Joaquin walked into the kitchen, frowning at the floor, the phone dangling from her fingers. She stopped, leaned against the sink, and looked up, blinking at Ben and Adele. “Right. Pie and ice cream. Lots of ice cream.”

“So how’s your parents’ retreat going?” Adele asked with a smirk.

“I refuse to acknowledge the existence of said retreat or said parents on the basis that they’re making my brain bleed.” Joaquin opened the freezer and pulled out the gallon of vanilla ice cream.

“What’d they tape?” Ben asked.

“A lecture on sensual foods used to increase intimacy in all personal relationships and something about the Petrified Forest and some Native American legends or something. Luckily it’s a NTSC-format tape, and this is a PAL-format country, so I won’t have to suffer through it.”

“You forget I have a VCR that I can watch American tapes on,” Adele pointed out.

Joaquin leveled a firm glare on her. “I hate you.” She roughly cut into her pie, two pieces — a large one for Ben and a small sliver for herself. “I thought you had something pressing to do with your time?”

Adele shrugged and turned to leave. “Oh,” she said as she headed towards her bedroom, “if I ever have to talk to your mother about pubic hair ever again, I’m kicking you out of my apartment.”

Joaquin pulled an ice cream scoop from a drawer handed it to Ben as she sulked from the room. “Excuse me while I jump from my bedroom window in a drastic attempt to remove the mental imagery.”

He grabbed her elbow as she passed. “Maybe you should try the ice cream first?” he smirked.

She scowled at him. “Fine. But if that doesn’t work, I’m going out the window.”

“Fine by me,” he shrugged, and dropped a chunk of ice cream onto her plate.

A sudden cessation of noise followed by a group of voices exclaiming “The love below!” jolted Joaquin out of her light slumber. She blinked at the television, where Kevin McDonald seemed to be arguing with OutKast. A glance at the clock told her she’d dozed off for maybe five minutes, but the half-hearted snore that came from the other side of the couch told her Ben had been asleep a fair bit longer.

She glanced at the clock again. It was almost three. Entirely too late to deal with a sleeping man on her couch. But she couldn’t leave him for the night, he might have somewhere to be in the morning. Actually she had somewhere to be in the morning, as did Adele. And there was no telling what Adele would do if she found Ben sleeping on the couch.

Joaquin yawned. Best not to risk it. “Ben,” she said softly as she lay a hand on his shoulder. His head was flopped over the back of the couch and he continued to snore. “Ben,” she said more firmly, giving him a shove. Nothing. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she huffed, too tired for subtlety, and grabbed a cushion. A short, quick swat to his face and he was awake and sputtering.

“Christ on crutches,” he gasped, staring wild-eyed at her.

“Crutches?” she asked, cocking her head.

“What in the hell was that for?” He rubbed his hands over his face and up through his hair. “What time is it?”

“Three in the morning. I think those Radiohead videos put you to sleep. Thought you might want to be getting home sometime before dawn in case you’ve got plans for tomorrow. Or later today, as it were.”

“No, not really, no plans.”

“Right. Are you planning on crashing on my couch then?”

“No.” He paused, thinking over his options. “No, I’ll get back to Leo’s. Can I use your bathroom first?”

“God you’re needy,” she teased, and motioned for him to follow her down the hall. They tottered sleepily down the hall where she gestured towards the bathroom before continuing down a few feet to her bedroom. “You wouldn’t mind if I just crashed, would you?”

“No, you need your beauty rest.” Joaquin squinted at Ben in what might have been a threatening manner if she wasn’t half asleep. “Right, I’ll lock the door on my way out then?”

“Thanks,” she mumbled and disappeared into her bedroom, leaving Ben blinking groggily in the too-bright light of the bathroom.

Adele knocked on Joaquin’s door and waited a moment. After deciding she wasn’t going to get a response, she swung the door open and leaned inside. “Hey Jo, if you want to get to that gallery in time to meet Aidan, you’re going to have to get out of bed.”

“Gallery?” Joaquin groaned, rolling over and kicking the covers from herself. “What?”

“You know, big rooms with funny pictures on the wall that artsy people like you and Aidan try to make mean stuff.”

“Aidan, right.” She groped for her glasses on the nightstand and tried to put them on with her eyes closed.

“You forgot, didn’t you?” Adele chided as she came in to sit at her drafting desk, which had given up being a usable surface months ago and was currently home to a stack of old books, three half-filled sketch pads and a box that was leaking an interesting orange substance. “Too busy enjoying the company of young Ben last night?”

“No, I remembered. At about three.”

“You and Ben seemed to be getting on well, up and laughing until all hours of the morning.”

“We were watching music videos,” Joaquin shrugged as she struggled to sit up, “it was the Flaming Lips, people were dressed up in animal costumes, what’s not to enjoy?”

“Right, you’re not allowed to make fun of my taste in music anymore,” Adele scorned, getting up to leave the room. “Tears For Fears makes so much more sense than dancing bears.”

“Sense doesn’t necessarily equate quality though.”

“There’s hope for you yet, then,” Adele threw over her shoulder as she left the room.

Joaquin scowled at the door. “I don’t know what that meant,” she said to herself. “One of us isn’t getting enough sleep.” She pouted as she realized it was probably her and that she was bound to make a fool of herself in front of Aidan. “Crap,” she hissed and scurried to find something appropriate to wear.

Once dressed, Joaquin found Adele placing a plate of toast next to a glass of juice on the table. She looked up and frowned as she studied her friend’s attire. “You’re wearing that?” Adele remarked looking over Joaquin’s jeans and t-shirt again.

“Yes, I want to be comfortable if I’m going to be walking around for hours,” Joaquin groused as she snatched up a slice of toast.

“And you want people to see the paint splotches and go ‘ohh she’s one of them’,” Adele chided.

“I do not!” Joaquin huffed and Adele raised an eyebrow. “Ok, that was once and I was feeling needy.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Adele mused as she sipped from her own glass.

“Besides, you’re done up like you’re going to dinner,” Joaquin countered. “I think since we’re indulging in one of my passions I can dictate the appropriate attire to a gallery virgin like yourself.”

“No.”

“Oh come on,” Joaquin pleaded. “You make me frock up when you drag me to book launches.”

Adele sighed heavily, her nostrils flaring in a way that suggested she wasn’t at all comfortable with the idea. “Fine, but I won’t enjoy it.”

“No, but I will,” Joaquin chided before gagging on a mouthful of juice.

“I feel so underdressed,” Adele whined as they hurried toward the gallery. She looked disapprovingly at her flared jeans, navy Chuck Taylors and ‘Jet’ tee. Joaquin had even demanded that she wear her hair loose and it was already driving her insane.

“You look fine,” Joaquin cussed, pleased that for once she was on the same level as her friend.

They approached the front entrance of the gallery and saw Aidan leaning against a pillar reading a brochure. He was no more dressed up than they were, his favourite green woolen jumper was firmly back in place.

“Well, he turned up,” Adele shrugged and was greeted by a squeal. She turned to see Joaquin rubbing her foot, which had collided with a decorative piece of lawn art. “Can’t take you anywhere.”

“Why would someone put that there?” Joaquin huffed and then felt the panic catch in her throat when she saw Aidan.

“Promise me you’ll try and form sentences today,” Adele scorned, grabbing Joaquin’s arm and dragging her away from any more garden art.

“I can’t promise anything,” Joaquin swallowed as they finally reached Aidan who looked up amused from his brochure.

“Hmm,” he smiled and checked his watch. “Only ten minutes late.”

“That was Adele’s fault,” Joaquin managed to pipe up. “I had to force her into appropriate gallery wear.”

“I feel like a complete slob,” Adele groused, avoiding eye contact with Aidan and heading into the gallery.

“What does that make me, then?” Joaquin called after her and then quickly followed.

“I think you’re both mental,” Aidan mused under his breath as he rolled up the brochure and stuck it in his back pocket.

Leo glanced up from his newspaper as Ben wandered down the hall dressed in his boxers and a faded t-shirt, scratching his stomach and looking quite groggy despite it being well after eleven o’clock. “Coffee?” he grunted.

“Surprisingly enough it’s in the coffee pot.”

“Good.”

Leo listened as Ben clattered around behind him, making a suitable cup of coffee before collapsing in the chair across from him, gulping from his mug like the caffeine was his life force.

“Coffee’s cold,” he announced, looking up disgustedly at Leo.

“It’s almost noon,” Leo pointed out. “When did you get home last night?”

“Dunno.” He paused to stroke his stubble, and decided he could put off shaving. “Left Jo’s around three.”

“Really?” Leo folded his paper and smirked suggestively at Ben, who was searching through the bits of the morning paper spread across the coffee table, hunting for the sports page. “What did you do with yourselves to occupy that much time?”

“Met her roommate who’s got a custard fetish, ate apple pie and watched bad music videos. Have you had her pie, it’s really good.”

“Are we speaking figuratively or literally?”

“What?” Ben looked up from where he was trying to find something more interesting than cricket scores to read. “No, real pie you asshole.”

“Geez, what’s got you in such a pissy mood?”

“I’m not in a pissy mood. I’m tired and in desperate need of caffeine but your coffee is undrinkable.”

“It’s been in the bottom of the pot for the last two hours, of course it’s going to be bitter, what’s your excuse? It’s what you get for sleeping in so late because you tired yourself out playing with Jo last night.”

“Because you kicked me out so you could have your ‘date night’ – which reminds me,” he added, picking up a nearly empty box of tissues from an end table and tossing it at Leo, “you need to buy more Kleenex.”

“No I don’t, I’ve got three more boxes in the cupboard.”

“What, do you buy it in bulk or something?”

Leo picked up the editorial section again and shrugged. “Maybe.”

“You’re a sick, sad little man,” Ben announced and got up to pour his coffee down the sink.

After about fifteen minutes Adele was already feeling incredibly out of place. Aidan and Joaquin talked in detail about every painting, well, one and a bit so far. She wasn’t entirely sure what there possibly was to talk about and her only contribution so far had been, ‘Ohh, the colours are pretty,’ which just fueled Joaquin’s spiel on pastel tones and the benefit of texture. By the time Aidan had recounted the entire history of Marcoussis, to which Joaquin stood transfixed like an obsessed teenager, encouraging him to go on and getting a cheeky smile or squeeze of the arm every time she threw in a bit of her own knowledge, Adele couldn’t help but feel a pinch of jealousy and she kicked herself for doing so.

“…And he has some fantastic untitled work you really should see,” Aidan enthused.

“Oh I know, I was a huge fan back in college,” Joaquin agreed.

“Yeah? Which was your favourite?”

Joaquin opened her mouth and then stopped. Oh crap, if she carried on Aidan would surely find out that she really hadn’t paid any attention during cubism at college. “Ah well…Oh look, Dell found a Picasso.”

“What?” Aidan said blankly and then looked over at Adele who was looking just as blankly at the Picasso. “Oh.”

Joaquin and Aidan quickly joined her but Adele didn’t look at either of them. “So answer me this, Salvador and Frida,” Adele queried, “Why isn’t cubism very cubey?”

“Well cubism isn’t just about making everything cubey” Aidan explained. “Picasso was interested in showing all three dimensions in a flat plane, which is an idea that goes back to the ancient Egyptians. That’s how you get the nose in profile and the eyes straight ahead.”

“And here I was thinking he was just crazy,” Adele mused, cocking her head at the portrait.

“No one ever said he wasn’t crazy,” he smirked.

“Well no,” she agreed. “He did think there was some connection between orgies and beards.”

“Excuse me?” Joaquin gasped.

“Or so I’ve heard,” Adele added, looked around rather nervously and quickly escaped across the other side of the room.

“I’m bored,” Ben groaned as he stretched out on the couch. The comics section of the newspaper that had been resting on his stomach fell to the floor and he made no attempt to rescue it.

“So, go and do something,” Leo shrugged. “I’m so not your babysitter, dude.”

“You invited me here,” Ben defended. “I assumed on that pretense that you actually intended to show me the sites.”

“I’m busy today,” Leo huffed, his face still buried in the newspaper.

“Got an important Dungeons and Dragons game, huh?” Ben teased and Leo lobbed the rest of the paper at him. It scattered everywhere and neither of them leapt to pick it up.

“Actually, I have to update my virus software,” Leo said, blushing slightly because he had no intention of doing that at all.

“Oh dude,” Ben groaned and buried his face in his hands. “Why don’t you come out with me and we’ll find you a woman you can actually touch.”

“I’ll touch Misty,” Leo defended. “As soon as she’s finished college she’s gonna…”


“Woah!” Ben gasped, sitting up. “College?”

“She’s gonna be a kindergarten teacher,” Leo spat.

“Yeah, but college…”

“You…She…Just back off!” Leo huffed and stormed off into his bedroom. Ben heard the familiar fanfare of Microsoft Windows loading and decided it’d be a good idea to leave the apartment for a while. Although, considering the only place he knew was the supermarket a block away, the trip out was hardly going to be fraught with excitement.

Aidan turned a corner to find himself in the midst of a display of late-period Braque pieces. A wall of paintings that, as they progressed, became more and more abstracted but seemed to retain the same monochromatic color scheme, like the artist was afraid of any tube of paint that didn’t have the word “ochre” on it.

Also standing amongst the other excited gallery-goers with her head cocked at one of the paintings was Adele; he wandered up to her. “What do you think?”

“It’s interesting,” she mused, noticing out of the corner of her eye that Joaquin was approaching. “Reminds me I’ve got a package to send.”

“What?” Joaquin asked, feeling she’d obviously missed something.

“Same color as packing tape, and it looks broken,” Adele said, gesturing to the painting. “It could be the logo of the Australian Post, couldn’t it?”

“Never thought of it quite that way before,” Aidan smirked, “but yes, yes it could.”

They turned their attention back to the painting. “I don’t get it,” Adele shrugged after a few moments. “Was he a kook too?”

“Braque was heavily into analytical cubism,” Aidan explained shrugging. “Which is essentially shattering your subject matter into pieces and then putting it back together so that you can’t really tell what it’s supposed to be anymore. It gives the feeling that there’s a space you could move through, viewing the subject from all angles.” He paused and smiled. “So yes, he was a kook too.”

“Thought so,” Adele mused and then focused on another painting. “So then, somewhere in there is a shattered bowl of fruit that I could move through?” she asked, squinting at the painting which the placard next to it claimed was entitled “Fruit Dish, Ace of Clubs”.

“Somewhere.”

“So he claims,” Joaquin mused. “Wait, I can see a grape. I think.”

“It might be a spoon,” Aidan countered, moving closer to the painting to investigate. “Nope, grape.”

They all stared in silence for a few more moments before Adele piped up. “I’m getting a migraine.”

“Yeah, we should move on,” Aidan agreed.

“Can we move on to the gallery cafe?” Adele asked, looking from Joaquin to Aidan and back again. “They have scones.”

“You know there are more subtle ways to say you’re bored,” Joaquin sighed, crossing her arms.

“No? Ok you guys keep looking and I’ll go to the cafe,” Adele declared. “Besides, I’m just getting in your way anyway.”

“No you’re not,” Aidan enthused. “It’s great to have a different perspective on this stuff.”

“I won’t be persuaded,” Adele said sternly. “You kids have fun now,” she added and quickly walked off before they could argue.

“Party pooper,” Joaquin sighed; despite being quietly pleased that Adele had left her alone with Aidan. Even if she couldn’t make normal conversation, Joaquin decided there was an excuse to babble about art in a gallery. “So will we be looking at much Braque?”

“Hey?” Aidan said distractedly.

“Braque.”

“Yes.”

“Cool.”

“I think I’ll get you all to do a cubist painting as part of your assessment,” Aidan declared. “So you should be fine.”

“Well, actually cubism isn’t one of my strong points,” Joaquin winced.

“Nor mine,” Aidan perked. “Still, it’ll be fun to see what we can all come up with and you know you can ask for help.”

“I know,” Joaquin blushed. “I just like to work things out for myself.”

“I wish the rest of the class were like you,” Aidan sighed and they fell into an uncomfortable silence. “So what happened to weaken your understanding of cubism?”

“Peter Jenkins,” Joaquin breathed nostalgically.

“Teresa Russell, sculpture,” Aidan smiled. “I’m still clueless when it comes to the Statue of David, it could be made out of Play-Doh and I wouldn’t know, but I got some great life drawing practice.”

Joaquin began to giggle and she realised that the nerves Aidan caused her to feel were starting to fade. She realised she’d put him on such a pedestal that the fact he was a normal human being who did normal things had been overshadowed.

“Well, I don’t know about you but I think I’m ready to hunt out refreshments now,” Aidan declared and Joaquin agreed. Actually, she probably would agree to anything he said even if it was ‘fling yourself naked over that glass cabinet while I photograph you.’

“I hope Dell left us some scones,” Joaquin agreed. “I’ll go to the bathroom and then catch you up.”

“Sure,” Aidan nodded and they headed off, Joaquin pondering whether it was a good idea to leave Aidan with an image of her in the lavatory.

“I gave Jo away to some Japanese tourists,” Aidan declared, plonking himself down in the seat opposite Adele who was looking miserably out of the window.

“Hope they remember to feed her,” she replied half-heartedly.

“Did we bore you that much?” Aidan asked apologetically.

“Nah,” Adele smiled weakly. “I’ve just got a few things on my mind and I keep seeing women in posh pant suits and it’s making me feel very underdressed.”

“Underdressed?” he mused, ripping open a sugar packet. “And there I was thinking how the new look made you look so different.”

“Yeah, like a slob.”

“No, Miss Negative,” he scolded. “Natural! You’re much sexier like that than when you’re all dolled up.”

Adele looked up at the word ‘sexier’; they looked at each other a moment, letting the word hang there painfully waiting for a response. “So, you gonna eat that scone?”

He seemed vaguely taken aback that she’d brushed off his comments and looked accusingly at his scone. “I don’t know.”

“I will if you don’t.”

“I haven’t decided.”

“Well decide before it gets cold.”

“No,” he chided and crossed his arms. “I’m going to wait just to annoy you.”

Adele raised an eyebrow, waited until Aidan glanced over at a couple of new patrons and went to snatch the scone from his plate. Aidan had been expecting the attack on his baked good, and swiftly slapped his hand on top of hers. They giggled childishly a moment until Adele realised she was enjoying the feel of his warm palm pressing onto the top of her cold hand. They looked up at the same time and Adele suddenly felt she knew why Joaquin was so obsessed with the man.

“I could hear you guys giggling from across the room,” Joaquin mused as she sat down next to Aidan. Adele and Aidan’s hands shot back and they both looked guiltily in opposite directions.

“Adele was trying to steal my scone,” Aidan announced and started cutting his now flatter scone in half.

“I should have warned you about that,” Joaquin mused and Adele feigned amusement as she got to her feet.

“Popping to the loo,” she muttered and hurried away from the table.

“She must be PMS-sing,” Joaquin shrugged. “So anyway, are we going to go back and finishing looking at Braque after this?”

Aidan smiled. “Sure, we can do that.” While inside he screamed. ‘No, please God not more fucking art.’