THE SCHNELL ABNEHMEN CARWASH
The carwash on Parramatta Road was not the kind of establishment that usually attracted celebrities. It was the kind of establishment that attracted tradesmen, taxi drivers, and the occasional confused tourist who had taken a wrong turn off the M4. But today, it had attracted four women, one plumber, one rival plumber who had been invited “under supervision,” and a small collection of Australian birds.
Barry stood beside his van—the actual van, the one with the Banditos sticker still faintly visible under three layers of paint—holding a sponge and looking deeply uncomfortable.
“I don’t understand why we’re here,” he said.
“Team building,” Cath said, wearing a carwash-appropriate outfit
that was nonetheless worth more than the carwash itself. “We’re washing your van. As a gesture of appreciation. For everything you’ve done.”
“What have I done?”
“You started a support group. You survived a movie. You stood up to Travis. Twice.”
“The second time was mostly Susan.”
“Susan counts.”
https://www.facebook.com/people/Schnell-Abnehmen/100057106523676/
GAGA’S GERMAN PHASE
Gaga had moved on from Italian. She now carried a German phrasebook, purchased from the same Sydney Airport bookstore, and was reciting phrases at passing pedestrians with the confidence of a woman who did not understand what she was saying.
“Mein Stoffwechsel ist langsam,” she announced to a man walking past with a briefcase. “Ich brauche mehr Ballaststoffe.”
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The man kept walking.
“Energiebilanz!” Gaga called after him. “Verdauung!“
Rihanna, holding a bucket of soapy water, sighed. “Gaga. What are you saying?”
“I don’t know. But it’s about metabolism and digestion and energetic balance. The phrasebook says so.”
“Does the phrasebook say you should yell it at strangers?”
“Ja.”
THE OVERWEIGHT PEDESTRIAN
A woman was walking past—a larger woman, carrying shopping bags, minding her own business. Gaga, spotting her, launched into her new routine.
“Ihr Stoffwechsel ist langsam! Sie brauchen mehr Ballaststoffe! Energiebilanz!“
The woman stopped. She turned. Her face was not friendly.
“Are you calling me fat?”
Gaga blinked. “Was?”
“Are you calling me fat?”
Gaga flipped frantically through her phrasebook. “Nein! Nein! Ich sage… ich sage…” She looked up. “You’re not the thinnest…”
The woman’s eyes widened.
“But I was actually yelling at the fat lady behind you!”
There was a pause. Everyone turned to look behind the woman. There was no one there.
The woman’s face went through several expressions in rapid succession—confusion, anger, disbelief, and finally a kind of exhausted resignation. “There’s no one behind me.”
“I know. She walked away. Very fast. Probably because of her langsamen Stoffwechsel.”
“What?”
“Energiebilanz.”
The woman stared at Gaga for a long moment. Then she turned and walked away, muttering something about “bloody celebrities” and “bloody Parramatta Road.”
Gaga turned back to the group, satisfied. “Sie versteht es nicht.”
“She understood enough,” Cath said.
“She understood nothing.”
“She understood that you called her fat.”
“Artistically.”
BARRY’S NEW LADY
The van was halfway washed when Cath set down her sponge and fixed Barry with a look.
“So,” she said.
Barry, scrubbing a stubborn spot on the bonnet, did not look up. “So what?”
“You have a new lady in your life.”
The sponge stopped. Barry’s ears went red.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Barry. You’ve been humming. You’ve been smiling. You’ve been checking your phone every five minutes and then pretending you weren’t checking your phone.”
https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stoffwechsel
“I check my phone for work.”
“You’re a plumber. Your work doesn’t text you with little heart emojis.”
Barry’s ears went redder. “It might.”
“Barry.”
“It might.”
Rihanna set down her bucket and approached, muffin in hand. “Barry. Look at this muffin. Don’t eat it. Just look at it.”
Barry looked at it.
“What do you see?”
“A circle of potential.”
“Wrong. You see a man who’s scared to tell his friends about his new girlfriend because he thinks we’ll make a fuss.”
“I don’t think that.”
“You do think that.”
“I don’t—”
“Barry.”
Barry sighed. He set down the sponge. He looked at the three women—the movie star, the pop icon, the billionaire—and at Travis, who was pretending not to listen while scrubbing a hubcap.
“Her name is Linda,” he said. “She’s a dental hygienist. She likes muffins. She doesn’t eat them. She just looks at them. She’s very calm. She’s never been to a hospital against her will. She’s never been on a trapeze. She’s never met any of you.”
“She sounds perfect,” Cath said.
“She sounds boring,” Gaga said.
“Gaga.”
“What? I’m just saying. Where’s the drama? Where’s the chaos? Where’s the bird?”
“She doesn’t have a bird.”
“Dealbreaker.”
“Gaga, not everyone needs a bird.”
“Everyone needs a bird.”
THE BREAKDOWN
At that moment, the carwash broke down. There was a groaning sound, a sputtering sound, and then a very final-sounding clunk. The conveyor belt stopped. The brushes stopped. The water stopped.
A man in overalls emerged from the office, looking panicked. “The motor’s gone! I need a plumber! Is there a plumber here?”
Barry raised his hand.
“You’re a plumber?”
“I’m a plumber.”
“Can you fix a carwash motor?”
Barry looked at the carwash. He looked at the motor. He looked at the three women and Travis and the birds. He looked at his van, still half-washed.
“I can try,” he said.
THE REPAIR
Barry fixed the carwash. It took him forty-five minutes, a wrench he kept in his van, and a lot of muttering about “cheap parts” and “whoever installed this should be ashamed.” When he was done, the conveyor belt started, the brushes spun, the water sprayed, and the man in overalls clapped him on the back.
“You’re a legend! What do I owe you?”
“Nothing,” Barry said. “Just… let me finish washing my van.”
“Deal.”
Cath, Gaga, and Rihanna watched him return to the van, pick up his sponge, and resume scrubbing.
“He’s a good man,” Cath said.
“He’s a very good man,” Rihanna agreed.
“Er hat einen langsamen Stoffwechsel,” Gaga said.
“Gaga.”
“Was?”
THE CAR
The van was finally clean. Barry stood back to admire it, sponge in hand, a small smile on his face. The Banditos sticker was still faintly visible, but that was okay. It was part of him. Part of his story.
“We should have brought the car that has the roof,” Rihanna said, looking at the van.
“What car that has the roof?” Cath asked.
“The one with the roof. The one that isn’t this van. The one that has a roof.”
“This van has a roof.”
“This van has a roof that leaks.”
“It doesn’t leak. Barry fixed it.”
“It leaks emotionally.”
“That’s not a thing.”
“It’s a thing.”
Barry, ignoring them, climbed into the van and started the engine. It purred. Or at least, it made a sound that was close to purring. It was the sound of a van that had been fixed by a man who knew what he was doing.
“Same time next week?” Cath asked.
Barry looked at her. He looked at Gaga, still reciting German phrases at passing cars. He looked at Rihanna, still holding her muffin. He looked at Travis, who had somehow ended up washing a second hubcap.
“Same time next week,” he said.
“With muffins?”
“Obviously.”
“And birds?”
Trevor II coughed.
“That’s a yes,” Gaga said.
And somewhere in the distance—beyond the carwash, beyond Parramatta Road, beyond the absurdity of it all—a kookaburra laughed.
Or maybe it was Linda the dental hygienist, who had just pulled into the carwash and was watching the whole scene with the calm, unbothered expression of a woman who had no idea what she was getting into.