Sushi Central Page 11

  It’s that indeterminate phase. That ‘what the fuck happens from here?’ phase. Does he want to see me again? Was it just a one-nighter? Did I tell him I loved him or just think it? I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. I’m still tripping in any case. I know it’s too soon for Anthony to call but I’m hoping that he will. I’m staring at my phone, which is slim and silver and saying nothing at all, and I stare away and hope that it will think I’m ignoring it or whatever and start to ring.

  I’m looking at those pictures of Anthony. The ones I saved. It’s kind of giving me a headache. I scroll through the pics; bring up this one:

  Picture of Anthony on the screen: His forehead is pressed onto the glass window — he’s reflected back at himself. He’s so beautiful it makes me want to stop breathing.

  I stare at him for a long time. Run my finger down his profile — try to remember the feel of his skin. Touch his mouth — try to recall what it tasted like, its warmth. Anthony.

  My phone beeps twice. Someone has sent me a message. I look across; lurch towards it.

  Screen of my phone:

  1 message received.

  Read?

  My stomach falls away for a second. I was prepared for this, but not really. You know what I mean. There’s no question of my not reading it. I go into my inbox.

  Screen of my phone:

  1 new message:

  ‘Anthony’

  Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

  SMS from Anthony:

  Hey calvin — wuz very

  cool to meet you last

  night. u free tonight?

  feel like going out or

  something?

  I sit for a while and let that one sink in. Feel like going out or something? Fucking, of course I feel like going out or something. Fucking … I’m still scrolling through the pictures, trying to connect the boy from last night, the boy who slept with me and who possibly wants to see me again, with whatever that is on the screen.

  Picture of Anthony on the screen: He’s standing by the window, shirtless, with the frightened-confident-guarded etc look in his eyes. He stares at me. I stare back at him. We have a competition to see which one of us blinks first. I do.

  I don’t want to reply too soon? Or do I? Fuck it. I click reply.

  Reply to Anthony:

  Heya dude. Last night

  was very fucking cool.

  love to see u again —

  where do u want to

  meet?

  I click the button, stare at the screen for what seems like several hours until it says ‘message sent’.

  Picture of Anthony on the screen: He and Jeremy are kissing. You can see only the curve of Anthony’s cheek in this one. I make my eyes go blurry; put myself in Jeremy’s position. It actually works. The picture is now of me kissing Anthony.

  SMS from Anthony:

  City sound good? by

  the information booth

  on the mall at about

  six?

  The whole night begins to unfold in my head. Saturday. City lights. Anthony. His smell. His taste. I want him very badly and I want this to work, very very badly.

  Very hurried reply:

  Cool. cya then

  = )P

  I consider whether or not to put that little smiley face thing in; it does look kind of lame. I delete it then put it in again, then delete it then I put it in once again and click send before I can change my mind.

  Anthony wants to see me again.

  Shortly after that, Margot calls and instructs me to come over to her house. I tell her I met a boy last night and I’m seeing him again tonight, and ask her whether or not that’s fucking cool, and she agrees that it’s extremely fucking cool and adds that she’s jealous, and using her Haruki the Raccoon! voice, tells me I’m a slut, and we both laugh and I tell her I’ll be at her house soon.

  139

  We’re still in the flashback at this point: I head up to my room to change clothes.

  Clothes I decide to wear this afternoon/tonight:

  a) Red shirt: Tight, with ‘FAKE IT TILL YOU MAKE IT’ across the front.

  b) Pair of three-quarters: This kind of blue colour, with zippers in weird places and all these useless-but-cool plastic things coming off the cuffs. I feel like someone else in them.

  c) My leather bracelet thing: At one point last night Anthony kissed it. Hence it’s now become good luck.

  d) My docs: Because I always wear them. I’m not sure if it’s a fashion statement or if wearing them makes me alterna.queer or what, but I like them.

  The girl singing on the stereo is asking me whether or not I am human. I’m thinking about it.

  I am thinking: Anthony. Not human. Not at all.

  Then I head off to Margot’s. So yeah.

  140

  It’s nearly five by the time we leave the cafe. Mykal and Jamie have their own thing to do. There’s supposedly this party at some guy’s house. This guy is an ex-boyfriend of Mykal’s and he’s supposedly older, a doctor of some kind, who lives in Toowong. Jamie doesn’t want to go but Mykal keeps insisting that it will be really cool and even if it’s not they don’t have to stay very long. Margot is going to a rave or something. Margot’s always going to a rave or something.

  I tell them to have fun at their party. Jamie pouts and says he doesn’t want to go. He wants to go to the rave with Margot. Mykal insists that the party is going to be cool. Jamie asks if this supposed ex-boyfriend of Mykal’s is going to try anything on with him/with the two of them, and Mykal insists that this supposed ex is not going to try anything on with either of them, but Jamie doesn’t believe him. Mykal says maybe they can go to the rave with Margot if Jamie really wants but Jamie’s not sure if he wants to go to the rave or not and he says maybe they can go clubbing instead, and Mykal says …

  141

  I’m standing at the Citycat stop at North Quay. I’m not waiting for the Citycat or anything, I just come here sometimes because the place calms me down. I like to stare at the buildings, the river. I’m thinking about Anthony and how tonight will turn out.

  According to him it was very cool to meet me last night. What did that mean? I shouldn’t be thinking so hard about this but I am. I want Anthony to like me. I don’t want to fuck this up. I really don’t want to fuck this up. I’m obsessing. That’s why I’m here — like I said, staring at the river always calms me down.

  I’m leaning on the railing, staring down into the water at the strange configuration of ripples.

  A bee is floating on the surface of the water — I guess it must be drowning. A way off in the distance, near the buildings and the bridges, the water reflects the sunlight; it seems sparkling and clear, but close to me it’s brown and murky. The bee is just floating with the current; every few seconds it beats its wings, sending out a small circle of ripples. The farther out it floats, the weaker its wings beat and the smaller the ripples get. Eventually it will disappear altogether.

  If you went out to the middle of the river, would you find hundreds of drowned insects just floating on the surface of the water? I guess the Citycats would sweep them all away. But still.

  I stare up at the buildings in the distance — several huge apartment blocks by the river, the boats moored nearby, and beyond that, the city. The moon has already risen, too early for night. I can see it between two buildings. I look up at them, huge, unreal, and at the moon above, and then back down at the bee. It’s hardly even beating its wings now. Every now and then a frantic burst of activity and then nothing.

  It’s nearly six. I’m meeting Anthony soon. I hope I’m hot enough. I hope he wants to fuck me again. I suddenly wish I was more stoned. I can deal with things when I’m on drugs. Otherwise everything is so intense. Everything. Like Anthony.

  This cold breeze comes up from the river. I am the shallowest person on the face of the earth.

  142

  It’s six and it’s dark now and I’m standing at the information booth at the Queen Street Mall and ther
e are lots of people standing around near the information booth at the Queen Street Mall and I’m scanning the crowd but I can’t see Anthony at all.

  People in the crowd:

  1. Skaters: A group of boys who are all about my age, standing around with their boards, smoking and ignoring everybody. They’re all going for a look, which seems to be cool/hardcore/aloof/etc, and for the most part it seems to be working.

  2. Girl in a black dress: She’s standing by herself, smoking a cigarette and looking around nervously like she’s waiting for someone to arrive. She looks kind of like Winona Ryder, but only because I’ve had her on my mind since the other night. The queen of indie movies. There’s a thesis in that.

  3. These three immaculate looking boys: Who are all total Valley types, and all of them too cute for rational explanation.

  Rough-cross section of my thoughts at this exact moment: Knowing that these are the kind of guys who’d never even look at me, no matter what, and this being Saturday afternoon, they would all be happily caught up in the slipstream of parties and clubs and youthful indulgence that is the Valley by nightfall. They’ll all end up going home with boys a lot better looking and more sure of themselves than I am, because I know that I don’t even occur to boys like that. And in a way I envy them; envy their good looks, and the fact that they seem to know exactly what they want, where they’re going. Anthony’s one of those boys. That’s his world, and I still can’t quite believe I’m caught up in it. Boys like that can do whatever they want, have whomever they want, and the best thing about it all is that none of this even occurs to them.

  4. Girl in a Paul Frank shirt: Her shirt has a picture of a pig with ‘We are your friends! Please don’t eat us!’ written on the front.

  143 EXT. CITY STREET. EVENING

  CALVIN waits nervously. He bites his bottom lip. ANTHONY approaches, passing a group of three BOYS and nodding at one of them. CALVIN sees ANTHONY and starts walking towards him but then holds back. One of the BOYS says something to ANTHONY. ANTHONY moves on past the BOYS and sees CALVIN. For a second neither of them moves. ANTHONY approaches.

  144

  Anthony: Hey dude.

  Me: Hey.

  Anthony: Good to see you again.

  For a second I’m not sure if Anthony is going to reach forward and touch me or if I’m meant to touch him, but he doesn’t and I obviously don’t and neither of us touches the other and I’m left to stare at him for a second.

  Expression on his face: It’s weirdly blank. I don’t even know how to describe it. But it’s blank in an extremely sexy way. You know what I mean.

  145

  Anthony: What do you want to do?

  Me: I don’t know. Whatever.

  Anthony: Sushi sound good?

  Me: Sushi sounds great.

  I don’t mention that I’ve already eaten it today.

  Me: There’s this one just near here. Omekaido Avenue.

  Anthony: I know that one … We shouldn’t go there.

  Me: Why not?

  Anthony: This friend of mine got food poisoning there. Plus, there’s this dude who works there. One of the chefs. I see him out all the time and he was going out with this guy I know a while back. He’s really fucked in the head.

  Me: How do you mean?

  Anthony: How do I mean what?

  Me: How is this guy fucked in the head?

  Anthony: I don’t know. Just is.

  Me: So we should go somewhere else.

  Anthony: I guess so.

  Beat of silence.

  Anthony: It’s a pity we’re not stoned. I always like being stoned before I go out to sushi. That way you can eat heaps more. Makes it better.

  For some reason I decide not to mention that I’m still partially stoned.

  Me: I’ve never tried sushi stoned.

  Anthony: You have to. It’s the best. It’s really fucking cool. Too bad I don’t have any pot with me.

  Me: Me either.

  Well obviously. I mean, we’re in the city, so even if either of us did have any, it’s not like we could just do it right here on the mall. I consider raising the point, but I don’t. I probably wouldn’t be able to articulate it anyway.

  Anthony: I have some at my house. We can go back there later if ya like.

  When Anthony says that thing about going back to his house, he looks right across at me and sort of smiles. It’s not exactly a smile. It’s like he knows what he’s really suggesting and he already knows I’m going to say yes and he’s giving me this sort of but not exactly triumphant ‘I’m going to fuck you later and you’re going to be totally into it … How cool is that?’ kind of a look.

  Me: That would be cool.

  Anthony: Cool.

  146

  Anthony’s walking beside me, almost close enough that he could be holding my hand. There’s this weird coldness about him. I don’t know. On the way to sushi we walk past a souvenir shop, the kind that sells expensive and useless toys and stationery, most of it from Japan. Things you’d never need, no matter what the situation. But they’re cute. The window of the shop kind of reflects my state of mind at the moment. Crazy.

  Transparent wall at the front of the souvenir shop: The wall is backlit, made up of what seems like thousands upon thousands of glass boxes. A whole galaxy of them, and each one holds some bizarre toy or other with crazy bug-eyes or industrial hair, razor-candy red or phosphorescent yellow or seasick blue; frogs and fireflies and creatures whose names no-one knows, all moving or staring or croaking or chirruping and blending together in a dizzying zoo.

  147

  Hot by association: We’re walking down Albert Street, away from the mall, and this other guy is approaching from just near Starbucks. He’s tall, older looking. Dressed in a black sleeveless top, with his bleached hair all spiked up. He has a tattoo and a piercing through one ear and he seriously could not look any queenier if he tried. The point is that as this guy is approaching, I see him check the two of us out. I meet his eyes and he doesn’t look away, then he glances at Anthony, and as he’s passing us I realise he’s checking Anthony out. Every fag we pass in every cafe and standing on every street corner is probably checking Anthony out. Anthony is really young and really hot and I’m really young and the fact that I’m with this person makes me hot by association. From the moment the guy in the sleeveless shirt passes I’m looking in all directions — suddenly I’m seeing guys everywhere and they’re all checking us out and it’s this incredible feeling, like seriously, I can just tell they’re imagining Anthony and me, the two of us together, imagining what the two of us must look like when we’re fucking, imagining who knows what, and we’re just two young, anonymous, attractive guys, and it makes me feel really good. I can never remember feeling this good. It’s like being drunk.

  148

  Me: Did you see that guy?

  Anthony: What?

  Me: Nothing. Don’t worry.

  149

  We’re at a sushi train cafe, the one on Elizabeth Street in the city. You step down from this little wooden platform into the main part of the restaurant. The place is full of business suits and incredibly pretty girls with their law-student boyfriends. There is this saccharine highNRG pop music blasting out of the speakers and it’s kind of cool but the lyrics aren’t in English so I can’t understand them.

  Anthony and I are sitting near the back. The waitress brings us tea, which we didn’t ask for but the waitresses here always bring you tea and it’s kind of cool.

  The sushi itself goes around on an actual train, which is cute, if somewhat anal. The train is moving annoyingly fast. You see something coming and it looks good and you almost reach out to grab it and then you don’t and then you decide that maybe you might but by that time it’s already passed and you have to wait for ages until it comes back. If it ever comes back.

  150

  I don’t even know what we’re talking about. I mean, we’re talking about everything, and I think I’m actually holding Anthony’s att
ention, but through a combination of factors.

  a) The fact that there are still drugs actively circulating in my system.

  b) The fact that Anthony is so incredibly hot.

  c) The fact that I keep nervously looking around the restaurant to make sure nobody I know is here.

  … I don’t really know what I’m saying. I’m aware of making conversation but that’s about it. I know I’m trying not to embarrass myself but I’m also aware of saying incredibly stupid things on a regular basis. I know we talk about the Valley for a while — he asks me where I like to go, the people I know who he might know, boys that maybe we’ve both been out with. I talk about school for a while, all the usual bullshit — how it’s difficult to fit in, how you can only go out with boys from outside your school, how it’s hard because nobody’s out of the closet yet, how fake it all is and how cool it is that someone else thinks exactly the same thing! All the usual bullshit.

  I eat one of those little rolls with orange roe on the outside. I never know what they’re called but they taste really cool, plus, they’re orange! Anthony asks me if I had much of a comedown from the pill, and I tell him a bit but not too bad, that I’m feeling a lot better now, and he says the same. He tells me about the first bad comedown he had, which involved sitting around watching talk shows all day at the house of his then boyfriend, who was ‘a total loser — he was psychologically damaged’. I don’t bother asking for any more details. I offer him the plate with the orange rolls on it and he takes one.

  We sit at the sushi train for half an hour or so. Anthony grabs two pieces with squid on them. The squid is fleshy and white, with blue around the edges, and the tentacles are still attached. I stare at it and trance out for a while. Anthony offers me a piece. I tell him it would be cool but no thanks.

  I’m making these faux-nervous and extremely obvious gestures. I’m looking down a lot and we’re talking about music. He thinks Craig Nicholls from the Vines is okay-looking. I nod my head and tell him I sort of agree but not really and I think he understands. Sometimes, what you say really isn’t … adequate to express what you’re actually thinking. It’s not even a conscious thing, but … you know. We both like Ladytron. A plate of tuna salad comes around. We both reach for it at the same time. Our hands touch. The tuna salad goes past and neither of us tries to grab it.