About friendship

Bob arrives first for their midday lunch date. Pathologically punctual, the others used to say. Better never than late, he would always respond. He glances at his watch. 11:50.

Terry will be next, a fashionable five to ten minutes late. He doesn’t disappoint, arriving at 12:10. Bob’s smile is knowing.

No need to wonder about Steve. He was always late. Bob hasn’t seen Steve in over 30 years, but he thinks Steve insisted on an outside table so he could smoke.

Steve arrives. He needs a shave. Even back then he always needed a shave. His shirt is unironed.

They are going to discuss living together again, almost forty years after they split up, when Terry did the unthinkable, if one had asked the other two at the time, leaving to move in with his girlfriend. In Perth, no less.

Steve goes inside and returns with a jug of beer and three glasses.

‘I’ll buy myself a glass of wine,’ Terry says, getting up.

‘I’m reduced to only water’, says Bob, fingering the bottle in front of him.

Steve stares at them, a wide-eyed, bemused grin plastering his face. ‘What happened to you guys? Bob? You used to guzzle the ales like there was no tomorrow.’

Bob shrugs. ‘Tomorrow almost didn’t happen. Alcohol pickled my liver. Bad enough it drove away my wife and kids.’

Terry returns with a glass of red wine. Steve comments, ‘When did you become gentrified?’ Terry smiles. ‘I realised that growing old ain’t fun if your health is shot. I am happy these days drinking red wine. Good for the heart, my GP said.’

They order lunch. Bob picks at a calamari salad, while Terry plays with a bowl of spaghetti. Steve wolfs down a rump steak, fatty fringe and all, then pulls out a packet of cigarettes from the inner recesses of his jacket. He rummages in his other pockets until he finds a plastic lighter.

Terry frowns at him, then produces a forced smile. ‘Do you mind if we eat while you smoke?’

Steve, poised to light up, gets the hint and hurries away to the pavement outside the pub. Terry and Bob look at each other. Terry says, ‘That could be a problem if we lived together again.’

Bob says, ‘You and I always thought smoking was something bad that we would need to give up at some point. Steve’s only justification was that he enjoyed it. I’m sure though he’ll be happy to come to an arrangement.’

Steve returns. ‘What other surprises do you guys have for me?’

Terry says, ‘Would you consider it surprising to learn that I am a vegetarian.’

Steve reacts. ‘What? You mean you are not going to make that delicious oily fried rice, packed with beef and prawns, peas and carrots a token veggie presence, a touch of of curry powder, and heat provided by chopped up green chilli. I remember like I ate it yesterday.’

‘I’m happy to make it for you and Bob.’ He turns to Bob. ‘How’s your health?’

‘I have a portfolio of ailments, requiring a small mountain of medication, and regular tests.’

‘What’s the prognosis?’

‘One day at a time is probably the best way to describe it.’

‘You mean you could take a sudden turn that puts you into high level of care?’

‘I guess so.’

Terry looks worried.

Steve says, ‘Don’t worry. No matter what happens, I’ll look after you.’

Terry turns to Steve. ‘What about your health?’

Steve shrugs. ‘This and that, nothing serious. How about you?’

Terry looks like he’s been waiting to be asked. ‘My health is good. I exercise regularly. My wife was a great influence in that regard. She changed my outlook.’

Bob says, ‘So, what have we got? A health freak, a medical liability, and someone caught in a time warp. Can we make it work?’

Terry says, ‘What do we have in common? No need to ask I guess, but are we all still North Melbourne supporters?’

The others nod. Steve says, ‘Yup, no need to ask. We were rusted on at birth, in those South Kensington Housing Commission flats.’

‘What else?’

Steve says, ‘I don’t know about you two, but I still love both of you.’
Terry asks, ‘Is that why you never married?’

‘In a way, yes.’ He laughs. ‘I crack up even now when I remember how some thought I was gay. It was mateship. I had a few serious relationships with women. None of them worked out, because what I really craved was friendship, and you two raised the bar too high. In short, I lived with two guys I’d give my life for.’

‘How about intimacy, a family, kids. Didn’t you want them?’

‘Yes, but what I had with you two was adequate for me.’

Terry says, ‘Bob and you are adequate for me now.’

Bob nods agreement.