a double negative and therefore a) entirely redundant and b) means the opposite of how people use it.’

‘Oh just roll the dice, Jen,’ says Aaron. ‘Nobody cares.’

The game gets down to just me and Elliot, because the other two go bankrupt. The competitive sides of us both emerge and we take our turns as quickly as we can, money exchanging hands regularly.

I’m on the space before Go to Jail and roll double fives, moving me to Mayfair. Where there is an Elliot-owned hotel.

‘Two thousand dollars for one night in the luxury suite of Carter Enterprise. We appreciate your business and sincerely hope you enjoy your stay.’

Mayfair, the bane of my existence. It always ruins the game for me when someone goes bankrupt on Mayfair.

A mere five minutes after we pack up the game, the doorbell rings.

‘Oh God, oh God, she’s here. Do I look okay?’ says Teddy, trying to pat down his hair and straighten his shirt.

‘Jesus, dude, relax,’ I say and answer the door.

Marjolijn hugs me and I lead her into the living room.

‘This is my brother, Aaron.’

‘Pleased to meet you,’ she says and shakes his hand. ‘Family resemblance is definitely present.’

‘I trust you remember Elliot –’ he waves ‘– and this guy who is apparently a statue is Teddy, the fanboy you spoke to on the phone.’

Teddy stands staring, awestruck, until Elliot jabs him in the ribs.

‘I … Teddy … Marjolijn … pleased … Wow.’

‘He’s a linguistic mastermind,’ I say.

Marjolijn glides over and hugs him. ‘Pleased to make your acquaintance, sir,’ she says.

Teddy’s face turns scarlet.

‘Dad, this is Marjolijn,’ I say, entering the kitchen. Dad has a tea towel draped over his shoulder and wears an apron. ‘Marjolijn, this is my dad.’

‘Please, call me Mark,’ says my dad, offering his hand. Marjolijn clasps it and bumps her cheek into his. ‘Oh friendly,’ he adds.

‘Dad, just stop,’ I sigh.

‘So, Marjolijn,’ says my dad through a mouthful of lamb. He swallows. ‘Jennifer tells me you’re from the Netherlands.’

‘Yes, I am. I have been in Australia only for a few weeks.’

‘How long are you here for? Are you enjoying yourself?’

‘I met these two –’ she gestures towards Elliot and me ‘– in Byron Bay, where I caught up with some old friends. I have just come from Sydney and after Melbourne I am heading to Adelaide, then Perth, then Brisbane, so I am in Australia for about two more months. I love the Netherlands but Australia is something special. People are, in general, very friendly.’ She glances at me and I know she’s remembering Byron Bay.

Stupidly I sat Teddy opposite Marjolijn, and he hardly touches his meal. He’s too busy staring at her. I throw a roast potato at him, which bounces off his cheek and onto his plate. He doesn’t even flinch.

‘Jen, table manners, please.’

Aaron asks Marjolijn if she’s had any language difficulties and compliments her singing, based on the YouTube videos he watched.

‘Aaron,’ scolds Dad. ‘You shouldn’t be watching bootlegs. It breaches copyright law and nobody gets the money they’re entitled to.’

‘Oh please, it is not a concern for me,’ says Marjolijn. ‘I do not mind bootleg recordings. It allows us to reach a wider audience and bring in new fans. I doubt I would’ve reached an Australian audience without them.’

‘Dad’s a lawyer,’ I say, hoping that would explain his legal position.

Dad doesn’t say anything more about copyright law. ‘Is your meal okay?’

‘Very well cooked, Mark. I am impressed. I cannot get gravy to be without lumps.’

‘Why did you learn three languages?’ asks Aaron. The question has obviously been on his mind for a while.

Marjolijn politely corrects him – she speaks five languages – and gives a quick rundown of her reasons.

‘What order did you learn them?’ asks Teddy, speaking for the first time since his failure of an introduction. I’m almost embarrassed for him, and hope he isn’t making Marjolijn uncomfortable.

‘I learned Dutch as my first language and Arabic as a small child – my mother is Lebanese – and I learned English at school,’ she says. ‘German and Polish came in my early adolescence, as I made a number of German friends and my mother had a close bond with a Polish family, who now reside in Australia.’

Around eight o’clock, Mum arrives home.

‘Hi honey,’ says Dad. We’re all still around the dinner table even though we’ve finished eating. ‘I thought you were working late?’

‘I was supposed to cover for someone in the ER but they cancelled their plans.’ She places a box on the bench and her handbag next to it. ‘I’m Lauren,’ she says, offering her hand to Marjolijn. ‘Lovely to meet you.’

‘Pleased to meet you. I am Marjolijn.’

The box contains a cheesecake Mum picked up on her way home from work. She cuts it into generous slices and I jump to my feet to hand it around the table. The six chairs are occupied, so Mum sits on the kitchen bench.

‘May I ask if you follow a religion, if it’s not too personal a question?’ asks my mum, and my heart sinks. ‘I don’t know a lot about the Dutch culture, I’m afraid.’

‘Catholicism is the most prevalent religion in the Netherlands, though I myself do not subscribe to any of the monotheistic doctrines,’ she says. ‘But I do envy those with faith.’

I wait for Mum’s lecture preaching Christianity but it never comes.

‘Thank you very much for your hospitality,’ says Marjolijn at around nine-thirty. ‘I had a lovely time meeting you all. Hopefully you find your tongue next time,’ she adds to Teddy.

‘Are you sure you don’t need a lift somewhere?’ says my dad.

‘No, I appreciate the offer but I have already arranged a lift from a fellow cast mate. Please, if you ever find yourselves in Amsterdam, do not hesitate to contact me. I hope we stay in touch.’ She gives us all a final hug and disappears through the door.

Teddy releases all his tension as soon as she’s gone. ‘I can’t believe I choked. That was probably the most famous person I’ll ever meet.’ He looks furious with himself.

‘We should probably head off, too,’ says Elliot. ‘Come on, Smooth-Talking Theodore C. Block.’

Teddy’s still shaking his head at himself when he leaves.

‘Good luck with your offers tomorrow,’ Mum calls after them.

I freeze. I completely forgot that university offers are coming out tomorrow.