Confide in Me

by Renae Kaye

  I laughed despite myself. I didn’t take the bait but merely answered, *years’.

  It was something I’d learned pretty fast from my students. A teacher needed to know how to reach their students in order to educate them. I found that by marking their spelling mistakes with an asterisk and the correction, they learned faster because they immediately grasped it as a learning tool. For some reason, if I left the asterisk off, the kids thought I was being old-fashioned.

  Shut up and give me a movie title.

  I thought hard, then evilly suggested Closer with Natalie Portman. I loved Natalie, and the movie was one that would put anyone off dating for a while. A long while if they were smart.

  He sent me a text at midnight, which I blissfully missed because my phone was in sleep mode, so I woke up to a message from the man of my dreams telling me I was a wanker and just because the main four characters in the movie cheated, lied, and ended up unhappy, it didn’t mean that true love didn’t exist. I was smugly glad I’d rattled his cage.

  I went off script that day, giving the kids Tennyson’s “Ring Out, Wild Bells” to read, and led a discussion on whether the poem was one of joy or sorrow. I spoke with Terry and made plans to meet up on Friday evening. I told Callum he should look up the movie In Your Eyes next.

  Why? His text was punctuated with an emoji of poop and then a skull and crossbones. Is this one going to make me feel like I should suspect every man my date glances at?

  So I flat out lied. This one is about a soul connection. When the right one is the right one. It’s an epic romance.

  His reply made me laugh. I’m googling shit before I take your recommendations again. That movie, Closer? It played over and over in my head all day. And what was with that ending? Who the hell was Alice then?

  Over the next fifty hours we argued back and forth about aspects of Closer. Sometimes our texts were in rapid succession. Sometimes hours between replies. But we never lost the thread of conversation. Callum would text me three or four times before work, once at what I guess was his lunch break in the middle of the day, then several more times over the evening.

  It was a great movie to unpack the intricacies of the characters and their stories. I loved the contrasts of the characters, and the ending, which was so deliciously unsatisfying that you wanted to howl at the moon, was wonderful to me. I told him to consider how he felt when he first saw the character of Dan in the film, and how his feelings changed.

  I liked Dan at first. Then I thought he was an ass. Then I felt sorry for him. Then I liked that he got dumped.

  I was triumphant in my argument. See! That is the mark of a great story. Your emotions change. Your perception of the character changes.

  He sent me an emoji of a school bag and a graduation cap. I grimaced and immediately apologised.

  I’m sorry. Am I getting too teacherish?

  He didn’t take long to shoot back, Not at all. I like learning. This has been fun.

  While I was reading his text and grinning like a mad idiot, my phone dinged again. I closed Callum’s text and looked. It was Terry, confirming that we were meeting for dinner in a café. My phone dinged again. I tapped to look. It was Callum telling me he’d chat later because he had a date with Mr Older Guy.

  I stared at my phone, feeling slightly nauseous. My life was fucked.

  ~~~~~~~~

  I stopped off at IGA on the way home from my “date” with Terry. I bought four large packets of chips and a six-pack of Coke. I didn’t want to get shit-faced again from my failure, so I would get fat instead.

  “You’re home,” Tammy said in surprise when I returned, a mere one and a half hours after leaving. “That’s not good.”

  “No shit, Sherlock,” I said sarcastically, and dropped my purchases on the coffee table in front of the TV. Tammy eyed them off with apparent trepidation.

  “Are you planning on eating all of that?”

  “Yes,” I said, throwing myself down on the lounge.

  She sniffed her disapproval. “So what went wrong with the date?”

  I caught Todd beating a hasty retreat from the room. He always left the emotional stuff to Tammy. He was smart. I wasn’t.

  “Dating sucks,” I said irritably. “I’m not doing it again.” I grabbed the nearest bag of chips in one hand and the remote control to the TV in the other. I heard Tammy sigh, then she plonked down beside me, took the chips, opened them, scooped a handful, and passed the bag back.

  “Tell me,” she commanded.

  “Tell you what?” I feigned indifference. “Tell you about the tan line on his ring finger, or that he asked me within the first two minutes if it was possible to finish up the ‘date’ back at my house because he couldn’t ‘host’ at his?”

  I didn’t look at Tammy. She was silent for a bit. “I can send Todd out for a goon bag,” she finally offered. We were both so poor we’d shared many a goon bag. Wine from a box can only be truly appreciated by the truly broke.

  I grabbed a Coke and tossed it to her. “No. It’s okay. I’m too old to shake off the hangovers.”

  Todd joined us a while later, and we all sat down and watched suicidal guys fish in atrocious conditions so we could enjoy McFish burgers and tinned tuna.

  ~~~~~~~~

  Chapter Three

  What do you do when the man of your dreams tells you he’s broken up with his latest squeeze?

  If you’re me, you dance down the hallway on your way to breakfast, drum an exciting rhythm on your steering wheel on the way to work, tap along to some cheerful music that only you can hear in class, and wait seven hours before you can respond carelessly with an “Oh dear me—what happened?” tone in your message.

  If you’re me, you also gloat over every single word you get in reply, which was a mini rant about how Mr Older Guy was clearly using Callum for sex and didn’t respect him at all.

  I’m sure there’s someone out there for you, I sympathised, praying he’d see me as the “someone.”

  I don’t just want to be someone’s plaything, he typed. I want to be able to talk to the guy on his level.

  I had to agree. Then echoing Tammy’s advice, I told him there were plenty more fish in the sea and that he should try again.

  I noticed that movie you told me to watch? Something about in his eyes? It’s on Netflix. I’m going to watch that tonight.

  I was completely bowled over that he was listening to my recommendations and still watching those movies. It is? I’ll watch it too. As long as I can get this homework marked in time.

  That’s why I could never be a teacher. I hated homework as a kid. Why would I want to do it as an adult? I’m fine with my work ending at 5pm and not having to think about it again until the next morning.

  I had to agree it was a lifestyle choice. I told him I hated homework as much as he did, but the perks of getting school holidays was bliss. I asked him more in depth about his job and found he actually sold cars for a living.

  I don’t tell people that on the first date. For some reason they have a bad opinion about car salesmen.

  I had to silently agree. It was a bad mark against his name. The first one I’d discovered… oh, apart from the “we had a night of brilliant sex but now I want to be just friends.”

  We agreed to start watching the movie at eight o’clock so we would be in sync, and I banned Tammy and Todd from the lounge room. Sitting in the dark, knowing that Callum was watching the same show at his house, was kind of like a date. We continued to message back and forth at random intervals.

  Are you watching?

  Fuck, that guy’s hot!

  No! What the hell is she doing?

  OMG. I wouldn’t do that. Why doesn’t she simply pick up the phone and call him?

  I’ve got to watch this movie again—just for the scenes where he’s shirtless.

  The movie had barely begun climbing the steep hill to its climax, when you didn’t know if she was going to do it, if he was going to make it, and if it was all true or pure
ly a figment of someone’s imagination, when the phone rang in my hand. It was Callum.

  “He’s going to miss her, right? He’s not going to make it in time.”

  I was too caught up in the movie to even appreciate he hadn’t greeted me. I grinned in anticipation of what was about to happen on the screen. “You’ll have to watch.”

  “Oh fuck. Her husband….” He breathed loudly in my ear. I snuggled back on the lounge, hugging a large cushion and wishing it was Callum.

  “She’s in a mental hospital. What if this is just all in her head?” I silkily interjected, wanting to torment him into doubting the main character was sane.

  “No,” he nearly shouted. “He’s real. He’s not just her imagination. He has to be real. Fuck me—if he’s not real….” There was a pause as we watched Rebecca run from her husband towards a man she only knew in her head. I laughed silently on my end of the phone, knowing what the end of the film was.

  “Ha,” he yelled triumphantly as Dylan, a real man and not a figment of Rebecca’s imagination, emerged from the trees. “I was right.”

  “He’s about to be cut off from her by the train,” I warned as the train whistle sounded my end and echoed over the phone from Callum’s TV.

  “Shit. No. You dumbarse,” Callum yelled.

  I chuckled. “Who? Me?”

  “No,” he cried out. “Not you. That stupid but goddamn handsome man on my TV. Why didn’t he run across the tracks before the train came? Now they have to…. Shit.” He groaned loudly.

  “It’s called tension,” I said. “A good story has plenty of it. The audience likes things to be hard for the character. It makes the reward worthwhile.”

  “Shut up and let me panic,” he said urgently as the music swelled and Dylan scrambled to get on the train.

  I didn’t take offense, sitting back and watching the predictable “OMG” moment before the main characters managed the near inhuman feat and made it. Despite me having seen it before, I held my breath as they finally gazed into each other’s eyes, still breathing hard from having to run and the impossibility of running in snow to catch a train.

  We remained silent, watching them kiss. Then the credits rolled. I waited expectantly. Would Callum have the same reaction as me?

  “Ed?” he asked quietly.

  “Yeah?”

  “Did they skip a scene at the end there?”

  “Nope,” I said with a smile in my voice. “That was romantic, wasn’t it? You told me you wanted epic romance. That movie delivered.”

  “About as romantic as the ending of Romeo and Juliet.”

  Oh. My. Goddess. Kylie.

  If there is ever a way to woo an English teacher, it’s to diss the classics. Because it then presents the opportunity for debate and discussion over our favourite authors. And for someone to recognise that the “classically romantic” story of Romeo and Juliet was actually the opposite of a romantic story was a turn-on. I was glad I was sitting in the dark without Todd and Tammy to witness the result of Callum sweet talking me.

  “So you don’t think it’s romantic that he’s probably going to end up in jail and she’ll be murdered by her husband in the next three days?” I asked in a reasonable tone.

  “That’s your idea of a romance?” Callum asked with disbelief still in his tone.

  “The critics thought it was,” I said casually.

  “I know. I fucking googled the movie on Internet Movie Database before agreeing to watch it. It was billed as a great romance. I feel lied to.” His voice became petulant at the end. I chuckled.

  “Awww. So you’re no longer going to believe everything you read on the internet?”

  “I hate you at the moment,” he griped.

  “So, what do you think happened next?” I asked.

  We spent the next hour talking about how we would’ve had the movie end if we were writing the script. That morphed into other movies we thought should be rewritten, which morphed into movie stars we thought were over- or underrated.

  At a little after eleven, Tammy stuck her head in the room and made motions to her wrist that made me look at the time. She was miming for me to lower the volume of my voice.

  “Dammit. Sorry, Tammy,” I apologised, then spoke to Callum. “I didn’t realise the time, Callum. It’s after eleven and my housemates need to sleep. I’d better go.”

  “You wind me up with images of Chris Hemsworth and then say you have to go?” he asked incredulously. “Cruel.”

  “Well, I could put some shoes on, drive over to your house, and take care of it for you if you’re that desperate?” I said, hoping, wishing, and praying he’d say yes.

  But the world was against me, Goddess Kylie wasn’t listening to my prayers, and he just laughed.

  “No. That’s okay. I just think my dreams are going to be devoted to me and Chris and some hot, heavy stuff.”

  “Okay,” I said, my disappointment blooming. “Have a good night, and I’ll talk to you later?”

  “Yeah, sure. Good night, Ed.”

  ~~~~~~~~

  I didn’t sleep well. My dreams were peppered with Callum and Chris, both in my bed. It wasn’t restful. Then Callum decided to torture me more.

  What do you think if a guy asks you to meet him at the beach? Good idea?

  I was suspicious.

  Why would you ask someone to the beach?

  His reply was almost immediate. That’s what I thought. So what do you think? Should I go and meet him?

  My stomach crashed through my lower organs and caused me a sharp pain. Here I was thinking that maybe he was going to ask me to the beach, and he was setting up dates with other guys. I told myself to stop talking to him, and that it was too hard to be friends while living with the silent hope he’d change his mind. Then I lied to myself and said I would send one last message. The last one to Callum. Ever. And after that, I was ignoring him.

  Go. Show off your fabulous body. If someone asked me to the beach I’d run and hide. At least he’s body confident. Remember to wear a hat. Have fun.

  I threw my phone aside and went out the back of the house. It was my turn to mow the back lawn, and I reasoned I was in such a foul mood that I may as well do the crappy jobs. After mowing the lawn, I threw my sweaty self in the shower and stewed.

  Tammy was in the kitchen and gave me a look that said that she was the cat and I’d left cream unattended. I hadn’t left cream, but I’d left my phone. She didn’t know my new passcode—because I wasn’t that stupid—but I had a feeling she’d looked at something. I snatched it up and checked. The last message I’d received was shown on the screen.

  It was one I firmly advised my students against sending. Ever.

  “Nice dick pic,” Tammy murmured. “New fella?”

  My phone accepted my thumbprint and I looked at my messages. The picture was from Callum, but the accompanying message had me upset with how fucked my life was. I handed my phone over to Tammy without speaking and turned to the fridge.

  “He’s sending you dick pics of the guy he’s going to meet at the beach today and asking your opinion? What the fuck, Ed? Is he an arse? Don’t answer that, because I can see he is.”

  I didn’t even have the heart to defend him. I had been firmly friend-zoned. I shrugged without looking at my best friend. She was silent. I poured myself a juice and sighed loudly. Tammy still didn’t say anything. I suddenly realised this was not a good thing. I whirled and saw her frantically typing on my phone.

  “No!” I shouted, but she ran. By the time I’d run her to ground she was looking as if she’d had the canary as well as the cream. “What did you do?” I growled at her as I pushed her face first into the lounge with my hand flat between her shoulder blades. She pushed back and tried to rise, so I slung my leg across both of hers to keep her there while I tried to focus on the screen.

  There was a masculine clearing of a throat, and I looked up to see Todd standing uncertainly in the doorway.

  “Do I… uh… need to come back late
r?” he said with a thread of amusement running through his voice. He was a great guy. He never had any problems with me being his girlfriend’s best friend. He had no problems in sharing the house with me. Why couldn’t I find a great guy like him?

  “Help me,” Tammy said through the giggles. “Ed’s being mean to me.”

  “Did you deserve it?” Todd asked, unperturbed.

  “No,” Tammy denied, but I’d just managed to focus on my phone and saw the message she’d sent Callum.

  I roared a wordless exclamation of horror. I turned to my best friend, took my hand off her back, then immediately dug my fingers into her ribs. She screamed loud enough to wake the dead and burst their eardrums. I’d promised years ago never to tickle her because she hated it so much.

  I broke that promise with satisfaction and dug my fingers into her other side. Another scream echoed around the room.

  “If you scream like that again, the cops will be hammering on our door,” Todd warned idly from his position propped up against the door.

  I removed my hands from her and stood. “I’m revoking your best friend status,” I told her loftily. “I want my yellow troll back, and that other half of the best-friends necklace.”

  She rolled and pushed her hair out of her eyes. “That troll has been in my possession for over twelve years. No judge would grant you custody after such a long period. And the necklace was a gift. Non-refundable.”

  I glared. “The necklace represents something that is no longer true. You have to toss it.”

  She gave me a sheepish look. “I was helping you. You can’t stay friends with the guy that rejected you. That’s like sadism. It’s an own goal.”

  “He might come to his senses,” I muttered.

  “Yeah, right,” Tammy said sarcastically. “Just block his number, Ed. Come on.”

  I looked down at the message she’d sent him. If all you’re after is dick, then that’s all you’ll get. And you’ll turn into a bigger one than you already are.

  Sadly, I turned away and tramped down the hallway to my room.