Give Me a Reason Pt. 01

"Good to know," she looked around, "I like it, it's very open at the front."

The living room had a three-seater couch and two sofa chairs set around a large coffee table. A flat screen tv hung from the wall and I told her we had Foxtel as well.

"I put in for all the utilities and Foxtel," I paused.

"The cable is optional though, but it's only a few dollars every month but if you don't want to pay for that then don't feel obligated."

Astrid stared at a series of pictures on the wall. They were Pink album covers with the records still inside and protected in a picture frame. She stepped over for a closer look and I followed her.

"Wow, that is unusual," she squinted and then stepped to one side to get a better perspective, "are the records still inside?"

"Yeah, she's got the digital versions but she liked the album artwork and it protects the records, we don't have a record player but you can play CDs on the DVD player," I nodded at it.

"I love Pink," she grinned, "I saw her at the Forum in Copenhagen in two thousand and six for the I'm not dead concert and three years later for the Funhouse concert," she pointed to the covers on the wall, "I love her music."

"Well that's another thing we have in common besides the obvious," I remarked, "I love her songs because of the situation at home. My dad is a difficult person, very homophobic and what we call a bible basher here."

"Someone who likes to thump the bible," Astrid nodded, "have you been to one of her concerts?"

"Not yet, it was bad enough that I listened to her music, my dad used to forbid me from going to any concerts unless it was Christian rock and roll and even that was suspect."

"Why?" Astrid's eyes widened.

"You'll think it's weird if I tell you."

"Try me," she smiled, "and I've tried surströmming, it's the smelliest food in existence, I tried it once and threw up before I had any. My mum's Swedish and she gave me some one summer, my Danish father thought she was just twisted," she chuckled.

"Um," I nudged my glasses, "he believes that the drums are used to summon up demons."

"Demons?" Astrid chuckled, "that is weird, what's the connection?"

"Tribes in Africa use them, apparently and my dad's logic is that they're part of a satanic plot to turn us all into devil worshippers."

"I see," she ran a hand through her hair, "well to each their own, as they say."

"Let's go to the kitchen," I nodded at the door.

I led her into a kitchen that had been remodelled a few years ago. Shobi's stepfather had a plastering business and he'd picked up a solid granite bench top that one of his clients was going to throw out, he tossed into the back of Jason's ute instead.

"I love the kitchen," she ran a hand over the bench.

"And your room would be through here," I led her out into the back passageway, "that leads back to the front door, the laundry is on the other side of that door," I opened it, "and that's the back door," I closed it again and led her to the back room.

"We've got a single bed in there now but if you want to bring your own bed then that's fine, we've got a garage or Shobi's mum might take it away and store it at her joint."

"No, I've got a bed at home but it's not really mine," she stepped into the room, which thankfully had a pink theme.

"I think it was a girl's room at some point," I opened a wardrobe, "Shobi keeps some extra jackets in here but we can move them if you want."

"I love the bed," she sat on it and smiled, "and it doesn't creak, the one they gave me creaks all the time."

"And the piece de resistance is this," I pointed to a French door, "I nearly took this room myself but the other one is bigger."

I unlocked the door for her and we stepped out into a nice size backyard complete with a covered patio and shed.

"It's owned by Shobi's mum, but a few years ago some dude was desperate to bulldoze it and put up housing units. Shobi's stepfather knows him, he's done a bit of work for him in the past, he's always buying up houses and knocking them down."

"A shame, you need a bit of space."

Shobi came home half an hour later as we sat in the living room drinking coffee. I'd made it clear that Shobi had the final say in the matter.

"What's she like?"

"She's nice," I watched her get out of her car, "you're about to find out."

Shobi is the nicest person you could ever meet. She's of mixed heritage. Her mother came over as a baby from Sri Lanka and her dad's parents were Irish Australian, she has that tanned look but she has blonde hair and brown eyes. She works at the Westpac bank in Croydon and when I introduced Astrid as a potential housemate she grinned and held out her hand.

"Hiya, pleased to meet you, so what do you think of the place?"

"I love it," she shook her hand.

"You're English?"

"Danish," she replied.

"Wow, cool. So we'll have pastries."

"Um, sure. I can make bread, I'm a uni student. I met Susan at the campus."

"Cool, so when can you move in?"

Astrid blinked and I giggled.

"I think that means she likes you."

"Um as soon as possible," Astrid replied.

"She's out in Flemington," I broke in,

"I've only been through Flemington, so why are you leaving?"

"My housemates are," she paused, "they're always partying. I want to be out of there before the police raid the place. I don't take drugs by the way."

"Nasty, okay well you can smoke here if you want but make sure and do it outside."

"I don't smoke and I don't drink much either."

"And you know about the rent?"

"Susan told me and I can chip in for food and the bills, and the Foxtel?"

"No worries," she nodded at the passage door, "I'll get changed first. You're staying for dinner," and with that she left the room and I winked at Astrid.

"Told you. Don't worry, I can run you home in my car."

"I'll give you money for gas," she replied.

"Don't worry about it," I shrugged, "come on, we'll get dinner started while she gets changed."

Dinner was a lively occasion. As it turned out, Astrid banked at the Westpac and Shobi wanted to know a few Danish words but when Astrid told her she loved the house and was looking forward to moving in she just blinked and then burst out laughing.

"Okay, so I couldn't make out one word."

"It sounds like we have something in our mouths," she chuckled.

"Say it slowly," I spoke up, "we need an education."

She closed her eyes briefly and then spoke again.

"Jeg elsker dit hus, og jeg glæder mig til at flytte ind."

She then broke it down into logical parts. I remember memorising the word for love, elsker. Shobi was entranced and when Astrid went to the toilet she let her breath out.

"Wow, I can't wait to tell the girls at work, I'll get her to write it down for me."

If it was an education in Danish that night, I got another lesson when I drove her home. About the only thing I know about that suburb is the racecourse and only because they show the races during the sports segment on the news. There's another one not far away, Moonee Ponds. Astrid lived in an old house that was a stone's throw from the Flemington high rise flats. The high rise flats were once called cities in the sky by developers in the '50s and '60s, but they turned into slums and cesspits of crime and drugs.

"This is my place," she pointed to the house.

"How much stuff have you got to take back?"

"Not much," she replied, "I'll show you, it's all in my bedroom, I'd invite you in but," she stopped.

"Oh go on, how bad can it be?"

I still smile at that memory. The first thing I saw was a guy passed out on a couch, two women sat on sofa chairs that looked as if they'd been picked up from the hard garbage. The coffee table had a few empty cans of beer and a half empty bottle of Southern Comfort along with a bowl of dope and a bong. They looked spaced out and then a guy came in from another room, he was introduced as Ali, he at least looked alert but Astrid ushered me into the bedroom.

"Ali doesn't live here," she murmured, "but I don't trust him."

Astrid's room was tiny compared to the one she was going to get and I surveyed her possessions and nodded.

"How much notice do you have to give?"

"Not much as you can see, it would take them a month to realise I'd moved out."

"I've got no classes tomorrow but I'm back on Friday, so if you want to move in tomorrow I could come back out in the morning and help you move."

"How's about I come back with you on Friday night and stay overnight? We can drive back here on Saturday and do it."

"Will you be all right here until then?"

"Of course," she reassured me, "I'm fine, I just need to vacate the place, they're all pretty harmless by the way, they just sit and drink or smoke."

"Okay but if you change your mind just call me and I'll come straight over," I murmured.

"Thank you," she squeezed my arm.

Ali was smoking a bong when we came back into the living room and he looked up but didn't raise a hand to say goodbye for obvious reasons.

"I'll see you out," Astrid gestured at the door.

Ali waved his hand in farewell and Astrid ushered me out the door. We farewelled each other but even so, I didn't really feel safe until I got onto the Eastern Freeway, the inner suburbs have never felt safe to me and I know they've been gentrified. Shobi was aghast when I told her about the drugs on the table.

"Is she sure she doesn't want to move in tomorrow? I could take a day off work, I've got plenty of holidays I haven't booked yet."

"She's cool but she's staying here on Friday night."

We moved Astrid out without any troubles at all. As predicted they were still asleep and she merely left a note on the bench along with the rent she owed and we left the place behind and went back to her new home in Heathmont and that's where I have to leave it for now. Anna has woken up and I have to get her ready for school but I'll write more later.

***

I'm back now, it's been a long day but I've read over what I wrote and remembered a few things while I was at work. Astrid was the first lesbian I'd really known. I had friends at school who were out but they tended to stick with their own kind. It wasn't as if there was much homophobia, unless it was the guys, but for the most part they preferred their own kind. I think one thing that stuck out however was her open-mindedness. I was going to a non-denominational church out in Kilsyth and no one was more surprised than me when she asked to come with me to a service. It was the second weekend from what I can recall and I just stared at her.

"Church? You want to go to church?"

"Yes," she nodded, "I haven't been in an Australian church yet."

"Okay, if that's what you want to do."

"It is," she nodded, "so, what is the dress code?" she looked down at her jeans.

"That's fine, I tend to be smart casual but that's fine," I ran a casual eye over her white blouse and blue jeans, "but take a jacket in case it rains."

"Maybe I should wear a skirt?" she nodded at my floral quarter-length skirt.

"You can if you want, I guess it's just habit for me," I tugged at the collar of my white blouse, I only dress up like this when I go out somewhere special or for church."

"You look nice," she replied.

"Thank you," I flicked at my hair, "how do you say that in Danish?"

"Du ser godt ud," she grinned.

I managed a partial rendering of the phrase and perhaps because I found myself drawn to her it's one of the few Danish phrases I can still recall with any degree of accuracy and that brings me to my next point. I was becoming attracted to her and that was of some concern because I had a guy I was seeing at church. David was six months younger than me and was doing a fine arts course out at Box Hill Tafe but he was never a boyfriend.

He was a friend and it was my kind-hearted nature that brought us together, he was a bit of a misfit due to his domineering father and pliant mother. His dad had been in the army for twenty-six-years but after being discharged decided to discipline his family. His rants didn't go down well with a shy son who had no interest in sports and even less interest in the army. His two older brothers were both sports mad and his oldest brother had joined the army and was applying to join the Australian SAS. That left David as being the 'cissy,' which was what his father called him when he was being nice, I'll leave the other names up to your imagination.

However, despite David's fractured relationship with the 'sergeant major,' I wasn't about to get into a relationship with him. Don't get me wrong, I really liked David but the idea of having his father as my father in law didn't exactly float my boat. Somewhere at the back of my mind I remembered mum's off-the-cuff remark about, 'checking out your in laws before you got married because you'd be stuck with them for life.' I'd met his family and found them awkward and almost a caricature of the Bondi Beach image. His mother was a browbeaten woman who reminded me of mum before she got herself a full time job.

That morning in church I sat in between him and Astrid and felt somewhat torn because over the last couple of weeks we'd spent a lot of time together and it wasn't just because we shared a house, we also travelled into the city on the same train. At school we had our own friends and when we got home we watched the same tv shows or listened to the same music. Astrid had melded seamlessly into our tiny household, it almost seemed as if she'd always been there.

The preacher that morning wasn't one of the usual ones, he was a visiting pastor who'd come over from Kenya and I warmed to him at first but midway into his sermon I felt a distinct chill in the air as he went on a rant about homosexuals. It was a study in body language to see the reactions in the people around me. Some were nodding but others were looking down or fiddling with phones, our church didn't exactly encourage gay people but they weren't homophobic.

It was hard to gauge Astrid's reaction because I didn't know her that well, it was only afterwards as we stood outside that I finally found out.

"It's different to what I expected," she admitted.

"He's a visiting pastor, we're not that homophobic for the most part, the younger ones either don't care or think it's a non issue but the older ones long for the old days."

"And what do you think?" Astrid asked me.

"I'm okay with it but my dad is quite embarrassing when he starts talking about gay people, the end of the world, evolution and all the rest. Even mum has started to get annoyed by it but she doesn't try to stop him," I trailed away, aware that I was rambling.

"So you won't be introducing me to your dad then," Astrid smiled crookedly.

"Probably not," I managed a tired smile.

"So what do you want to do now?" Astrid broke in.

"Um, I usually go to the coffee shop," I pushed my glasses further up my nose, "but."

"So where is the coffee shop?"

"In there," I pointed, "it's free coffee and cake."

"Okay, so what are we waiting for?" Astrid slipped a hand into the crook of my arm.

The coffee shop was at the front of the church and together, the two buildings formed a T-shape, the offices were also at the front. The coffee shop served a multitude of uses from after school drop in centre through to arts and crafts groups and community groups. During the week the church was used as a basketball and netball court, which brought in much needed income but there were some older people who complained that it was sacrilegious. However, the bible doesn't forbid basketball courts in church so I guess that's that argument settled. On Friday there was an actual coffee shop for teenagers and once a month there was a bush dance in the church.

One of the groups that used the coffee shop during the week was a dressmaking club. I'd seen their flyers up in the coffee shop but I'd never been to a dressmaking night. It was run by Robyn, who at one time was a church member. I'd seen her a few times in the past but we had never been formally introduced but as luck would have it, she was at a table that morning with a group of women. There were several garments hanging from the top of the bench seat and as we passed by, Astrid stopped to look at them.

"Wow," she spoke up, "I love them, who made them?"

"That would be me," she raised her mug, "I'm Robyn and I made them for Lindsay," she nodded at the woman sitting opposite her.

"I'm Astrid," she replied.

"Cool, that's a very Nordic name," Robyn smiled.

"I'm Danish," she smiled.

"Det er rart at møde dig," Robyn raised her mug again.

Astrid blinked and opened her mouth to reply but then shut it again.

"Wow, you speak Danish?"

"A little," she put her mug down, "one of my girlfriends speaks Danish and Swedish, so I got her to teach me. I know more Swedish than Danish though. Sigrid and Louise moved to Denmark a few years ago but they'll be coming back next year with their daughters."

"What part of Denmark are they in?"

"Nørrebro," she answered.

"I know Nørrebro," she nodded.

"I didn't know you spoke Danish," Lindsay smiled, "you really are a dark horse."

"With a blonde mane," she flicked at her hair.

As predicted, the other women at the table wanted to hear Astrid speaking Danish and she obliged while I got our coffees. David trailed along behind and I gave him a tight smile.

"We'll be ducking out to the market afterwards, sorry about that."

"That's cool," he replied but he looked a little pained and I felt a twinge of guilt because he had no idea that Astrid was gay.

"She used to come here years ago but she left."

"Who?"

"Robyn," he murmured.

"Okay?" I raised an eyebrow, "and?"

"She's," he paused, "gay," he lowered his voice even more.

"So what?" I shrugged as I took the cups from the man behind the counter, "it's not a crime."

David blushed but didn't reply and I felt a little guilty at my abruptness and even guiltier when I brought the coffees back to the table. There was only room for two more people at the table, Astrid and myself, which left David with nowhere to sit but then he excused himself to speak to some of the other guys at a table down the back. I made a mental note to ring him later on and focused on what Astrid and Robyn were talking about.

Robyn was just talking about their monthly women's meetings where they talked about women's issues and other topics. The emphasis was on women communicating with women but she had just stressed that it wasn't a gay thing, they had women from all walks of life there. Lindsay was one of their newest members.

"And she's as Christian as you can get."

"I'd love to come along," Astrid picked up her coffee.

"Sure, why not? Bring your friend too," she nodded at me.

"Well?" Astrid raised her eyebrows, "do you fancy coming to a women's meeting on Friday night?"

I stared at Robyn. I'd certainly heard about the woman who ran the dressmaking club but hadn't yet made a connection between her and the woman sitting opposite me. She had thick blonde hair and an angular-shaped face with greenish eyes. She looked to be in her late twenties or early thirties and I felt a slight twinge followed by a rush of blood to the head. Robyn was elegantly dressed in a light blue dress over a white blouse and I came to myself in a hurry as she smiled at me.

"Well? Do you fancy hanging out with a bunch of women or not?"

"Um, sure, why not? What do you talk about at these meetings?"

"The theme this month is integration, or getting along with people you have nothing in common with to be more blunt."

"I'll be up for that," I replied, "so, what do you charge for clothes?"

"I've got the information here," Astrid pushed a flyer over to me, "I'm getting myself measured this week."

I read the flyer, it advertised her dressmaking business. She made everything from dresses and tops through to blouses, pants, skirts and suits, menswear and children's wear, wedding dresses and she even catered for exotic garments. Further down the page were pricing plans where you chose the number of garments you wanted each month for a quarterly price. Obviously, the more money you paid the more you got. I glanced at the clothes, three blouses, two skirts and a short dress.