A Sunset in Sydney

by Sandy Barker

  I put my head in my hands, wishing I could take it all back, the tears flowing between my fingers. “I’m so sorry, Josh. I’m so sorry.” He was crying. I could hear him, but I couldn’t bear to look, and I knew I couldn’t be the one to comfort him.

  Finally, after agonising over what I’d said and the irreparable damage I’d done to him, to us, I heard his voice. “I asked you not to see him.” That’s all he said.

  And it broke me.

  All that time since London, through planning our trip to Hawaii, I’d assumed that he must have known I’d seen James. And he hadn’t.

  He climbed out of the bed and went into the bathroom. I heard him blowing his nose and I stood up and got some tissues for my own. I didn’t know how to fix it. How could I fix it?

  I got into bed and pulled the covers up to my neck, chewing so viciously on my lower lip that I drew blood. I turned off the lamp on my side of the bed and waited.

  Eventually, Josh came out of the bathroom and turned off the lamp on his side. He climbed into bed, staying as far away from me as possible, his back to me. I stared at the ceiling, unable to sleep, unable to move, waves of guilt washing over me.

  How had I thought I could sustain relationships with two men? What the hell was I doing? How could I hurt him like that? And I knew Josh cared about me—maybe not in the way I’d hoped for, but it wasn’t nothing. It still could have worked out between us.

  That is, before I’d ruined it.

  I felt him shift beside me and a hand reached for mine. I grabbed it tight. “I’m so sorry, Josh,” I croaked.

  His grip tightened, but he said nothing. Eventually, I fell into a restless sleep, the alarm on my phone screaming at me at 5:00am. Stupid. Fucking. Thing.

  I leapt up out of bed and turned it off in one motion. Josh didn’t seem to stir beside me, but maybe he was just pretending to sleep. I would if I was him. God, I’d been horrible to him the night before.

  I got into the shower, a sick feeling in my stomach, but it wouldn’t go away no matter how hot I made the water. I showered quickly, got dressed in my travel clothes, and looked at myself in the mirror.

  You utter cow, Sarah.

  I was furious with myself. I had to at least try to fix things before I left. And I couldn’t have Josh drive me to the airport. It was way too much to ask after what I’d said to him.

  I didn’t bother with makeup, just brushed my teeth and slathered moisturiser on my face. I packed away the rest of my toiletries and taking a deep breath, opened the bathroom door. I had to face him.

  Not only was he awake, he was dressed. “I’m so sorry,” I blurted, rooted to the spot. His jaw tightened and he nodded a short, sharp nod.

  “Me too.”

  What?

  “You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” I wailed.

  “Yes, I do.” I shook my head and he put his hand up. “I do, Sarah. I’ve been thinking about this most of the night, so please let me speak.”

  “Okay,” I said, my voice still croaky. I walked over to the armchair and sat down, pulling my knees up to my chest, building myself a fort against more heartbreak.

  “Everything between us has been on my terms, from the moment we met until now. I’ve been as honest with you—and myself—as I could, but I’ve always had what I wanted.” I watched him, his face set in a scowl as he explained his innermost thoughts.

  “That you saw James in London, that’s on me.” I went to speak, to protest, but he dismissed the interruption and kept talking. “That night at dinner on Naxos, when it turned out the two of you had already met”—I could tell that it stung him to think about it—“I didn’t want you to go off with him then, but I didn’t ask you not to. And I could tell you wanted me to say something. You were almost begging me to. And I didn’t. I let you go off with the handsome, rich guy, who made us all laugh, and seemed like a really great guy.”

  He had worked himself into a lather, and part of me—okay, most of me—wanted to go to him and soothe him and tell him it wasn’t his fault. But something held me in place.

  “And you know, over the past few months, I thought about asking if you saw him in London—and every time I chickened out, because I think I knew. And I can hardly blame you. I mean, if I was you, then I’d be into James too. And it’s not like I ever offered you more than this”—he threw his arms out, encompassing the room, the resort, the whole trip—“this vacationship.” He spat out the word as though it tasted nasty in his mouth.

  Then he sat heavily on the edge of the bed, seemingly spent, the tears streaming down his face. It would soon be time to leave for the airport, but that wasn’t what I was thinking about. My mind had settled on one nauseating thought.

  We’re breaking up.

  When I spoke, my voice was thick with emotion, barely audible. “So, what do we do now?”

  He shook his head, his eyes fixed on his hands which were wringing in his lap. He took a deep breath, then shook them out. “Now I take you to the airport, and we each go home. After that, I don’t know.” He looked at me then. “Can I come over there?”

  I nodded, tears taking hold as I leapt to my feet. He was across the room in a heartbeat and we wrapped our arms around each other, holding on tightly. It was the hug of two people who shared something special, but had no idea what would come of it.

  Essentially, we were right back where we were when we’d said goodbye in Greece. Only the feelings were deeper, and the situation was far more precarious.

  “I don’t want to let you go, but you’ll miss your plane,” he said after several moments.

  “I know. Goodbyes suck and there’s so much more to talk about.” I pulled away from him, so I could see his face. He looked pale and defeated, his eyes and nose red. It made me feel even worse, but I forced myself to look him in the eye.

  “I’m so sorry about last night, Josh. I was a complete bitch and I am so ashamed. You didn’t deserve that.” Fresh tears sprung to his eyes. “I do care about you—you’re one of the most important people in my life. I hate that we’re saying goodbye like this, especially because this week has been brilliant. I have loved being here with you, okay?”

  He nodded, much like a sad child would, and sniffled.

  “And, I’m going to take a taxi to the airport.”

  “No, I—”

  “Yes, it’s just easier that way. I hate long, drawn-out goodbyes.”

  “Okay,” he conceded. “Let me help you bring your bags down, though.”

  “All right. I just need to splash some water on my face.” I let go of him and went back in the bathroom. I washed the tears and snot from my face and patted it dry with the fluffy hand towel. I had no idea what would happen with me and Josh, or if I’d ever see him again. It was a horrifying thought, but it was the truth.

  I put on a smile I didn’t feel and opened the bathroom door. I was greeted by Maui, flippers out and ready for a hug. I burst out laughing.

  Josh’s head appeared above Maui’s, a shy smile on his lips. “You dork,” I teased.

  “Maui said it was getting far too heavy in here and he hates it when we fight.”

  “Oh, yeah? He’s very articulate for a turtle.”

  “Turtles are wise beings.”

  “Indeed. Come here, Maui,” I said, taking him from Josh and hugging him to me. It did feel rather nice.

  “Ready?”

  “No, but let’s go.”

  We left the room with Josh walking ahead and rolling my suitcase behind him. I carried Maui in one arm with my carry-on bag slung over the other shoulder. My nose was still running from all the crying, and I reached up to wipe it with the back of my hand.

  I’m going to miss you so much.

  I tried not to think it, but it became a destructive mantra playing over and over in my head. Josh, my bestie, my gorgeous, goofy, funny, sweet Josh.

  Once the taxi pulled up and my bags were loaded into the boot, we sped through the goodbye. Even though there was still so much to say,
there was no use making our parting any more excruciating than it already was.

  “Thank you again, for everything. I really did have a wonderful time,” I said, hugging Maui to me.

  “Me too.” He pulled me into a final hug, Maui caught between us.

  “Love you,” I said, just like I would to any of my closest friends.

  “Me too,” he said. And before it hit me that he’d said he loved me—well, sort of—he bundled me into the taxi, closed the door, and waved me off as the car drove away. Just like he had in Athens. I lifted a hand in a benign final goodbye.

  It may have been the saddest, most amicable break-up ever.

  And then I realised we hadn’t settled the room charges. Crap. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and shot him a text.

  The room charges! Sorry. Will fix you up when I get home. S

  The reply came a couple of minutes later.

  No need. Had always intended to cover that. Love, Josh x

  Love! Oh, fuck. What have I done? How had I screwed things up so mammothly? I let loose the biggest boo-hooey cry I’d had in ages—the poor driver. By the time he dropped me off in front of the airport terminal, it had simmered down to a whimpering sniffle. I hoisted my carry-on onto my left shoulder, tucked Maui under my left arm, and grabbed my suitcase handle with my right hand. It was a little awkward, but I only had to make it to check-in.

  Once I’d checked my suitcase and was walking to my gate, an older Hawaiian woman stopped me. “You have a honu,” she said, a warm smile on her face.

  “A what, sorry?” I sniffled, my nose still running.

  “A honu.” She pointed to Maui.

  “Oh, that’s what it’s called? In Hawaiian?”

  She nodded. “They are very special—they are guides, for your life. A honu will show you the way and keep you on your path.” I liked the sound of that—I needed some of that.

  She patted me on the arm and looked into my swollen, red eyes with her deep brown ones. “It will be all right,” she said, and I can’t explain it, but calm washed over me. I nodded and smiled. She smiled back, then she left me and my honu to get on with the business of finding my path and making it all okay.

  I’m not sure how many grown women get on flights with giant stuffed animals, but the flight crews on the island hopper to Honolulu and then on the long-haul flight to Sydney didn’t bat an eye. I was glad; Maui was good company and he smelled like Josh.

  When the plane touched down on the tarmac at Sydney airport, I reached for my phone and turned it on.

  A slew of messages arrived in quick succession.

  Lindsey:

  Nick is picking you up. Text him when you’re through immigration. Can’t wait to see you and hear all the juicy goss.

  I wasn’t sure how juicy Lins would find the whole “Josh and I broke up and I’m miserable” thing, but I also couldn’t wait to see her—to get a hug and a stiff drink and a heavy dose of Lindsey comfort.

  Cat:

  So???? How was it? FaceTime me. Soon! I want details.

  Maybe I could FaceTime Cat from Lindsey’s, so I didn’t have to repeat every excruciating detail.

  James:

  Flights are booked. See you in two weeks, beautiful!

  While that message would normally have made me jump up and down with delight, the timing was atrocious. I would have to analyse how I felt about James’s upcoming work trip to Sydney later—much later.

  Then this one:

  I miss you already. I’m so sorry about how we left things. I need to go home and think it all through, but don’t make any big decisions yet, okay? And let me know that you got home safely. Love, Josh xx

  Okay, so maybe we hadn’t broken up.

  PART THREE

  Chapter 18

  “So, the old guy is coming in two weeks and you and the young guy are in love?”

  Nick, who was in “annoying big brother” mode, was driving me home from the airport. Well, more precisely, he was driving me to his and Lindsey’s house, so I could see my cat. I hoped Domino liked Maui as much as I did.

  I was also staying the night. Lindsey had insisted after I’d texted her from Sydney airport. Apparently, she didn’t want me to be alone after what had happened between me and Josh. To be frank, I didn’t want me to be alone either. The plane ride, with only my thoughts and Maui for company, had been hard enough.

  Maybe they’d let me move in with them.

  “Well, no. Maybe. I don’t know, but you’re making it sound worse than it is.” Who was I trying to kid? It was exactly as bad as he’d said. “And he’s not old.” I heard the annoyance in my voice, I but didn’t care. Nick could handle it; he’d been on the receiving end of far worse.

  “Isn’t he, like, fifty or something?”

  “He’s fifty-two. And he looks really good for his age.”

  “And how old is the young one?” I sighed an exasperated sigh. Emotional, jet-lagged, sleep-deprived Sarah is an uglier beast than hungover Sarah.

  “He’s nearly twenty-nine,” I said, fudging Josh’s age a little. He wasn’t even twenty-eight-and-a-half yet. And just so you know, it’s possible to grind your teeth when you talk.

  “So, the old one could be the young one’s dad.”

  “Oh, my god, Nick. Seriously, please shut the fuck up!”

  He chuckled and I rolled my eyes, both of us playing our parts in a routine we’d done a hundred times. Nick knew I really did love him, just like I’d love an actual brother who annoyed the hell out of me but would do anything for me—like pick me up from the airport after I’d broken up with my boyfriend in Hawaii.

  We were quiet the rest of the way to their house.

  Lins came out to meet us after we pulled up in the driveway. “Okay to get the bag, babe?” she asked Nick. It was her not-so-subtle reminder for him to get my suitcase out of the boot, because he was already halfway up the path to the front door when she said it.

  He went back for the bag while Lins took my carry-on from me. She eyed Maui curiously.

  “He’s my turtle,” I said, a little defensively.

  She shook a flipper. “Nice to meet you, uh …” She looked at me.

  “Maui,” I prompted.

  “Maui.” She smiled. “He’s cute. Now come inside before we get eaten alive by mozzies.” Nick passed us on the path.

  “I’ll pop this in your room, Sez.”

  “Thanks, Nick.” They called their guest room “Sarah’s room” because I stayed over so much, one of the many benefits of having a cat over a dog. For a single night away, I could leave some food out for Domino, kiss him goodbye and he wouldn’t even lift his sleepy little head to say “‘hello” when I came home the next day. As long as he got fed, he was cool with my frequent sleepovers.

  Inside the entryway, Lins put down my carry-on and I put Maui on top. “Domino!” I called, as though he would come; he’s his own cat.

  Just then, I heard a high-pitched “meow” and—knock me down with a feather—Domino came running to me from the living room. I scooped him up and hugged him, his purring a much-welcomed welcome home. I nuzzled his fluffy black and white fur, then burst into tears.

  “Here,” said Lins, taking him from me and putting him down. “Come with me.” She took my hand and led me into the living room. “Sit.” I sat, immediately grabbing one of their forty-seven throw pillows, pulling it onto my lap, and hugging it. Pillow. Maui. Domino. I just wanted to hug things.

  “Tea, gin, wine, or something else?” I looked at my bestie with love and appreciation. When I sniffled, she handed me three tissues. I figured she could sense some serious boo-hooing was impending, and Lins didn’t mess about when it came to crying. She was prepared.

  “Wine. And water. Water first,” I hiccupped.

  She disappeared into the kitchen, which made up a third of what I called their “great room”—that’s the kitchen-dining-living combo for us mere mortals who rent modest little flats. The whole thing was very “Sydney”, but the kit
chen especially. It was large and impressive and grown-up, with polished concrete countertops, glass splashbacks, and self-closing drawers. It was filled with wonderful kitchen things like an actual espresso machine, a hideaway cupboard for the toaster and kettle—yes, really—and a double-door fridge. Maybe that was why I hung out there so much. I had kitchen envy.

  I noted that Nick was lying low, leaving Lins and me to talk, and I could hear the sound of the TV coming from the study. See? He’s a good guy underneath.

  Lins returned from the kitchen with a tray—another super-grown-up thing to have—laden with all the fixings for a good long catch up: two glasses of iced water, two glasses of white wine, and a bowl of Castelvetrano olives. I went for the olives first. Have I mentioned how much I love olives?

  “Okay, so how did you leave things?”

  It was a seemingly simple question, but the answer churned my insides. How did we leave things? Badly. Really, really badly. Even though Josh and I had both put on brave faces for our goodbye, I couldn’t help feeling that I’d done irreparable damage to us.

  Why did I say that thing about being with two men?

  Lins was watching me patiently while I ate three olives and spat the pits into my hand. She reached for them and I tipped them into hers. She went back into the kitchen, threw them out, and returned with a tiny ceramic bowl, which she placed next to the bowl of olives. She really was the consummate hostess.

  I drank half a glass of water, then took a sip of wine. It was a South Australian riesling—delicious, of course.

  Then I wiped my nose and launched into a retelling of the horrible conversation from the night before—at least it felt like the night before, but with the time difference, I wasn’t quite sure how long it had been. I finished my tale of woe by showing her Josh’s text, the one I’d got when I landed. I took the last swig of my wine as she read it.

  She’d been quiet throughout my story—she’s an excellent listener—but after I showed her the text, she asked me, “Did you let him know you arrived safely?”

  “Oh, no. Crap.” I put down my empty glass, then took the phone from her and looked at it, frowning.