Nava 3

Naomi and I sit together at lunch.
She grins, "I don't believe it, caught you paying attention."
"Well, always admired the Trudeau era. Met various Canadian chaps out on tour, they got me interested, read up on it some."
She gasps, "soldiers talk of Trudeau and history?"
"It isn't all booze and racetrack."
She blushes, "sorry, guess that came out wrong."
Eager to let her off the hook, I change the topic, "so what do you make of Rick?"
"I was watching, while you're reading. Now that he sees the more confident reader, if anything, he likes you more."
"So what happens next?"
"Not a lot, he's still too young and shy to ever proclaim he's your boyfriend. But, he will chat about school a lot."
"Suits me fine, more I learn, easier to fit."
He sits at a table at a distance, chatting with his friends, but still surreptiously glancing in my direction.
Naomi drops her voice, "so what unit were you in?"
"Mosta the time 1 Para; that's First Battalion, Parachute Regiment."
"Where all did you tour?"
"Ulster, Cyprus, Iraq, Belize, Chad, Germany, Sudan, Guyana, Bosnia, Afghanistan, New Guinea and a survival course in your very own High Arctic."
"Where?"
"North of Eureka, that's the weather station at 80 degrees latitude."
Loud gasp, then a chuckle, "so if Fate had dropped you in Saskatchewan, it wouldn't be the end of your world?"
"Still, I do like Victoria."
"After all that, doesn't it seem a let down, listening to tedious teacherdom?"
I realize I'm on the edge of crying. That's something I just don't do. So I say, "them's the breaks."
She must sense I'd prefer a changed topic, so, "since neither you nor I do much homework, after school, my place, we'll watch TV."
"Cool, I'd like that."
"In a way, glad you came along. The original Nava was getting so totally boring, always watching the same stuff. Now's a chance to switch around a bit, you'll like that?"
It's a good act, but not good enough. Obvious it's the other way around. So I just smile easily, "I'm open to experimenting, I'd like to watch the stuff you like."
Hopeful tone, "you mean that?"
"Why not? Anything I learn at this point will be helpful."
"Well, in that case, I know some fun cartoons, based on Japanese manga. Neat soap opera, you'll get to like the characters."
It is the honest truth that I like manga, having read it in comic book form a lot. When I tell her this, her relief is palpable.
Rick succeeds in passing our table on his way out, "we're playing soccer at afternoon recess. Can you come watch?"
I smile, "sure, sounds like fun."
He seems relieved, then moves along quickly, lest his buddies think he's fraternising with the enemy.
The instant we arrive at Naomi's we fire up the TV, cartoons will start in about 3 minutes.
She flashes a wicked grin, "come on, let's check the fridge, think there's leftover chocolate cake."
"I don't know. This morning before you arrived, Mum warned me not to eat anything here, said it's treyf."
She laughs, "don't get all Jewish on me. The original Nava never bothered to obey. Rinse your mouth after, I'll even use a toothpick on you, just in case she gets suspicious."
"But aren't I supposed to keep a slender figure for Rick?"
Groan, "oh grow up, gonna be several years yet before he publicly proclaims himself to be your boyfriend. Meantime enjoy."
As we settle in with cake and lemonade, she grins, "wanna know what's so funny? My Mum says the very same about your house, treyf, don't eat there."
We both laugh.
As it turns out her soap of choice is Coronation Street. I'm ecstatic discovering this, as it was my favorite TV show in the Army.
Yes I reflect, my first school day went remarkably well.
Sitting with Mum at supper, she asks, "how was school today?"
"Fine."
"And how's Naomi?"
"Fine."
"Got any homework?"
"Done."
"Feeling ok after the fever?"
"Fine."
Long pause, "Nava, are you avoiding me?"
"No."
"You usually talk more."
I could say I don't feel well, but that would only delay the inevitable. Besides, what can I say without arousing her suspicion? So I counterattack, casual tone, "that's for little kids."
By the look on her face, I scored a direct hit. Here on in, any uncommunicativeness will be seen as the budding diva, the kid growing up.
Give her credit, she comes up swinging fast, "right, since you're not a little kid, time to take more responsibility. Clean up that room."
Cheerfully, I reply, "sure Mum, right after supper."
She feels my forehead, then shakes her head.
Truth is, I'm glad she ordered it. It is a tip, however I was afraid of making any changes.
She enters just as I'm finishing up. Her look, definitely traumatized. This is clearly beyond what she expected, even in her wildest dreams.