by Sandy Barker
And, of course, way in the back of my mind was the possibility that I wouldn’t end up with either of them. I was a different version of myself now—Sarah 2.0. I loved this Sarah, but maybe she wouldn’t be a fit for Josh or James. And maybe, they wouldn’t be a fit for her.
Maybe I’d decide to be on my own.
This was my least favourite outcome, by the way. I’d spent many, many hours pondering what my life would be like with a proper partner, someone to love and laugh with, to build a life with. I’d never had that kind of relationship, that kind of life, and I wanted it. And, just like in that film, Sliding Doors, I’d imagined two version of it.
One in which I went home from work to a stylish flat in the Eastern Suburbs of Sydney—kind of like my current flat, but bigger and nicer—to my tech-geek boyfriend and we drank G&Ts on the balcony and told each other about our days. And the other in which I invited my friends out onto our yacht for a day trip around Sydney Harbour, James at the helm and bottles of bubbles on ice.
And the future I wanted most?
Well, that depended on the day, who I’d spoken to most recently, and what was going on in my life at any given moment. I can’t say I liked being capricious any more than I liked being duplicitous. The whole situation, the good, the bad, and the very, very ugly, was like being on The Bachelorette and in The Twilight Zone at the same time—like I said, exhilarating and exhausting.
The other thing wearing me down was that only three people knew about my messy love life—Cat, Lins, and Nick. Until I sorted it all out, I only wanted to discuss it with my closest friends. This meant I was keeping a lot of secrets, which sucked.
Overall, though, life was good. I’d gone from a tiny existence—going to the gym, solo dinners and cask wine, imposing myself on Lins and Nick far too often, and hanging out with Domino—to something much bigger. I loved most of it, but I was shattered, and a trip to Maui over New Year’s was exactly how I wanted to recharge. I would make a toast to new beginnings, and somewhere in there, I’d edge closer to one of the biggest decisions of my life.
*
Waiting for check-in to open, I read every post on Facebook and Instagram, every tweet in my feed, refreshing twice, unsubscribed from two newsletters, and started a novel on my Kindle app.
I also had a lengthy texting session with my sister. As (bloody, stupid, frigging) luck would have it, she was actually in Sydney—and she hadn’t come alone. Since I’d visited her in London, Cat had gone and got herself all loved up.
Yep! My sister, Cat—sworn to be single ’til the day she died—had a boyfriend.
Actually, I knew Jean-Luc—my whole family did. He’d been an exchange student in Sydney the year he and Cat turned fifteen. They’d been really close back then—best friends—and when he returned to France, they’d written every week for years. It had all gone pear-shaped because her jealous idiot of an ex told her not to write to Jean-Luc anymore—and she’d complied.
Anyway, long story short—too late!—they lost touch over the years and as fate would have it, she literally ran into him when she was in Paris a few months ago. They reconnected and have been going back and forth between Paris and London for the past few months. And now they were in Sydney for the holidays.
When she’d told me they were coming, it was one of the best surprises of my life but, of course, their trip to Australia overlapped with my trip to Hawaii.
I’d agonised over cancelling my trip with Josh—or at least postponing my arrival in Hawaii—but, knowing how much I missed Josh, Cat had insisted I keep my plans. That meant we’d only had a couple of days together—Christmas and Boxing Day— but we’d squeezed the most out of that time, and it was easily the best Christmas I’ve ever had.
And to see Cat so happy with Jean-Luc—okay, this is going to sound ridiculously corny—that was the real Christmas present.
They were perfect for each other. He brought out her more vulnerable side, her gentler side, and I loved seeing her be that Cat, the one she usually reserved for me. And even though he was now a grown man of thirty-five, Jean-Luc was, at heart, the same person who had fit so easily into our family all those years ago. It was like having a long-lost family member back in the fold. Besides, anyone who could make Cat’s face light up with joy just by looking at her, was a keeper.
Waiting in line, I also replied to a passive-aggressive “bon voyage” text from my mother who was miffed that I was missing the traditional family New Year’s Day barbecue. I sent her lots of kissy smiley faces and told her to send my love to everyone. Going to Hawaii was way more appealing than fielding questions from my relatives about why I was still single at thirty-seven.
If only they knew!
Eventually, airline agents appeared behind the counter and I was called over by a smiling young woman. At the counter I lifted my suitcase onto the scale—a suitcase, not a backpack, this time. I was a civilised person going on holiday, rather than a traveller roughing it on a boat. I had no illusions about this trip. It was going to be on the beaten track and replete with poolside cocktails, pricey excursions, and maybe even a spa day. This gal was on HOL-I-DAY!
I handed over my passport. “First time?” asked the smiling woman. I wondered if she could hold onto that smile after checking in hundreds of passengers.
“Uh, to Hawaii, yes, but I’ve been to the States before.”
“Hawaii is just beautiful,” she replied. “You’ll love it.” She was far chattier than any airline agent I’d met before. Maybe she was be a traveller at heart, like me. Her nametag said, “Candyce”.
“I’m meeting my lover there,” my mouth said without my permission. I don’t even like that word and I never use it. Yet, there I was telling a perfect stranger that I was heading to Hawaii for a shag.
I wanted to suck the words back into my mouth, but before I could go into damage control, she replied, “Good for you,” and added a conspiratorial smile. I beamed. She printed a luggage tag and put it on my suitcase with a practised ease I’ve never mastered at self-check-in. Then her machine spat out my boarding pass and luggage receipt. She tucked them into my passport and handed them across the counter.
“It’s not a full flight, so I’ve blacked out the seat next to yours. You’ll have some extra room to rest up.” She smiled again and raised her eyebrows. I beamed even more.
“Thank you!”
“Have a great flight,” she called after me.
“I will!” It was possibly the best check-in ever. I gave myself a mental high-five, forgetting instantly that I’d just spilled to a stranger about my sex life.
Once I was through security and immigration, the knot in my stomach started to ease and excitement took its place. I changed some money, so I’d have US cash, then stopped at duty free to pick up a bottle of Bombay Sapphire gin. When Josh and I were in Greece, we’d discovered it was a shared favourite, and I liked the idea of having “our drink” at the ready for sundowners on the balcony.
I filled the rest of the time before my flight the same way I usually do, browsing the latest book releases, stocking up on water, gum, snacks, and trashy magazines for the flight, and settling any lingering nerves by drinking a glass of wine at the bar closest to my gate.
Okay, it was two.
Boarding a long-haul flight just a little tipsy is my preferred way to travel—don’t judge me. I know the prevailing wisdom is to avoid alcohol and stay hydrated, but I’d bet a billion dollars that the people who write those travel tips fly business class. And that they’ve never had a peevish seat battle with the person in front who decides to fully recline in the middle of dinner. Those people, the mid-meal recliners, belong in hell with the bad toast-makers.
Luckily, my flight turned out to be quite nice—for a ten-hour flight, that is. No seat war, dinner was served right after we took off, and Candyce blocking out the seat next to me paid off big time! Both seats next to me were empty and I got to lie down and sleep, which I did for six hours. Six! That’s the economy flier’
s equivalent of a unicorn sighting.
Immigration in Honolulu was uneventful. We were essentially a planeload of Aussies on holiday, so I can’t imagine we posed much of a challenge to the immigration officers. Mine even looked bored as I pressed my fingertips to the little fingerprinting screen and she took my photo. Imagine living in paradise and being stuck inside all day welcoming tourists.
I switched my phone off flight mode as I waited for my suitcase. It bleeped immediately with a text.
Delayed in LA. Sorry! Will be there after you. Room in my name. I called them so you can check in. See you soon. Jx
Oh. A wave of disappointment washed over me. I’d landed thinking I would see Josh within the hour, so my anticipation, after months of being apart, was palpable. It’s only a few more hours, I told myself, and now I’d have time to freshen up before he arrived. Happily landing on the bright side, I thought about what I wanted to be wearing when he arrived.
I decided on nothing.
*
When the taxi pulled up at the hotel, excitement bubbled up inside me. Hawaii, Hawaii, Hawaii! I paid the driver in cash and a man in a Hawaiian shirt—do they just call it a “shirt” in Hawaii?—opened my door with, “Aloha,” followed closely by, “Welcome to The Waikiki Beach Marriott Resort and Spa.” That was quite a mouthful to have to say dozens of times a day.
I climbed out of the taxi and took a deep breath of the warm, fragrant breeze. The man placed a lei around my neck—a real one, made of frangipanis! How lovely! I was already blown away, and I hadn’t even gone inside yet. I replied with a big smile and said, “Thank you!”
The excellent service continued all the way through check-in—yes, they were expecting me, “Welcome, Miss Parsons”—and being shown to the room. The hotel—the lobby, the room, everything—was over-the-top beautiful. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d stayed somewhere as luxurious. Mental note: fancy hotels are extremely nice.
Overwhelmed by the view of Waikiki Beach, I only remembered at the last second to tip the bellboy for bringing my suitcase. He smiled politely without looking at the five dollars I’d given him, and I wondered if it was too much, but better too much than too little.
Then it was just me alone in a massive room with one of the most famous views in the world. Nice digs, Joshua. Waikiki was only for a night, though, as we were flying to Maui in the morning. From Josh’s description, the resort in Maui was even more luxurious. I could get used to this, I thought.
As I wasn’t sure how long I would have the room to myself, I tore myself away from the view and got busy freshening up. Close to two hours later, after I had scrubbed, lathered, slathered, and prettied myself and after I had practised arranging myself on the bed in the most alluring pose possible, still no Josh. I went to the wardrobe, took out a robe, and slipped it on. Being nude for Josh’s arrival was one thing, but it felt odd to hang out in a hotel room stark naked.
The wait also gave me time to think, which for me, can be dangerous.
The last time I’d seen Josh, he told me he’d never known anyone like me and that he wanted to know me for the rest of his life. He’d also called me his “travel buddy”. I wondered which Josh would show up, especially as over the past few months, we’d become even closer than we were in Greece.
Over email and FaceTime, we’d chatted easily about all sorts of things and we’d planned the trip together. Sure, we’d had some discussions—disagreements, really—but we had talked our way through them, listening to each other, respecting the other’s opinion.
We were close friends. Close friends who planned on having lots of sex over the coming week. Close friends who may—or may not—end up in a relationship and actually be boyfriend and girlfriend.
Or, we’d just stay travel buddies.
Alone in a luxury hotel room, I managed to work myself into quite a tizzy.
Why am I here waiting for a man who isn’t sure about his feelings? James sees a future with me. But Josh might too. How can I decide between them if I don’t find out?
Around and around I went. I was my own worst enemy. Then my phone bleeped, saving me from myself.
Landed. Should be there within the hour. Can’t wait. Jxxx
I replied, relieved to be out of my head.
We’re in room 1505. I had reception set aside a key-card for you. See you soon! Sx
I went into the bathroom to check my makeup. Flawless. No matter how much inner turmoil I was in, at least I looked good. Back in the bedroom, I smoothed out the bed covers and fluffed the pillows.
Usually I would unpack and nest a little after arriving somewhere new, but we were only there for one night, so it wouldn’t be worth it. I looked around the room trying to find something—anything—to keep me occupied until Josh got there.
Next to my suitcase, I spied the duty-free bag that held the bottle of gin. I opened the mini bar—there was tonic. I looked at the clock—nearly noon. “It’s five o’clock somewhere,” I said to myself. I didn’t have a lime, but desperate times and all that. I free-poured a shot of gin into a glass and topped it up with a six-dollar tonic, then took my drink to the balcony to enjoy the view. I sat, then propped my feet up on the railing and took a sip. It was delicious and I sighed a little. Fantastic. I am officially a day-drinker.
The view of Waikiki Beach was just like I’d imagined. Palm trees, white sand, clear aquamarine water and surfers riding even rows of waves. From that high up I couldn’t hear the hubbub of the tourists, but I could see the hordes milling about. One night was enough, I figured.
The gin started to warm me through and soon my troubled thoughts receded into the background. I knew I’d revisit them another time, but just then, I needed the reprieve. A little while later, after the meditative sound of waves crashing and the gin had lulled me into a peaceful state, my phone bleeped again.
Just arrived! See you soon. Jx
Holy crap! Only a couple of minutes to go!
I ran back into the room, took off my robe and flung it into the closet, then arranged my nude self on the bed and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
More than a few minutes went by, then I finally heard the key-card in the lock. I sucked in my stomach and pursed my lips.
And then died of utter mortification.
It wasn’t Josh. It was the bellboy. The same bellboy. With Josh’s luggage. And then it was Josh.
They both wore the same shocked expression, while I plummeted into the depths of horror. When I finally came to my senses, I rolled off the other side of the bed onto the floor, grabbing a pillow to cover me as I went.
“Oh, my god,” I said to myself over and over.
I heard Josh tell the bellboy, “Thank you. I’ll take it from here,” which was even more mortifying, and then the door closed.
“You can come out now,” he said, an annoying lilt of laughter in his voice.
“I’m just going to stay here.”
He came around the bed to where I was lying on my back with a pillow covering my torso. “You probably made his day.” I squeezed my eyes shut, which was worse, because the whole scene replayed vividly in my mind. I opened my eyes. “Maybe even his whole week.” He grinned down at me.
“You were supposed to come alone. I thought that was very obvious.”
“Very obvious? Is that like super-duper obvious.” I frowned at him. “I’m really sorry that happened.” He didn’t seem particularly sorry. “Can I at least help you up?” he said, extending a hand.
“No thank you. I’d prefer to stay down here. It’s very comfy.” He took a pillow off the bed and put it on the floor next to my head, slipped his shoes off, and lay down next to me.
We both looked up at the ceiling. “Hmmm, you’re right. This isn’t bad.”
My giggles started silently and took over my whole body. By the time I was laughing aloud, Josh was too, and we lay there on the floor laughing until tears streamed from my eyes onto the carpet. Eventually, I got a hold o
f myself and took a few deep breaths.
“Would you like me to go out and come back in again?” That set us both off again and it was another few minutes before I could compose myself enough to get off the floor.
“Close your eyes,” I commanded. He didn’t even ask why, he just did it. I got up, taking the pillow with me, and climbed onto the bed. I arranged myself as elegantly as possible for a woman who’d just humiliated herself in front of a bellboy and her long-distance boyfriend. I hoped I hadn’t scarred him for life—the bellboy, that is.
“Okay, you can open your eyes now.”
Josh’s head popped up beside the bed and our eyes met. Then his gaze trailed the length of my nakedness and made its way back up to my eyes. “If it’s possible, I think you look even better than you did the last time I saw you.” That made me smile.
He stood up quickly and walked over to the door. “You don’t need to come in again,” I said.
“No, but I do need to put out the ‘do not disturb’ sign,” which he did before joining me on the bed. Our reunion—the part after the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to me—was tender and sweet, two close friends who perhaps felt something more, finding each other again.
Chapter 11
“Oh, fuck,” said Josh under his breath. We were standing in the security line at Honolulu airport on our way to Maui.
“What?” I asked, turning around.
“I just remembered I put my pocketknife in my backpack last night.” He meant the backpack he was using as a carry-on, the one about to go through an airport x-ray machine.
“Why did you do that?”
“Because that’s where I normally keep it, just in case, and I stupidly repacked it last night, completely forgetting about flying today.” It was the sort of dumb thing I’d do, so I empathised, but I was also concerned.
“Shouldn’t you tell them? They’ll confiscate it, but at least you won’t get into trouble.”
He scrunched up his face. “The thing is my grandpa gave me that knife. I’ve had it since I was twelve. I really don’t want to lose it.” We were getting closer to the front of the line; I was only two people away from the stack of trays. “I think I’ll chance it. Maybe they won’t find it.”