The Oxford Dictionary defines Pizza as "a dish of Italian origin, consisting of a flat round base of dough baked with a topping of tomatoes and cheese, typically with added meat, fish or vegetables." Various definitions from Urban Dictionary range from "a delicious round piece of dough that comes in strange boxes for some reason" to "Greatest food ever. Otherwise known as the 7th food group and most needed." It is universally accepted that pizza brings people together. That when you feel alone, pizza is your friend. For those in the know, pizza is also a codename for drugs. Everybody loves pizza, that is unless you have an allergy or just plain weird.

Friday 6.15pm, M. Smith, 14 Coronation Crescent, Penzance TR18 . Order: One Large Margherita. One Large Pepperoni. One Gluten Free Hawaiian. 1 portion of chicken strips. 1 portion of chips. 2 litre of Coca-Cola.

     Maureen yells up the stairs. "Dinner's ordered AND we are eating as a family tonight." Silence. "...You hear me?"

Silence.

     When did they stop responding?

     She expected that of Clarissa and James as they were teenagers in every sense of the word. Michael is what hurt the most. He was only seven and lately had stopped wanting to follow her around the kitchen. Ever since Colin bought him that iPad, it was app this and Dad that.

     iPads. Smartphones. They were all members of a club that she was excluded from. She knew how to send an email and of course she had a Facebook page, not that her children would accept her friend requests. When did we need approval to be friends?

     Maureen walks on. Past her wedding photo which hung on the wall opposite the understairs cupboard; just before entering the kitchen diner, or as she called it, the hub. She knew that photo by heart. Taken outside Old Marylebone Town Hall. Her and Colin flanked on either side by Kevin and Alice their best friends at the time. Colin wore a Jarvis Cocker inspired suit. She loved his quirkiness then. His sleeves were purposely short, showing off his thin wrists. He had his arm around her. She looked like a brunette Shirley Manson. They were the epitome of London cool in the 90's. The last photo before she found out she was pregnant with Clarissa.

     She remembers how Alice sneered, "Nobody LIVES in Cornwall....Who in bloody hell would want to live in Pen-zance!" The last syllables drawn out as if she was saying something disgusting. Like so many of their London friends, they simply lost touch. Out of sight, out of mind. All they had needed to do was come down and stand here in the hub and they would understand why. The house they bought was not far from the Promenade but high enough that she could look past Jubilee Pool, across the bay and see St Michael's Mount in the distance. A sight that always added a touch of magic when she read fairy tales to Michael; before he stopped wanting to imagine.

     She reaches in her pocket for her mobile and dials Colin.

     "darling...Colin?...How's the journey?" The line was patchy.

     "...train ...slightly de.layed..."

     A sigh of disappointment. " How long?"

     Colin's voice breaks intermittently. "an hour....be...long..er"

     She rolls her eyes. "Well...cancel the taxi...I'll come and pick you up."

     "That... be love..ly...sorry ..bout dinner.... make it up ..this weekend...promise."

     "It would be nice to eat as a family for once..."

     "I know..Maur...listen...the signal is getting really bad...I'll text ..time I...getting in..."

     "Colin...." The signal drops. "I love you." She adds, even if he hadn't heard.

     The silence in the hub becomes stifling. She turns the radio on. "Common People" is halfway through. She moves along to the music, remembering dancing with Colin. She felt free then. "Animal Nitrate" plays next. Flashback: Her and Colin drinking tins of Red Stripe, smoking a spliff on the steps to nowhere at The Hanover Grand. She sings along to the music. Like she once loved too, trying to disguise the lament of youth. The girl who once felt like she ruled London. The girl whose boyfriend played bass in a band before he sold pharmaceuticals.

     "Mum! What you doing?" Her eyes open with the invading sound of teenage monotony. She should feel embarrassed but she is caught in the memory of Maureen Harper, the girl who never cared.

     "Dancing..." She lowers the radio, out of habit more than desire.

     Clarissa looks at her mother with disgust. That youthful disgust that disguises fear. Her judgement is interrupted by the doorbell. She turns around as she says, "so like embarrassing mum....pizzas here!"

     Maureen walks towards the door, calling James and Michael down before opening it and paying for the order. The boys run down the stairs, driven by appetite.

     "Where's dad?" Michael asks, grabbing the bag with the Cola from his mum.

     "Running late." She places the food on the table. James grabs a plate from the cupboard and piles on slices of pizza and chicken strips. "Thanks mum!" He disappears upstairs before she can stop him.

     "ugh...Mum..." Clarissa shouts.

     "Its fine...do what you want.." Maureen cuts her off. Her children fail to hear the disappointment in her voice.

     "Thank you mum." Michael responds, grabbing a slice of pizza and then pouring some cola for himself before leaving.

     "You're listening to Classic 90's on Pirate FM." Even the radio mocks me.

      She grabs her gluten free pizza. The DJ plays Saint Etienne's "Only Love Can Break Your Heart." She thinks back to that time Sarah Cracknell had complimented her on her boots at Popstarz; and smiles.

Friday 7.06pm, C. Donnelly, 24 Kings Row, Islington N1. Order: Medium Meat Fiesta with stuffed crust. 1 litre of Sprite.

     "You sure you don't want anything?" Reg asks Christian who is lying with his head towards the foot of the bed. The blanket is just covering his waist. He shakes his head. "Okay, no...that will be all." Reg hangs up.

     He stretches his hand towards Christian's smooth chest. "You sure you're not hungry?"

     "Oh I am...but not for that junk." Christian snaps back in his broad Sydney accent that compliments his golden looks.

     Reg dismisses the comment. "What can I say...a man needs real food after a workout like that." He pats his stomach.

     Christian gets up, revealing his pert bum which Reg can't help but slap. 

     "Ouch...Reg...What the fuck?"

     "Just being playful."

     "Well stop it." He walks out of the bedroom towards the kitchenette, rolling his eyes as Reg causally throws in "happy to kiss it better."

     What his flat lacks in space and amenities, it gains in location. His "one bedroom" flat which by bedroom means an alcove with room for a bed is a far cry from the house in Darling Point he grew up in. Still, at least he's no longer sharing a flat with 5 other Aussies in Acton.

     Reg follows, catching up and wrapping his arms around Christian's youthful waist. His moisturised skin pressing against Christian's naturally soft skin.

     "What's wrong with you?"

      Christian breaks free. "Just hungry." He opens the fridge and takes out a container of leftover tofu noodles.

     "Ugh..how can you eat that?" Reg teases.

     "Me?...at least its homemade...we don't all need to order half the animal kingdom slaughtered and put on pizza."

     Reg bangs his chest as if he's Tarzan. "I'm a growing boy."

    "Grown man you mean." Christian examines Reg, naked. For a guy in his thirties he's still in good shape. He has that sparse chest hair and a loosely defined swimmer's build that reminds him of his old swim coach Mr. Robinson.

    He turns around again and grabs a glass for water. As he fills it up, he looks at his hand, so young compared to Reg's. He looks up at the cupboard. "Simon."

     "What?" Reg remarks, a statement more than a question. He can feel his stomach tighten. Not again. He mumbles to himself.

    "Simon is what's wrong. You asked what was wrong...Simon."

     "Bloody hell Christian! Do you have to ruin a perfectly good night with this??"

     Christian slams his hand against the counter.

     "Christian...don't..."

     "No! Don't Christian me....Perhaps I should bring him up when we're in bed! Would that be more convenient??"

     "Don't be a child." Reg walks back towards the alcove bedroom and puts on his black D&G briefs on. He is no longer feeling sexy enough to stay naked. He sits down on the bed looking towards Christian's direction. Christian, all twenty six years of beauty. Christian who makes him feel young and desired. He runs his fingers through his hair; feeling sorry for himself and thinks momentarily about Simon. What had happened to him? What happened to them?

     Christian calls out to him. "You're not the victim here!"

     Reg knows the answer to this but can't bring himself to say, No...Simon is! He responds the only way he can, "I know."

     Christian walks back into the bedroom and kneels in front of Reg. "I knew you had a boyfriend when this started...I knew what I was getting into...I just didn't expect to fall for you."

     Reg looks away then back into Christian's eyes. They are bright blue, like clear water everyone can see you drown in. "I like you a lot...but...it's complicated."

     "Yea.." He gets up "I'm old enough to fuck but not date...always the same."

     Reg goes after him. "What do you mean? Always the same?"

     "What? Do you think you're special?" Christian smirks, knowing he has the upper hand. "You're not the first married man I've been with."

     "I'm not married."

    "Whatever...close enough...just as pathetic."

     Reg feels his face burning up. "Don't be such a bitch." He searches the floor for his trousers and shirt. He needs to leave. Christian walks toward the kitchenette and continues, " Oh so leaving already...fucking typical."

     "I'm not doing this...not again...you knew the rules."

     "Fuck your rules!" He throws the container of noodles in Reg's direction. Cold noodles splatter across the floor, a few on Reg's toes.

     "Jesus! Are you mental or what?"

     Christian sinks to the floor. "I'm sorry...I just can't Reg....I can't anymore."

     Reg half dressed walks over and sits next to him. He puts his arm around him. Christian is shaking. "Just give me some time."

     Christian remains silent. People always ask for more time when they wanted to dump me, he thinks to himself.

     The intercom buzzes. Reg kisses Christian on the head. "Give me a moment." As he walks down to get the pizza he knows it has gone too far. That none of them are getting out of this one easily.

Did I get it or not? Today will be a really good day if you will just let me know—either way. I know, I know. I need to be patient, have faith. And I should have plenty of that because it is my name. To be honest, God, if one more person tells me to be encouraged, I think I'm going to scream. It's been a month since the interview. A month. If it isn't meant for me that's...well... just let me hear something today. I don't mean to sound pushy or arrogant, well, okay maybe pushy but can you blame me? I'm kind of tired of waiting. It's time to start my day. I'm thankful for the tomatoes in my garden, they really are lovely this year. Amen.

Faith prays every day, yet it's the thing she feels most conflicted about. She won't admit to anyone that sometimes she thinks God just helps her cope with what life throws at her. She knows what is expected of her: go to church, keep God first, pray hard, work hard, don't complain. But sometimes it makes her insides curl. She walked down the bright hallway to the Student Activities office. She paused and took a deep breath before walking inside. She knew today is the day that she would hear about the big decision. She put her hand on the doorknob, drew in a deep breath. “Smile. Breathe. Be ready for the day,” she said to herself. She turned the doorknob and walked in.

     “Good Morning, everyone!”

The office was busy, as usual. It was always busy at the end of the semester. Lots of activities and meetings to wrap things up.

     “Good morning, Faith,” said Cherie.

     “Good Morning, Cherie!”

     “Listen, after you get settled, why don't you come in here so we can chat for a bit.”

     “Sounds great. Let me just throw my things down and run to the bathroom.”

     “Take your time. I've got tea brewing. Earl Grey.”

     “You know, the bathroom can wait. You're brewing my favorite tea so it can't be good.”

     “Faith, come in. Have a seat.”

Cherie handed Faith a cup of Earl Grey in a smiley face mug. She pulled up a chair beside Faith and put her hand on Faith's arm. Faith felt her hope take a swan dive into her stomach.

     “I'm so sorry. Dean Tyler gave the job to an external candidate,” Cherie said.

Faith placed that stupid smiley-faced mug on a coaster that said “shit happens.” She looked down at her lap and tried to gather herself. She could feel the tears welling up and her throat tightening. She tried to swallow the wad of disappointment stuck in her throat.

     “He feels you need more time to establish yourself as an administrative figure in order to be taken seriously in a position of authority by the students and other administrators.”

     “So...I didn't get the job as director of student activities because I have a good relationship with my students? That makes perfect sense.”

     “Faith,” Cherie put her hand on Faith’s hand, “I understand how disappointed you are. But...did you really want this?”

     “Of course, I wanted it Cherie! I've been your assistant for five years! You're retiring. I know this office like the back of my hand. This is the next logical step for my career.”

     “Well, yes, when you look at it like that I guess it is. But something is pulling at you. I've been in this profession long enough to know when someone's heart isn't in it.”

     “My heart's been in nothing else, Cherie. Education is all I've ever known. I have dedicated myself to these students and this office.”

     “That goes without saying. You are an extremely hard worker but... it's almost like...well...you do it because it's what's expected of you. It's not your passion.”

     “Education is what fits, Cherie.”

     “Does it really fit, Faith? There's a difference between what fits and being fit for something,” said Cherie.

     “I need some time to think. This is just too much to take in.”

     “What's too much, Faith?”

     “This. Not getting promoted. You telling me it's not my passion. I worked hard for five years for nothing.”

     “I wouldn't say that, Faith. You've contributed a lot to this office. You've been my right hand. We wouldn't be as successful as we are without your enthusiasm.”

     “My enthusiasm seems to have cost me a promotion.”

     “Faith, let me be real with you. This,” Cherie waved around as if showing off her office, “doesn't drive you. When we sit around in meetings and talk about student development theory, your eyes glaze over after about fifteen minutes.”

     “So I'm not driven because I don't enjoy sitting around with a bunch of people that love to hear themselves talk?”

     “Faith. I know you are upset. Try and listen. Education is what you do, but it doesn't make you want to get out of bed every day.”

     “So what, I just leave education? Find a new career? In what? Education is what I went to school for. What would I even do? And what would my parents think if I just up and changed careers?”

     “Faith, I can't tell you what's right for you, only you know that. You could stay on as the assistant director.”

Faith let out a disapproving hmph sound.

     “and….AND” Cherie was trying to calm the storm brewing in Faith’s mind, “in the meantime you can apply for director positions at other colleges...you'd be great at it. I know you’d be great at it. But I don’t think it’s what you really want. And there truly is nothing worse than waking up one day and realizing that your whole life was a mistake. I've seen people live with that kind of regret.”

     “Name one.”

Cherie stared at Faith for a moment and let the silence hover between them. She walked over to her bookshelf and grabbed a picture of herself in a graduation cap and gown with a wide smile on her face. She showed it to Faith.

     “That was me when I graduated from college. I had a Bachelor's degree in Fine Arts and that smile was filled with all of the dreams I had of publishing my own magazine. I had a job as a glorified grunt on a magazine and worked another part-time job just to make ends meet. I had a boss that was threatened by me and tried her best to stifle my natural ability. That part-time job in student activities ended up becoming a full-time job. It was good money. I was very competent at what I did.” 

Cherie took the photo back from Faith, wiped the dust from the top of the frame with her index finger, and placed it back on the shelf. She adjusted it back to an angle facing the window. “Forty years later, here I am.”

     “So, you didn't take this job on purpose? I mean, this wasn't what you wanted to do all of your life? That's hard to believe. This fits you.”

     “Yeah, it fits. You can make anything fit. Then soon you get comfortable and you start sleepwalking through life. And if you’re lucky, you wake up before it’s too late. That's why I'm retiring. I'm old now...well, older...and I have a nice retirement nest egg. I'm going to use it to figure out what I really want to do with the rest of this life that I've got left.”

“If you saw all this going on with me Cherie, why didn't you say something five years ago?”

     “Five years ago, I didn't feel it was my place to say anything. I didn’t know anything about you except that you were driven and determined. But I caught glimpses of you over the years when you didn’t think I was looking.”

     “And?”

     “And I hoped that you would come to realize things on your own.”

     “I wouldn’t call not getting the job realizing it on my own.”

     “No,” Cherie said, “that’s the universe giving you a gentle push letting you know that you need something different.”

     “What does that mean?”

     “It means that it's time for Watermelon Wednesday. Did you pick up some watermelon?”

     “Yes, of course I did.”

     “And when will your garden be providing us with watermelon?”

     “Mid-July. Are you going to explain your last statement?”

     “Nope. I think you're smart enough to figure it out.”

Faith is in her favorite pair of overalls and her green crocs working in her garden. She grabs her green plastic bucket and begins to cut the larger lettuce leaves from the plant. She lets out a shriek of happiness when she notices that the flowers on her tomato plants have now turned into tiny green tomatoes. She walks through the tomato patch, brushing the basil plants along the way with her hands. She puts her hand to her nose and breathes in the and breathes in the peppery, minty smell the basil has left behind on her fingers. She walks to the raised bed where her cucumbers are growing.

     “Ah, you’ve begun to climb the trellis, I see! Won't be long before I have some cucumbers!”

She pulls a few stray weeds from around the cucumbers and works her way toward the peppers. As she's weeding, she looks at her peppers.

     “You fellas should be showing me some flowers soon, too.”

She walks over to another raised bed to look at her herbs. They are coming along nicely. She brushed her hand across them, and lets the aromas rise to meet her nose.

     “Oh boy. Smelling your herbs.”

Faith jumps and drops the bucket in her left hand.

     “Cathy! I didn't hear you come through the gate.”

     “Obviously. Okay, sweets, let's have it.”

     “Have what?”

     “Come on, Faith. You're smelling your herbs.”

     “I always smell my herbs.”

     “Yes, but when you start taking deep focused breaths, something’s got your dander up.”

Faith snipped a few sprigs of rosemary, placed her bucket that she dropped upright on the ground and put the rosemary in it. “I didn't get it.”

     “Damn! I'm so sorry. I know how much you wanted it. What happened?”

     “That's the kicker. Apparently having a good relationship with my students is not a good thing for a director of student activities to have.”

     “Oh for the love of all things deep fried.”

     “I will never get used to your sayings, Cathy!”

Faith and Cathy both laughed. Faith picked up the bucket and motioned it towards Cathy.

     “The usual?”

     “Of course.”

     “I have some nice radishes. Can you use them?”

     “Yes. Now tell me why the heck good relationships with your students keeps you from being a director of student activities.”

     “It means that Dean Tyler wanted someone who could be seen by the students as more of an administrative figure head.”

Cathy stared at Faith like she was waiting for the punch line to an awful joke.

     “I don't believe it. There's gotta be something else.”

     “Nope. That's it! And, even worse, my boss says I'm great at what I do but it's not my passion. Said there's a difference between something fitting and being fit for something. Like I'm supposed to know what the hell that means.”

     “Uh huh.”

     “You agree with her?”

Cathy pats Faith on the shoulder and walks past her to look at the watermelon plants.

     “Your watermelons are starting to sprawl. That means flowers soon, right?”

     “Yes. And when you say uh HUH like that and change the subject, you are avoiding telling me something.”

Cathy laughed and Faith threw some lettuce she was cutting at her. Cathy picked it up off of the ground and stuffed it in her mouth.

     “How do you get your lettuce so damn sweet?”

     “Cathy. What are you trying not to say?”

     “Oh, nothing. I've been down that river before.”

     “River?”

     “Denial. I'm keeping my mouth shut. I think you've got to figure this one out on your own.”