though it were spilling state secrets. I’ve never understood it. It’s not like the same thing doesn’t happen over and over. Cricket is the most repetitive enterprise in history. But Jeffrey will listen to the words—
Wide outside off stump, Lawry shoulders arms
—with as much glee and intensity for the eightieth time as the first.
I don’t want the rest of this coffee, but it’s not worth the wrath of my mother to waste it. I quaff it quickly, wincing at the bitter bits at the bottom. It burns my innards, but it’s gone. I rinse its silt at the sink and exit stage left, offering a casual farewell.
***
Jeffrey lives across the road, four houses up. Any further away and I doubt I would make it. This has to be the hottest day in history. Either the earth is being devoured by the sun or the sun is hurtling toward us like an enormous meteor. Our front lawn crunches beneath my feet. Down our street, I can see strange undulations of heat. I arrive at Jeffrey’s door feeling like I’ve endured a marathon, and I knock quickly, surveying the veranda. I greet Jeffrey’s grumpy tabby, Chairman Meow, who ignores me and crouches beneath the white cage of Jeffrey’s affable parakeet, Chairman Wow.
Mrs. Lu answers.
“Hello, Chully!” she says, and then her broad smile disappears and she looks suddenly crestfallen. She shakes her head solemnly. “It’s no good. The test cricket is raining. Come in, come in.”
Jeffrey bursts out of the living room. He is wearing all white.
“Where have you
been
? You’re an
idiot.
”
“I don’t know. Sleeping. Is it raining?”
Mrs. Lu suddenly laughs again. “No, Chully, it’s very
hot
!” She squeezes my arm, nods once, and walks away, giggling.
“What does that even
mean
?” says Jeffrey, watching her walk away.
I follow Jeffrey into the living room. He has the radio turned right up.
I take a seat on their couch. Jeffrey perches on a piano stool hehas dragged over to the radio. It’s much cooler in here. Jeffrey recounts the day’s action with unnecessary attention to detail. He’s clearly disappointed. Doug Walters is on debut, it’s the first Ashes Test, and it seems it’s going to be washed out for the rest of the afternoon. The notion of rain seems incredibly inviting to me right now. A huge cold shower, harsh and bracing.
Mrs. Lu swathes in with a plate of sweets and fruit, and two tall glasses of icy lychee juice. I thank her, and Jeffrey dives at the tray. She turns and shrieks something stern at Jeffrey in Vietnamese.
Jeffrey, his mouth still full, says, “It’s
not
impolite! It’s only Chuck! He doesn’t care!”
But her fiery barrage continues as she walks away. Jeffrey grins. He takes up the tray and bows.
“Please, O Holy Omboooodsman, take first from our tray of fine delicacies, aye beseeeeech you.”
“That’s better,” I say.
I take something round and bright orange. It is delicious.
“What is this? It’s amazing.”
Jeffrey squints. “That is Bang Chow Pow.”
“That’s a lie.”
“Incorrect. That’s a
fact
. Don’t be ignorant.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“You’re a communist.”
Jeffrey spills his drink as he gestures. He mops it up with a cushion.
“Here’s one: would you rather die of the heat or the cold?” he asks.
I lean back and put my feet up.
“Do you mean immediately burned or frozen, or steady exposure?”
He thumbs his jaw. “Steady exposure.”
“Well, I don’t know. Neither.”
“But you have to choose one.”
“Why?”
“Chuck! Are you retarded? It’s hypothetical.”
“But when am I
ever
going to have to make that choice?”
“Well, let’s just
say
you have to.”
“Why would I have to?”
“Because they’ve got a hypothetical gun to your head.”
“Who is ‘they’?”
Jeffrey is smiling. He’s perched restlessly on the edge of the piano stool.
“I don’t know. The Russians.”
“Why do the Russians want me dead?”
“Because they’re evil and
Wide outside off stump, Lawry shoulders arms
—with as much glee and intensity for the eightieth time as the first.
I don’t want the rest of this coffee, but it’s not worth the wrath of my mother to waste it. I quaff it quickly, wincing at the bitter bits at the bottom. It burns my innards, but it’s gone. I rinse its silt at the sink and exit stage left, offering a casual farewell.
***
Jeffrey lives across the road, four houses up. Any further away and I doubt I would make it. This has to be the hottest day in history. Either the earth is being devoured by the sun or the sun is hurtling toward us like an enormous meteor. Our front lawn crunches beneath my feet. Down our street, I can see strange undulations of heat. I arrive at Jeffrey’s door feeling like I’ve endured a marathon, and I knock quickly, surveying the veranda. I greet Jeffrey’s grumpy tabby, Chairman Meow, who ignores me and crouches beneath the white cage of Jeffrey’s affable parakeet, Chairman Wow.
Mrs. Lu answers.
“Hello, Chully!” she says, and then her broad smile disappears and she looks suddenly crestfallen. She shakes her head solemnly. “It’s no good. The test cricket is raining. Come in, come in.”
Jeffrey bursts out of the living room. He is wearing all white.
“Where have you
been
? You’re an
idiot.
”
“I don’t know. Sleeping. Is it raining?”
Mrs. Lu suddenly laughs again. “No, Chully, it’s very
hot
!” She squeezes my arm, nods once, and walks away, giggling.
“What does that even
mean
?” says Jeffrey, watching her walk away.
I follow Jeffrey into the living room. He has the radio turned right up.
I take a seat on their couch. Jeffrey perches on a piano stool hehas dragged over to the radio. It’s much cooler in here. Jeffrey recounts the day’s action with unnecessary attention to detail. He’s clearly disappointed. Doug Walters is on debut, it’s the first Ashes Test, and it seems it’s going to be washed out for the rest of the afternoon. The notion of rain seems incredibly inviting to me right now. A huge cold shower, harsh and bracing.
Mrs. Lu swathes in with a plate of sweets and fruit, and two tall glasses of icy lychee juice. I thank her, and Jeffrey dives at the tray. She turns and shrieks something stern at Jeffrey in Vietnamese.
Jeffrey, his mouth still full, says, “It’s
not
impolite! It’s only Chuck! He doesn’t care!”
But her fiery barrage continues as she walks away. Jeffrey grins. He takes up the tray and bows.
“Please, O Holy Omboooodsman, take first from our tray of fine delicacies, aye beseeeeech you.”
“That’s better,” I say.
I take something round and bright orange. It is delicious.
“What is this? It’s amazing.”
Jeffrey squints. “That is Bang Chow Pow.”
“That’s a lie.”
“Incorrect. That’s a
fact
. Don’t be ignorant.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“You’re a communist.”
Jeffrey spills his drink as he gestures. He mops it up with a cushion.
“Here’s one: would you rather die of the heat or the cold?” he asks.
I lean back and put my feet up.
“Do you mean immediately burned or frozen, or steady exposure?”
He thumbs his jaw. “Steady exposure.”
“Well, I don’t know. Neither.”
“But you have to choose one.”
“Why?”
“Chuck! Are you retarded? It’s hypothetical.”
“But when am I
ever
going to have to make that choice?”
“Well, let’s just
say
you have to.”
“Why would I have to?”
“Because they’ve got a hypothetical gun to your head.”
“Who is ‘they’?”
Jeffrey is smiling. He’s perched restlessly on the edge of the piano stool.
“I don’t know. The Russians.”
“Why do the Russians want me dead?”
“Because they’re evil and
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