Written in the Stars

Three

Right on four o'clock, Luke pushes his way through the back door of my house, a donut half hanging from his mouth and a box full of them in his hand.

"Hey Mrs B," he says. "I brought you some seconds from work."

"Oh Luke, you know I'm supposed to be on a diet," Mum says. She's always on a diet. This month, she's back on Weight Watchers.

"I know, but these are little ones that didn't make the cut. Plus, you know, donuts have holes in the middle so there's not so many points."

Mum swipes at him with her tea towel, and peeks into the box. "There's six points in a cinnamon donut," she mumbles. "But they're smaller than usual, so they're probably half the calories."

Luke grins at me as Mum reasons with herself about whether she should have one or not.

"Hmm, I didn't have my latte this morning, and I'll just go without the dressing on my salad tonight for dinner." She plucks a donut from the box and takes a bite. She smiles at me and then back at Luke.

She loves Luke and up until last year, she thought I'd marry him. I think she was more disappointed about not getting to have Luke as a son-in-law than she was about me being a lesbian. I'm lucky that she's so understanding, but the flip-side of that is having her ask every time a woman appears on the TV whether she's my type.

She says stuff like, "Ooh, she's lovely. Don't you think Quinn?" And conversations about celebrity's breast implants have taken on a whole other dimension. Once, a few months ago, we were shopping and a full on butch lesbian walked past. Buzz cut, tats, singlet, the works. Mum nudged me and said, "I think she was checking you out, honey" loud enough for the whole store to hear. I pleaded with the earth to swallow me up right then and there. Later, when I was checking out some jeans, the woman came up to me and said, "Even though you think it's embarrassing, you should be grateful your mum loves you."

And I am grateful that my mum's so understanding. I just wish she wasn't so damn embarrassing sometimes.

"Come on," I say to Luke, pulling him out the back door by his arm. I don't want to give Mum a chance to eat another one of Luke's donuts. She'll only complain about it later.

"See ya Mrs B," Luke calls as we leave.

"Bye sweetheart," Mum calls back through a mouthful of donut, and I have no idea if she's talking to me or to Luke.

Luke pulls up in front of the menswear store. "Let's go get us a dress," he says. He slaps me on the leg and leaps out of the car. If I didn't know him so well, I'd swear he's on drugs. It's hard to believe someone can be so happy all the time.

Luke walks in like he owns the place. He walks up to the rows of suits and starts checking them out. He pulls a red jacket off the rack, holds it up against himself and says, "Is red my colour?"

I laugh. We've already decided we're both wearing black suits, but among all these men's clothes I'm feeling like I don't belong.

A sales assistant comes over and asks if we need a hand. "My friend and I are after a couple of suits for a dance on the weekend. And we want to wear them to the formal at the end of the year too."

"Wait—" I start to say, but Luke waves me away. We've had this discussion before. I am not going to the Valentine's dance next weekend because there's no way I can watch Bridget and Josh cosying up together all night, pretending to be something they're not.

The sales guy nods and I can tell he's sizing me up. "It's a bit late notice to get a suit for the weekend, don't you think?" Why is he directing that question at me instead of Luke?