by Sandy Barker
‘Okay, then,’ she said when she pulled away. ‘I promise I won’t bring it up again.’ And then she left the bathroom and I just stood there, completely still. Eventually – I have no idea how long after – I walked to the sink and looked at myself in the small smudged mirror. The glow I’d seen earlier in the day was gone, and in its place was something indescribable. It wasn’t just sadness or confusion or some sort of mutant of the two. It was something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. And no matter what it was, I knew it wasn’t good.
Had I let myself fall in love with Josh?
Chapter Sixteen
The next morning when I woke up, the sun was forcing its way into the room with only gauzy curtains to hold it back. They weren’t very effective, so it was horrendously bright. My eyes didn’t like it very much, and my mouth was as dry as the Sahara. I reached for my water bottle on the bedside table and took a few big mouthfuls. Much better. I assessed the state of my head.
How much did I drink last night? I started counting. There was the bad Greek wine – or is that a tautology? – at dinner. Was that three or four glasses? Oh, and the Ouzo at the end of dinner – two shots – Duncan had insisted. Then the beer at the bar. That must have only been two, or three. Oh crap, maybe it was four. Not to mention, I’d mixed different types of drinks, which was a big no-no.
But even though I had pretty much drunk my way around Mykonos, I was in reasonably good shape. There was a dull little ache at the back of my head. Other than that …
Then I remembered I wasn’t in the bed alone.
I flicked my head to look at Josh. Oww, my head. I reminded myself that ‘reasonably good shape’ meant I was still a little delicate. Thankfully, Josh was sound asleep. I eased my head back onto my pillow and, as carefully as I could so I didn’t wake him, rolled onto my side to face him. It was only the second time I had woken up next to Josh, and the first time I’d been in such a hurry to get out of there, there was no time to enjoy it.
My eyes scanned his facial features. You know how some people are ugly sleepers? Their faces get all smushed by the pillow and their mouths hang open, or they drool? Josh was the opposite. There was no drool, his mouth was closed and there was no smushing. He looked rather beautiful.
I am almost positive I am one of the ugly sleepers, by the way. It’s why I never really sleep properly when there’s a guy in my bed. It’s also why I get up – and freshen up – before the guy wakes up.
I’ve lost count of how many times I’d snuck out of bed and gone to the bathroom to swish some mouthwash, splash water on my face, run my fingers through my hair, and pinch my cheeks, then climbed back into bed just in time to pretend I actually woke up looking like a normal person.
Many times. Too many times.
Josh started stirring and, in a panic, I realised I hadn’t done the thing where I ‘woke up’ looking lovely and refreshed. Which wasn’t fair, because he looked lovely and refreshed. When he opened his eyes, he smiled at me.
‘Hello, beautiful.’ That was him saying it to me, by the way. Nothing makes a girl feel even more self-conscious than she already does than calling her ‘beautiful’. But there didn’t seem to be any irony in his voice, so maybe he meant it.
‘Hello, beautiful back,’ I replied. He shook his head and ran his hands over his face.
‘I doubt it.’ He laughed. ‘Come ’ere.’ He grabbed me and wrapped me up in his arms. I rested my cheek against his bare chest and listened to his heartbeat. Oh boy, I was now the type of woman who listened to a guy’s heartbeat.
‘Last night was fun,’ he said, a smile in his voice.
‘It was,’ I replied. We were both quiet for a while and I guessed he was running through the night in his mind, like I was.
It was only when I remembered the very end of the night, and what he’d said right before he drifted off to sleep, that my stomach tightened into a dark little knot. I remained still, torn between enjoying the warmth of him and the jolting memory that made me want to climb out of bed and get on the next ferry back to Athens – alone.
After dinner, we’d gone dancing. Well, Josh, Hannah, Marie and Gary, and I went dancing. Duncan and Gerry decided to call it a night, so I’d had to say my first teary goodbye on the steps of the restaurant. It sucked, because although I adored them both, I knew I would probably never see them again.
I should have been used to it – it’s one of the pains of being a traveller. Thank goodness for Facebook – yes, you read that right. For all its evils, Facebook is my pipeline to the people I love who are scattered across the globe.
The dancing was actually my idea. In my touring days there had been a club called the Scandi – short for the Scandinavian – and I wanted to see A) if I could remember where it was and B) if it was still there.
I did and it was.
However, it was a sickly shadow of its former self. Back in the day, it was so packed that the people and the music spilt onto the walkway out front where the rowdy party continued. It was the sort of club where a trip to the bar took nearly an hour, and my touring mates and I would buy drinks in rounds, taking turns to get into line for the next one.
Our arrival at the Scandi the night before had nearly doubled the number of people inside. I was disappointed and I could sense I wasn’t the only one.
We were standing in the doorway peering in when I heard, ‘Come with me, handsome,’ and I watched as Marie pulled her husband onto the dance floor. They were playing 90s dance music – just like they did in the noughties. Apparently, it was still the best music to get people dancing. Well, it looked like Gary and Marie wanted to stay, but what about Hannah and Josh?
‘Drinks?’ I asked over-enthusiastically. The other advantage of the club being dead was that a trip to the bar for five drinks would take about as many minutes. Hannah looked like she would rather be anywhere else, but Josh was on board and Hannah followed behind us as we made a beeline for the bar.
Even at the end of the trip I was conscious of including Hannah. And I had to give it to her – on the way to the club, she had only mentioned once that she was the only single one in our group. As I read the drinks menu above the bar, I watched Hannah out the corner of my eye. Down the bar from us were two ridiculously handsome men – obviously gay, but completely gorgeous – and as soon as they saw Hannah, they broke into huge smiles. Hannah smiled back, and without a word she was gone. Gay men can be the best flirts.
While Josh and I ordered four Mythos beers, we watched as Hannah sidled up to the men and they signalled to the bartender to bring her a cocktail like theirs. I wasn’t insulted by Hannah deserting us for the gorgeous men. As a sometimes chronically single woman, I knew that attention from gay men counted in some weird way as attention from men.
Josh and I carried the beers back to a table next to the dance floor. Marie and Gary were dancing to ‘Groove is in the Heart’, an absolute favourite of mine, but they came over to the table when they saw us with the drinks. ‘Oh my god,’ said Marie, fanning herself with her hand as she sat down. ‘I love this 90s stuff! I can’t remember the last time we went dancing!’ She looked at Gary, as though asking if he could.
He smiled at his glowing wife and laughed, ‘Babe, I think it might have actually been in the 90s.’ I knew he was kidding, because they hadn’t been together that long, and they shared the joke with a laugh.
‘I love this music too,’ I said. ‘Although, it is weird that they’re playing the same stuff as when I was here a decade ago.’
‘I hope they play some Madonna,’ gushed Marie.
I raised my glass. ‘Last toast,’ I said, feeling a nervous twinge again – another last. ‘And then we can all hit the dance floor.’ Was that a groan from Josh? And if so, was it about the dancing or the toast? I wanted more than anything to dance with him – even though my expectations were not particularly high. That probably doesn’t sound very nice, but he was a geeky computer guy – albeit a sexy, geeky computer guy – so I wasn’t expecting much.
My thoughts of dancing with Josh had distracted me, and three faces looked at me expectantly. ‘To new friends, friends who became family.’ Marie tilted her head to the side and smiled.
‘To family,’ she said, clinking her bottle against mine.
Gary and Josh, repeated, ‘To family,’ and added their bottles to the clinking.
‘Hey,’ said Marie as she looked around. ‘Where’s Hannah?’
‘She’s otherwise occupied,’ replied Josh, signalling to the bar.
‘Ohhh!’ Marie’s reply was accompanied by raised eyebrows.
‘I’m pretty sure they’re gay.’ I laughed.
‘Ooohhh,’ she replied and we both laughed. We all had a sip of beer and almost immediately, I heard, ‘Strike a pose.’
Marie and I squealed like schoolgirls. ‘Madonna!’ we yelled together. We put our beers on the table and she grabbed my hand, pulling me onto the dance floor – well, the giant open space in the centre of the room with no one in it – where we each struck a pose. Gary followed right behind his wife.
And then there was Josh, camping it up like the rest of us. As the music kicked in and we took up as much of the dance floor as we wanted, I was gobsmacked to discover that Josh was a really good dancer. I mean, scarily good. Like, ‘guy who goes to clubs a lot’ or ‘professional dancer’ good.
I shouted over the music. ‘You’re a really good dancer.’
‘You too!’ he replied, then did a little hip manoeuvre that was particularly sexy.
‘I’m kind of surprised.’ Good one, Sarah – not insulting at all. Josh’s response was to laugh.
‘Oh yeah?’
I shook my head, aware that I’d been rude. Why was I so mystified by his dancing prowess – just because he was a geeky tech guy? Maybe he went to clubs a lot – we hadn’t really covered that.
‘I used to take lessons.’ What? Did he say that he used to take dance lessons?
‘Really?’ I was impressed we were having a conversation and Vogueing – well, I might add – but part of my mind was stuck on the whole ‘dance lessons’ thing.
‘Yes, really. I wanted to be like old-school Michael Jackson – you know, like from ‘Thriller’ days – so my mom put me in dance lessons.’
‘Wow. How old were you?’
‘I guess I was about ten when I started.’
‘Well, that was, like, nearly twenty years ago.’ Now I was sceptical. Was he just taking the piss?
‘Yeah, but I studied for eight years.’ I stopped dancing.
‘You studied dance for eight years?’
He kept dancing. I kept standing. ‘Yep. Contemporary, jazz, hip-hop. Gave it up when I went to college. But, I still like to dance.’ He wiggled his eyebrows at me.
Then he grabbed my hand and pulled me in close. His hips kept moving, and then mine were moving, and we were pretty much dirty dancing in the middle of an empty dance floor in Greece. Somewhere in the background, Marie woo-hooed and I guessed it was meant for us.
Josh was a dancer. Who would have thought?
The vivid memory of the dancing made me smile. ‘I still can’t believe you’re such an amazing dancer.’
He chuckled softly, his chest moving under my cheek. ‘Oh, I’m full of surprises.’
‘I bet.’ Then my thoughts shifted to the others. ‘Saying goodbye was sad.’ I could feel him nodding, but I didn’t trust myself to look at him. Tears prickled my eyes.
Around midnight, I had started to feel fatigue kick in. I walked over to Josh – or more likely, I swayed over to him – and put my arms around his neck. Then like a complete dork I said that Top Gun line about taking me to bed or losing me forever. Thank goodness, he is not so much younger than me that he didn’t get the reference, but still, how cheesy is that? But instead of laughing at me, he kissed me.
Then we said our goodbyes to Gary and Marie.
‘You have to come visit us in Cali,’ said Gary. It was the sort of thing people said when it was likely they’d never see each other again. But I really wanted to see them again, and I hoped it wasn’t an empty invitation.
‘I’d love it,’ Josh and I both said at the same time. We looked at each other and smiled. Then I realised we had both said ‘I’, and not ‘we’.
I stepped in and hugged Marie tightly. ‘Good luck with the adoption,’ I whispered. ‘You absolutely must keep me posted.’
She pulled away and placed her hands on my shoulders. ‘I promise to let you know what happens. And you do the same.’ She inclined her head ever so slightly towards Josh. I nodded and smiled, and we hugged again.
I stood on tippy-toes to hug Gary. ‘You are a prince amongst men,’ I said in his ear.
‘And you are a wonderful woman.’ He couldn’t see me smile at his words. Then his voice got a little quieter. ‘Make sure he treats you well.’ A hard lump of sadness lodged in my throat. When we pulled apart, I forced a smile.
Lastly, it was Hannah – dear, sad, lovely, angry Hannah. At first, she seemed reluctant to tear herself away from Ray and George, the gay couple who had all but adopted her. But then she was hugging me so tight, I couldn’t breathe properly.
‘You are a sweet, beautiful girl and I will never forget you,’ she said into my ear. I hadn’t expected that.
‘Me neither, Hannah.’ I broke the hug first and when we stepped back, I held on to one of her hands. ‘Be happy.’ It was all I could think to say.
‘Sure,’ she said with a bright smile, but I didn’t believe her. Hannah was one of those people who had a difficult life, mostly because of her own doing. I saw in her eyes that she didn’t really believe herself either.
And then we got to the awkward part where it was actually time to part ways. I turned away from the three of them and by the time we got outside, tears were streaming down my face. Josh seemed to know exactly what to do – he didn’t talk, but he did put a strong arm around my shoulder as we walked back to the hotel in silence.
When we got back to the room, we had sex again. But this time, there was something kind of melancholic about it. And though we clung to each other throughout, our bodies as close as two bodies can be, we didn’t speak during sex, either.
Afterwards, we lay next to each other in the dark, a little bit of moonlight peeking through the window, and talked quietly.
‘You know, Sarah,’ he’d started hesitantly, ‘I truly hope I know you for the rest of my life.’ Tears stung my eyes at the sweetness of his words.
‘I’ve never known anyone like you. You’re brilliant and intrepid and amazing and so open.’ Open? Me? He continued, ‘I’ve never felt this okay about being myself around someone. You should know that I’ve told you things I’ve never told anyone before.’
Me too, Josh.
‘And you deserve a great guy, a guy who adores you and wants to have grand adventures with you.’ I felt hope swell within me. He was going to tell me he felt the same way I did – that the feelings between us were incredibly special and we should do everything we could to be together.
‘I just don’t think I’m that guy.’
Oh.
My hope vanished in a puff of stabbing disappointment. So, it wasn’t the part where he declared he couldn’t live without me. It was the part where he gave me the ‘let’s just be friends’ spiel.
I was relieved he couldn’t see the tears sliding down my face into my hair. I hadn’t been able to find my voice, so instead I squeezed his hand and feigned sleepiness with a little yawn. I rolled onto my side with my back to him and soon enough, heard his breath steady. Then I had lain awake for an hour or so, thinking. When sleep did come, it was patchy and full of sadness.
That morning, with my head on his chest, I didn’t want to wallow in his words – they were too painful. I plastered what I hoped was a reasonable facsimile of a smile on my face and lifted my head. God, he was beautiful.
‘Breakfast?’ I asked with more cheer than I felt.
He smoothed my hair with his hand. ‘Sure.�
� Then we got out of bed, got dressed and went to breakfast.
Breakfast was hard to swallow – literally and figuratively. I couldn’t shift the gnawing thought that we were no longer counting down to the end of the trip in days. Now it was hours. Nine hours, to be precise. My throat was tight with the anticipation of saying goodbye. Goodbye to Greece, goodbye to Josh, and goodbye to the version of Sarah I’d been over the previous week and a half. Pretty soon I would be back in Sydney, tethered again to a life I wasn’t sure I wanted.
Josh-less.
No wonder it was hard to choke down dry sweet cake and a hard-boiled egg. Josh had gone equally quiet and I wondered for the thousandth time what he was thinking. Whatever it was, it was weighing heavily, because there was a crease between his eyebrows. Maybe he sensed my disappointment at all those things he’d said the night before. Maybe? Who was I kidding? I am sure it was all over my face.
I sipped my crappy instant coffee. Yuk. ‘Ready to go?’ I wiped my mouth on the napkin and left it on the plate of barely eaten food. I stood up to leave without waiting for an answer and heard his chair scrape across the floor as I exited the dining room.
Back in our room, we both busied ourselves with packing. Busy, busy, busy! We were both so incredibly busy, as we failed to acknowledge the bloated, fat, purple elephant in the room.
‘Josh,’ I started.
‘Sarah,’ he said at the exact same time. Then we did the thing that two people do when there’s tension and they both want to speak, but they also both want to be polite. ‘Go ahead.’ ‘No, please, you …’ And then we stared at each other for a moment, both holding our respective breaths, waiting for the other to say something.
Josh broke the silence. ‘I said some stuff to you last night, and I think it might have upset you.’
You think? My mind went into sarcastic overdrive. Then I shrugged as though I didn’t know what he was talking about. He called me out. ‘Sarah, please don’t pretend. I shouldn’t have voiced those things to you.’