by Sandy Barker
Maybe he just was tired—it had been a long day—but whatever the reason for his less-than-enthusiastic response to my pun, my inner voice conjured the most unhelpful thought possible. Josh would have laughed at that. I told it to shut up.
As James and I snuck out to avoid the “bored games”, I grabbed an opened, but mostly full, bottle of red wine from the bar, adding thievery to my resume. I checked the label as we walked hand in hand to our cabin. It was a pinot noir and I applauded my good luck at snagging my favourite red varietal.
“You are very naughty, you know,” James teased, as he opened our cabin door. I slipped into the room past him and plopped down on the bed, grinning. “You know, they would have just given you the bottle if you’d asked. Maybe glasses too.”
“But where’s the fun in that?” I asked. I may have already been a little tipsy from the wine we’d had at dinner. “There must be glasses in here.” I climbed off the bed—ungracefully, I’m sure—and started foraging in our tiny cabin. It only took a few moments to locate the tea and coffee making paraphernalia, and I grabbed the two mugs one-handed, holding them aloft. “See? Perfect.”
His response was that enigmatic smile he gave me sometimes, the one that I hoped meant, “you are very sexy and utterly charming”. I set about pouring some of my ill-gotten spoils and handed a mug of the pinot to James. He took it carefully and had a sip.
“Probably not the best way to enjoy this, but it isn’t bad,” he said. When I took a sip, I thought it was delicious. He sat on the rumpled bed and made a nest of pillows for us to lean against. I climbed on and sat beside him and we drank from our mugs of wine in silence.
And as often happens when it’s all too quiet and I am wondering what the other person is thinking, I did something stupid. I let myself pore over the previous evening. And that’s when it hit me. Portia was the woman James had mentioned when we were in Greece.
When I asked him if he had someone in his life—feeling out whether he was actually available—he’d replied that there was someone once, but it hadn’t worked out because she didn’t want the kind of life he had—it wasn’t for her.
It had been obvious from the emotion clouding his eyes that he had loved this “someone” and that she had broken his heart. And in a cabin on a boat on a sound in New Zealand, I realised that Portia was James’s “someone”.
No wonder he’d been so shaken up.
Without saying anything, I took his hand. He turned his head towards me and I did the same, looking into his eyes. There was love there—and a hint of sadness. He leant over and kissed me gently, a kiss which lasted a long while—not urgent and fraught with need, but tender and loving. We didn’t finish the wine, but we did fall asleep wrapped up in each other. The last thing I remembered was James stroking my hair, and me thinking that I didn’t want to see sadness in his eyes anymore.
*
I awoke well before sun-up, my head on James’s chest and a horrid crick in my neck. That’s the part you don’t see in the movies. I managed to extricate myself from our tangle of limbs and sheets without waking him. I got out of the bed slowly, hoping not to disturb him, and went into the tiny bathroom. I splashed water on my face and swished some toothpaste to try and shake off the grogginess of poor sleep cut short.
But despite the lack of sleep, when I peered into the mirror above the sink, I didn’t look wretched. There was even a hint of colour in my cheeks. I looked like a woman who was falling in love with someone who loved her back. I opened the door of the bathroom and peeked out. James was lying with an arm behind his head, looking directly at me, smiling.
“Hi,” I whispered.
“Hi,” he whispered back. “Why are we whispering?”
I shrugged and jumped onto the bed, climbing up to re-join him under the covers. I resumed my place, his arm around me, my head on his chest and my leg thrown over his. My neck protested, but I ignored it.
“I wasn’t sure if we’d wake up in time,” he said, “but now we are awake, we should definitely go up on deck to see the sunrise.”
“Sounds good.” I propped myself up and checked the clock next to his side of the bed. “Still a while, yet, though.” I snuggled back under the covers and closed my eyes, basking in the feeling of being wrapped up in him. He smelled so good.
And then, I ruined everything.
“James?”
“Mmm.”
“Can I ask you something about Portia?”
I felt him stiffen—and not the good kind. Uh oh. Abort. Abort. Abort.
“What’s that?”
I couldn’t not ask the question now, no matter what my inner voice said. I’d already obliterated the mood. “Uh, I just wondered if she was the woman you told me about when we were in Greece.”
There was a moment before he replied—only a moment, but it was enough to send a jolt through me and my stomach lit up with nerves.
“Yes, she is.”
There was no way not to ask the next question, to just pretend that everything was fine, then get up, get dressed, and go and watch the sound come to life with the sunrise. And even though I dreaded his response, even though some part of me knew what was to come, I asked the next question.
“So, it ended because she didn’t want a long-distance relationship?”
James travelled all the time. I knew that being with him meant enduring the trials of a long-distance relationship even if we shared a home base. I’d thought about it a lot over the past few months, and I’d decided it would be okay. I could do it. I could do regular bouts of being apart.
That sigh again and my nerves turned to nausea. Then he replied. “No, it ended because I didn’t want a long-distance relationship. I wanted her with me all the time.”
All the clichés about the moment you learn something that changes everything—that time almost stands still, that you feel every emotion at once, that you feel sick and exposed and divorced from your body—are true.
And his simple, honest, heart-wrenching reply changed everything.
All I could say was, “Oh,” but I’m sure it spoke volumes.
Without discussing it further, we did the things people do on the morning of an overnight boat trip on Milford Sound—as though we hadn’t just come to an impasse.
We got dressed and went up on deck in time to see the sunrise—well, the sun lightening the sky. In the sound, there were steep mountains on either side of the water screening the horizon from us mere mortals. But to say that it was “epic” would have been an understatement. I’m sure the word was created for moments like that sunrise, but it’s been misappropriated so often to describe a red-carpet dress, or an episode of a TV show, or even a burger, that it was not enough.
The light seemed like an entity in itself, as though, if I reached out far enough, I could touch it. The sky above the eastern mountains graduated upward from milky blue to robin’s-egg blue and streams of sunlight shot out from behind the mountains as though they were wearing a giant crown of light.
And true to New Zealand’s moniker as “the Land of the Long White Cloud”, or “Aotearoa” in Maori, there were these incredibly low long clouds winding through the sound. They looked like the fake snow people put on their windowsills at Christmas time—dense, fluffy tendrils hovering just above the water.
That I could observe all of this, that I could wonder at the incredible natural beauty surrounding us while my heart was being squeezed in a vice, was a minor miracle. And I held on to that miracle, so I wouldn’t have to think about the inevitable conversation that would end us.
When it came, we were back in our cabin, packing in a silence so stifling I couldn’t bear it any longer.
“I wish—” I said.
“I’m sorry—” he said at the same time.
We both stopped. I took a trembling breath.
“You go ahead,” he said quietly.
I let out my breath as slowly as I could, my insides in turmoil. “I wish I wanted that life. Your life.” I glanced u
p to see him nod, then sit heavily on the end of the bed. There was so much more I wanted to say, but I knew I couldn’t say it without looking him in the eye. I went to the door, turned, and leant against it. James looked up at me. There was something in his gaze, in those kind eyes, that emboldened me to speak the truth, my truth.
“I had no idea when I went to Greece that I would meet someone like you, or that someone like you even existed. I was not at a good point in my life. I was …” I paused, trying to find the right word. “… Broken. I wasn’t me. I’d lost me.”
Tears prickled my eyes again and I blinked them back, wishing them gone. I needed to get through this. “I was a giant ball of nerves and worry and sadness before I started that trip. But I went anyway. I was brave, and it changed me.” I knew if I could just make James understand what I’d gone through, he’d understand why I couldn’t be with him.
I took a deep breath.
“That whole trip—everything—the things we did, what I saw, what I ate …” A smile alighted on my face as I laughed gently at myself. James chuckled, and we smiled at each other through our tears.
“And the people—Duncan, my friends from the boat, you, Josh—I haven’t talked to you about him, because it wasn’t right to and maybe now isn’t the time, but meeting him was important to me too. And everything that happened, all the laughing and telling each other our stories, the long conversations—some frivolous, some serious—all of that, it affected me.
“I remembered who I used to be, that I was adventurous and sexy and funny. I mean, I am really fucking hilarious …” I laughed and James joined in. “I remembered that I had a lot to be grateful for. And I also realised I’d been neglecting my own life.”
I was at the hardest part.
“After Greece, after our time together in London, I went home and started participating in my life again—I’ve told you about that. And, it felt great—feels great. I love what I’m doing. I love living in Sydney. I love my friends and my job … my life. And I do have feelings for you, and I thought I was prepared to drop everything to be with you, if that’s how it all turned out, but I’m realising now, almost as I speak, that I can’t. I can’t pick up and leave the rest of my life to be with you—especially not how you want it to be. I just … I can’t be that Sarah again.”
I dissolved into sobs. James came to me and held me, and I clung to him. It was the most adult moment of my life, and probably the most heart-breaking.
He held me for some time. I couldn’t say how long, as time is hard to discern when your world has been thrust into chaos. He was crying too and when we eventually let go of each other, he rested his forehead on mine.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
It was a fair question. If I’d been in his position, I would want to make absolutely sure that the person I loved—who might just love me back—didn’t want to spend their life travelling the world with me.
But I couldn’t.
I couldn’t be someone else’s sidekick no matter how appealing James’s life sounded. Had he met me right after I’d split with Neil when was wallowing in self-pity and self-doubt, hating my life and wanting to be rescued from it like some modern-day Cinderella, I would have been ecstatic to make a life with a jet-setting, loving, and over-the-top-sexy millionaire.
The thing was, though, I was no longer that woman. I left that woman on a boat in Greece—or maybe I left her on the pier in Santorini. When I met Josh.
Josh.
Oh, my god. Meeting Josh had been the catalyst for living my bigger life, the reason I couldn’t be with James.
Now, that’s ironic, Alanis Morissette.
Chapter 22
Being on a boat in the middle of a remote body of water, several hours’ drive from the nearest international airport with a wonderful man you’ve just broken up with, sucks. I do not recommend it.
As we waited for the boat to get back to shore, we sat up on deck in silence—me (sort of) reading a book on my Kindle and James flicking through a day-old Auckland newspaper. Logistics were the last thing I wanted to talk about, but I had to say something. We were supposed to be in New Zealand for two more days, but I just wanted to go home.
Even so, it shook me when James’s voice cut into my thoughts. “I’m guessing you won’t want to stay—in New Zealand, I mean—at least with me.”
At least with me.
It was one of those definitive moments. I had to be a grown-up, to rip off the Band-Aid. So what if it tore out a large chunk of my heart with it? “I think I should go home,” I said simply, stealing a look at him. His jaw tightened and he nodded.
“Of course. We can drive to Queenstown as soon as we get back to shore. I’ll organise your flight when we get to the airport.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that—”
He put up a hand and smiled weakly. “Let me.” It was my turn to nod.
The time passed as it does. I’m not usually one to wish my life away, but that morning could not have ended sooner. Eventually, we got to the dock and I felt a rush of relief as I stepped onto dry land, one step closer to home.
Back in the car, as we made our way to Queenstown, I sat with my phone clasped between my hands, my knuckles white. As soon as I had service, I wanted to contact Lindsey. Although, what was I going to say?
Hi. James and I broke up so I’m coming home early. He’s amazing and good to me, but he wants me to travel around the world with him and give up everything I’ve only just rediscovered, so I had to end it. Oh, by the way, can you pick me up from the airport?
In the end, what I sent was this:
I’m coming home early—will explain everything then. Will let you know flight stuff as soon as I do. ps it’s bad. Sx
I sent it the moment we emerged from the mountain pass, just after we saw one of those big green road signs for Te Anau and my phone started bleeping with all the messages and notifications from the past twenty-four hours.
Then I checked those messages and notifications.
Josh:
I have amazing news! Call me as soon as you get this.
I checked the date and time. He’d sent it at lunchtime the day before, right after I’d entered that very same mountain pass. Great, he’s going to think I’m ignoring him. I sent off a reply, mindful that James was sitting right beside me.
Hi. Sorry. I’m out of town.
(Not a lie.)
Will call you when I’m back. Excited to hear your news.
There—almost honest. I was out of town and I was excited to hear his news, even though I suspected that when he told me, I’d be playing the role of “awesome long-distance friend”.
And then my brain did the thing it does when you’re supposed to be in anguish, but it just can’t cope, so it takes you somewhere ludicrous. I suddenly remembered the moment in Clueless when Cher realises that she loves her stepbrother—her stepbrother called Josh.
And just like Cher, I had a flood of memories of my Josh—Joshua Walker, the dork who made me laugh so hard I couldn’t breathe, who showed me that I, too, wanted a bigger life, the guy who I felt like myself with, and had fun adventures with. And the guy who lived on the other side of the world and was almost a decade younger than me, the one who didn’t know how he felt about me.
There I was with the most handsome man I’d ever seen in real life, a man who made enough money for me never to have to worry about it again, a man who gave me mind-blowing orgasms, a man who loved me, and what did I realise?
I love Josh.
I said it to myself, over and over—not out loud, of course—but it was liberating. I had promised myself I’d decide between my two boyfriends after New Zealand and in a weird way I had.
That said, the one I chose wanted a vacationship, not a real commitment, so what I’d actually chosen was to be single.
My phone bleeped twice. They’d both replied.
OMFG!!!!!! Airport—yes, no worries. Love you. FUCK!
That one was from Lindsey.
>
And this one from Josh:
Sounds great! Can’t wait. Jxxx
Three kisses. Three! I figured it must be incredibly big news.
Maybe he’s decided he loves me and can’t live without me. Sure, Sarah. Get a frigging grip. You haven’t even said goodbye to James yet.
I really couldn’t wait until I had—said goodbye, that is. I know that sounds awful, but when it’s over and you’re hurting, you just want it to be over.
Again, I strongly recommend not breaking up while on holiday—and it was my second time in a matter of weeks. I knew there was a reason I hadn’t wanted to meet anyone in Greece.
*
“Do you have everything?” James asked. Everything about his demeanour said “acquaintance” rather than “former contender for the love of my life”.
“Yep,” I replied, just as benignly. In contrast, an ugly snake of misery was weaving its way through my gut.
We stood next to the security checkpoint, regarding each other awkwardly. I was positive I looked atrocious—like a confused, miserable woman, who’d cried a lot in the last eight hours and needed a giant mug of tea and a lie down.
We started speaking at the same time again.
“Sarah—"
“James—”
We shared a half-hearted laugh. “Please, go ahead.” Ever the gentleman, James.
“Okay. I was just going to say that you truly are a wonderful man.” His chin dropped to his chest and he sighed. I was screwing it up. Do not give him the “it’s not you, it’s me” bullshit, Sarah. “That came out wrong. Sorry. I mean, you are, but … oh, crap, I’m making a mess of this.” That made him lift his head and I was surprised to see a smile—an actual smile on his face.
“You are a lovely woman, Sarah Parsons. I am truly, truly sorry that I am not the man who gets to make you happy for the rest of your life, but I am glad I’ve known you.” Then he leant down and kissed my cheek.
A gentleman, and possibly the most perfect man in existence.
I dropped my carry-on and handbag and threw my arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. “Bye,” I whispered. “And thank you.” Then I let go, picked up my bags and turned towards the security line before I could rethink my decision, before I shoved aside everything I truly wanted and stayed with him forever. I didn’t turn back as I placed my bags on the conveyor belt and walked slowly alongside them. I went through the scanner and by the time I turned around on the other side, he was gone.