I looked at my phone: still no calls. No call from Mum and Dad – they probably thought I was having the time of my life here. No call from Zoe – too busy playing house with Ben. You can’t keep looking back. I heard my mum’s comments ring out in my head, the words she had said when Sam had told me he needed space all those years ago. I couldn’t keep looking back. Before I could change my mind, I grabbed the rucksack, lifted it onto my back and, with knees buckling, walked out of Alice’s apartment, down the stairwell and onto the dusk-lit streets of Coogee, on the road once again.
The fresh sea breeze hit me straight away. The suburb’s evenings were becoming more and more beautiful the closer it drew to summer. Tonight, the palm trees were silhouetted against the orange sky. I wished I could enjoy them. I remembered feeling the same way in London, looking at Tower Bridge illuminated against a summer sky, crowds of tourists laughing and taking photos by the Thames. I was the one who lived there, and yet I never quite fitted in. I longed to call my mum, to tell her how I’d screwed up, to ask her if I could come home. But the Lake Distinct wasn’t my home either. I had managed to outgrow it without putting my roots down anywhere else. I couldn’t keep running back to my parents every time I felt down anyway. I was a grown-up, for goodness’ sake.
I forced myself to walk the three blocks across to where the road met the coast. For once the sea looked calm. Could I really leave this place? I longed to jump in, to feel myself duck under the cold water, submerged in its peace. Friends, career, love; I couldn’t think of one reason to stay. I had to leave. I had to go back, or go somewhere else. Just go, just escape.
Locals glanced at my backpack and smiled as I walked past, eyes kind as if to say: enjoy your time here, mentally grouping me with the eighteen-year-old girls I had seen yesterday. Young and full of promise. Fuck them. Fuck those promises. I was almost twenty-eight and none of them had been fulfilled, not one. My school yearbook spoke of someone ‘Most Likely To Be Famous’. Our university friends had already walked Sam and me down the aisle. My dad had told us we’d thrive in London. None of it had come true. None of it.
Stepping one foot in front of the other, I tried not to fall in love with the scenery all over again. Without even realising it, tears were streaming down my face and the expressions of passers-by turned from hope to concern. I was back at square one. But not the square one of a hopeful eighteen-year-old with the whole world at her feet. The square one of a soon-to-be thirty-year-old who never thought she’d end up here. As the Coogee hills started plateauing, I stuck my hand out to call down an oncoming cab.
‘Where to, mate?’ The cabby leaned out of the open window. I bit my bottom lip. I hadn’t even thought. I just wanted to get out. You can’t keep looking back; I heard my mum’s words play around my head again. I reached out for the warm metal door handle. But you can’t keep running away. I wasn’t running away. I just didn’t belong here. I had no reason to stay. I wasn’t…
‘Bloody tourists!’ the cabby scoffed as the lights turned green and he pulled away, just another person impatient for me to get it together. ‘Jessica?’ Shit. Shit. Shit. ‘Where the hell do you think you’re going?’
‘Olivia?’ I turned to see her tottering towards me on her heels. All Sydney women seemed to share the ability to make me feel like a fat, broken blob.
‘Please tell me you’re off to Manly for the weekend?’ She eyed my backpack with suspicion. I had never seen her so forceful.
Without speaking, I shook my head, the same fat tears rolling down my cheeks.
‘I should tell you now,’ she said, ‘I’m not very good at this emotional stuff.’ She reached out a hand to indicate that I was the said ‘emotional stuff’ she was referring to. Ironic, given that I’d pretty much had to pick her and Tim off the floor of CreateSpace more than once. Like a porcelain doll, she reached up both arms in unison and awkwardly positioned them around my body. ‘I’m taking you for a drink,’ she said, equally woodenly, reaching into her Mulberry bag and placing a pristine tissue in my hand.
‘I don’t want to talk about CreateSpace,’ I said, through childlike sobs.
‘It’s nine p.m. on a Thursday evening and I’ve only just left the gallery.’ Olivia looked me dead in my tear-flooded eyes. ‘Do you really think I want to talk about CreateSpace?’
Olivia led me and my backpack into the beer garden of the Coogee Bay Hotel, a backpackers’ knees-up type place that I could never picture her enjoying. I sat at the wooden bench table, conscious of bumping into anyone else I wouldn’t want to in this state. Jamie, Sam, Joshua, Tim – the sheer volume of people to avoid was testament to my cock-ups. Olivia went to the bar and came back with two large glasses in her left hand, a bottle of white in her right.
‘Now, drink up,’ she said, placing the glasses down and filling mine to the brim. I took one reluctantly; this past couple of weeks was enough to put me off drinking for good. ‘And tell me why the hell you’re leaving?’
I looked at her pretty, pale profile. She must be the only person I’d met in Sydney who didn’t look like they lived at the beach; maybe because she was always with Tim at CreateSpace.
‘What?’ She looked at me, her slightly smudged eyebrows raised – imperfections I’d never notice if we weren’t close up.
‘Nothing, it’s just…’ I began, not knowing how or if to phrase it. ‘It’s just, you never seemed this feisty at CreateSpace.’ I thought back to her obedient clipboard-holding and her reluctance to speak up in front of Tim for fear of being shot down.
‘And you never seemed like a coward,’ she quipped in return. Ouch.
‘I’m not being a coward,’ I objected, lifting my glass to take a gulp, but stopping myself, remembering again that this was what had got me in trouble in the first place. Instead, I took a small sip. ‘You don’t even know what this is about.’ I shook my head at her, even though she was too busy looking down at my overfilled backpack, slung mercilessly to one side on the floor.
‘I can give it a good guess.’ She lifted her eyes away from it, full of disdain. Why had she invited me for a drink if she was just going to lay into me? With nowhere better to be and nothing better to do, I motioned to her to carry on. ‘My guess is that you came to Sydney thinking it would be easy to start a new life here, a new career, a new man. And now that it’s not, now that you’ve got caught out, got some push-back from a fifty-year-old prima donna and, I imagine, been swiped left by lunchtime mystery man, you’re running off again in search of something easier…’ She trailed off.
I really didn’t need this right now.
‘I don’t need this right now,’ I voiced out loud, edging my full glass of wine in her direction and standing to go.
‘Leaving again?’ She raised her eyebrow again in mock surprise. Bitch.
‘That’s not what this is,’ I objected, parking myself back down all the same.
‘So, it’s not about a boy?’ Olivia asked and for the first time in a long time I realised it wasn’t. It had been – or I thought it had. But it was bigger than that.
‘I don’t think so. Not entirely.’
‘No?’ Olivia softened a little, inviting me to carry on.
‘I’m just not where I thought I’d be right now, you know, in life. I was the sorted one, the one who was settled before I’d even left uni, and now…’ My voice trailed off. ‘I just keep hoping that I can work it all out, force my life back on track somehow.’ I looked across to her, perfection personified. ‘You wouldn’t understand; you’ve got it all together. I just feel like a mess.’
‘You think I’ve got it together?’ She let out a little laugh. ‘I’m a thirty-three-year-old gallery assistant who still rents in a houseshare twelve miles from the coast so that she can afford to keep up the appearances needed to get ahead in her industry. I don’t date; I don’t really have a social life because I work so damn hard, but if you think I’ve got it all together…’ She shrugged, taking another sip of her wine.
‘I… I had no idea
…’ I said, taken aback by Olivia’s vulnerability, an openness I didn’t think she had to give.
‘You wouldn’t. Because when someone’s unhappy they tend to be a bit, well’ – she hesitated on the word and I nodded for her to say it anyway – ‘self-centred.’
‘Self-centred?’ I repeated the word, letting it settle, thoughts of Sam and Jamie and Zoe and my parents running through my mind.
‘Like Devon Atwood, for example,’ Olivia continued. Devon? ‘Tim told me what happened, and I know it’s shady that Sommers was forcing you out before she’d even found out you…’ Olivia paused.
‘Lied,’ I said, filling in the blank. They say the truth will set you free, but right now I still felt trapped.
‘Yeah well, you didn’t lie about Devon being pretty shit at her job from time to time,’ she continued, ‘that was true, at least.’ All the time, I almost corrected but had strength enough to stop myself. ‘But did you ever think that she might be drowning, ripping off everyone else’s ideas because she just couldn’t keep up with the pressure to perform, to stay reputable, relevant after all this time? That she might need help rather than your hate? You can only see it from your side. It’s okay, we all do it – but sometimes, I find it helps to, you know…’ She didn’t need to finish her sentence to make her point.
‘You’re right,’ I admitted, looking across at her dark hair pulled tightly behind her ears and her hand shaking slightly as she took another sip of her wine. I had never deserved to be promoted over her, even when they thought I was who I said I was, but she’d shut up and supported me all the same. She didn’t need to put me down to make herself higher.
‘Thank you, Olivia.’ I meant it. Neither of us needed to say what for. She shrugged away my kindness. If I’d known she’d been this feisty at CreateSpace we would have been out for drinks ages ago. ‘So why do you do it?’ I had to ask. ‘If work costs you so much, why do you even stick around?’
‘Because I love it.’ She smiled. ‘I love what I do. I know it might sound stupid, but for me, it’s worth the cost.’ She took another sip of her drink and looked around the courtyard, suddenly nervous about letting herself lose her composure. I guess she figured it would be me doing the talking.
‘Olivia, that’s great,’ I said, putting a hand across the table to rest on hers. She didn’t pull away. ‘And it doesn’t sound stupid.’ I shook my head. ‘It’s amazing that you’ve found something you’re really passionate about. I guess I’m just not sure I have that…’
‘Sure you do,’ Olivia said, waving away my comment once again. ‘You’ve just forgotten or not found it yet. But, Jess’ – it was the first time she’d called me anything but my full name – ‘I promise you, if you stop running for long enough, if you stop trying to force things into what you think they should be, then you’re bound to find out what it is.’
Chapter 35
13 September 2020 – Sydney, Australia
‘Jess? Are you awake?’ Alice knocked softly on the door and I began to stir. I sank further into the sheets I had spent most of the last week tangled within. I still hadn’t got a job and Sam still hadn’t called. He wouldn’t even answer. He probably thought I’d be ringing to beg for him back; why wouldn’t he? Every inch of me had been begging for him since I had seen him for the first time in Woolies. All I wanted to beg for now was forgiveness. For screwing things up for him, for never letting him go. Something told me I had lost him for good this time, even as just a friend. Then there was Joshua.
‘Jess, are you up?’ Alice repeated from the other side of the door. Awake and up were two different things; I certainly wasn’t the latter. And I didn’t want to see anyone. But I didn’t want to be alone either – forever imbedded in contradictions.
‘Yes,’ I replied, eventually.
The gap in the door got bigger and bigger until I could see Alice in her dressing gown standing between the door and the exposed-wood frame. I pushed myself up to sitting, pulling the sheets around my overflowing pyjama top. I smiled at her. She didn’t need to do this, even if Joshua had given her the heads-up that I could do with a friend; no one had said she’d have to house me for this long. Although, given where I’d come from, maybe she should have expected it. Coming across to perch at the end of the bed, Alice smiled in return. I shielded my phone. She didn’t need to know that I’d still been pushing the boundary between sorry and stalker. Sam needed space. She had said that. I had heard that. But still, it was a week on and I still hadn’t heard from him. I’d gone years without contact, and yet a few weeks had managed to rewind the clock. My sanity depended on his acceptance of my apology. I just really wanted to make it okay, to make sure he was okay.
‘Sleep alright?’ Alice stroked her hand across the bed sheets. I nodded.
‘Have you got work today?’ I asked, even though the fact that she was in her fluffy dressing gown past nine a.m. would suggest she didn’t.
‘No,’ she confirmed, and I smiled. Maybe today we could go out and do something, something that didn’t involve looking for jobs, homes, or anything else that reminded me what I didn’t have. ‘But I am about to head out,’ she continued. It was a weekend day off; of course she had plans. ‘Church this morning, but I might do a bit of shopping in the city after, if you fancy joining?’ Alice stood, heading for the door. Church, with Sam? Perhaps I could go, just catch him for a minute. ‘Help yourself to breakfast, or anything else…’ Alice continued, mistaking my silence for refusal. I couldn’t blame her for questioning whether I’d get out of bed today.
‘Can I come with you?’
‘That’s what I just asked.’ Alice shook her head, laughing, ‘I could meet you about midday.’
‘No, to church.’ Where Sam is. ‘Could I come along?’
A little smile spread across Alice’s face. She never thought I’d ask. I was just as surprised as she was, but needs must. She nodded, gave me half an hour to get ready, and pulled the door closed behind her just as gently as she had entered. Half an hour. Half an hour to master ‘please forgive me’ chic. What the hell did you wear to church? My old Brownie uniform probably wouldn’t cut it this time. And anyway, it was slim pickings. I approached my rucksack, trying desperately to ignore how it perfectly encapsulated my down and out life. Opening it, my string bikini fell out. Not the one. It might not even get another look-in. I quickly drowned thoughts of surf lessons past. Maybe Joshua would be at church too? But first, Sam. I had to fix things with Sam. I rummaged further into my packed-up life and pulled out the longest black dress I’d brought in case a formal occasion should arise – it was hard to tell what you’d need when you were packing to move to the other side of the world. It even covered my knees. I could just visualise Zoe taking her scissors to it now, forcing my hemlines shorter and my nights out longer. My heart ached for those moments, the start of a friendship I thought would see us through it all. Now with my dress on, hair brushed and a slick of make-up, I headed out of the door to find Alice standing before me. I looked from her flip flops, past her blue jeans, up to her tight white tank top. In return, she noted my kitten heels and formal attire. Shit.
‘You look gorgeous,’ Alice said, in an act of pity or generosity. I looked overdressed. But there was no time to change. I followed bohemian Alice out onto the streets of laid-back Sydney with Sam’s words about the city suiting me leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.
I stood outside and looked up at the steeple shining in the morning sunlight. Alice, flip-flopping a couple of strides before me, turned back around. ‘Why are you stopping? It’s over here.’ She pointed to the entrance of a nondescript warehouse, overflowing with hipsters drinking coffee from takeout cups. Crap. I’d look even more out of place in there. Alice steered me into the massive open space of the warehouse. Music was pumping, the lights were low and the people were all on some kind of high. Or at least they seemed it, smiling and waving as I entered the so-called church. Alice embraced person after person as we made our way to our seats. I’d have t
hought she was some sort of Christian celebrity or something if all the other people around us weren’t doing the same. I scanned the room for Sam. I couldn’t see him anywhere. So, this is where God grew them, I thought, recalling Jamie, Alice and the other miraculous creatures I’d seen mill round Sam and Jamie’s 341 Oberon crew.
Thankfully, I couldn’t see Jamie anywhere either. If I was her, I’d murder me for showing up here. I was sure they’d frown on that in church. Alice passed me a paper coffee cup and ushered me down one of the rows. I sat obediently, still looking around for sight of Sam. Across the room I saw another familiar figure striding into the warehouse. I tried to turn away, but he had caught my eye – not smiling, not mean, but sensibly keeping his distance. Joshua nodded in our direction. I turned back to Alice, struggling for the right words, but just then the music came to a crescendo and the band took to the illuminated stage.
Alice rose to her feet and I mirrored her cue. Before long, the music had kicked into full blast, young twenty-somethings bouncing on the stage as people around the room swayed in time to the music, some raising their hands to the sky, eyes closed, somewhere else entirely. I wished I was somewhere else too. Between the darkness and spotlights it was almost impossible to search for Sam. On the upside, with everyone’s eyes closed at least I didn’t have to be subtle. He wasn’t here. My heart sank. I’d not only cost him his fiancée, I’d cost him his bloody faith. Old Sam was probably back, shagging his way across Sydney, cynical and certain. I began to close my eyes, hoping the music would drown out my thoughts. But then, I saw them. Across the room, towards the front of the crowd, I saw Sam and Jamie. Both had their eyes closed, one hand each extended to the sky in praise, their other hands held tightly together. I saw their interlaced fingers, steadfast and firm, Jamie’s rock of an engagement ring illuminated by the flashing lights. Joshua was right; why would Jamie be threatened by an old uni girlfriend? They had decided to get married, for real, not the naive musings of two love-drunk students. Sam wouldn’t ‘always love me, J,’ not in that way, not now, not ever. And now, not even as a friend. I closed my eyes. I let the darkness cover me, and then I felt a hand slip into mine. Alice, strong but soft beside me. A tear escaped from my mascara-masked eyes and I choked, ‘Do you think they’ll ever forgive me?’
The Spare Bedroom: A totally heartwarming, funny and feel good romantic comedy Page 26