A Sunset in Sydney

by Sandy Barker

  She turned to Josh. “Goodbye, you gorgeous, gorgeous man, you,” she said, giving him a big hug.

  “It was great to meet you,” he replied. I could see his smile over Siobhan’s shoulder.

  We waved her off to her part of the resort and, yes, I got a little teary. Even though I hadn’t known her long, she’d become a friend and, besides, goodbyes suck, remember?

  “Shall we go see a volcano?” asked Josh. I could tell he was trying to cheer me up, and I decided to let him.

  Our plan was to drive up to Haleakala Crater and go hiking—so, not exactly a volcano, but it was supposed to be spectacular up there, and I needed as much spectacular as possible, because the next day was really going to suck—another frigging goodbye. Ugh.

  “Let’s go see a volcano,” I replied, more cheerfully than I felt.

  I needed to change—a maxi dress wasn’t a good choice for hiking around a dormant volcano, so we headed back to the room to get ready. I put on some shorts, a tank top, and my runners—basically a replica of my Lara Croft outfit, only not splattered in mud.

  We sunscreened up and stocked up on bottled water, then Josh called down to ask the valet to bring our car around. I was glad we’d decided to keep it after Hana. Not only could we get ourselves up to the crater, Josh could drive me to the airport in the morning.

  My flight to Honolulu was at 7:00am, with a connection to Sydney at 11:00am. Seven in the morning is a ridiculous time to fly, but I hadn’t wanted to stay in Hawaii without Josh, and it had been impossible to coordinate our flights any better than we had.

  He was flying out of Maui later in the day, then from Honolulu to Chicago in the evening. His flight was a red-eye, with him landing on the morning of January third, then going straight to work. I felt for him. When I got home, I’d still be on school holidays, meaning I could sleep in until I recovered from my jet lag.

  I shoved the thoughts aside. The last thing I wanted to think about was being in Sydney alone—Joshless.

  *

  The road up to the crater turned into a series of switchbacks—quite different from the Hana Highway, though, because these turns were one-eighties and in many sections, there were no guardrails. We stopped talking so Josh could concentrate. Then it started to get cold—really cold. As much as I wanted Josh to focus on his driving, it got to the point where I couldn’t stand it any longer.

  “Um, Josh? Do you mind if we put the roof up?”

  “Yeah, it’s getting kind of chilly, isn’t it?”

  Chilly? Where is this guy from, Antarctica? “Yeah, you could say that.”

  “It’s kinda cool, though, driving with the top down, don’t ya think?”

  “Yes, ‘cool’ is the operative word.”

  “How about I just turn on the heat?” I looked at him as though he’d grown a second head. He didn’t seem to notice and cranked up the heater on our feet, and we ended up driving to the top of the crater with toasted toes, but our top halves frozen.

  An hour later, we got to the park entrance at the summit, paid for two adult passes, and pulled into the carpark. After parking the car, Josh finally put the roof up. It was far too late for that, as far as I was concerned. I had goose bumps on my goose bumps and my nipples were sore. I knew without looking that they’d turned blue.

  When the roof slotted into place, Josh turned off the ignition. “Ready?” he asked with a smile. No! No, I was not ready! I had not dressed for freezing weather. I’d dressed for Maui beach weather. Josh’s clothes weren’t any more suitable than mine, but he didn’t seem to care. Yep, definitely from Antarctica.

  “Umm …” I bit my lip.

  “What?”

  “It’s really cold out there.”

  “It’s not that bad.”

  “It’s only fifty!” I said, using Fahrenheit so he would understand. And I knew what fifty meant in Celsius, too. It meant it was frigging cold.

  He seemed annoyed with me which, considering the circumstances, I thought was rather unkind. Then he got out of the car and walked off. Well, that was definitely unkind. I sat there, pouting, but he didn’t come back. I opened the car door and cold air rushed in. Why hadn’t we done more research? We were supposed to be hiking the crater for the whole morning. I was going to be lucky to make it out of the carpark.

  But still, we’d driven for more than an hour, and even from where I was, I could tell the scenery was worth enduring a little cold for. Unable to lock the car without the fob, I took Josh’s backpack off the back seat and got out of the car. No matter how snarky he’d been, I didn’t want his backpack to get stolen.

  Standing next to the car, I tipped my head to the sun and tried to tell myself that it was warm, balmy—hot even. As convincing as I can be sometimes, I was not having it. Still, I soldiered on. I took my phone out of my pocket and tapped on the camera. Then I set off a brisk pace, determined to get as many photos as possible before other parts of me turned blue along with my nipples. They were hating me, by the way.

  Everything I could see in every direction made it look like I’d landed on Mars. Rocks, from small pebbles to enormous boulders, dominated the landscape, covering it in a deep rusty red, and there was absolutely no plant life. Not surprising, I guessed, for a dormant volcano. The observatory rose from the red rock, its foundations in grey-coloured brick and its white domes a stark contrast to the red ground it stood on.

  Walking away from the observatory, I stepped off the asphalt onto the rocky rim of the crater and realised we were above the cloud-line. What a unique feeling it was to stand somewhere and look down on clouds. I took some photos of the rusty red earth meeting the brilliant sky and snowy clouds—only three colours, but an utterly epic view.

  Then I lifted the phone and took a selfie, my smile almost a grimace as my teeth started to chatter. I hadn’t seen which way Josh had gone, but I hoped like hell it was to the observation deck, which was enclosed. I walked back towards the observatory and climbed the steps to the observation deck as fast as I could. It was a relief to step inside.

  Josh had his back to me and was looking at the view I’d just photographed. A family of four was also there, the boys about four and seven chatting excitedly to their parents, who listened patiently.

  I walked up behind Josh. “Hey.” He didn’t turn around.

  “Hey,” he said finally.

  I stood next to him. “Sorry for being pouty before.”

  “It’s okay,” he said, after a moment.

  “I was just disappointed. I really wanted to go on this hike, and I’m annoyed I didn’t dress more appropriately. Well, that we didn’t.”

  I glanced at him and he nodded, his face set in a frown. “I’m sorry for being pissy.”

  “It’s okay.”

  He looked at me and saw that I had his backpack. He took it from me. “Hey, thanks for bringing this.”

  “I didn’t want to leave it in the car.” Sometimes it’s easier to talk about mundane things than about what’s really bothering you, like our impending separation.

  Josh took a deep breath and sighed, meeting my eyes with a sad smile. “I’m going to miss you, you know.” Tears prickled my eyes. Oh, please don’t do that. Please don’t say the one thing I don’t want to think about.

  He put an arm around my neck and pulled me into a side hug. I wrapped my arms around his waist, and we stood looking at the view for a while. “I took some cool pics,” I said eventually, sniffling a little.

  “Yeah?” I nodded. “We should get a few more before we leave.”

  “Okay.”

  “You ready to go back out there?”

  I smiled through my tears and ran a fingertip under each eye. “Bring on the cold!” I said a little too loudly. The family stopped talking and looked over their shoulders at me, which made me giggle. I ran out into the cold with Josh right behind me.

  We drove back to the resort with the roof up!

  *

  Our plans for the day having backfired, we salvaged it by s
pending the afternoon in a hammock for two.

  It was my first time in a hammock—yes, really—and I felt like I could stay there forever with my legs entwined with Josh’s, a breeze gently caressing my skin, a good book on my Kindle, and an excellent margarita in my hand. Although, I’ll admit that sipping a margarita while in a hammock is a little tricky, and I did spill some of it down my cleavage. Josh very graciously offered to lick it off when we got back to our room, which made me laugh, and that made me spill more of it down the front of me. It was an expensive—and sticky—way to consume a margarita.

  As it was our last night together, Josh had booked us a beach-front cabana where we’d have a super-fancy private dinner. The dress needed a wash after all the dancing we’d done the night before, but I’d packed another one in a floaty red silk chiffon. It was cinched at the waist, then fell in waves to my knees, and it went perfectly with my strappy suede sandals.

  This dress was pretty, rather than sexy, but when I stepped out of the bathroom, Josh whistled and looked at me hungrily. “You look amazing.”

  “Thank you. You look pretty nice, yourself.” He was wearing his jeans with a fitted grey T-shirt under a navy blazer, and the grey shirt made his eyes even more intense than usual. He came over and kissed my neck, and I was glad I’d worn my hair up.

  “Thank you,” he said, his lips moving to my throat. “You know, we could just stay in and order room service.”

  “Joshua.” The kisses continued. “Josh.” I pushed him back gently and looked him in the eye. “We’re going to dinner.” A smile curled up the corner of my lip.

  His eyes narrowed. “Later, then.”

  “Oh, absolutely.”

  Dinner was incredible. “Aloha!” called a beautiful Hawaiian woman as we approached. She placed a lei of fresh pink frangipanis around each of our necks, their fragrance heady. Is there a scent that’s more evocative of the tropics?

  When we were seated, Josh ordered a bottle of bubbles from California. “So we can celebrate the start of the New Year, officially,” he said. I thought it was a lovely idea. The waiter brought the bottle, showed Josh, who nodded, then cracked it with a well-practised whisper. He poured into two flutes, allowing the bubbles to settle so he could top them up. Then he disappeared, leaving us alone.

  Josh raised his glass. “To the most incredible woman I’ve ever known.” It was a beautiful toast, but heavily loaded with all the things we still hadn’t said to each other.

  I simply smiled, accepting the compliment, and clinked my flute against his. I took a sip. It was delicious—toasty, dry, and with a hint of honey.

  The first course was a tomato stack and I mean, literally a stack of tomato slices, one green and others in varying shades of a sunset—yellow, orange, red, deep purple—all drizzled in olive oil and dotted with black pepper. I eyed the stack dubiously.

  “What are you thinking over there?” he asked.

  “I didn’t think Hawaii was known for its tomatoes. Pineapple, yes. Coconut, sure.”

  He laughed and I was pretty sure it was at me. “Well, they’re not going to be as good as Greek ones, but how about we just try them.”

  I picked up my knife and fork and sliced from the top of the stack down, getting several different colours into the one bite. I put it in my mouth, and then a miracle happened. I found out that there were tomatoes in the world as good as Greek ones—maybe even better.

  I groaned and met Josh’s eyes. He was having the same experience as me, I could tell. We swallowed our respective bites. “Oh, my god,” we both said at the same time, and then laughed. We didn’t speak as we finished our stacks, each of us savouring every bite.

  I sat back, regarding my empty plate. “I can honestly say, if that’s all there is for dinner, I’ll leave here happy.” He smiled, his hand extending across the table to take mine.

  The waiter appeared, as if by magic, and cleared the plates, and another waiter came and topped up our bubbles. Josh and I sat in a comfortable silence as we watched the light from the nearly full moon dance on the water and waited for the next course.

  It was crab—more specifically, hand-made crab tortellini in a white wine sauce with fresh herbs. The pillows of pasta were brimming with chunks of fresh crab and once again I was in food heaven.

  “You keep moaning like that and they’re going to think we’re having sex in here,” said my dinner companion. I smiled, resisting the urge to moan again, as a waiter topped up our drinks. I knew there were two of them, but honestly, I was so focused on the meal, they’d become interchangeable to me.

  After a respectable pause in the proceedings, dessert arrived—roasted pineapple with coconut ice-cream and toasted coconut flakes. Are you frigging kidding me? The meal was battling it out for a place in my top five. Every bite of the dessert was a food orgasm. The only thing that stopped me from asking for another serving was that I was starting to feel full and I was planning on having an actual orgasm—or two—later on. A giant food baby does not make for a sexy time.

  “Coffee, ma’am?” asked waiter number one as waiter number two cleared our dessert plates. I didn’t even care about the “ma’am”. He could have said, “Yo, bitch, want some coffee?” and I would have smiled at him in the same dreamy way that I did.

  “No, thank you,” I said, completely content and not wanting to taint what had been a perfect meal.

  “Sir?”

  “No, thank you. You’ve charged this to the room?” Josh asked.

  “Yes, sir. I’ll just get the check, so you can sign it.”

  “Thank you.”

  We held hands across the table while we waited. “That was incredible,” I said. “Thank you so much for organising it.”

  “It was my pleasure.”

  “Did you choose the menu?” I hadn’t even thought about it until that moment.

  “No, it was the chef’s choice, but I have to say, it was way better than anything I could have imagined.”

  “Mmm.”

  The waiter returned with the check, and Josh added a generous tip and signed it, handing it back with a smile.

  “Thank you for looking after us so well,” I said, standing up. I felt a little giddy from the bubbles, or maybe from the way Josh had been looking at me all night. He took my hand and we walked slowly back to our room, for the last time.

  I had packed that afternoon, laying out my clothes for the plane in the bathroom. My flight was so early I wouldn’t even get to eat breakfast until I got to the airport—and probably not until I got to Honolulu.

  Whatever Josh and I had to say to each other before parting, we had to say it that night.

  Our last time together—at least for the Hawaii trip, I hoped—was sweet and tender and completely different from the night before on the beach. Josh had come to know how to bring my body to the brink and beyond, and afterwards, I collapsed onto him, spent both physically and emotionally. I lay with my head on his chest while he twisted my curls around his fingers.

  “I’m going to miss you too,” I whispered, finally replying to what he’d said at the crater.

  I felt him take in a big breath and I lifted my head. I wanted to see his face. His fingers abandoned my hair and he slipped his hand behind his head and rubbed his neck. I could tell from his expression that he was feeling conflicted; I’d seen that exact face quite a few times over the week.

  “What?” I asked, not really wanting to know the answer.

  He sighed again and my stomach clenched. Eventually, he spoke. “I know that you want to know what’s going to happen next with us. You deserve to know that.” I sat abruptly and pulled the sheet up to cover my nakedness, as though it could protect me from his words.

  “But?” I asked. Out with it, Josh.

  “But the truth is, I don’t know.”

  I clenched my teeth as I willed myself not to cry and not to ruin such a beautiful, perfect night. Only it wasn’t me who was ruining it. It was Josh. I wanted to tell him to stop talking so I could
pretend it was all okay—that it was perfectly normal to want someone who wasn’t quite sure if he wanted you back.

  But the pragmatist in me knew I had to let him say his piece. I had to know where I stood with him. As much as it would break my heart if he didn’t want a real relationship with me, I needed to know before this whole thing dragged on any longer.

  His hand reached up to stroke the back of my arm and I tensed.

  “Hey,” he said. “Come back.” He took hold of my arm and tugged gently. I resisted for a moment, then relented, tucking myself back into the nook under his arm, my head on his chest.

  “I’m sorry. I know that’s not what you want to hear.” Still, I said nothing. “Sarah?”

  More rejection from the guy who keeps telling me how amazing I am and how much he loves being with me.

  “It’s okay,” I said finally. “I know you’re just being honest.” I felt an urgent need to distance myself from him, my anger bubbling up and about to overflow. I got out of the bed, making a beeline for the closet where I pulled out one of the white, fluffy robes. It felt good to ensconce myself in it—safe. I sat on the armchair next to the bed and only then did I dare to look at Josh. He was visibly upset, and I felt a twinge of guilt. I’d done that.

  “Please come back to bed.” I shook my head.

  “Look, you’re right,” I said. “I don’t want to hear that you’re still unsure about how you feel. I guess I hoped that I would come here, and we would rediscover each other, and you’d finally realise that you want to be with me—for real—and whether you know it or not, Josh, you do. I’ve felt it.” His frown intensified, and I knew I was probably hurting him, but I didn’t stop. Instead, I said the one thing that would permanently damage us.

  “But you know what? You’ve actually made it easier for me, because it’s been really hard being with two men and now, I don’t have to choose.”

  As the words came out of my mouth—during those very seconds—I knew I’d gone too far. I’d pushed Josh over the edge into full-blown misery. Tears sprang to his eyes and he looked away from me, his face incredulous.