A Sunset in Sydney

by Sandy Barker

  Not long after, we came upon a bamboo forest. I’d never seen one before and it was beautiful. A wooden-slatted pathway cut through the middle, shaded by the bamboo. It was much cooler inside the forest, and even though we were still walking uphill, at least we had relief from the heat.

  “First time!” I called ahead to Josh.

  “What’s that?” he asked over his shoulder.

  “Being in a bamboo forest.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  “I kinda love it,” I said.

  “Yeah, me too. I mean, I wouldn’t build a summer home here, or anything, but the bamboo trees really are quite lovely.”

  I fell about laughing, which made it hard to keep up a decent hiking pace. He hadn’t done the English accent, but I loved that he’d quoted The Princess Bride. He’s so fun. I picked up the pace and caught up to him, walking by his side. “Not likely that you’ll have to rescue me from an R-O-U-S, here.”

  “I would, though,” he replied solemnly.

  “Good to know.”

  He grinned at me. “I kinda want to run through this. Is that weird?”

  No, not weird—awesome. With a quick glance his way, I started running. He was fast on my heels and I squealed in delight. When he caught me around my waist and spun me around, my squeals turned to laughter. He put me down and turned me to him. “You’re fun,” he said, planting a kiss on my lips.

  “I was just thinking the same thing about you.”

  “We may never get to this waterfall, you know?”

  “I kinda don’t care right now.”

  Then he kissed me right there in the bamboo forest. Trust me, it was super romantic.

  Eventually, we came to a river. Some might call it a “stream”, but we had to cross it, and it was daunting enough for me to think of it as a river, or at least a “river-stream”. Josh jumped across three boulders and was on the other side in about four seconds.

  I would have followed, but between boulders two and three was a gap I didn’t think I could make. For a second, I considered wading across the river, but that would have meant immersing my runners, and they were good runners—I actually ran in them. Getting them wet in the rain was one thing, but this was serious adventure stuff.

  “You coming?” Josh called from the other side of the river-stream.

  “Um, not sure.”

  He looked at me like I’d grown another limb. “I think we’re close, Sarah. Can’t you hear the falls?”

  I can hear the falls, yes, thank you, Joshua. Grrr.

  I looked in the direction of the sound and I could see the top of the falls over the tree line. We were close. I looked back at the river-stream. Just as I contemplated ruining my shoes for the sake of the falls, a fellow hiker emerged from the bushes behind Josh. He looked a little older than me—in his forties—and super fit.

  “Hi folks,” he said. Mid-westerner, I thought. “You wanting to cross?” he asked me.

  “Uh, yeah, but not totally keen on soaking my shoes.”

  “No problem. I helped someone across before, and I’ve got these.” He pointed to his shoes which looked like runners, only they were made of neoprene. Oh, thank god! He waded into the river-stream and stood between the second and third boulders. “Can you get to here?” he asked, pointing to boulder number two.

  Yes, I can do that. I nodded and made the jump from the riverbed to boulder number one. I took a moment to steady myself and then jumped across to boulder number two. My landing was a little wobbly and the man reached out for my hand to steady me.

  “Thank you.”

  “No problem. I’ll keep hold of your hand while you jump across to the next rock, okay?” I nodded and bit my lip, unsure. I looked at the distance between the boulders, then envisioned missing boulder number three, slipping awkwardly into the river-stream and knocking my head on a rock. At times, I am quite a talented catastrophiser.

  I pushed the ugly thoughts aside, took a deep breath, and leapt to boulder number three, gripping the man’s hand. From there it was just a short jump to the other side of the river-stream, where Josh was waiting for me. I made it! Oh, my god, I totally did it.

  I jumped up and down and grinned madly, then called out an effusive, “Thank you!” to the man in the river-stream.

  “Hey, no problem. You folks have a great day. And the waterfall is totally worth it!” He turned and climbed out of the water and went on his way. It didn’t even occur to me that I would have to get back across without his help. I was too excited that I’d done it.

  Josh beamed at me. “My adventure chick,” he said, kissing me hard on the mouth.

  I had once been an adventurous chick. I’d travelled incessantly, and I’d hiked, canoed, white-water rafted, abseiled, mountain biked—so many incredible adventures. But all before I immersed myself in a toxic relationship with Neil the cheating bastard and forgot who I was.

  The woman standing with Josh on the far side of the river-stream, she was Adventure Chick (note the capital letters). Adventure Chick was bad-ass. She was brave and intrepid and, most importantly, she was back! I was ecstatic to wear that mantle again.

  We headed off down the trail, following the sound of water falling from a great height and a few minutes later, we emerged from the canopy of green into brilliant sunlight. The waterfall loomed above us, a broad crescent of rock and water against the azure sky. The recipient of the water was a very shallow rockpool—in some places only a few inches deep, its bottom covered in pebbles and rocks, some jagged, some smoothed by the water.

  I slipped off my runners and socks, leaving them on dry rocks and waded into the rockpool. The water was freshly cool, but not icy like the waterfall from the day before—likely warmed by the sun. I tipped my head to see the top of the waterfall. A dense mist hovered over where the water fell off the cliff, a constant rainbow in the air.

  “Oh, my god!” I called to Josh, a lilt of laughter in my voice. I felt the same way I had when we’d swum with the turtles.

  Around us, I could hear exclamations from the handful of others who were there, and Josh added his own. “It’s incredible!” he replied. We grinned at each other. It was impossible not to be affected by the beauty.

  Josh slipped off his shoes and socks, placed his backpack on the rocks, and waded into the water to join me. “Hey, let me get a shot of you looking up at the falls,” he said, crouching down.

  “How’s this?”

  “Perfect!” He took a few more shots, with and without me in them. Then I asked if he wanted some of him. “Sure, yeah, that’d be great!” I did my best. I was nowhere near as good a photographer as Josh, so I hoped there was at least one he’d like. Finally, we added a selfie with the top of the falls in the background.

  “Is it called a selfie if two people are in it?” I asked.

  He threw me a funny look. “Yeah, I think so.”

  “They should have a different name for it.”

  “Like what?”

  “I have no idea, but selfie doesn’t make sense when there’s more than one person in it.”

  “You’re weird.”

  “You have no idea. Try being on the inside of this brain.” He replied with a chuckle—charity, most likely.

  “Is it snack time yet?” I asked. I kept wading in the shallow water, never wanting to leave.

  “Sure.” He wandered back to the backpack and took out the muesli bars. I dragged myself out of the water found a flat rock to sit on and took in more of the impressive sight while I ate. We’d thought about turning back quite a few times, and I was delighted we hadn’t. It was magical there.

  I crumpled up my muesli bar wrapper and tucked it into my pocket, then took a swig of water. I didn’t want to go. I would happily have spent the whole day there being covered in rainbow-coloured mist, but we had the hike back down the hill, then at least a two-hour drive ahead of us, and it was already close to lunchtime.

  “We should go soon,” said Josh, standing over me. He reached down a hand and
pulled me up.

  “Yeah. I don’t want to though—not yet.”

  He took my water bottle from me and tucked it away in his backpack. “Mmm. I know what you mean.” We were both quiet for a moment. “So, ready?” I shook my head no. He smiled, leant in for a kiss, then turned and walked towards the trail. I put my shoes on and followed, a little glum. It was hard to leave paradise.

  When we got back to the river-stream, I hesitated. There was no kindly hiker wearing waterproof shoes to help me get across. Josh stopped on the bank and I stood beside him. “What do you think?” I asked.

  “How about I go first and when I get to the second rock, I reach out for you and catch you when you jump?” I had trouble visualising what he meant, and my concern—okay, it was rampant fear—must have been etched on my face.

  “Here, let me show you.” He jumped onto the first rock, which was close to the bank, then to the second rock—that was the leap I’d need his help with. “So, you do just what I did, but I’ll be right here to help you. Okay?”

  Oh, screw it. Come on, Adventure Chick.

  I pushed aside my fear, pulled up my big-girl knickers, and leapt to the first rock. So far, so good. Then Josh crouched down low and reached out his hand. “All you have to do now is jump to this rock and I’ll grab your hand, okay?” Adventure Chick was not having fun. She preferred misty waterfalls to slipping and falling into a raging river-stream.

  I took a deep breath and jumped to the next rock, reaching for Josh’s hand as I leapt. He grasped it and pulled me up, just as my back foot slid down the side of the rock. I ended up in an awkward lunge position, but I was safe and without any scrapes or bruises. He helped me stand and we stood face to face grinning at each other like outdoorsy idiots. “Good job,” he said. I didn’t even find that condescending; I must have been growing as a person.

  “You got the last one?” he asked.

  “Yep,” I said, as I made the jumps to the next rock and then to the far bank, easily. I turned and waited for him, hands on my hips in self-congratulations. He also made the last two jumps easily, joining me on the riverbank.

  “We’re awesome,” he said.

  “Agreed.”

  “Race you,” he said, and then he was off along the trail before I could even protest. I followed, watching my step so I didn’t turn an ankle on a tree root, and finally caught up to him. He kept up a light jog.

  When we came across three sweaty-faced hikers walking uphill towards us, I called, “It’s totally worth it,” as we passed them.

  Josh added, “And you’re nearly there!” I heard a half-hearted, “thanks,” behind us.

  When we came to the bamboo forest and the trail gave way to the wooden-slatted path, Josh picked up the pace. I’d been sorry to leave the waterfall, but running down a shady mountain path was its own kind of fun.

  We emerged from the forest into bright sunlight, and Josh slowed back to a jog. I jogged up beside him. “Keep running?” he asked. We were both fit enough to keep up the pace, but I wasn’t sure how wise it was to run in full sun. I figured we still had another couple of miles to go. I dropped back to a fast-paced walk.

  “Uh, I need some water.” We stopped and he fished out the water bottles—both were more than half empty.

  “We should probably walk it,” he said after taking a gulp of water. “Obviously it takes longer, but I’m worried about over-heating.”

  “Yeah, me too.” We each drank half of what we had left and continued downhill at a brisk walking pace. When we got back to the car, we were both dripping in sweat, out of water, and grinning.

  “That was incredible,” he said.

  “Agreed. It was brilliant. I need some new words, though. I’m running out of ways to describe things,” I replied.

  “Yeah.” We climbed into the car. “I’ll find somewhere to buy water,” said Josh, starting the car.

  “Also agreed.” I leant my head back against the car seat, filthy, exhausted, and gloriously happy. What a wonderful way to see out the year.

  *

  The drive back to the resort took a lot less time than our drive to Hana, because the only stop we made was at Aunty Linda’s Banana Bread stand. After our morning of adventure, we had two pieces each. We added some dried pineapple to our order—delicious—and two more bottles of water, having already finished the ones we’d bought near Seven Sacred Pools.

  On the road again and contentedly stuffing my face with banana bread, I was in my own little world and wishing I could move to Hawaii. I knew it was a cliché. Surely, everyone who visits Hawaii must think exactly the same thing.

  But I also knew, deep down, that the reality was much more like my life in Sydney than the idyllic island life we’d seen as visitors. People had to work and pay rent and shop for groceries and clean their houses and pay their taxes and drive in traffic. They also had to navigate around hordes of tourists whenever they went anywhere. What I was fantasising about, was living a life where I was essentially on holiday—all the time.

  “I’ve had a lot of fun with you,” said Josh, intruding on my thoughts.

  “Oh, thanks. Yeah, me too.” I added a smile and reached over to squeeze his thigh.

  “And I don’t just mean today. I mean the whole trip so far. Being with you, well, it’s …” He trailed off, then glanced at me and returned his eyes to the road. I knew he had something important to say, so I kept silent, not wanting him to feel pressured to say it.

  I was right. After a few moments, he sighed heavily. “Sarah, what I want to say is that I absolutely love being with you.” My breath hitched on the L-word, but I said nothing. “Thank you again for coming all this way. I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you did that.”

  I squeaked out a feeble reply, on the verge of being overcome with emotion. I understood exactly what Josh was saying. We’d had a few awkward moments at the beginning, but mostly we were the same “Josh and Sarah” we’d been in Greece. How we were together—that affinity—was what made me love being with him.

  Of course, I’d also come to Hawaii to see if what we had in Greece was real or just a holiday fling—to see if we could be something more. I hoped Josh was there for the same reason. Sitting next to him in the car, having just shared an incredible experience, I wondered if he’d come to some sort of conclusion.

  “The other thing is that being with you makes me question what the hell I’m doing with my life.” I wasn’t sure how to take that. Was that good or bad? Was this conversation going to end up like the time I’d told Neil about getting promoted and he’d accused me of shoving my success in his face? I hoped not.

  “You’re so in your life. You’re doing all the things you said you would do when we were in Greece. You’re going after your bigger life. And I’m stuck. Other than planning this trip and coming here—and you have to know that this is huge for me, and I’m so glad I came—but other than Hawaii, I’ve been stagnating. Being here with you …”

  I was holding my breath, and even when I realised that, I didn’t let it out. Sometimes you really do wait for something with bated breath.

  “… It reminds me of what I want. And that I need to make it happen. You inspire me, Sarah. You make me want to be better. I’m so glad you’re in my life.”

  So, Josh was not only glad to be there with me, I wasn’t his big fear. I wasn’t what was holding him in place. I let out the breath—probably a little more forcefully than I realised, because Josh shot me a quick look. “You okay?” he asked.

  Am I?

  A flurry of thoughts and emotions competed for my attention. Tears prickled my eyes, and my nails made tiny crescents in my palm. It wasn’t exactly “I love you”, but I hadn’t expected that from Josh. What he had said was that I was important to him, that he was happy being there with me, and he was glad I was in his life. Those were all good things. After a moment, I nodded, then realised he was watching the road and not me. “Yeah, I’m okay,” I said.

  Or, I will be.
/>   I reached out to put my hand on his thigh, and he caught it with his and squeezed it. He only let go when we approached the next bend in the road because he needed two hands for the sharp turn. I looked out, watching the changeable coastline and then when we turned inland, the sugar plantations.

  I was falling hard for the sexy American boy—again.

  Chapter 16

  We arrived back at the resort around 4:00pm, which gave us just enough time to shower away the grime from our adventures, have a snooze, eat a light dinner—room service that time—then shower again before we got ready to go out. We also managed to fit in our very first quickie, a milestone in any couple’s relationship—even though we weren’t technically a couple.

  We were meeting Siobhan in the lobby at nine so we could ride to the party together, but I had been worried about how we’d get back to the resort after the party. Not being able to find a taxi was always a risk when you went out on New Year’s Eve, so I was relieved when the concierge gave us a special number to call—one of the (many) services that came with Josh’s Marriott status.

  I couldn’t help being impressed, and maybe a little envious, that a perk of Josh’s job as a travelling software consultant was qualifying for the highest status of an international hotel chain. Whereas, I was a schoolteacher. The biggest perk I got was free instant coffee in the staffroom—and it was Nescafé.

  I got dressed for the party in the bathroom so I could surprise Josh with the dress, specifically me in the dress. It was perfect for a warm, tropical New Year’s Eve, so I hadn’t hesitated to pack it. As I stepped into it, it did occur to me that I’d only worn it with James and Josh. It was this odd thread between them, but I tried not to think about that, or James, as I strapped on the sandals I’d bought in London.

  Lindsey had lent me one of her clutches in a metallic bronze, and some bangles and earrings in the same colour, to round out the outfit. My hair had miraculously dried into near-perfect curls, so I left it down. A “down-do” was rare for me, and I sprayed so much humidity-resistant hairspray on my curls, I nearly needed a gas mask—but I wasn’t taking any chances. I waved a hand in front of my face to clear the air. The price we pay for beauty.