—13—
Chocolat by Joanne Harris
Glen Waverley train line from the city
Sunny: Are you religious?
Frankie: Not in the slightest. Are you?
Sunny: Nope. But Winnie is.
Frankie: How do you know?
Sunny: I just know these things. So, I think it’s only fair that we baptise him. You keen?
Frankie: A turtle baptism? What the shell! I’m in.
Sunny: Brilliant. Pick you and The Pooh up at 8pm. x
Frankie: See you then, crazy. x
‘He’s even more insane than you are.’
Cat stared at the photo of Winnie in his knitted purple jacket. It was now Frankie’s screensaver.
‘I know.’ Frankie sighed. She had been senselessly placing price stickers on copies of new releases, her mind drifting towards Sunny and that kiss. After twenty minutes of running around the pet store, frantically looking for Winnie, they had finally found him perched on top of a fish tank, staring back at them as if to say, What took you so long? They had burst into fits of crazed laughter, before returning to their passionate, incredible kiss, which had made Frankie feel like she could face the world again.
‘But I just don’t understand. He just presented you with a turtle? On your second date? Out of nowhere?’
‘Yep. He’s ridiculous,’ she said with a smile, her make-up-less face flushed a shade of rose.
Sure, Sunny was impractical, spontaneous and just a little bit foolhardy. They wouldn’t last long – that much Frankie knew – but he was fun and exciting, and he made Frankie feel more fun and exciting. Plus, he was the best kisser she had ever experienced. Even better than that French drummer she had a fling with when she was working at Shakespeare and Company. And that was saying something. He was French, after all.
‘Frankie. Frankie. Frankie. Frankie,’ Cat called incessantly.
Startled, Frankie swivelled around to look at an annoyed Cat.
‘I’ve been calling you for the past thirty seconds. Stop thinking about making out with Sunny. I need you to help me sticker these books.’ Cat pulled at Frankie’s mint green cotton shirt.
‘Okay, okay, sorry. Let’s change the topic. How’s Claud?’ Frankie asked, sidling up next to Cat. She placed a discount sticker on Jodi Picoult’s latest novel.
‘I don’t want to talk about Claud! I want to talk about Sunny. Just with you responding to me, instead of closing your eyes and practically orgasming at the mere memory of his lips,’ Cat snapped.
‘Cat! All right, what do you want to know? Ask away.’ Frankie leaned back in her chair and swapped her pricing gun for a bag of honey-roasted cashews from her bag in preparation for the inquisition.
‘I don’t want to know anything. I have an opinion to share.’
‘And that opinion is?’
‘I don’t think it’s going to work.’ Cat grabbed the cashews from Frankie and put three in her mouth, haughtily.
‘And why is that?’ Frankie laughed.
‘Let’s take a moment to review the facts,’ Cat said with a mouthful of nuts. ‘He reads James Dashner. You have a Masters in English Lit. He buys you a turtle as a gift. You once drowned a goldfish. He’s ridiculously good-looking. You—’
‘Cat!’ Frankie interrupted. ‘You are in such a mood. What’s got into you?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Tell me.’
Cat emptied the nutty dregs at the bottom of the bag into her mouth, crumbs catching in the rolled-up sleeves of her pink knitted top. ‘I’m just feeling guilty, you know?’ Cat said, hanging her head, pieces of red curly hair falling across her face.
‘About Jin Soo?’ Frankie tore open a bag of sugared almonds.
‘Don’t say his name in here!’ Cat slammed her hand over Frankie’s mouth and anxiously looked around the empty shop.
Just then, the front door chimed. Frankie and Cat shot up from their seats, glancing at the door.
‘Kama sutra and political satire!’ Cat shouted as Putu and Seb walked in.
Frankie took out Cat’s winnings from her wallet and placed them before her.
‘Why hello, child of my loins.’ Putu, draped in an emerald dress and matching green jewellery, leaned over the counter to brush a stray piece of hair from Frankie’s face.
‘Why hello, Mother. What are you two doing together?’
‘You know that Sebastian and I like to meet up once a month for a chai. I teach him about the world, and in exchange he teaches me about my one and only daughter, who refuses to tell me anything about her life.’ Putu smiled sweetly.
‘I didn’t know that.’ Frankie turned to face Seb. ‘You’re not bothered by what people must think? A fifty-eight-year-old woman taking a seventeen-year-old boy out of school to corrupt his young mind?’ Frankie said.
‘Please, Frankston. I’m already corrupted. Putu just helps me to explore my identity.’ Seb winked at Putu. ‘Plus, I don’t have school today. The opening night of Oliver is tomorrow, in case you’ve forgotten. We have the day off to “mentally prepare”.’ He looked directly at Frankie. ‘You are still coming, aren’t you?’
‘Of course! Cat and I will be there with bells on.’
‘You better be! Last year you “forgot” to see me playing Bruce Bogtrotter.’
‘We didn’t forget!’ snapped Cat. ‘We were protesting. There’s no way a skinny kid like you should have been playing Bruce Bogtrotter. It’s an insult to Roald Dahl.’
‘As I was saying,’ Seb continued, ignoring Cat’s outburst. ‘This year I’m playing Mr Sowerberry.’ He turned to Putu. ‘He’s the undertaker in Oliver. It’s a big part for me. The school paper’s already calling it a life-changing performance.’ Seb beamed, chest puffed out.
‘Oh, darling, I wish I could come. But you know I teach bead-making tomorrow night. But I’ll be there the following night. I promise.’ Putu ruffled Seb’s flaming red hair.
‘So, which of my secrets have you been telling my mum, my verbose friend?’ Frankie asked Seb.
‘Oh, just the important ones, my cagey friend,’ Seb said, swiping an almond from the freshly opened packet and popping it into his mouth.
‘Oh yes, including your reptilian gift from a certain man friend!’ Putu sang.
‘Yeah, so I got you something too.’ Seb awkwardly took out a hot-pink knotted cord from his backpack. ‘It’s a turtle leash. Apparently it’s very helpful when taking them out for walks.’
‘A leash? Between last night and this morning, you went out and bought me a leash? That is so sweet of you.’ Frankie leaned over and squeezed Seb’s cheek, then turned away before she saw him blush crimson.
‘Yeah, I bought it with my girlfriend, Celeste, last night.’
‘Your girlfriend?’ Frankie exclaimed.
‘Yes, that’s right dear, you’ll be happy to know that my love potion helped Seb win the girl of his dreams,’ Putu exclaimed proudly.
‘A girlfriend? I’ll believe it when I see it,’ Cat muttered.
Frankie tore off her Aztec jumpsuit and tossed it on the floor, along with the eight other dresses she had tried and then discarded. She stared at her curvy body in the mirror, clad in nothing but a black bikini, which Sunny had insisted she wear. What does one wear to a turtle baptism? she thought, assessing the contents of her cupboard for the seventeenth time in search of the perfect outfit. He’ll be here in two minutes. Sighing, she picked up a yellow dress from the floor and put it back on. She slipped on some strappy brown wedges and flung on a denim jacket just as the intercom buzzed.
‘Coming!’ she shouted to no-one in particular as she grabbed her handbag and dug around inside to find her strawberry lip gloss. After swiftly smearing it across her lips she popped a mint in her mouth, carefully transferred Winnie to his carrier case and ran out the door.
‘Hi,’ Frankie said to a smiling Sunny, who was leaning casually against his car again, like a rock star. He moved towards her, bending down to plant a warm kiss on her cheek.
‘We’re ready to be baptised!’ Frankie exclaimed, holding up Winnie’s case.
‘We? I only promised a baptism for Winnie. But I’ll see what I can do.’ Sunny reached through the cage and patted the turtle’s small head before opening the car door for Frankie.
‘Sorry about the draft. My sunroof’s broken.’ Sunny pointed to the half-open roof, which was letting in a gust of wind.
‘So, where to?’ Frankie asked.
‘You’ll soon find out.’ Sunny revved the engine.
‘You’re always so coy. Hmm … It must be somewhere with water. The beach? The St Kilda baths?’ Frankie guessed, holding onto Winnie tightly, using her hands as a seatbelt.
Sunny shook his head, a hint of a smile creeping across his face.
‘The Richmond public swimming pool? That fancy bath-house in the city?’ Frankie asked.
‘The place where they give you banana smoothies on arrival? Definitely not. I hate bananas. With a passion,’ Sunny said seriously.
‘Hate? How could you hate bananas? That’s ridiculous. They’re the base of any good smoothie, cake or fruit salad.’
‘They’re disgusting,’ he shuddered.
Frankie studied his white knuckles clutching the wheel and his tightened jaw. ‘Oh my God. I’ve read about this. Banana-phobes. You’re actually afraid of bananas. If I had a banana right here, right now, would you be scared?’
‘Shut up, shut up,’ Sunny said.
‘Because I actually brought one as a snack in my handbag here.’ Frankie rustled around in her bag. ‘You jumped! You are afraid of bananas! I’m on a date with a banana-phobe!’ Frankie exclaimed, enjoying this moment very much.
‘I guess you are, Frankston. And I’m on a date with a very beautiful woman.’ Sunny took her hand and held it.
Frankie inhaled deeply, and stopped talking about bananas.
Frankie, Sunny and Winnie arrived at a small, unmarked red door in the middle of a graffiti-splashed city alley. ‘What is this place?’
‘Let’s find out.’ Sunny smiled and slowly opened the door. Frankie followed him cautiously as they climbed five steep stairs before opening another door. Here they were greeted by a beautiful Japanese woman dressed in a long, flowing red and yellow kimono.
‘Hello, and welcome to The Onsen Ma. Here in our bath-house you may relax, unwind and feel Zen. Please take off your shoes before entering your private bath,’ the Japanese woman said with a bow.
Frankie slid off her wedges and put them in a box. She stood, barefoot on the warm tiles, holding Winnie and looking quizzically at Sunny.
‘Come this way,’ the woman said, walking off briskly. Sunny took Frankie’s hand, and the two followed their host down a short corridor. They entered a curtained-off change room that smelled strongly of incense. Sounds of birds chirping and harps playing echoed throughout. Two lockers stood in the corner of the room, and a big sink with two big bottles of water stood beside it.
‘Please remove your clothing and place your items in the locker next to you,’ the Japanese woman said firmly, holding eye contact. Frankie and Sunny looked at each other nervously and began to strip down to their swimwear, placing their clothing in the lockers, all the while aware of the woman’s unyielding stare. Sunny gave Frankie’s bikini-clad body a not-so-subtle once-over, and smiled warmly.
‘What?’ Frankie said.
‘Nothing. Can I put my phone in your bag?’ Sunny asked.
Frankie placed Winnie on the table next to her while she stored Sunny’s phone in her bag and shoved it into her locker along with her dress.
‘We do not allow swimwear. Please remove all clothing,’ the woman said again.
‘Excuse me?’ Sunny and Frankie asked in unison.
The woman, clearly annoyed, pointed to a sign on the wall that stated, Please remove your clothing and wash yourself before entering the onsen. She then picked up her kimono so it wouldn’t graze the ground, and said, ‘Do not put turtle in the onsen. It is too hot,’ and walked out, leaving Sunny and Frankie alone.
‘I’m not getting naked,’ Frankie said, crossing her arms over her chest.
‘But the sign …’ Sunny winked.
‘Was this your plan? Drag me to this so-called onsen to “baptise Winnie” and get me naked?’ Frankie huffed.
‘No, no, no. I promise, I had no idea. It’s not like that. My friend Matt is always coming here with his girlfriend, and he said it would be a great place for a date. He never said anything about the no-clothes policy! I guess the joke’s on me,’ Sunny said anxiously, pushing his hair back with his hand. He was wearing nothing but red swimming shorts. Oh my, that body. That beautiful, beautiful body, Frankie thought, before snapping out of it.
‘Winnie isn’t even allowed in the onsen!’ Frankie laughed.
‘I know. Shit, I really stuffed this one up. Let’s just go in the onsen in our swimwear and enjoy what’s left of this failed date,’ Sunny said, grabbing a towel from the bench next to him.
‘Now, wait a second. You brought me here. And the sign does say no swimwear. I think it’s only fair if one of us goes the full Monty.’ Frankie smirked, now looking Sunny up and down, unsure where this newfound confidence had come from but deciding to run with it.
‘Me? No way. We either both do it or neither of us does,’ Sunny said.
‘There’s no way I’m taking off this bikini, Mister. I’m just an innocent bystander here. You’re the one who’s dragged us to a naked onsen.’
Sunny edged closer to Frankie, his nose almost grazing hers. ‘You expect me to strip down to nothing, while you keep your bikini on?’
Frankie nodded smugly.
Sunny raised his eyebrows and, in one swift motion, dropped his shorts to his ankles.
Frankie, mouth agape, a hint of saliva pulling in the back of her throat, brazenly ogled the sight standing before her.
Sunny smiled casually. ‘So, are we going into this onsen or not?’ he called, stepping out of his shorts and strolling through the curtains.
Frankie grabbed Winnie, put him gently in the basket next to her and followed a now butt-naked Sunny through the door and into the steaming hot water.
‘I think I’m cooking,’ Sunny said. He was immersed in the steaming onsen water, which sat conveniently up to his belly button.
‘I’m finding it very difficult to look at you right now,’ Frankie said, sitting next to Sunny while averting her eyes from his nakedness.
‘You asked for this.’
‘I’m having second thoughts,’ she blushed. ‘You know, just because I asked you to get naked, that doesn’t mean I’m sleeping with you,’ Frankie added.
‘You’ve only told me seven times.’ Sunny grinned and uncrossed his legs, baring himself to the world.
‘Jesus, Sunny!’ Frankie laughed, shielding her eyes.
‘So, did you know that if you were in Japan, you wouldn’t be allowed in here?’ Sunny said.
‘Yes, yes I know. Because I’m not naked,’ Frankie said, splashing Sunny.
‘No, because of this.’ Sunny moved closer to Frankie and touched the tiny, heart-shaped tattoo hidden behind her ear. Frankie shivered.
‘My tattoo? I hate it. I was eighteen, living in Paris and trying to rebel. Typical cliché story. Biggest regret of my life,’ Frankie said, nonchalantly.
‘I like it.’ Sunny moved closer. ‘You haven’t told me any stories like that from your past. Tell me more. What were you doing in Paris?’ he asked.
‘I was working at a bookstore, but mainly it was just a lot of fromage,’ Frankie replied. ‘So, what does Japan have against tattoos?’ she asked, changing the subject briskly.
‘Tattoos are banned at most onsens as a way to keep out the Yakuza, the organised crime syndicates in Japan,’ Sunny said, still tracing Frankie’s tattoo.
‘How do you know that?’ Frankie said, trying to keep her breathing to a normal rate.
‘I studied Japanese culture and history for ten years.’
‘Really?’ Frankie said, surprised.
‘No, I read it on Google about five minutes before I came to pick you up, to impress you.’
‘And you didn’t read the bit about us having to be naked?’
‘I must have missed that part.’ Sunny smiled.
‘This is the strangest date I’ve ever been on.’
‘Speaking of which, when are we baptising our turtle?’ Sunny asked.
‘Right after this.’ Frankie bit her lip, and kissed him.
Frankie Rose: Winnie the turtle is officially baptised. Feeling very #zen.
‘She didn’t,’ Sunny said, aghast. They had been sitting outside Frankie’s apartment block in Sunny’s car for the last hour talking about everything from horoscopes to horseradish.
‘She did. When you were in the bathroom, that Japanese lady came up to me and said, “You’re not Period Girl, are you?”’ Frankie grumbled. Earlier, Sunny had admitted to having stumbled across her infamous video that night at Chao’s. Frankie had two options: deny, deny, deny or offer a casual I’m-resilient-as-shit-self-deprecating attitude.
‘Literally everyone knows you. I’m dating a celebrity.’
Frankie grinned. ‘I better get going,’ she said, a little hesitantly. Do I ask him to come in? said a voice in her head.
‘Yeah, me too. See ya, Frankston. See ya, Winnie,’ Sunny said, kissing both of them on the head, not giving her a chance to invite him. Does he even want to come up?
‘Bye, Sunny,’ Frankie replied, grabbing her bag and her turtle and hopping out of the car.
Frankie stopped in her tracks when she saw her front door slightly ajar. She was sure she had locked it before leaving that afternoon.
‘Hello?’ she shouted into her home. No answer.
She safely tucked Winnie into his carrier, and slid her keys between her knuckles, her mother’s ‘stranger danger’ lectures replaying clearly in her mind; ‘Punch them in the face and tear their eyes out’ had been the general gist. She took a deep breath and cautiously entered, hands held out in front of her.
‘Hello?’ she called again in her deepest, most intimidating voice. Loud sobs responded, coming from the direction of her bedroom. She crept slowly towards the noise.
‘Who’s there?’ she whispered, as the whimpers grew louder. She slowly pushed her bedroom door open and found Cat lying flat-faced on her pillow, in the dark. ‘Jesus, Cat. You scared me half to death. I thought I told you not to use my spare key unless it was an emergency,’ Frankie said, moving to lie next to Cat.
‘It … was … an … emergency,’ Cat said between sobs.
Frankie stretched out on the bed. ‘What happened, Cat? Talk to me.’ She patted Cat’s back, spooning her from behind.
‘I’m a terrible person. I slept with Jin Soo while pregnant with Claud’s baby. I’m worse than Henry Crawford, worse than Wickham, worse than all of them!’ Cat was crying so violently it was difficult to understand her.
‘You are not, Cat. You are not. You’re a wonderful, amazing, incredibly kind-hearted human being who made one cruddy mistake.’ Frankie stroked Cat’s hair.
‘Chocolate.’ Cat sniffed.
‘What?’
‘Chocolate. I need chocolate!’
‘Yes, yes, of course. I’ve got some in my bag.’ Frankie rifled through her handbag but stopped when she touched Sunny’s phone.
‘What is it?’ Cat curled over on her side, watching Frankie pull the phone out. ‘Is that what I think it is?’
‘Cat, no.’
‘This will cheer me up. Hand it over,’ Cat said, wiping her nose on her sleeve.
Reluctantly, Frankie passed the phone to Cat and sidled down next to her, so they were both looking at the screen. ‘But only because you are emotionally distraught. It’s probably locked anyway,’ Frankie said, as Cat clicked open the phone to reveal a harsh glow.
And it was locked. But on Sunny’s screensaver – the man with whom she had just spent the night practically naked – was a photo of him and a very beautiful woman.
Kissing.