Mia felt five years old again. Recalled the horror, the bewildering anguish that had plagued her for months after her beloved Labrador had been killed on the road in front of her eyes. Then, later, there had been the humiliation, the sense that life had ceased being worthwhile, after her first love had dumped her — and the boyfriend after that had done the same.
She still carried an empty space in her heart caused by the loss of both her parents. A loss she had never truly overcome, but had merely learned how to absorb as part of her life. She had known and overcome loss.
She lifted a leg and watched the suds slide down onto the water’s surface. Ran the loofah over her pale skin and lifted the other leg.
Then she had met Eric. Also an only child, he had taught her how it felt to truly love another human being. There was only one love that was stronger, and that was the love she felt for their son, Adam. ‘If only we had been able to give you a little brother or sister,’ she mumbled as though he was in the room with her now, the familiar stab of regret visiting her after all these years of not knowing why they could never conceive a second time.
She still had Adam, albeit at a distance. Many people go through life not knowing the love of a child. She was not one of them and for that she was supremely grateful. But she knew now that she had to face her future without Eric. Without her husband. And she knew she was capable of going on even though she lacked any idea or thought about how she would do it. She sighed, closed her eyes, willing her melancholy to go away for just a moment so she could regenerate her usual energy and sense of optimism.
She climbed from the bath, her head spinning from its heat. Rubbed her reddened body with the thirsty towel, smoothed her finest lotion all over and painted her toenails tangerine. A thin film of make-up covered her age spots, touches of black eyeshadow, eyeliner and mascara brought her tired eyes back to life and tangerine lipstick lifted her spirits. Made her feel sexy. The plain black dress she wore to complement her five-inch stilettos fitted her perfectly, a pleasant surprise when she hadn’t been able to wear it for over five years. Small star-shaped diamantes flashed and sparkled from her earlobes. Ironically, her favourite perfume gave a final boost to her spirits, despite it being a gift from Eric.
The taxi sped away from the kerb after Mia unsuccessfully attempted to assuage the driver’s disgust at the meager one kilometre fare with a tip. She pushed through the clear glass doors embossed with the restaurant’s namesake, a yellow and black New Holland honeyeater and felt a sudden burst of joy as she entered the dimly-lit room with its fairy lights glittering in the ceiling and the faint tinkle of piano music floating from the corner. Knowing she would be spending the evening here in her favourite restaurant, sharing a quiet meal with Declan, gave her an immediate boost, leading to an immediate resolution to avoid any cathartic outpourings that evening and to focus instead on light-hearted banter. Her friend deserved to feel as though he had stepped away from work, rather than being plunged into the murky depths of her problems.
Declan rose from the stool as she approached the bar. He was wearing the three-piece suit he had probably worn to work and she noticed a hint of the day’s aftershave as he took her into a light hug before kissing her cheek.
‘I’m not dying, Declan. Cheer up,’ she said, smiling.
‘But you look as though you could do with a drink. Champagne?’ he asked, signaling the barman. ‘I’m on call this evening, but I don’t expect any emergencies, so we can talk for as long as you need. How are you?’ he added, his eyes boring into hers as the barman set a flute of champagne down next to his whiskey.
‘I’m okay.’ She watched the millions of tiny bubbles rise from the bottom of her glass and, fighting back her tears, turned to smile at him before rummaging through her bag and withdrawing the pink note. She smiled again as she handed it to him.
Unconvinced by her attempt at light-heartedness, Declan took the note, his kindly expression brimming with sympathy. ‘This is me, Mia. Remember? You don’t need to make out nothing’s wrong.’
She swallowed hard and took the first sip of her drink as she watched him read and reread the note.
‘When did you find it?’ he asked matter-of-factly, handing it back.
‘The very same day you told me you had seen them together and I had immediately chosen to believe it was only work and what you had seen was totally harmless.’
Declan sighed and took a sip of his drink.
‘I know now I was furiously avoiding the truth,’ she said.
‘You said today on the phone that you have seen them together …’
‘Yes. I followed Eric to the airport because I suspected he was flying out with her again. It was … hideous, watching them. They are so happy together. But I have no one to blame but myself for following them.’
‘You have done nothing wrong, Mia. For the 26 years I’ve known him and you as a couple I have envied the love and loyalty you shared. This has stunned me as much as it has you.’
She grimaced. ‘When I think back … the orange lipstick smeared across his white shirt after the staff Christmas party … the inexplicable smell of perfume on the passenger’s seatbelt in his car … the frequent flirtations, even as I watched … I told myself it was all harmless … purely about boosting his ego. But I wonder now, if he has been looking for something else for a long time.’
‘Mia. This has nothing to do with you and everything to do with Eric,’ Declan said, his eyebrow arched. ‘I think he wanted to fall in love again, or it wouldn’t have happened. I still remember the torment of finding Jillian in bed with Christine. My immediate thought had been to blame myself. But once I had overcome the initial shock, I realised that no matter how hard I tried I would never meet Jillian’s needs. I had to let her go. Sexual proclivities aside, perhaps it’s the same for you and Eric. Perhaps he has simply moved on and needs something different.’
Mia held the tall flute by its base and ran her index finger around the rim. ‘Mm, I remember exactly how Jillian’s betrayal tore you to shreds. But over the years, well …’ she rolled her eyes, ‘I have seen you as nothing less than supremely happy and fulfilled.’ She smiled and sipped her drink.
‘I get lonely sometimes,’ he said without smiling. ‘But I remember feeling lonelier when I was married to Jillian.’
‘That’s because you are never alone now, Declan. Beautiful, intelligent women throw themselves at you every day.’ She tapped the side of her nose. ‘I don’t miss much, you know.’ Her smile instantly faded. ‘Talking about beautiful, intelligent women,’ she said softly, ‘Eric seems to have made a well-considered choice. She’s young … absolutely gorgeous and blisteringly wealthy.’
‘Are we talking about a tall, skinny girl with spiky blonde hair, aged in her late-twenties?’ Declan said frowning.
Mia nodded.
‘Mm. That’s the one I saw him with as well. Does the fact that you think she’s a good catch make her existence in Eric’s life better or worse?’ Declan asked.
‘That’s a good question, but I’m not sure. I think I’m still numb. Anyway, bottoms up,’ she cheered, lifting her drink and draining the glass.
‘Why don’t I order some tapas?’ Declan looked around for the waiter.
‘Don’t worry, Declan,’ she laughed ruefully. ‘I’ve already dragged my way through one killer hangover since the news. I don’t intend bringing on a second.’ She signaled the bartender.
Trying to encourage an appetite, Mia watched the tealight candle flickering as it sat in the middle of the red tablecloth, while Declan smeared a piece of ciabatta with olive tapenade.
‘I think Eric may be shifting money from our super account,’ she blurted, almost without thought.
Declan’s eyes widened, the ciabatta hovering before his open mouth for a second before he placed it down on the plate again. ‘What makes you think that?’
‘Sizeable chunks of money have been disappearing. I hadn’t thought much about it, because Eric has always moved money
around or invested it in this, that and the other. And I still can’t be sure … but now … well, I just wonder, that’s all.’
Declan’s jaw tightened. He took a card from his inside pocket and scrawled over it, finally handing it to her. ‘This is the phone number of a friend of mine, Debra Illingworth, who also happens to be the best divorce lawyer in this State. You should ring her tomorrow.’
Mia immediately pushed the card back. ‘Oh Declan, don’t be so alarmist.’
‘You need to stay on the front foot, Mia. One meeting with Debra can’t hurt. Just as a precaution.’
Mia clucked and placed the card in her bag to keep him quiet. She took another sip of her drink, but still couldn’t bring herself to eat anything. ‘You know, I see Rachel Hooper through different eyes since all this started. I could not for the life of me understand why she seemed to be protecting someone who had obviously hurt her. But now I get how, sometimes, when we really want to keep things as they are, when we don’t see a place to move onto — we will do anything to maintain the status quo, even if it means sacrificing our pride and wellbeing. Am I making any sense?’ she asked.
‘Yes, perfect sense. But there is always a tipping point. A time when that person finally decides to stand up to someone who is not treating her right. A time when saying “enough”, becomes easier than trying to hold onto a life that doesn’t really exist. I think you have reached your tipping point, Mia. And I suspect Rachel may be close to hers. Anyway, my darling … don’t change the topic. I want you to promise me you will ring Debra Illingworth tomorrow.’
‘Don’t be so pushy, Declan. Let me think about it,’ she said, cutting the air with the side of her hand.
‘Don’t tell me you two haven’t stopped arguing since I left the State,’ a deep, familiar voice said behind her.
‘Oh my god,’ she said turning. ‘When did you arrive in town?’
Steve Wheeler bent to kiss Mia on the cheek. Shook Declan’s hand. ‘This morning. I’m speaking at the oncology conference,’ he said, as Declan pulled a third seat over to the table.
‘I had heard you were specialising in paediatric oncology,’ Mia said.
‘I sure am. And I’m loving it.’ Steve stretched his long legs out under the table. ‘I wasn’t sure I’d be able to hack it. It’s certainly challenging, but it has its upside as well. And I see nothing has changed here … you two are still at loggerheads. Where’s Eric?’ he said looking around the room.
Declan’s smile slipped from his face. He glanced across at Mia.
‘He’s in Sydney.’ Or is it Brisbane? Mia wondered. Steve’s smile dazzled, even in the dim light.
‘Is he still settling multibillion dollar deals all over the world when he’s not interstate?’ Steve said, beckoning the waiter.
‘Oh yes — same place, same job,’ Mia said, with a touch of cynicism that she knew only she and Declan would have detected.
Suddenly serious, Declan leaned towards Steve with a raised eyebrow, and said, ‘Did you hear that Children’s Emergency Paediatrics has never been the same since you left? The new Senior Registrar has turned out to be the bitch troll from hell.’
Enjoying their laughter, Mia leaned over and poked Declan in the chest. ‘Well, I hear she’s fabulous — the best they’ve ever had … Apart from Steve, of course, who brought such wisdom and excellence to the entire hospital. Yours were huge shoes to fill,’ she added, raising her glass to Steve before drinking.
‘Well, I’ve heard nothing but good things about you, Mia,’ he said, turning as the waiter approached.
Declan ordered a second whiskey, Mia and Steve a bottle of local Cabernet Sauvignon to share. As Mia watched her friends’ gentle banter, she realised that despite Eric’s likely departure from her life, she still had her friends and her past, and that rock-bottom loneliness need not loom as large before her as she had initially feared. She cleared her throat and straightened her shoulders as she watched Declan remove his ringing phone from his pocket and signal his apologies before he wandered outside to take the call.
Suddenly at a loss to know what to say, Mia knew instinctively not to ask about Steve’s personal life. She had heard on the grapevine that he and his wife, Meredith, had split shortly before he left to work at Perth Children’s. She knew he had two grown daughters, but could not remember their names. ‘Are you still playing squash,’ she finally said, to fill the silence.
‘The mind is willing, but the knees are stuffed,’ he replied. ‘I visit the gym a couple of times a week which helps me keep reasonably fit. But I spend most of my time at work.’
‘Nothing much has changed then,’ Mia said, knowing her comment was the pot calling the kettle black and wondering if her hospital hours would increase even more with her impending single status.
‘Sorry, gang,’ Declan said, striding in. ‘That was a call from the police. A young patient is holding his mother hostage in their home. He’s built like an ox and has a psychotic disorder to match. I have to go. Grab your bag, Mia, and I’ll drop you home on my way through,’ he said, lifting his wallet from the table and slipping it into his pocket.
‘Or else you can stay here and finish this bottle of wine with me, Mia,’ Steve said. ‘My hotel is near your house. We can share a taxi home.’ Steve lifted his eyebrows and made a hopeful face.
‘Okay.’ Mia wasn’t ready to end the evening and open the door to her empty house just yet. Taking Declan in a tight hug, she whispered, ‘Thank you, dear friend,’ and bid him farewell.
‘You are welcome. And be sure to make the phone call,’ he admonished as he left.
‘Okay, Mia, tell me what is really happening?’ Steve said once they had watched Declan walk through the front doors and hail a cab. ‘The Mia I remember would never go out at night without Eric, even if it was with Declan. And despite the bravado, I know you are not yourself tonight.’
Mia’s eyes dropped to where her hands circled the base of her glass, desperately searching for the right words. She was nowhere near ready to talk to anyone else about Eric, especially Steve who she had always held in such high regard. ‘Eric has found someone else,’ she said against her will, wondering where her recklessness tonight stemmed from. She swirled her drink in her glass before sipping. ‘I haven’t even had time to get used to the idea myself,’ she said, ‘so I’d appreciate your keeping the news close to your chest for a while. Not even Adam knows. In fact, I don’t think Eric even realises I know.’
‘Wow. You don’t get much fresher news than that,’ Steve said, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘You must be feeling like shit. And Eric must be such a fool.’
Mia snorted softly. ‘He seems pretty happy,’ she said, the picture revisiting her of Eric and Lucinda as they cavorted together at the airport.
‘Well, I can name at least 10 guys who will be knocking on your door once this is common knowledge.’
Mia rolled her eyes. ‘Yeah. Right.’
‘I’m serious, Mia. They used to call you Slinky Sandhurst. It’s the long legs. Just about every guy in the ward would salivate when you walked past.’
‘C’mon, Steve.’ She frowned. Looked sceptical. Wondered if Steve was one of them. And felt scorchingly illuminated.
‘I kid you not,’ he said.
The pianist played his last tune and was packing up his sheet music as Mia and Steve drained their glasses. She looked around the restaurant, amazed to find they were the only patrons remaining. ‘I think we may have outstayed our welcome,’ she said, nodding over at a barman polishing and rearranging glasses behind the bar, his movements making it clear this was not what he wanted to be doing. Two additional staff members moved slowly about in black and white uniforms, brushing tablecloths, lifting glasses to check for smears and straightening cutlery on tables already set for the new day tomorrow. Steve pulled out her chair and placed his hand on the small of her back as they made their way from the restaurant, nodding to the weary concierge who forced a smile and said ‘Good evening,’ as she held
the glass doors open.
The outside air held a touch of spring balminess. ‘Are you up for a walk rather than catching a cab?’ Steve asked.
They did not have far to walk, it was a full moon, her feet remained happy in stilettos and there was not a cab in sight, so Mia nodded.
‘It’s been weird running into you tonight,’ Steve said after a while, their footsteps echoing slowly along the slate footpath. ‘I sometimes check you out online to see what you’ve been up to.’ He stopped suddenly and smiled. ‘Is that creepy?’ he said.
‘A little,’ Mia laughed.
‘Mm. Anyway, I always thought it was a pity you were so blissfully married.’
She made a face.
‘Alright, I don’t blame you for not believing me. But it is the truth.’ He held up three fingers in a gesture of honour.
She turned and smiled up at him. ‘You are such a good man, Steve. You’ve been just what the doctor ordered … excuse the pun,’ she chuckled.
‘Even though it was several years ago, I remember how it felt to have my perfectly sound marriage unexpectedly explode into a thousand tiny pieces. It’s hell on the ego, let alone anything else,’ he said as they strolled towards a line of row cottages, a rose hedge spanning its full length, the perfumed flowers hanging in the still air.
‘It’s so much easier for a man than a woman,’ Mia said. ‘A man’s primal value to the opposite sex lasts a lifetime. Women my age are almost beyond their use-by date. That’s why more middle-aged men remarry than middle-aged women.’
‘Oh, is that right?’ he said with a smirk. ‘And from where did you source that little snippet of information?’
Mia leaned over a picket fence and gently pulled a cluster of red roses towards her to breathe in the scent. ‘Oh, I made it up,’ she said, ‘but I reckon the stats would back me.’ She turned to him with a smirk of her own. ‘Where’s your smart retort now?’ she challenged with a laugh, which faded when she noticed the intensity of his expression.
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