“Oh I know, I know,” Aidan exclaimed, a splodge of ice cream dropping onto the table from his spoon. “THE PSEUDE!”

“Oh my god yes,” Adele grinned. “How could we forget Pseudo Echo.”

“Yes how,” Joaquin mumbled as she poked at the remainder of her second piece of pie. Adele and Aidan had been babbling excitedly about all things 80s for the best part of an hour and it was starting to make her brain bleed.

“Funky Town is the pinnacle of 80s music,” Aidan continued. “Who else could have sung such meaningful lyrics as ‘won’t you take me to a Funky Town’ and, ‘Time to keep moving, keep on groovin’ with some energy.’ It was the highlight of many a school disco.”

“Did you have a mullet?” Adele giggled as she took another sip of wine.

“Of course,” Aidan nodded. “And skin tight stonewashed denim jeans, tucked in paisley shirt and a skinny white belt.”

Adele snorted with laughter. “Oh, now that’s sexy.”

“Yeah, and I bet you would’ve been decked out in fluorescent pink skirt, off the shoulder tee and layers of chunky, plastic jewellery.”

“You’re forgetting the bike shorts under the fluoro skirt and the teased spiral perm.”

This time Aidan snorted with laughter and the conversation changed to how Tears For Fears changed their lives and how “99 Luft Balloons” was the greatest song ever written by a German.

Joaquin looked pained at Aidan, hoping desperately that it was just the wine talking and he’d soon sober up and declare it was all a joke and he actually was a huge fan of folk music. “How was the pie?” she piped up to see if anyone noticed.

“It was nice,” Aidan smiled. “I’m not a huge fan of apple pie though.”

“Oh,” Joaquin said, crestfallen that she’s forced him to eat a dessert he didn’t even like.

“I bet I know what pie he likes,” Adele grinned. “Cherry!”

“What?” Joaquin said blankly as Aidan sniggered.

“She’s my cherry pie, cool drink of water such a sweet surprise. Tastes so good, make a grown man cry, Sweet cherry pie!” Aidan and Adele sang together.

“Oh, you two need help,” Joaquin groaned as she collected up the dessert dishes. “The 80s was seriously devoid of any respectable music, clothing, hairstyles or television programmes.”

“Ohh, spot the hippy child,” Adele giggled and Aidan nodded in agreement.

“I’m not a hippy child!” Joaquin groused and looked at Aidan. “I’m not.”

“Of course you’re not, honey,” Adele soothed. “I’m sorry, we’ll change the subject. That’s ok with you, right Ade?”

“Of course,” Aidan nodded.

Joaquin looked at them both suspiciously but sat back down. “So what are we going to talk about?”

“What about the war in Iraq?” Aidan suggested.

“War is wrong,” Joaquin declared. “It’s inhumane, it’s merely an excuse for those in power to show off, it tears families apart, and the children! Does anyone ever think of those poor children?”

Aidan and Adele looked at each other. “Spoken like a true hippie,” Aidan chided.

“Make peace not war,” Adele added and made her fingers into a peace sign.

Joaquin let out a huff. “Oh, go put on some Michael Jackson and dance like preteens.”

“You have Thriller?” Aidan asked, looking blankly at Adele.

“No,” Adele said shaking her head and looked sympathetically at Joaquin. “Anyway, I’ll do those dessert dishes,” she added, getting to her feet and disappearing into the kitchen with the dishes.

It took half a second for Joaquin to realise that she was now alone with Aidan. She tried to form a sentence but gave up and just looked over at him nervously from time to time.

“You know I’m glad she doesn’t have Thriller,” Aidan piped up eventually.

“Oh?” Joaquin blinked.

“That would’ve been going to far,” he mused and then fell back into an uncomfortable silence.

It didn’t take Adele long to finish the dishes and she was vaguely disturbed by the silence emanating from the living room. She placed the dish cloth over the oven handle to dry and made her way back into the living room where Aidan was looking through one of Joaquin’s sketch books while she sat paralysed on the couch beside him.

“Ah, don’t want to disturb you,” Adele said quietly. “I’ve got things to do so I’m going to my room. It was nice meeting you though, Ade.”

“Yeah,” Aidan nodded. “You too.”

“Adele…” Joaquin began.

“Oh yeah,” Adele perked, dashing back into the kitchen and returning with the newspaper. “I noticed there’s a cubism exhibition on at the gallery. Thought you guys might be interested,” she added, dropping the paper open at the advert on Joaquin’s lap. “Discuss!”

Adele left the room grinning and quickly escaped to her bedroom. She fell onto the bed in a fit of giggles. She hadn’t laughed so much in ages, and it was always fun to make Joaquin awkward. If she was honest with herself, she was a little jealous, seeing as how Aidan was so much fun and they shared a love of everything 80s, but Adele liked to think if nothing else she was a loyal friend and therefore Aidan was strictly off limits. Oh well, at least she knew she’d get on all right with Joaquin’s new lover.

“I didn’t ask her to say that,” Joaquin said quickly. “I didn’t even know there was an exhibition.”

“I knew there was one coming up,” Aidan declared as he took the paper from Joaquin. She fought every muscle in her legs to stop them twitching as Aidan’s hand brushed her thigh. “Have you studied any of the cubists?”

“Of course,” Joaquin nodded although to be honest that was the semester she was dating Peter Jenkins, and she’d spent more time playing with his paintbrush than turning up to class.

“I’m a big fan of Feininger,” Aidan gushed. “And Braque would actually be worthwhile you having a look at.”

“Right.”

“So you want to go?”

“Me?”

“Yeah, there’s no one else here.”

“Oh.”

“So?”

“Ah.”

“You can bring Adele if you like.”

“Dell! Oh god no, she’s clueless when it comes to art.”

“So are most of the people in my class,” Aidan smiled. “So we going?”

Joaquin couldn’t even utter an ‘oh’ this time, her throat seemed to cease functioning. Instead she just stared at Aidan without blinking while he looked back bemused.

“Sorry,” a voice piped up making Joaquin jump and Aidan avert his attention. “I forgot my organiser,” Adele added and snatched up the electronic device from the coffee table. “Oh, and Jo would love to go the exhibition.”

“Yes,” Joaquin managed to add a nod.

“Excellent,” Aidan enthused. “We’ll go tomorrow then. You wanna come Adele?”

“Me?” Adele gasped. “Er, I’m not really au fait with the arting world.”

“Arting world?” Joaquin said under her breath.

“So? Means you might learn something,” Aidan perked. “It’s better than sitting home alone, and you can talk when Jo ceases to be able to.”

Joaquin felt her cheeks burn and sunk down in the couch, hoping desperately the back would open up and she would be sucked through into the safety of the darkness. Adele for once actually was very nearly speechless.

“Ok,” she nodded. “I am quite fond of Piccaso, not that I know anything about art or Piccaso. Although I do know he chose a goat over his lover once,” Adele cleared her throat uncomfortably. “Bye,” she added and fled the room.

“She’s needs to cut down on the caffeine,” Joaquin swallowed, her face buried deep in a copy of Better Homes & Gardens.

&nsbp;

After Joaquin had pulled herself from her shame hole, she spent a further 45 minutes babbling about a photography exhibition she’d been to in college. Eventually Aidan started to yawn at frequent intervals and she decided it best to offer him a lift home.

“I ah, hope you enjoyed dinner and everything,” Joaquin said hesitantly as she pulled the car to a stop outside a block of flats.

“I did,” Aidan smiled. “Both the food and company were great.”

“I promise no apple pie next time.”

“Oh, I get to come back?”

“Only if you want.”

“I hope you’re not just buttering me up to get a good mark on your still life.”

“No, I would never…” Joaquin gasped mortified that he should even think that.

Aidan began to laugh. “You’re one of a kind Jo, you really are.” He unfastened his seatbelt, leaned across and dropped a kiss on her cheek. “I’ll see you at 10am outside the gallery ok?”

“Uh,” Joaquin nodded, glad it was dark so he couldn’t see her reddened cheeks. She watched as he left the car and walked through the shadows towards the metal railings of the stairs.

Joaquin drove home in a daze. Her mind was full of so many things but it stuck mostly with the kiss and how it made things stir she vowed wouldn’t. She managed to regain some control by the time she got back to the apartment block car park. She killed the engine and climbed out into the minimal light of one blurry lamp.

“Hey Jo!”

“Oh Jesus fuck!” Joaquin gasped, dropping her car keys and jumping three feet in the air. With her heart racing a million miles an hour, she turned, expecting to see some guy in a balaclava with a crowbar. Instead it turned out just to be Ben.

“Sorry, did I scare you?”

“No, of course not,” Joaquin said breathlessly as she put one hand on the car to steady herself.

“Sorry, again,” Ben winced. “I just wasn’t sure what to do with myself. Leo kicked me out because apparently it’s date night and he doesn’t want me cramping his style.”

“Date night?” Joaquin scorned. “The closest Leo gets to date night is a couple of porn movies and a box of tissues.”

“Oh,” Ben said blankly. “He said he had a girlfriend, Misty or something…”

“Misty? Oh yes, she lives in Singapore,” Joaquin nodded. “In which case date night involves a computer terminal and a box of tissues.”

“How, uh, cosy,” Ben shrugged. “If that’s the case I might as well go home.”

“If that’s the case do you really want to?” Joaquin countered.

“True.”

“Don’t suppose you fancy watching Monkees re-runs and leftover apple pie?”

“I love apple pie!” Ben grinned. “And ice-cream?”

“Of course ice-cream,” Joaquin laughed. “Dell reckons it should be custard but I’m assuming that’s an Aussie thing.”

“Custard? No way, it has to be vanilla ice-cream,” Ben agreed as he followed Joaquin toward the stairwell.

“Wait until you’re forced to try vegemite,” Joaquin shuddered.

They took the two flights of stairs and walked briskly along the dully-lit hall to Joaquin and Adele’s apartment. Joaquin unlocked the door and was surprised to see Adele sitting of the couch talking on the phone.

“…No, I think if your teacher says he should have his scrotum waxed then I don’t think its too much to ask…” she paused and shot Joaquin daggers. “Can you hold on just a second, ta.”

“Who on earth are you…” Joaquin began.

“Your mother!” Adele finished and held the phone out to Joaquin.

“Oh crap,” she groaned, her face falling as she took the receiver. “Hey Mom, no…I heard…”

“Hi,” Adele piped up as she got to her feet. “Are you a friend or did she pick you up on the way home like a lost puppy?”

“A bit of both,” Ben replied and held out his hand. “Ben Saxon.”

“Adele Brodie.”

“The custard girl.”

Adele looked at him strangely. “O-K”

“You filmed what!” Joaquin suddenly screeched. “It’s in the mail…”

“Ah, let’s go and get some refreshments, yeah?” Adele suggested and escorted Ben into the kitchen.