Read White Lady for Free Online Page B

she squashes her hands between her knees, eyes the waiter to come and take her order. I flare my nostrils, take a sip of my drink and swish it around my mouth. The waiter swaggers out with an unhealthily large grin on his pink freckled face. Sonia mimics his expression in jest and orders what I have.
    It’s our usual.
    If it wasn’t for Sonia’s red lips and the deep smile lines around her big black eyes, she’d look like a schoolgirl right now. I don’t know what I’d do without Sonia in my life. She always makes me feel so much lighter. Which is weird, considering.
    I wonder what life would have been like if I’d married her instead of Celeste? Sonia pretty much kept to herself in high school. At least until she hooked up with Ibrahim. But now that I look back, even though I never said anything to him, I’m sure the fucker only hit on her because he knew I’d set my eyes on her first. I s’pose at the time it just made sense. Because of their nationality and all. So I never challenged it. I moved on to the next-best-looking chick and that was it.
    Our futures marked in stone.
    Sonia shakes her head and blinks numerous times. “What happened to the weather? This stinks.”
    “I reckon that was summer,” I say. I lean back in my seat and spread my legs.
    “Half of it was overcast. We should move to the Gold Coast. You and me. And leave the kids to fend for themselves?”
    I’m not sure how to react to that. So I take another sip of my bourbon in silence. Sonia laughs and flicks her hand in the air. For a moment there I thought she was serious.
    “Well?” Sonia asks, craning her neck.
    “What?”
    “The talk?”
    “Nope,” I say, and take a long drag on my cigarette.
    “Nash!”
    “That’s what I wanted to talk about.”
    “I am not doing it for you.”
    “Not gonna ask you that.”
    Sonia squints at me. The corner of her mouth twists upwards.
    “Mia is—” I sip my bourbon as if I’m trying to eat the glass. “Really happy today.”
    “And?”
    “You know, smiling, being nice, no back talk. She sat in the backyard to ‘think.’” I pause for a moment and let smoke ooze from my nose. “And ate salad . On her own.” I shift in my seat and glance at Sonia’s feet. She’s wearing thongs; her toenails are painted bright pink. I realize I’ve never noticed her crooked toes before. A couple even look like Twisties.
    “Teenagers tend to want to be on their own,” Sonia says, as if reading it out of a manual.
    My mouth goes dry. I soothe it with another swig of bourbon. “Do you think she’s hiding stuff?” I say stuff in such a way that means it mightn’t be harmless. One thing is for sure—Mia’s behaviour is out of character. And sudden. I reckon I’d be fooling myself to think otherwise.
    “Teenagers always hide stuff from their parents.” Again she speaks in that monotone teacher’s voice.
    The waiter brings out Sonia’s drink. She winks a thank-you. Another sudden shift in attitude. It’s like her real self is finding little opportunities to show its face. Maybe she needs this drink as much as I do. The waiter blushes and walks backwards into the empty table next to us. Sonia and I smile at each other and pretend not to notice.
    “Look.” Sonia cups her bourbon like a mug of coffee and closes her eyes with a deep breath. She holds it in. As she slowly exhales, it blends with the whoosh of cars—they sound different in the dark, like they’re passing through thick air, unfriendly and sad.
    “If you ignore your gut,” Sonia says, with her eyes still shut, “you are neglecting them. If you ask too many questions, you are being overprotective. If you try to be friends with them, you are an embarrassment. If you are strict, they rebel. If you are lenient, they take advantage. If—”
    “Sonia.” I scoff. I get it. We can’t win. But she’s supposed to be the one that knows .
    She opens her eyes and forces a crooked smile.
    “Just tell me what you would do.” I lean