The mournful cry of a kookaburra swept across the frozen valley, and then the world was blanketed by deep, velvety silence.
Within our lonely cabin, a carefully-prepared platter of calamari linguine lay restlessly upon the kitchen table, unloved and cooling as the interminable minutes ticked by. Gordon Shumway, my lifelong partner and bosom friend, was late home from work again. Welcome to the worst days of my life.
And so I sat, wine glass in hand, and waited. Finally, as the moon climbed through the clouds towards its apex, the front door creaked open and a tiny alien stumbled into the cabin’s milky light.
The sweet stench of buttermilk schnapps heavy on his breath, Gordon lurched towards his dinner. I stood in silence and scraped the cold, yet probably still quite delicious, pasta into the bin for dramatic effect. The distance between Gordon and I seemed to open up like a vast chasm.
“You probably drowned it in garlic aioli anyway,” Gordon spat, his cruel taunt slicing through me like the precision-made Wüsthof knives we’d received as a gift during happier times. “Subtlety never was your forte, Bigs.”
“What happened to us, Gordon?” I asked, struggling to mask the wobble in my voice. “There was a time when we could lay beneath the stars, your furry body in my powerful arms, and just talk. Now we can barely be in the same room together.”
“I think…” Gordon’s words trailed off as he turned away in a futile attempt to hide the tears swelling in his chocolatey eyes.
“You think what, Gordon? You think what?”
“I think we should see other people.”
The little alien’s big words hung in the air like dewdrops on a spring morning. Now it was I who turned away, not wanting to show weakness, hoping only to cloak the destruction that had swept across my face. Deep down I’d been expecting these words for a long time, but they still shattered my very soul. Hours seemed to pass, and I found myself holding him in a rare sign of affection.
“Alright, Gordon,” I sighed, pressing my forehead against his. “Let’s see how it works out.”
When Gordon Met Mike
It was, perhaps, inevitable that Mike would steal Gordon’s heart. The metre-tall teddy bear is super cute, extremely sassy, and designed by Academy Award winner John Cox. In other words, everything a diminutive alien could ever dream of – and everything I’m not.
Gordon was in an excitable mood as he groomed himself for his first playdate with Mike, and I even helped him pick out the perfect tunic. It might sound strange, but preparing him for another man brought us closer than we’d been in months. I was just happy for his happiness.
The sun seemed to shine a little brighter as we wandered through Southport’s flourishing Broadwater Parklands, which is also home to Geckomania! and Blue Perspective. Gordon was nervous, enlivened and boisterous all at once, and I loved him for it.
“I hope Mike likes my shirt,” he kept saying.
As we swaggered past a clutch of clusterberries, Gordon took my hands in his and leant in close. “Thanks for supporting me through this, Bigs, it means the world to me,” he whispered. “But there’s one thing I didn’t tell you. This is a double date.”
It was at that moment I saw her, as we crested a knoll, and my life was forever changed. A giant girl, sunhat on head, wistful grin on face, eternally staring out at the ocean. I loved her before we’d even met.
“Her name’s Maddie. I thought you might like her. Run along and say hi.”
When Bigs Met Maddie
Maddie, with her big, blue eyes and feminine wiles, is not the type I’m usually attracted to. You’re more likely to find me on the arm of a muclebound tradie like Ernie the Shepparton Giant, or with a bearded bad boy like Ned Kelly. Women, even those who are 2.5-metres tall whilst sitting, just aren’t my cup of tea.
I’m not too proud to admit to envying Maddie’s lithe frame and luxurious locks. Her eternal youth – forever seven years old, despite being created in 2010 – tormented me. Maddie’s one of the most beautiful Bigs on the planet, and I felt inadequate in comparison. I also yearned for the instant attraction and easy repartee that was so evident between Gordon and Mike.
But, as Maddie and I watched our significant others cosying up to each other, an unbreakable bond formed between us. Maddie proved to be wise beyond her years, with a cheeky sense of humour and a devilish wit. She loves Mike just as I love Gordon, and by the end of the playdate it felt like we were just one big family.
As the sun set behind the Gold Coast’s rolling hills, I took a very tired, very satisfied Gordon into my arms. The four of us embraced, and I whispered into Maddie’s ear that I loved her. And then we were gone. Gordon and I, on our long journey back to that cabin in the valley.
“Hey Bigs,” Gordon said sleepily as our moped bumbled along, “can you make that seafood linguini for dinner tonight? You know it’s my favourite.”
“Of course, Gordon. You know I love you.”
“I love you too, Bigs.”
