Page 69 of Mad Mabel

They didn’t have to worry about me keeping Mr. Loukas waiting. I couldn’t wait.

After that night, Mr. Loukas and I met up regularly. We had our usual places. At his house, if the coast was clear. In the shed at school where the sporting equipment was kept. In that little nook at the back of St. Mary’s.

I’d read about romance in novels, of course. But it was different in real life. Books couldn’t fully capture the potency of a look that lasted a beat too long or describe the burn of a hand brushing past you in a room full of people.

He told me he was in love with me. That he’d never felt that before. I wasn’t sure if it was true. Even if it wasn’t, I won’t deny that hearing it was like a drug. No matter how often he said it, I wanted it more.

No one had ever told me they were in love with me before. No one had ever told me they loved me. Even people who I believed loved me—my mother, Cess, Daphne—didn’t actually say the words.

It had never bothered me. Words were just that—words. But it turned out there was something pretty special about those particular words. And I would have done just about anything to hear them again.

41

It’s true what they say about getting the things you always wanted—it’s never what it’s cracked up to be. I’d spent my entire childhood yearning for a best friend. I’d never even bothered yearning for a lover. Suddenly I had both. It was hard to fathom that someone in my position could ever feel anything other than joy. And so, it came as a surprise to me that, on occasion, I did feel bored.

“Want to go to the beach?” Daphne said.

It was a hot Saturday afternoon, and the bees were having a fine old time buzzing around in Mum’s lavender. Daphne and I lay on our backs on the grass in the shade of the oak tree.

“Nah,” I said.

“We could have a hit of tennis?”

“Just the two of us? Boring.”

I knew I was being difficult, but the heat made me irritable and everything Daphne suggested seemed like too much effort. And yet, her spirits would not be dampened.

“We could walk down to the train station?” she suggested.

Back then, the train station, insofar as our interest in it, had very little to do with catching trains. It was a chance to interact with the boys away from the watchful eyes of parents and teachers.

I rolled to face her. “Are you mad?”

“No. Come on. Billy won’t be there, he’s still in the hospital. You might even see Christos!”

I rolled onto my back. “So? I don’t even like Christos.”

“Oh yeah? Then why are you blushing?”

“I’m not,” I said, but my cheeks felt hot.

“So if I looked in your diary, I wouldn’t see lovey-dovey stuff about Christos?”

“No!” I said. “Gross.”

I hadn’t told Daphne about my relationship with Mr. Loukas. He had insisted that we keep it between us for now, which made sense, and besides, I had a feeling Daphne would disapprove of the age difference. Anyway, there was something delicious about having a secret. Made it feel even more romantic.

But Daphne wasn’t giving up. I sighed. “Fine, we’ll go to the station.”

Daphne jumped up, delighted.

“But,” I said, “if we’re going to the station… maybe we should tart ourselves up a little?”

Daphne scoffed. “Nonsense. Look at us! Any boy would be thrilled to have us, just as we are.”

You had to admire her chutzpah.

“Still,” I said, “it might be nice to put in a little effort, don’t you think?”