Upside Down Read online

  I smiled into my coffee. “Of course not. But knowing what personal information people put online, and what corporations do with that information, is the reason I’m not on any social media.”

  He nodded thoughtfully, then eyed me for a minute. “It’s kind of fitting, I guess.” I gave him a questioning look, so he added, “I’d wondered what you did for a job. You never wore a suit, but you clearly get paid well because you have more style than I could dream of.”

  “A suit? Me? Never. And I don’t know about more style than you because I’ve seen your outfits with matching shoes.”

  He blushed. “Well, I have to do something with a drab work uniform.”

  “I like it,” I replied. “I wondered what colour you’d wear today. I have to say, I wasn’t expecting brown.”

  He looked down at his brown jacket and stuck his booted foot out. “Do you not like it?”

  “I do,” I said quickly.

  “I just thought I should tone it down a little.”

  “You don’t need to censor yourself for me. I mean, that’s the point, isn’t it? Finding friends—” I stopped and tried again. “People to be around who we don’t have to censor ourselves?”

  He smiled and made a thoughtful face. “Can I be honest with you?”

  Oh God. “Yes, of course.”

  “You look worried.”

  “I’d suck at poker. My face gives me away every time.”

  “That’s not a bad thing.” He smiled and took a deep breath. “You mentioned us being friends.”

  “I did. I dropped the F-bomb. But I did amend it…” It felt like my face was on fire.

  “Yeah, about that. Merry suggested I meet you with being friends in mind. I tend to put pressure on myself and freak out and make an arse of myself.” He chewed on his bottom lip, but I could tell he wasn’t done talking. “I’d said to her we had a coffee date and I was like oh my God, he’s kind of perfect. I mean, he cried during Flowers for Algernon and that kind of puts him perfect territory, and he’s asexual, so…” He let out a slow breath, fixated on his coffee. I guessed it was easier not to look at me. “But Merry was probably right. I do need a friend who might understand where I’m at with this whole asexual thing.”

  “Friends is good,” I managed to say, though my mouth was suddenly dry.

  “Jesus, don’t ever take up poker.”

  I chuckled. “Being transparent is a curse.”

  “No it’s not,” he replied, looking at me now. “I’d take it any day over the opposite. I like it.”

  I kind of felt a little scrutinised under his gaze, but he’d been honest with me so I figured cutting to the chase wouldn’t hurt. “So where are you at with the asexual thing? How are you feeling with that realisation that it might be a good fit for you?”

  “I’m terrified and relieved. I don’t know.”

  “That sounds about right.” Fuck. Fuck, fuck. “Can I be honest with you?”

  He nodded.

  I took a fortifying breath. “On the bus, I asked if you were thinking of going to the next support meeting as a way of gauging if you’d thought more on whether asexual was a fit for you or not. Because I could be interested in seeing where things go with you, but I can’t be with someone who doesn’t understand the whole no-sex thing.”

  “Interested in me?” he breathed. “Really? Me? Are you drunk?”

  I laughed. “No, I’m not drunk. But uh, yes. You. You’re incredibly interesting and funny. And you know who Daniel Keyes is, which kind of puts you into perfect territory.” I smiled at him. “But I’m happy with friends, Jordan. I think it’s a really good place to start, and if you want to catch up for coffee and a chat any time, I’m up for that. We can talk about books and canonical and classic literature.”

  Jordan stared at me. “You know what that is?”

  “I studied a unit or two of English literature at uni.”

  “To be an internet security expert?”

  “Well, no,” I admitted. I cringed a little. “I took it for fun.”

  He blinked. “Are you even real? Or are you some interactive holographic program with all the right things to say?”

  I chuckled. “No. I don’t think the field of digital physics or plasmon, for that matter, is that advanced.”

  He side-eyed me. “That’s something a hologram would say. Or someone who knows his sci-fi.”

  I laughed. “Are you avoiding what I said before?”

  “That you’re interested in me?” He blanched. “Well, yes. Because you seem to have full faculties, so maybe just a lapse in judgement…?”

  I probably would have laughed if he didn’t look two seconds from freaking out.

  “Jordan?” I said, getting his attention this time. His eyes snapped to mine. “Want to go for a walk. We can walk up to the park? Get some fresh air.”

  He nodded woodenly. “Yes please.”

  I thought the walk, burning energy, or focusing his output somewhere else might help. Sitting in a coffee shop could feel a little confined. I waved goodbye to the barista, and Jordan and I stepped out of the shop to the footpath, coffees in hand. The cold wind was like getting in an ice bath. He shook his head and held his coffee like it was his own personal heater, but he seemed focused, sober now.

  “This way,” I said, nodding up Crown Street. We fell into step beside each other as we walked. “So, I didn’t even ask. Do you live close by? Please don’t tell me you live at Penrith and I made you come all this way.”

  He smiled. “No. Newtown. Twenty minutes from here on the 353.”

  “You like it there?”

  “Newtown? Yeah, sure. It’s like Surry Hills just minus the price tag and some of the pretentious kale-smoothie types.” He shot me an oh-shit look. “You’re not the pretentious kale-smoothie type, are you?”

  I laughed at that. “No. Coffee, water, sometimes a juice if I need sugar. A wine or a beer maybe, depends what I’m in the mood for. Nothing overly pretentious.”

  “Phew. That was lucky. It could have been super awkward.” He grinned at me. “So what about you? Have you lived around here long?”

  I was right. Getting him out and changing the subject had him more relaxed already. “Six months. I moved from the North Shore, so not too far. Surry Hills was close to work and I needed a change of scene, and at first I was like, what the hell have I done? But now I like it.”

  “You needed a change of scene?”

  “Relationship breakdown,” I said. “It was over months before that, but I just don’t think I wanted to admit it, ya know? Anyway, it was kind of a mess. Nothing horrible, but every time I left my place, it felt like I ran into him. Or him and his new boyfriend. Or his friends. At the supermarket, at the café, restaurants. So I just thought a move sounded exactly like what I needed.” Our walking pace had slowed to a leisurely stroll. “Is that too much information?”

  “Not at all. As I said, I like transparency.”

  We passed the Clock Hotel and crossed over to the park. It was busy for a cold wintery day; there was a kid’s birthday party or playgroup or parents’ group with an army of three-year-olds in the middle of the park and a Tai Chi group at the other end. I was kind of disappointed that we didn’t have somewhere to sit.

  “That reminds me,” I said. “The other day when I asked you if you were still interested in attending my support meetings, you asked if there would be a venue change. What did you mean by that?”

  “Was that during one of my nervous ramblings, because you can probably disregard anything and all I ever say when I’m like that.”

  I chuckled. “I think it might be the opposite. I think the filter comes off and you say what’s really on your mind.”

  His bottom lip pulled down. “Well, I just thought it was weird and I understand finding a venue open at night and one that’s free isn’t easy, but there I was freaking out about finding other people who were like me, who have no interest in sex, when that couple burst in dry humping each other. It was kind
of like a paradox of horrors.”

  I put my hand on his arm. “Yeah, I really am sorry about that, and I feel bad. But finding somewhere else isn’t easy. Like you said, open at night and free. The group meetings aren’t part of a national group or anything. There isn’t an advisory board to source anything; it’s just me trying to get a group up and running. When I was younger, the support group I was in kind of saved my sanity. I just wanted to return the favour, ya know?”

  Jordan stared at me, a lazy smile on his lips. “I can get you somewhere. A room that’s open to the public but private, and it’s free.” He nodded over my shoulder. “I can show you right now.”

  I turned and found him looking at the library, his place of employment. “You can do that?”

  “Of course I can. It’s not a super power or anything. Come on, I’ll give you the grand tour.” When we got to the door, he stopped, looked at his coffee, then mine, and made a face. There was a big sign that said no food or drink. “I’ll buy you another one if you’re not done.”

  “I’m almost done,” I replied, dropping my coffee into the bin, “but I’ll let you buy me another one.”

  We went inside and I was truly surprised. It was all high ceilings, open spaces, natural light, the front wall completely made of glass. There were interactive stations and reading nooks and seating like a trendy café. “Okay, so you’re probably going to hate me, but I was not expecting this.”

  He stopped. “Expecting what?”

  I gestured broadly around us. “This. How cool it is. Admittedly, I haven’t been in a library since university, but it sure as hell didn’t look like this.”

  “Wait till you see upstairs,” he said with a smile, leading me toward a staircase that ascended the glass wall, and my God, it was even cooler up there! The trees planted at the second level glass wall gave the entire floor a magical feel. There were seats and tables and comfy lounges, and the people using the space looked so at home.

  “It’s like a treehouse,” I whispered.

  Jordan grinned. “Isn’t it awesome?”

  “Pretty sure whoever designed this was a reader or someone who really loved books.”

  This seemed to make him happy because that carefree smile was back. “I’ll show you the rooms we hire out,” he said, now leading me past the stacks to a hall with natural lighting from long narrow windows near the tall ceiling. There were several rooms, each of them big enough for my support group meeting, with chairs and tables.

  “And it’s free?”

  “It is if I make it free,” he said with a wink. “We’re allowed to make a discretionary call on hiring fees. If it’s a community-based meeting, then yes, definitely. If you were making money or profiting from the meetings, I’d totally charge you.”

  I chuckled. “Just as well I do it for the love of it then, isn’t it?”

  “We can go downstairs and I’ll check the schedule and availability.”

  “Perfect. And thank you. I’m impressed.”

  He rolled his eyes but he blushed and held the door open for me, waiting for me to walk through first. “And a gentleman?”

  He rolled his eyes again and mumbled something under his breath, and as we walked out, there was an older woman at the top of the stairs with her arms full of books.

  “Mrs Alvarez,” Jordan called out, rushing to her side. “How many times have we had the ‘there is an elevator’ conversation?”

  “Ah, Jordan,” Mrs Alvarez said, looking up at him and smiling. “What are you in for today? It’s your day off.”

  “Oh, I was just showing my friend here the meeting rooms we hire out,” he said. “Here, give me your books. Let me carry them for you.” He took her books under one arm and offered her his elbow, and they slowly descended the stairs. She held the handrail, and how on earth she ever thought she was going to manage those stairs carrying that pile books on her own, I’d never know. But I walked behind them and listened to their idle chitchat, and I was sure of one thing. Jordan was a really, really decent guy.

  He walked her over to the service counter and said hi to the woman who was working and handed Mrs Alvarez’s books over, then asked if she minded if he had a quick look at the reservation listings for the rooms upstairs.

  Two minutes later, Jordan had a booking screen up on one of the computers and was scrolling through dates and times. “How often do you meet?” He looked up then, and I hadn’t realised we were standing so close together. His eyes really were the prettiest greyish-blue.

  “Oh, uh, the last Friday of the month. Six thirty till required. We never go past eight.”

  He looked at my lips and blushed again, then turned back to the computer. “Easy. One room free, if you want it. You might need to send everyone a text alert about the venue change.”

  “Okay, yeah, that’s a good idea.”

  “I’ll just need to enter a contact phone number in,” he said. “That way if anything changes, we can let you know.”

  I rattled off my mobile number. “And um, if you wanted to add that number into your mobile, you know, if anything changes, you can let me know.”

  I wasn’t talking about hiring the room.

  He looked right at me, into me. His eyes were intent, searching, questioning, a little wary, but maybe there was a spark of something else there too. Something that looked like hope. He let out a sharp breath and took out his phone. “I guess. You know, in case something changes.” He thumbed the number into his contacts; then he put his hand to his forehead, to his cheek, through his hair, to his heart. “Um…”

  “Wanna get out of here?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he squeaked.

  He turned around toward the front door, but Mrs Alvarez spotted him. “Oh, thank you again, Jordan.”

  “Anytime,” he said. “Tell Mr Alvarez the book he ordered will be here next week. And say hello to Catalina for me, won’t you?”

  She beamed at him, and he made it to the door and someone else called out goodbye to him, and he waved and tripped and almost fell through the glass door. “Motherfucker,” he cried.

  A young woman close by laughed and said, “Bye Jordan.”

  He righted himself and patted down his shirt and fixed his hair. “Oh hi, Olivia. How are the exams going?” he asked.

  “Good thanks, almost done.”

  “That’s good, good. No need to tell Mrs Mullhearn I dropped another mofo-bomb.” He made a face, shaking his head.

  She laughed again. “Hell no. I got you. Don’t you worry.”

  He let out a sigh of relief. “I was just… we’re just…” He looked at me, found me grinning at him, so he grabbed my hand and dragged me out the door and up the street where he stopped, dropped my hand, and sighed. “Just one day. One day would be great where I don’t make an arse of myself.”

  “I think you’re kind of great.”

  He stared, blinked, then blushed a dozen shades of pink and red. “Oh look,” he said, as if suddenly realising where we were. “You need to try these,” he said, walking into the Thai restaurant we were outside of. “Hey, Sunan!”

  “Hey, Jordan,” the guy behind the counter said. “The usual?”

  He held up two fingers. “Two today, please.”

  Sunan’s face lit up. “Oh, two,” he said, looking between us suggestively. “Special treat for special friend?”

  Jordan didn’t miss a beat. “Without the side serving of innuendo and embarrassment, that’d be great.”

  Sunan laughed and disappeared out the swinging door to what I assumed was a kitchen. “Come here often?” I asked.

  “Shut up. When you taste these, you’ll understand.” Then he let his head fall back and he sighed. “Sorry. I didn’t actually mean to tell you to shut up.”

  I laughed, making him look at me. “It’s fine, Jordan. I like seeing this side of you. Everyone knows you by name, and it’s pretty evident you have a lot of friends here.”

  “I’m considering changing my name and joining the bird watching fra
ternity where I can get a grant and permit to go live in the wilderness and pretend to look for some kind of bird that I totally made up, but really it’s just so I can’t die of embarrassment in front of every single person I meet. And you might call them my friends, but I’m sure they’ve just been planted to make me look like an idiot. Like The Truman Show. Is that what you’re doing? How much are they paying you? I hope it’s a lot.”

  “No payment,” I said with a laugh. “If they asked, I’d totally do it for free. And about the breed of bird you made up, do they look like puffins? Because they’re the cutest bird I’ve ever seen. You know, if one was curious.”

  “If one was curious, they’d be pleased to know the Australian Pygmy Puffin is far cuter than the Atlantic Puffin. Like all Australian animals, they look adorable but are either venomous, poisonous, or just total jerks.”

  “The Pygmy Puffin?” I asked, smiling.

  “Yes. Small fluff balls, incredibly rare. There are three rules when handling them: One, no bright light. Two, don’t get them wet. And three, never feed them after midnight, no matter how much they beg.”

  I laughed. “Must be related to the Gremlin.”

  He nodded and tried not to smile. “The genus name is the Mogwai.”

  “You’re an expert on birds and eighties movies. I’m impressed.”

  “You got the reference. I am also impressed.”

  “I’m impressed that this is a serious conversation,” Sunan said from behind the counter. He was holding two white takeout bags. “You lost me at small fluffy puffin balls.”

  Jordan turned to Sunan and sighed, then spoke in a voice that sounded a lot like Deadpool’s. “Thank you, Sunan. Thank you for your valued input. Please know your hard work and dedication to the team hasn’t gone unnoticed, and accept this expression of my gratitude.” He slid a tenner across the counter and Sunan laughed and handed him the bags.

  “Always a pleasure, Jordan.” Then Sunan looked at me and winked. “And Jordan’s special friend.”

  Jordan groaned comically and walked out without another word. We crossed the street back to the park, which was now, thankfully, a lot less busy. I laughed when I said, “I think that might have been the weirdest experience ordering food in a Thai restaurant I’ve ever had. Actually, in any restaurant.”