The Planetarium

PART FOUR

"DEFINITELY NOT," I said thickly through a mouthful of brûlée, glassy-eyed and fighting the urge to poke out Ezra's eye with my fork. "Look, can't I just invite a friend over for drinks and nibbles without you cheapening it?"

"Sorry, curiosity killed the cat, I guess," Ezra shrugged, hastily removing his cooked goods from within my reach. "But satisfaction brought it back. All I asked was if you were shagging her."

"Keep your voice down," Arthur spoke with an irritable sharpness that was unlike his kind demeanour. "Orpheus said he's not, so don't go yelling your head off, speculating things. I've never even met Juliet."

Neither of them had, save Hannah, who was currently washing her hair with that horrid shampoo that smelled like acidic fruit. I always felt like I was committing some unspoken sin when Juliet and I ventured out, as if we were criminal misfits, and we were in each other's company quite a lot these days.

I hadn't deliberately kept our friendship confidential from Hannah, Art or Ezra - it's just that what we shared felt sacred. Private.

Mercifully, my brother came for eats too, as he'd dropped by town as he'd been jetting around Oregon for some comedy festival. Icarus had no affliction with anyone here the entirety of British Columbia; but he loitered and slept in some mouldering old cabin in the woods I spontaneously purchased during my freshman hunting phase.

I think Juliet was glad for an evening when we didn't talk in hushed, serious voices about chemotherapy, cut-outs and tenacious stalkers. The newspaper clippings has seriously jaded her view; she had transgressed from mousy and quivering to hard, indignant, hysterical.

There was a rapping at the door, and I made a hasty show of answering it.

Juliet was standing splendidly on the doormat, wearing a trim silver sweater than made her look more like Joan of Arc than her normal, colourful self. She didn't often wear makeup, but I deducted a slight glimmer on her lids.

"What's that divine smell?" she asked, removing her coat with a brisk shiver.

"Roast pork with applesauce, a tray of brûlée, some cream cheese and a box of crackers I bought down at the convenience store."

"Don't you eat like kings!" Juliet wondered admiringly, and suddenly I felt embarrassed, like I was flaunting riches in front of her.

"Well, no," I corrected her. "Ezra's the one who can really cook, he enjoys creating things in the kitchen, and my brother's here, too."

I invited her through.

Feeling wonky and self-conscious, I stumbled after her, entering the room with a greeting I don't remember and looking from the perspective of an intruder. Icarus, Art, Ezra and Hannah all arranged pleasant faces.

A miasma of uncertainty settled in the room as we stood around, suspended with the stem of wineglasses resting in the crook of of our hands - then Icarus broke through.

"Pleasure to meet you, Julia!" my brother said, (I winced at the error) adopting his usual regal drawl. "I must tell you, everyone loves listening to your show. Come have a chandy, the night is young!"

I grounded a cracker in my mouth, the peppery taste burning my tongue.

I wondered if Juliet would humour Icarus - with his unapologetic flamboyance and the assumption everyone was there to entertain him, but her mouth only twitched and before I knew what was happening they were chatting like old friends.