Love Is... by Haley Hill

you’re adorable, whatever you wear.’
    I looked at him, open-mouthed. ‘Was that just a compliment from Matthew?’
    He grinned. ‘If you have any faith in their judgement, that is.’
    I leaned forward and smacked him on the leg. He put me in a mock headlock.
    â€˜We’re going to miss you, Ellie Rigby,’ he said, ruffling my hair.
    Victoria looked the other way. If I hadn’t have known her better, I would’ve thought she was wiping away a tear.
    Matthew suddenly freed me and then grabbed the open bottle of wine that the waiter had just placed in front of him.
    â€˜Let’s drink,’ he said, pouring each of us a glass.
    We’d failed to order within the expected timeline so were forcibly supervised by the increasingly impatient waiter.
    Victoria announced that she wasn’t in the mood for a burger.
    â€˜Is there anything else on the menu?’ she asked the waiter.
    He sighed. ‘There’s the Blood Spud.’
    She screwed up her face. ‘You’ve really gone to town with the blood theme, haven’t you?’ she said. ‘And what exactly is the Blood Spud?’
    â€˜A potato.’
    â€˜With?’
    â€˜Chilli mince.’
    Her face contorted further. ‘Anything vegetarian?’
    The waiter checked his watch. ‘Yes, the blood orange salad.’
    â€˜Fine. I’ll have that then.’ She let out a deep sigh as though she’d just forfeited generations of accumulated family wealth in one disastrous negotiation.
    The waiter turned to Matthew. ‘And for you, sir?’
    Matthew, evidently amusing himself at the waiter’s expense, insisted he consult with the chef on the gluten content of the entire menu, before eventually conceding that he was not in any way intolerant to gluten. He then ordered aDouble Blood Beaten Burger with a Big Daddy Bap. I could tell he enjoyed saying the word ‘bap’.
    â€˜I’ll have the Black and Blue,’ I said, conscious time was passing. ‘With extra blue cheese sauce, please.’
    Suddenly, Matthew hid behind his menu. ‘Fuck me,’ he said.
    I stared at him. ‘It’s only blue cheese sauce. I didn’t order a ten-inch dildo.’
    â€˜No, not that.’ Matthew pointed from behind the menu. ‘Them.’
    The waiter hurried off and I glanced behind me to see what Matthew was pointing at. I struggled to recognise them at first. Then I realised it was Kat and Klive coming down the stairs. Kat appeared to be wearing an orange sari and Klive was beside her looking like a Masai warrior after a Gok Wan makeover. I looked closer. Kat’s hair was scraped back. No, wait a minute…
    â€˜She’s shaved her head?’ Matthew said, reappearing from behind the menu.
    Kat waved. Klive puffed out his chest and glanced around the room, as though he were the guest on a prime-time talk show.
    They approached the table and Klive pulled out a chair for Kat. Then he nodded at each of us, as though the matter of presenting our close friend with a freshly shaven head were an everyday occurrence.
    Victoria broke the silence first.
    â€˜Please tell me this is fancy dress,’ she said, pulling at Kat’s robe. ‘You’ve got a party to go to after, haven’t you?’
    Kat shook her head.
    Klive took Kat’s hand and looked at us solemnly.
    â€˜Katrina and I have chosen a new way of life,’ he said.
    Victoria rolled her eyes and Matthew started giggling.
    In the years I’d known her, Kat had assumed all manner of religions and identities depending on whom she was dating. I looked her up and down, vaguely identifying her attire from a Louis Theroux documentary I’d seen recently.
    â€˜So, you’re a Hare Krishna now?’ I asked.
    Kat nodded.
    Matthew laughed again. ‘You can talk, you know. It’s only Buddhists who take a vow of silence. The Hare Krishnas are a noisy bunch. Always chanting. Are you sure