The Inedible Core

The Inedible Core

‘I think that man is looking at me.’

‘He isn’t Mum. If he is, he’s cross-eyed.’ Wendy said.

‘Mum, you say that every time. It’s just kids doing…look at that one. It’s quite good.’

‘Ugly as sin, if you ask me.’

‘Well, I no longer own a car, and you never learnt to drive, so we put up with it, don’t we?’

The train pulls into the next stop. Wendy watched a woman running on the footpath beside the track, presumably to catch the train.

‘She’s going to miss it,’ Wendy said.

‘What?’ Barbara asked.

‘Nothing.’

‘It’s too hot,’ Barbara’s voice was loud; she flapped the top of her dress. The man looked at her this time, but Barbara failed to notice. ‘What’s this show again?’

‘Stephen Fry, in conversation with someone from the ABC—I told you this morning,’ said Wendy, still looking out of the window. She willed the train to wait for the running lady, who was pretty, despite her worried expression.

‘Did you bring anything to eat, Wendy?’ Barbara’s tone loaded, preparatory to combat.

‘Yes,’ Wendy said.

‘Well, what then?’ Barbara replied.

‘Apples and a bag of mixed nuts and a juice popper each.’

‘No sandwich?’

‘No,’ Wendy said. The running woman practically leapt across the platform for the door of the front carriage, barely making it as the whistle blew. Wendy felt her heart jump.

‘I would have liked a sandwich, Wendy,’ Barbara said.

‘Oh, good for you!’ Wendy murmured.

‘What! Oh, I see, you’re being sarcastic.’

‘Whatever,’ answered Wendy.

‘Is it that much to ask for a cheese sandwich, Wendy. What on earth is wrong with you today?’

‘Oh, mum, eat the apple.’

‘I’ll have some nuts,’ Barbara said.

‘Fine.’ Wendy wished she’d come alone.

Wendy watched the woman through the interconnecting carriage doors; she was flustered but smiled. It seemed someone out of sight had spoken to her. She shook her head and replied. Wendy watched as the woman, reaching for the strap above her head, faced back towards her. An alluring soft curl of light brown hair fell across her eyes as the train gained a jerky momentum. Wendy imagined the woman’s smile was just for her, warm and generous.

‘Do you eat the core?’ Wendy asked her mother. She was bored waiting in a line outside the concert hall. They were eating their apples.

‘Of course, don’t you?’

‘Really? Seeds and everything?’

‘Yes, Wendy, I do,’ Barbara said, realising she had once again launched on a trajectory impossible to avert. Why did she get herself into these pickles, always trying to do one better than her daughter? But there it was, she couldn’t help herself and now look, she has to eat a damn apple core. Barbara slowed her nibbling while Wendy watched her with interest.

‘Odd, I never noticed that before, somehow it seems strange—not knowing something like that.’

‘Oh, Wendy, you are silly sometimes. For your sake, I won’t eat the core. How about that?’ Barbara said, feigning nonchalance.

‘No, no, please, it makes you more interesting, Mum,’

Wendy giggled like a silly child. She had annoyed Barbara all morning, the business with the missing sandwich and her insistence on keeping up with that woman when they finally arrived at Circular Quay. The woman was going at quite a clip, following the curve of the Quay towards the Opera House. Wendy told her to keep up, and now here they were, puffed, waiting near the end of a long line. Furthermore, she’d told Wendy she had every intention of eating an apple core.

A young couple were in front of them in the line. The whole time, the couple jostled each other rudely, irritating Barbara. The young woman playfully punched her partner on his tattooed arm, and he leaned across, kissing her on the mouth—tongues appeared to be involved. Barbara scowled her disapproval at the young man’s body art and the girl’s willingness to be slobbered on in public.

A lady, Barbara, had seen alighting the train at Circular Quay, looked back past the couple and winked. What on earth! Barbara turned her attention to Wendy, seeing it was she to whom the winking was aimed. She noted her daughter’s shy smile. Oh, for goodness’ sake, not again.

‘This Stephen what’s-his-name—Fry; is he clever?’ Barbara asked, attempting to distract Wendy from both the woman and the apple at once.

‘Yes, he’s clever and…funny,’ Wendy said, her cheeks colouring while staring at the train lady, who once more turned and smiled at her daughter.

‘He wrote that embarrassing thing on that Twatter, though, didn’t he?’ Barbara said. Despite her snail-like nibbling, the apple was approaching the core. A bell rang, immediately animating the line.

‘It’s Twitter, mum, but yes, he recovered with dignity and admitted his tweet was ill-advised,’ Wendy said.

Wendy finished her apple and looked around for a bin to put the core in. Barbara saw an opportunity to slip hers into her handbag, but wasn’t quick enough.

‘Goodness, you’re actually going to eat it,’ Wendy said.

‘Of course, I am,’ Barbara failed to conceal her revulsion while popping the core into her mouth, believing she sufficiently feigned enjoyment before swallowing, but then gagged and coughed. The young couple sniggered. Red-faced and grimacing, Barbara removed an apple seed from her tongue and flapped the program at her daughter.

‘You know I fail to see the point of this. It’s an hour of one man talking to another, for goodness’ sake.’

‘You insisted on coming, Mum.’

‘What terrible seats they’ve given us, there’s a column right in front of us, Wendy,’ Barbara said loudly. Several people from the row in front turned to look at them, including the woman from the train.

‘It isn’t really mum. We can see the stage.’ Wendy whispered. The train woman gave Wendy a commiserating smile, and perhaps something more. Barbara squirmed herself into her seat, perusing the unnecessary program.

‘Says here, he’s out and proud, Wendy. What on earth have you brought me to?’