It Started with a Kiss

by Lisa Heidke

  By the time I’d thrown on some jeans, cooked pasta for the girls and put on a load of washing, Rosie was in my lounge room, holding a hefty quantity of camellia flowers from my garden. Sharon was dutifully panting in Rosie’s oversized tote bag.

  ‘Stop pillaging.’

  ‘But they’re for you!’ She handed over the flowers and a bottle of wine and set Sharon down on the floor.

  Having said hello to Evie and Olivia before they disappeared into their rooms, Rosie poured us both a glass of wine and we sat down. Rosie cleared her throat. ‘Don’t be angry, but I’ve done something really exciting for you.’

  Even Sharon was looking sheepish.

  ‘I’ve had enough excitement for one day.’

  ‘I’vesignedyouuptoKissMeCupiddon’tbeangry.’

  I shifted my weight on the sofa, put down my glass on the side table and removed Sharon from the floral cushion she was humping. ‘Pardon?’

  ‘What part did you miss?’

  ‘Hopefully all of it.’

  ‘I thought you needed a nudge so I hooked you up on KissMeCupid.’

  The room was spinning. This couldn’t be happening. Not in my world. ‘Are you insane? What makes you think I can handle that? I have a husband—’

  ‘Ex-husband.’

  ‘And there’s the business with Blake—’

  ‘RIP.’

  ‘Rosie, I don’t want any more men, period. It’s too much. Too confusing. I don’t want any part of it. Just out of curiosity, what exactly does hooked you up mean? And please don’t tell me you used my real name.’

  Rosie snorted. ‘Of course I didn’t use your real name. I invented a new one for you—Stunning Lids.’

  ‘You’ve got to be kidding?’

  Rosie plunged on, ignoring my outrage. ‘Then I filled in all your pertinent details: your interests, hobbies, ideal partner, that sort of thing.’

  ‘Jesus, no. I don’t have an ideal partner.’

  Rosie smiled. ‘You do now. Also, I uploaded a photo or two.’

  ‘This gets better and better. Please tell me you didn’t.’

  ‘I did indeed.’

  What to be more anxious about? The fact that Rosie had joined me up to an online dating site and had no doubt embellished my personality or that she’d uploaded photos of me for the world to see? ‘Which pictures did you use?’

  ‘Ah, Ms Vanity 2014, a delightful one of you at Byron Bay last year.’

  ‘Drunk? Was I drunk?’

  ‘Merry, for sure, but—’

  I knew the photograph in question.

  ‘Photos aside, Fri, let’s read the responses and rate them one to twenty.’

  ‘Twenty?’

  ‘You’d be surprised. Men are desperate.’

  I was momentarily speechless. Meanwhile, Rosie was whistling as she booted up her computer and logged onto the site.

  ‘How exactly does all this work?’

  ‘Glad you asked. Take a look.’

  And there I was, large as life, champagne glass in hand, looking like some wide-eyed booze hound. Great. Just the image I wanted to present to the world. I didn’t bother saying anything, but inside I was dying. I started reading my profile. Fun loving… I could barely focus. It was immensely disturbing. My interests included strolling along a moonlit beach…

  ‘You can’t be serious?’

  ‘What? You live on the beach. It’s appropriate.’

  ‘It is so not.’

  ‘Whatever. Let’s not get caught up with minor details. Instead, we’ll check out who’s sent you kisses. I’ve already flagged a few I think you might be into.’

  This just got better and better. ‘Do you have any cigarettes?’

  Rosie looked at me with disgust. ‘I don’t know you anymore.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘What do you mean, what do I mean? You’re an idiot. You’ve never smoked in your life.’

  ‘That’s not true. I was a social smoker years ago.’

  ‘Rubbish. I bet you’ve never bought a packet of cigarettes, ever.’

  ‘True, but every time I drive past a petrol station, instead of checking out the exorbitant price we’re expected to pay for fuel, I’m thinking about what it’d be like to walk up to the counter and ask for a packet of Marlboro Lights. Do they even sell Marlboro Lights anymore? It’s hard to tell given they are concealed behind a wall of stainless steel.’

  ‘Shut up and have another drink. Let’s check out these profiles before I give up on you completely.’

  ‘I wonder why,’ I continued, musing about the cigarettes. ‘I don’t think it’s a weight thing, though I need to lose about five kilos… I’ve read the book. It hasn’t helped.’ I was thinking about Michelle Bridges’ book Losing the Last 5 Kilos, which I’d tossed to the back of a cupboard months ago.

  ‘You’re raving now.’

  ‘Maybe I want to punish myself. Or maybe, I’ve been influenced by Mad Men. Though I don’t drink Scotch and have no desire to, no matter how appealing Don Draper is.’

  ‘Right,’ said Rosie distractedly, as she scrolled down her computer screen. ‘We’ll keep tabs on your cravings. I figure as long as you can resist buying a packet, you’re safe. Now, can we get down to business? Next you’ll be dropping into the local tattoo parlour for a fleur-de-lis.’

  I shrugged. ‘Maybe.’ I scanned the first profile. Twenty seconds later, I almost yelped. ‘Rosie, whatever made you think I’d be interested in an extreme mountain climber called Tex?’

  ‘His arms, for starters!’

  ‘This is so wrong.’

  ‘So we’ll cross him off the list. Plenty more frogs to kiss, my sweet.’

  ‘Rosie, I am beyond disturbed. Take down my profile.’

  ‘I can’t do that!’

  ‘At least remove my photo. What if Liam or the girls see? I don’t want my face online. I want at least some control over this demeaning situation.’

  While Rosie did goodness knows what with my profile, I stupidly checked my phone. Seconds later, I squealed.

  ‘What is it?’ said Evie, rushing into the room. ‘A mouse?’

  ‘No, Rosie pinched me.’

  Evie pulled a face. ‘You two are worse than the girls at school.’ She picked up Sharon and walked out of the room, muttering to herself.

  ‘What was that about?’ said Rosie, looking confused.

  ‘This.’ I handed her my phone.

  She studied the photo with glee. ‘An erect penis by the looks of things. I don’t need to ask whose, do I?’

  I sighed. ‘I was really fond of that penis.’

  Rosie hugged me, then mock-slapped me. ‘It’s not that attractive.’

  ‘All relative.’

  ‘Then we need to find you some better-looking relatives. Now at KissMeCupid—’

  I deleted the appendage. ‘Rosie!’

  ‘What? I’m all for spontaneity, hon, but he’s married.’ Rosie grabbed my phone and turned it off. ‘Enough about Blake’s dick.’ She shook her head. ‘Blake! Blah more like it. Hon, are you really over him?’

  ‘Of course.’ And I meant it. I truly did.

  I knew I’d been stupid and I knew it could never be. Did that mean I didn’t sometimes go to bed at night and silently scream into my pillow, alternating between wishing I had never met him and cursing why we couldn’t be together? Even after the bathroom incident I felt an occasional longing for him. He’d completely crawled under my skin. I knew it was wrong. All I could do was take each day as it came and with every day move a little further away from him.

  She stared at me a moment longer before clapping her hands. ‘Okay, then. Let’s get back to work. “Canberra guy, born again Christian—”’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Fair enough. Next. “Honest Gemini, likes moonlit walks along the beach—”’

  ‘Nope… Hang on… that’s what my profile says. For God’s sake, Rosie, delete that line.’ I stood up and started pacing around the room. ‘In fact, delete the l
ot of it. I can’t cope with all this online stuff. It’s not natural.’

  ‘What’s not natural is you pining after some guy who sends you porn shots.’

  ‘I’m not pining after anyone,’ I said, noticing zac43… ‘What about him?’

  ‘Ah, blond, surfing cat lover.’

  I scanned his profile. ‘Line dancing? I don’t think so.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Rosie, scrutinising the kisses I’d been sent. ‘The no-hopers are easy to weed out, but we won’t be blunt the way I normally am.’

  ‘We?’

  ‘We have to reply.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It’d be rude not to. It’s easy. We send the ones we don’t like a simple I’m flattered, but I’m not sure we have enough in common. I wish you all the best in your search email.’

  I shrugged.

  ‘Then there’re the maybes: Thanks for the kiss. Please send some more information about yourself.’

  ‘You’ve done this before, haven’t you?’

  ‘Yes! That’s why you should trust me.’ She turned her computer screen around to face me. ‘Let’s send these three a You seem interesting and I’m intrigued. Would love to know more about you response.’

  I wrinkled my nose. ‘I don’t think so.’

  Rosie glared at me. ‘Look, none of these guys are perfect.’

  ‘I’m not asking for perfection, just…’

  ‘Just what?’

  That was the problem. I didn’t know what I was after. Maybe I was after nothing and no one. Maybe I was happy to potter about by myself. ‘Rosie, I think I need some time to get my head around everything that’s happened in the past few months, to get used to being Friday Jones again.’

  Rosie stared up at the ceiling a few moments before speaking. ‘I’m just trying to help.’

  ‘I know you are and I appreciate it, but I need to focus on the girls and maybe saving my marriage.’

  Rosie raised her eyebrows. ‘Really?’

  ‘Maybe. I at least need the space to think about it without everything else crowding in.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ said Rosie with a grace that surprised me.

  I didn’t trust her—not one bit.

  18

  Liam was at the local pub with Brad, downing his third beer and slyly checking out the talent. The bar was crowded tonight. His mind was wandering but kept coming back to the same thought: sex—loud and echoing in his head. He and Friday had been together a long time. It was hard getting your head around the thought of never having sex with anyone new ever again—and sometimes hard getting hard.

  Only ever seeing Friday’s tits, not that he’d seen them for a while… Never getting to taste another woman? Not that he’d cheated. Online porn didn’t count. And he’d only been looking at that recently because Brad was perverse. And then, well it was addictive, especially as he hadn’t been having regular sex. It’s not like he’d had an affair. Yes, he’d kissed Susie Mannix two years ago at the station’s annual sales conference, but that’s as far as it had gone. He’d been feeling down since Friday’s miscarriage. They’d just flirted. Kissed a little. No harm done. She left the station soon after. Wonder what happened to her? She was a good sort. Fuckable, if he was to be totally honest.

  Sometimes he really wished he’d slept with her, got it out of his system. He smiled at the memory. She’d certainly been up for it, the way she’d looked at him, giggled when he’d spoken. She’d been into him, no doubt about it. But Liam wasn’t that kind of guy. He loved his wife and couldn’t contemplate being unfaithful.

  Porn was a grey area. Liam didn’t think it amounted to cheating. Neither did any of his friends. Same with hanging out at strip clubs. It was all right to look as long as you didn’t touch and no one saw you. Like that saying, if a tree falls in the forest and no one’s there to witness it, did it really fall? Something like that, anyway. As long as you didn’t get caught. That was the main thing, right? That way, no one got hurt.

  Now here he was getting drunk again with Brad.

  ‘Listen, mate,’ Brad said, completely serious. ‘You have to go for it. Get amongst it.’

  ‘I’m not you.’

  Brad laughed. ‘No, you’re not. But at least you could pretend.’

  So Liam did. Whenever a half-decent woman walked by, he tried his luck by smiling, sometimes starting up a conversation, but the night was dragging. He was striking out and he was tired. Eventually, he found a spare table and sat at the accompanying chair. Drinking beer mid-week was always a bad choice. Liam was pissed. Too pissed to care, yet there was Brad, chatting up yet another couple of unsuspecting women.

  How did he do it? Brad had stamina and bravado, that’s for sure. Liam watched as his brother worked his magic. He was one of those guys who always got what he wanted. Brown hair, flecks of grey at the temples, he wasn’t unattractive for a guy or a brother, but he wasn’t Brad Pitt, either. If anything, he had craggy features—too much smoking in his twenties. But he had charisma. How else could he manage to have so many girlfriends? Even guys liked him; that is to say, he had a lot of male friends. He was an easygoing, craggy-faced playboy.

  Brad flicked Liam a look and waved him over to join them. Reluctantly, Liam got up out of his seat.

  ‘Hey, here’s my bro. Liam, meet the ladies.’ Brad was well and truly hammered, given he was drinking double Scotches to Liam’s beers.

  Liam smiled at the two women. They were very attractive and similarly dressed—black boots, mini-skirts and tight-fitting singlets. ‘Girls’ night out, hey?’

  One of the women (Anna?) smiled. ‘At the moment, but our luck could change.’

  ‘I bet it could,’ said Brad, moving to one side so that Liam was standing beside her. He turned to the other one. ‘I think you owe me a drink.’

  She stared blankly at him. ‘Why?’

  Brad beamed. ‘Because when I saw you, I dropped mine.’

  It was one of the cheesiest lines Liam had ever heard, but the object of Brad’s affections laughed.

  ‘Your brother’s a piece of work,’ Anna said good-naturedly to Liam.

  Liam glanced at her. ‘He’s a charmer.’

  ‘I think his brother’s more charming.’

  Liam smiled. He liked Anna. And bonus, she had huge tits. She was practically busting out of her black singlet. Her legs weren’t bad, either. She looked like Meg Ryan, back when Meg was in Top Gun. Cute, cheeky. Meg Ryan with big tits.

  ‘Another drink?’ he asked her when he saw she was three-quarters finished.

  She squeezed his arm. ‘Sure. Vodka and soda. Make it a double if you like.’

  Liam nodded and turned away to get the attention of the bartender. Moments later, he was beside Anna again, handing her a fresh drink. A double as requested. Liam was holding a full Heineken.

  ‘Thanks. What’s a nice guy like you doing in a place like this?’

  He grinned. ‘Shouldn’t I be here?’

  Anna shrugged. ‘Depends what you’re looking for.’

  They clinked glasses.

  ‘You from around here?’ Liam asked, not sure of the answer he wanted to hear.

  ‘Just up the road. This is my local.’

  Liam sucked on his beer. ‘Good to know.’

  ‘Yep. You know where to find me next time.’ She sipped her vodka. ‘You a surfer?’

  ‘How did you guess?’

  ‘For one thing, you’re built.’ She giggled. ‘Did I just say that out loud?’

  Embarrassed, Liam dipped his head slightly.

  ‘And another,’ she said, reaching up to touch his hair, ‘you’ve got surfer’s hair.’ She giggled again. ‘I’m a hairdresser, if you haven’t already guessed.’

  Liam hadn’t.

  ‘Come in and see me. We’ll whack a treatment on and you’ll be as good as new.’

  Liam liked the way she touched him, he liked the way she was giving him her undivided attention. In fact, he liked everything about her.

  They chatted easily f
or a further fifteen minutes before Liam whispered into her ear.

  She pulled back and smiled. ‘Sure, I’ll just let my girlfriend know.’

  And that was it. Liam couldn’t believe he’d been bold enough to ask her back to the apartment and that she hadn’t slapped him. Instead, she’d agreed. He left Brad at the pub and ten minutes later, he and Anna were in his bedroom.

  It felt weird kissing someone who wasn’t Friday—her lips, her tongue, her taste were strange. Different. She had great hair though, soft and shiny.

  He went with the flow, but in his mind, he was adamant he didn’t want to have full-on sex with her. Not least of all because he didn’t have any condoms. Even though Liam was drunk and horny, he was sensible enough to know he didn’t want complications. No condoms meant no sex. He was safe for tonight.

  Okay, so Anna went down on him, but Liam didn’t come, at least not straightaway. It took him a while to get in the mood. Nerves or something. Truthfully, Liam felt like he was cheating on Friday, but they were separated and had been for some time, so maybe he wasn’t technically being unfaithful, was he? Liam was confused but surely he had a right to explore his feelings?

  He couldn’t imagine Friday going down on some random guy. In fact, he felt sick thinking about it. But Liam knew she wouldn’t. Friday didn’t want his dick in her mouth so why would she want another guy’s?

  Thinking about Friday being with someone else killed his sexual vibe somewhat. He fumbled around with Anna for another hour or so, but he no longer felt into it. The hangover was kicking in and he wanted to sleep. Alone. He really needed Anna to leave. He didn’t think he could handle waking up next to her, not feeling as he did now, struggling with the guilt and confusion. With Friday, he’d always wanted to wake up beside her. At least he had done for many years.

  But Anna seemed inclined to stay. So Liam asked her straight out if she wanted him to call her a cab. Twenty minutes later, as she was leaving, Anna gave him her card, which he thoughtfully disposed of the minute she was out the door. She was nice enough and Liam was drunk and took the opportunity offered to him but, as harsh as it sounded, he didn’t want an ongoing thing, at least not with some random woman he’d picked up at a pub. It did his head in just thinking about it.