Running out of air

Much has happened since my last post.

Heather and I went shopping on Saturday to buy more cards and paper to test-run our invitations. We went to a couple of stationers and found that Eckersley’s seems to be the cheapest—and they were really helpful, too. Later that afternoon we found some nice white gold wedding bands at Michael Hill in the Myer Centre. (We’re still broke, so we’ve put them on lay-by.) We were particularly pleased because the woman who served us was really friendly and didn’t hesitate to talk about commitment ceremonies—in fact, she broached the topic first, not us. At other jewellers we’ve visited, the staff have skirted the issue and not known quite what to do with us, so this woman’s unprompted recognition was really affirming.

And that brings me to yesterday morning’s events. I called my parents, and spoke to my Dad first. We talked about the car (it’s making a funny noise) and our health (he had the flu for three weeks, and I have it now). Then he asked after my friend Axel, and whether I have seen him lately. Now, Dad has never met Axel, as far as I can recall. Regardless of this, he has hoped for many years that Axel is my boyfriend. I even once said, ‘Dad, stop asking about Axel. He’s not my boyfriend, and that’s that.’ But no. Dad persists. Apparently, he now hopes that Axel can save me from my lesbianism.

We finished up our conversation, and then I had a general discussion with Mum, the aimless kind of talk that ends with one party saying, ‘Well, I don’t really have any news’ even though they’ve been telling you their non-news for ten minutes. Since I did, in fact, have news, I decided to mention yesterday’s shopping expedition. It was important to me because, hey, this is my wedding. So I just started telling her.
‘Heather and I bought some invitations yesterday.’
‘What for?’
‘Well, you know how we’re getting married when we go overseas, and we’re having parties to celebrate afterwards? We need invitations to invite people to the parties.’
‘Oh yeah.’
‘And we put our rings on lay-by, too.’
Silence.
More silence.
I suppressed my desire to end the silence. As I waited, I could almost feel the 700-odd kilometers that stretch between us. Finally, she spoke.
‘I can’t really say anything because I’m still getting used to the whole idea.’
‘Well, that’s fine,’ I said. ‘But you also need to know that this is really important to me. I mean, this is my life.’ I waited for her to say something, anything, that would make everything right.
‘Oh, that’s what I was going to ask you,’ she said in a great rush. ‘Have you seen the news yet? Those poor bloody Russians in the submarine. I wonder if they’ve run out of air yet.’