Page 42 of Don't Point at the Moon

“And my uncle just sat there and let them throw shade at me. My own uncle.”

“Throw shade?” asked Shelly.

“Embarrass. Made me feel like some dumb hick from the sticks.”

“Harold and his entourage can come across as judgemental, maybe even a little elitist,” said Tommy. “Devon calls them Hong Kong royalty, queens who think the rest of us should curtsey to them.”

At least that managed to wrangle a chuckle out of Zane. “You crack me up.”

“You know I have a friend called Kate who works with your uncle?” said Shelly.

“I didn’t know you were friends, but I think I met her this morning.”

“I’m not sure if it changes your opinion,” continued Shelly, “but Kate told me Harold was there for Mitchell when he needed a friend. As much as people tend to view us expats as transients—here temporarily and passing through—the reality is that life can often be lonely, especially for those who are single, maybe something Harold recognised in Mitchell, and why he brought him into his group of friends. That might be something you want to bear in mind.”

“Harold’s not my friend.”

“No, he’s not,” said Tommy. “Nor is he mine. But he is your uncle’s. And he still will be after you’ve returned to England. And I think you should respect that. Look, your uncle’s agreed to put you up, so maybe bite the bullet when you’re invited out with them. Do it out of respect for him.”

Although Zane’s attention appeared to drift off, Tommy noticed his head bobbing slowly as he listened. Shelly winked at Tommy and used the opportunity to slip away and mingle with the troops.

“Actually,” said Zane, “Harold did order some half-decent chow in the end. If only I hadn’t had to listen to their bullshit.”

“Mind if I give you a free piece of advice?” said Tommy, feeling himself slipping into teacher mode.

“Go on.”

“You’re going to meet people like Harold and his friends at university, older and younger, people with their own sense of self-worth and unshakeable opinions on any number of subjects. Some of those are likely to contradict yours. Listen to what they have to say, but don’t let them get to you. Learn to stay calm, rise above any comments. Be the better person. I often find a simple smile, a nod and silence is better than a full-blown argument, one that, frankly, nobody ever wins. Smiling and nodding doesn’t mean you’re agreeing. It simply means that you’ve heard them.”

“Not always easy to do,” said Zane.

“No, it’s not. And it seems to me these days that a lot of people ask for your opinion about something because they want to hear their own reflected back. I find it best, especially if they bluntly disagree with what I’ve said, to maintain my composure and ask for theirs. Hear them out. Some people may have facts we didn’t know or make a point we hadn’t considered. But like I said, it’s fine to agree to disagree because, believe me, you are goingto hear a whole heap of factually inaccurate bullshit from some corners. For me, once I’ve parted ways, and if the bothersome bee of annoyance is still buzzing around in my chest, I go to the local gym, find the nearest hanging punch bag and spend an hour knocking all kinds of shit out of the damn thing. It’s my go-to stress reliever, as well as a great way to stay in shape.”

“I prefer to jog,” said Zane. “Five miles. Totally clears my head.”

“Perfect. If that works for you.”

“Listen,” said Zane, peering over at Shelly and his group. “I wanted to say thanks ’cause I’m really enjoying this afternoon. Think I passed the vibe check with the crew. They tell me they’re rehearsing Thursday and Sunday each week until the performances. They also told me about this cool virtual reality venue they’re hitting later this week and the fancy dress junk boat trip in a week’s time for the cast and crew to get to know each other better. I’m going to join them but can you do me a favour and mention the idea to Mitchell—”

“Mitchell already thinks you being involved in this is a good thing. He’ll be fine—”

“He might get funny about the boat trip because he knows I can’t swim. But he’ll definitely agree if it comes from you. He’s into you, man—”

“He’s—what?”

“Don’t worry,” said Zane, grinning. “He’s too chicken to say anything, but I can tell by how his mood improves when you show up.”

“We’re just friends—”

“Chill, Tommy. He knows he’s not your type. Thinks he’s not good enough for you, even if he was interested. Mum says he steers clear of relationships, anyway. Says he once had his heart broken beyond repair.”

“What happened?”

“If he hasn’t told you, then I’m not sure I should say anything.”

“Whatever you think is right. But you do know I’m not going to repeat anything, Zane.”

Zane looked away to think before nodding.

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