The Rosie Effect by Graeme Simsion Page A

hug me, then, detecting my body language or remembering our past protocols, shook my hand instead. After releasing it, he hugged Rosie.
    Gene is my best friend, yet I find hugging him uncomfortable. In fact, I only enjoy close contact with people with whom I have sex, a category containing one person only. Rosiedislikes Gene, yet she managed to hug him for approximately four seconds without a break.
    ‘I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this,’ said Gene. ‘I know you’re not my biggest fan.’ He was speaking to Rosie, of course. I have always liked Gene, although this has required forgiveness for some immoral behaviour.
    ‘You’ve gained weight,’ I said. ‘We need to schedule some running.’ I estimated Gene’s BMI as twenty-eight, three points higher than when I had last seen him ten months earlier.
    ‘How long are you staying?’ said Rosie. ‘Has Don told you I’m pregnant?’
    ‘He has not,’ said Gene. ‘That’s wonderful news. Congratulations.’ He used the wonderful news as an excuse to repeat the hug and avoid answering the question about the duration of his visit.
    Gene looked around. ‘I really do appreciate this. What a great place. Columbia must pay better than I thought. But I’m interrupting dinner.’
    ‘No, no,’ said Rosie. ‘We shouldn’t have started before you. Have you eaten?’
    ‘I’m a bit jet-lagged. Not sure what time my body thinks it is.’
    Here, I could help.
    ‘You should drink alcohol. Remind your body that it’s evening.’ I went to the coolroom to collect a bottle of pinot noir while Gene began unpacking in what, until now, had been the spare room. Rosie followed me.
    Rosie stared at the barrels of beer, then looked suddenly ill and dashed out. It was true that the smell was much strongerinside the coolroom. I heard the bathroom door slam. Then there was a loud noise, a crash, but not from the bathroom. It was followed by a booming sound at similar volume. It was drumming from upstairs. An electric guitar joined in. When Rosie returned from the bathroom, I had the earplugs ready, but I suspected that her level of satisfaction had dropped.
    She went to her new study while I fitted my own earplugs and finished my meal. Fifty-two minutes later the music stopped and I was able to talk with Gene. He was certain that his marriage was over, but it seemed to me that he merely needed to rectify his behaviour. Permanently.
    ‘That was the plan,’ he said.
    ‘It was the only reasonable plan. Draw up a spreadsheet. Two columns. On one side you have Claudia, Carl, Eugenie, stability, accommodation, domestic efficiency, moral integrity, respectability, no more inappropriate-conduct complaints, vast advantages. On the other, you have occasional sex with random women. Is it significantly better than sex with Claudia?’
    ‘Of course not. Not that I’ve had a chance to compare recently. Can we talk about this later? It’s been a long flight. Two flights.’
    ‘We can talk tomorrow. Every day until we get it resolved.’
    ‘Don, it’s over. I’ve accepted it. Now, tell me how it feels to be an expectant father.’
    ‘I don’t have any feelings about it yet. It’s too early.’
    ‘I think I might ask you every day until we get it resolved. You’re a bit nervous, aren’t you?’
    ‘How can you tell?’
    ‘All men are. Worried they’ll lose their wives to the baby.Worried they’ll never have sex again. Worried they won’t cut it.’
    ‘I’m not average. I expect I will have unique problems.’
    ‘And you’ll solve them in your own unique way.’
    This was an extremely helpful contribution. Problem-solving is one of my strengths. But it failed to address the immediate dilemma.
    ‘What do I tell Rosie? She wants to know how I feel.’
    ‘You tell her that you’re excited about being a father. Don’t burden her with your insecurities. Got any port?’
    The music started again. I didn’t have any port, so substituted Cointreau and we sat without