Chapter 8: Does the Dog Park Even Count as a Date?
There are first dates and there are first dates. As in, I had never been on a date before in my whole entire life, but I’ve watched enough romantic comedies to question whether meeting a boy in a urine-rich dog park even counts.
‘I was going to suggest roller skating but I figured it was too nice a day to be indoors,’ Oliver said as I approached.
‘So I guess I didn’t tell you I’m scared of dogs,’ I quipped, looking at the giant black mutt of a thing standing beside Oliver. His face dropped. ‘I’m just kidding.’
‘Well then, meet Bruce.’
I gave Bruce a pat and he slobbered all over my hand. I laughed and pretended that I wasn’t totally grossed out and paranoid about contracting tapeworm.
‘He likes you,’ Oliver said. ‘And he’s been known to bite.’
I must have looked concerned because Oliver laughed again. ‘Just kidding.’
We sat on a grassy hill and watched Bruce sniff other dogs’ bums.
‘I’ve just noticed that dogs are really gross. I hope you don’t mind being here.’ Oliver sounded a little nervous as Bruce licked the privates of some curly-haired designer creation.
‘Nah,’ I replied. ‘We used to have a dog, Penny. But she died last year.’
‘That sucks.’
‘She was more Mum’s dog. One of those small hairless things. She always had to wear a jacket.’
‘Oh, a Chinese crested hairless dog?’
‘Gee, you know your mutts.’
‘I secretly want to be a vet,’ Oliver told me. ‘But Mum dreams that I’ll become the next Steve Jobs, only with a much healthier respect for conventional medicine.’
I laughed so hard I had tears coming out of my eyes.
‘Well, I think vets are great,’ I said, finally.
Oliver told me that growing up with a single mother has pressures, that he feels he should be grateful for all the sacrifices she’d made. I didn’t really know what to say. I couldn’t imagine my mum ever being on her own.
‘Let’s go for a walk,’ Oliver said. ‘Want to?’
We ended up at the Melbourne cemetery. The sun shone and Oliver and I talked and talked and talked while Bruce ran about sniffing tombstones. I was having such a good time I forgot I was on a semi-date and instead of being nervous, I never wanted the time to end. Oliver was so funny, and he always seemed to get what I was talking about when other people probably would have considered me a weirdo.
‘My mum loves Elvis,’ I remarked as we stood in front of the Elvis Presley memorial. ‘When I was a kid we used to come here on bike rides and once we even left a little teddy bear for him.’
‘My mum loves Neil Young. She thinks he’s a total dreamboat.’
‘Dreamboat! Who says that anymore?’
‘My mother.’ Oliver smirked.
‘And about that crusty old dude?’
‘I’m warning you now,’ Oliver said. ‘That when you meet my mum never, ever refer to Neil Young as a “crusty old dude”.’
When.
I looked at Oliver. He was tall, maybe 180 centimetres, and lanky. He was wearing an ancient-looking Iron Maiden T-shirt and tattered jeans. He wasn’t super hot or anything but for some reason that made me like him more. I liked how his hair was all messy, like he’d just woken up, and he wore black Doc Marten boots like the ones my parents wore in old photos from before I was even born. I imagined myself kissing him but then Oliver’s phone beeped and he checked it straightaway.
‘I should head back,’ he said eventually. ‘My aunty is coming over for dinner.’
‘Yeah, me too,’ I lied. ‘I promised my parents I’d be back for tea.’
I would have stayed out all night if he’d asked me, no matter how much trouble I would have been in with my parents.
‘I’ll walk you home, though,’ Oliver said.
‘It’s okay. You don’t have to.’
‘I know, but I want to.’
On the way home I told Oliver all about Spencer and his potential role on Hoochilicious Party Bandits. Oliver had never heard of the show so he googled it on his phone and said that Louisa Bandit reminded him of Jackie Collins.
‘You know Jackie Collins but you don’t know Louisa Bandit?’ I teased.
‘There’s a reason my friends call me Grandma.’
‘They don’t!’
‘Okay, no. But they should!’
I laughed and when we got back to my place we stood awkwardly at the gate while I patted Bruce.
‘So I guess I’ll see you around,’ I said.
‘Yeah,’ Oliver replied. ‘Definitely.’
The light was really beautiful, kind of golden, and the street was quiet as a ghost town.
‘Okay, bye.’ I stalled.
But after some more awkward shuffling I turned and headed inside. I looked around before opening the door but Oliver was already walking down the street with Bruce.