Coral rang me in December 1984.
She phoned my home number in the evening and knew I would be there. We lived more balanced lives. Coral quit smoking and played social netball. I worked as an integral part of a design company without overtime. I played social squash, and my admiration for heritage guided me to join a preservation society. I remained single, though I was corresponding with a young lady whom I intended to travel and meet in early 1985.
"I need to catch up," announced Coral, "Tuesday morning."
"Fine," I replied; my buddy was more important than a design project.
Coral gave me the name and suburb of a new trendy place. I realised the café was familiar as I stood outside it on a Tuesday morning. It was where Ruby and I drank coffee before — sealed lips.
No ego wretchedness lured me into past unhappy days as Coral waved vigorously, arriving at the café. She strolled summer splendidly in a carnation pleated skirt falling below her knees. She wore a creamy short-sleeved blouse, and a plain pink band held her hair.
"This should be fun," she piped, leading me inside.
Immediately, we shared the funky vibe. The nondescript décor of my last coffee here became nearly impossible to recollect. Renovations gave the café energy. I liked the block colours of a sixties retro refit—especially the large black and white floor tiles. Coral fancied the booths, appreciating their high-back red vinyl seats. Both of us admired the copious, dazzling chrome unifying the café. Coral and I perched on two chrome stools at the main counter. I perused the framed album covers decorating the walls. They included The Beatles and The Stones.
Coral's lounge room and good times.
"My shout," insisted Coral, "No ifs or buts."
I studied the backboards behind and above the counter.
"You choose," I managed, seeing endless choices.
"Oh, thank you, and I'm going throwback."
She laughed high-pitched. A pair on stools nearby spun together and glanced at Coral. My unawares bestie ordered two large chocolate milkshakes and a large slice of black forest cake.
"A portion each," she insisted, "like the best of times."
Coral ate the majority as we spent an hour discussing the décor of the café, music, movies, heritage, fashion and art.
This final topic led Coral to disclose, "I have big news; I have scored a major public gallery job in Sydney. I start in the new year."
Surprised, I understood it meant Coral would live and work elsewhere. I would see her less.
Coral, my Coral, moving away!
I grasped the excitement on her face and in her voice. Her gorgeous green eyes awaited my reaction. I held a lot in. My face, I hoped, hiding my anxious pang.
I offered sincerely, "Wonderful; you deserve it."
I put my hands out. Coral understood as we shared a double handclasp.
We were here for each other: yesterday, now and tomorrow.
The clasp lingered.
"I'll phone you," she assured me.
She twittered, "More regular than recent — I'll try."
"The time," I rattled, checking my watch.
"What about it," Coral puzzled.
"Your car!" I exclaimed, "You'll get a fine!"
"No, it's alright; I'm in the car park. What about you?"
"Oh, the same."
Offering a bright, open-lip beam, Coral chirped, "I intended to stay as long as I needed."
I returned a quiet, mousy smile.
"Let's do lunch," Coral suggested, spur of the moment
Following rapid blinks, I managed a yes.
"I'm going to make you choose!"
Her hearty laugh echoed through the café.
We ate burgers and coffee. Coral licked her fingers daintily. She proposed I come to Sydney and visit her 'sooner rather than later.' She implied as soon as I negotiated a work break in the new year.
"I'm not sure," I started and stopped.
Coral cocked her head towards me, sensing I withheld something.
She placed her hand over her heart, "Spit it out," she directed in the nicest possible way.
"I'm travelling to Queensland for the summer break."
"Oh nice," she inquired, "A particular reason."
"Yes, to meet a young woman."
Her eyes demanded the detail. She leaned forward and ignored her lunch. Holding her complete attention, I explained how I would meet Rhea. A girl I wrote letters to. Coral sought insider info there and then. After several short answers, she concluded I didn't know much about this young lady.
I gulped, realising I had gaps.
My bestie eased the awkwardness; she changed the topic to the yummy burgers. Alternating, we renewed our youthful taste swap of every ingredient. I described the tangy olive oil-infused tomato first, and Coral wrapped up the fillings by detailing the creamy, gooey cheese. Our conversation meandered to Oldenburg's oversized sculptures of cheeseburgers and his huge Floor Cone.
"Do you want ice cream?" I suggested, "Let's get it as we go."
I made the call, fully understanding Coral had left it to me.
We returned to the car park, licking pistachio ice cream. She warned me of stray drips that could stain my light blue business shirt. We finished the cones outside the car park.
"Your shirt needs a lilac tie," she started before her hand covered her mouth, "Oh, I must stop telling guys what to wear."
We laughed. Coral parked her car two levels lower than mine.
We walked to her car and hugged as best friends, avoiding using the word goodbye.
"Till soon, soon I hope," my voice trailed.
She wished me loudly a happy journey to Queensland.
Then calmed her tenseness in departing with the quiet tenderness of "All the best with Rhea."
Repressing welling eyes and unnecessary swallowing, I strode towards the stairwell. I stopped, and I turned. My bestie waited for it; she knew I would pivot. Coral waved her palm wide and wiggly. I stretched out my fingers, wishing her to stay, then swished my hand broadly, heartily letting her depart for now. I watched Coral drive away. Entering the stairwell, my mind flooded and overflowed.
My mainstay in life would be distant.
Yes, Princeton — I spent time with Jenny.
Then, Ruby.
My best friend came home.
How to cope without Coral, my kindred spirit!
The phone!
I held my composure.
Rhea shaped my forward thoughts.