A Sunset in Sydney

by Sandy Barker

  James Cartwright was gone.

  Do not cry. Do not cry. Do not cry.

  I murmured it as a mantra as I walked away from security and looked for somewhere to buy a drink. I found a bar close to my gate and climbed up onto a stool.

  “Hi there,” said a cheerful and an impossibly Kiwi-accented guy. I sometimes wonder if the Kiwis are taking the “puss” out of their own accents. “What can I get you?” he said, which sounded like, Whut cun Oi gat ew?

  “Wine, please. Red. I don’t care what kind. And a lot. Of wine.”

  Maybe it was my tone, or possibly my strange syntax, but his look changed from “cheer” to “concern” in an instant. He reached above his head to take a large wine glass from the rack, then below the counter to retrieve a bottle of red with the cork half sticking out. He pulled the cork and poured me a very generous glass of wine. He pushed it across the bar to me.

  “Pinot noir,” he said. Pinot noir. Of course it was. I was in New Zealand and I wanted red wine and they were famous for their frigging pinots and I should have known that’s what I would get. But right at that moment, I was supposed to be tasting pinot noir in the Otago region with James and not sitting in the airport waiting to fly home early—without him.

  Do not cry. Do not cry. Do not cry.

  I said thank you to the lovely bartender and took a sip of the wine. It was delicious, which made me feel even more miserable. Maybe I should have ordered a cup of lemon juice as penance for breaking James’s heart.

  I had gone on a trip to Greece not wanting to meet anyone, and I’d met two men. Two!

  What the actual fuck, universe? I’ve been with the longest list of assholes in the history of the world (that may be a slight exaggeration), then you send me two awesome men, but they each want different things from me, so I get a taste of what it’s like to be with someone amazing, but not actually get to be with someone amazing, and for what? Just to fuck with me? ARGHHH!

  Yep, I was feeling quite sorry for myself.

  I fished out my phone and started scrolling through Facebook. It was something normal to do in a moment that was anything but normal. But my mind kept returning to my angry, self-pitying thoughts, the mental version of a mouth sore—the kind you can’t help but touch with your tongue, over and over, a kind of masochistic salve, both painful and reassuring at the same time.

  Maybe I should just tell Josh that I came to New Zealand with James, so he hates me and leaves me alone.

  As I made a serious dent in the wine, my mind flip-flopped.

  But I love Josh. And maybe, just maybe, he loves me, and we’ll be together—and not just for trips away, but properly.

  I finished my wine way faster than I should have.

  “Would you like another one?” asked my attentive bartender.

  The tiny devil and angel on my shoulders went into battle. Red wine makes me loopy lala if I’m already sad. But then again, I would rather feel loopy lala than heartbroken. I was saved from myself by the announcement that my flight was boarding. I picked up my handbag and took out my wallet so I could pay for the wine. It took a few moments for me to catch the bartender’s attention, but when I did, he surprised me.

  “No charge,” he said.

  “No, no, it’s okay. I’m happy to pay.” I waved the card at him. He shook his head and gave me a particularly pitying smile.

  “It was the end of a bottle I opened yesterday. It’s all good. It’s on me.” My credit card was still in my hand and he reached across and gently pushed it away. “It’s okay.”

  It’s okay. Logically, I knew he meant it was okay to comp me the wine, but my lizard brain, my poor little self who had just broken up with the handsome silver fox, heard, “it’s all going to be okay, Sarah—you’ll get past this—you did the right thing”.

  And then I burst into tears.

  Somehow, I made it onto the plane. I wasn’t even embarrassed by my outburst, which only subsided after I was seated and buckled in; I was too miserable to be embarrassed.

  Of course, James had bought me a business-class ticket home. I even had an entire row to myself, which meant that the flight attendants were particularly attentive. Or, that may have been because they took one look at me and decided to rally.

  We have a “code blues”, people. This is not a drill.

  See? Loopy lala.

  *

  Three hours pass quickly when the flight attendant brings you cups of tea and glasses of bubbles in alternating succession. I thought that if I ever did get married, I should ask her—Dee—to be my maid of honour. Lins and Cat would understand.

  When we landed in Sydney, I took my phone out, switching it off flight mode. It started bleeping and lighting up as though I’d been off the grid for weeks instead of hours.

  Lindsey:

  Text when you’ve landed and I’ll head over. Love you. I’m coming!!!!

  Relief flooded through me. In less than an hour, I’d be ensconced at Lins and Nick’s and they’d look after me and I could snuggle with Domino. Domino! The only man in my life who didn’t make me miserable. I’ll be a crazy cat lady for the rest of my life—happily.

  Josh:

  Hey. When are you back? Really want to talk to you soon! Jx

  Oh, Josh. Joshie. Josharama. I love you. I love your face and your cute smile and your beautiful eyes. But, I’m with Domino now, so we can’t be together.

  Yep, I was definitely drunk.

  My mum:

  Hi darling. Dad and I want you to come for lunch next Sunday. We’ve invited someone we think you’ll like.

  Good grief. My mum was still trying to fix me up. If only she knew! But if she did know, I would never hear the end of giving up the millionaire for my cat. NEVER. I decided I could put my mum off for a day or two. She was used to it.

  For the first time ever, I was the first person off the plane. I smiled weakly at Dee and thanked her again. The sympathetic look on her face was enough to tell me I was in an utter shambles.

  Immigration was quick—those automated thingies—and my bag was the first one down the chute at the baggage carousel—also a first for me. I tried not to think about the fact that I could have been flying business class around the world with James for the rest of my life. I wasn’t successful, the thought only adding to my misery. By the time I dragged myself through customs, I was pretty sure I looked like Eeyore on a bad day.

  Did I have anything to declare? Yes! I declare that my love life sucks and that I am thirty-seven and a hot mess. I didn’t say that. Instead, I chose the “nothing to declare” line and went straight through. Lindsey was waiting on the other side of the door and, just like Cat had done a few months before at Heathrow, Lins ignored the signs telling her to stay clear of the area, and came and enveloped me in a huge hug.

  I was too tired to cry—and probably too drunk—but I clung to her. She pulled away from me and gave me an appraising look. “Here,” she said, reaching for my suitcase and carry-on. “I’ll take these. Follow me.” I obeyed, following her through the airport like a lost duckling.

  Less than thirty minutes later, I was sitting on her couch, a blanket her nana had crocheted on my lap, Domino purring loudly next to me, and a giant mug of tea in one hand. Have I mentioned how much I love my bestie?

  Nick had made himself scarce—Nick who usually enjoyed a front-row seat to my love life disasters. This must be really bad.

  “Spill. And don’t skip anything. I’ll know.”

  That was “Tough Love” by Lindsey Haskell, everyone. Stick around, because the hits will keep on coming.

  She was watching me, her look a combination of “concern” and “don’t bullshit me”. And even though I really didn’t want to relive everything from the past few days, I knew I had to. Lins would listen to me, then help me figure out how to get past this latest love catastrophe. She was good at both those things and when it came to me, she’d had a lot of experience.

  I sipped my tea and petted Domino as I walked her throug
h the whole trip, all the conversations and everything I’d felt at the time, only glossing over the sex stuff. I wrapped up by telling her my realisation about Josh.

  “So, you love Josh?” I nodded tentatively, no longer confident of my feelings.

  “And when you got back from Hawaii, you thought you and Josh had broken up—that you’re just going to end up as friends. Right?” I nodded. I was turning into one of those little dogs that sits on the dashboard of your car.

  “And then you went to New Zealand with James. Why?” My eyes flew to hers, panicked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean exactly that. Why did you go to New Zealand with James?”

  “Because I wanted to be sure.”

  “About James or Josh?”

  I reminded myself I loved Lindsey because she asked the hard questions, because she knew I needed to answer them—for me. She wouldn’t let me hide from myself. I sat there steeping in the uncomfortable thoughts that tumbled over each other.

  Why did I go to New Zealand with James? Josh aside, did I ever really see me and James working out? Have I known all along we wouldn’t end up together?

  Clarity—even through the fog of fatigue and sadness and expensive business-class bubbles—smacked me in the head. I looked at Lins who was still watching me.

  “Because James makes me—sorry, made me feel good about myself. Sort of. I mean, sometimes I felt like an unsophisticated idiot around him, but generally, on the whole, for the most part”—she dropped her head to the side with a look that said, “get on with it”—“he made me feel special and beautiful and desired.”

  “But?”

  “But it wasn’t really me. It was exhausting being that person.”

  She smiled at me, a gentle, loving smile. “You are special and beautiful, Sez, but there’s something to be said for being yourself when you’re with someone—and knowing that they love you.”

  “Yeah. Not that any of it matters now. I mean James and I want very different things and neither of us was going to be happy with a compromise.”

  “No, probably not. But, from what you’ve said, Josh knows you, Sarah. Doesn’t being with him feel right?”

  “Sort of.”

  “Why ‘sort of’?”

  Tears stung my eyes. “Because he doesn’t know if he wants me.”

  “Well, that does seem to be the case—for now, at least. Look, I promise this is the last question, but how long are you going to wait for him to make up his mind?”

  I picked up Domino, much to his chagrin, and held him close to me. He wriggled for a few seconds, then succumbed to my suffocating affection. I nuzzled the top of his head with my chin. “Men suck,” I said. “Not you, Domino,” I added quickly. Lins laughed and I hesitantly joined in with a derisive chuckle. I really did think that men sucked.

  “Can we consider the last one hypothetical?”

  She got up and patted me on the shoulder as she walked past me to the kitchen. “No. We can’t.”

  I pouted.

  “Hey. Can I ask you something?” I asked, twisting around to face her while she put the kettle on. Domino had had enough and jumped down to the floor.

  “Yep.”

  “If Josh does get his shit together and decides he wants to be with me—and not as a vacationship …” I heard the bitterness in my voice and checked it.

  “Mmm?” she prompted. Her bum was sticking out of the pantry.

  “Hey, do you have any Tim Tams?” She stood up and tossed me an unopened packet, which I nearly caught. She rolled her eyes at me; I truly suck at catching things. I picked up the packet from the floor and opened it. “I’ll have the broken ones,” I called. I hoped they were all broken. I pulled out the first one, which was still intact, and bit off the corner, then spoke with my mouth full. “So, if Josh figures out that he wants to be with me … do I tell him about James?”

  I had her full attention then. “You mean about going on a romantic trip with James after you went on a romantic trip with Josh, or about James being in Sydney over the next few months, or about James wanting to be with you for the rest of your lives?” Wow. That last part really stung. But she was right.

  “Yeah, well, when you put it like that …”

  “Sez, you can’t tell Josh any of it.”

  “But shouldn’t I be honest with him?” I already knew the answer, but I wanted to hear it out loud from Lindsey. Somehow that would justify it, because, despite her bossy ways and her frequent dips into sarcasm, she was the most principled person I knew. Her moral barometer was foolproof.

  She came and sat opposite me, leaning forward, her elbows on her knees. “Listen to me. No good can come of telling Josh anything more than what he already knows.”

  “But—”

  “No! There are no ‘buts’. It would hurt him. And it would hurt your relationship.”

  “But what if he asks me a direct question? What then?”

  “Lie.” Lindsey was telling me to outright lie. How the hell did I get myself into this stupid, crappy, fucked up mess?

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” She lowered her voice, even though we could hear the TV from the study, and it was highly unlikely Nick was listening to anything we were saying. “There are things I’ve never told Nick—stuff that would really hurt him if he knew.” I frowned. I wondered if I knew any of those things. I racked my brain. Did I know anything about Lindsey that would qualify?

  “That guy,” I whispered, suddenly realising. “The one from Queensland. Before your wedding.” Her lips pulled into a taut line and she nodded slightly.

  “Never told him.”

  “Oh. Wow.”

  “Yeah. I knew I fucked up and I knew it would destroy Nick. And I wanted to marry him. So …”

  She let the last thought trail off and took a biscuit out of the packet.

  So, Lindsey had never told Nick about her fling with that guy in Queensland the month before their wedding. Right. I was convinced. I would never, ever tell Josh all those things about James, even if we only ended up as friends.

  Lins and I finished our Tim Tams in silence. Then my phone bleeped. I dug it out from under Nana’s blanket. A text from Josh:

  Hey. Just wondering if you’re free to FaceTime now?

  I must have looked as stricken as I felt, because Lins got up and came to read over my shoulder.

  “Apparently, the American boy has something he needs to say.”

  “But I can’t talk to him like this.” I indicated my whole self, which was a wretched, wretched mess and not fit for other humans to see.

  “Text him back. Tell him you’ll FaceTime in half an hour. Then get your bum in the shower.”

  I did exactly as I was told.

  Chapter 23

  Josh had seen me first thing in the morning, no makeup and hair askew. He’d seen me jet-lagged, crying, tired, hungover, hangry, and after a deluge looking like a drowned sewer rat.

  But he wasn’t seeing me post-break-up until I had showered and put on a lot of makeup.

  At Lindsey’s command, I took myself off to the guest bathroom to shower and tackle the mess that was me. After I dressed, I piled my curls on top of my head in a loose bun—my signature “I don’t know what to do with my hair, but hopefully this looks okay” style. I glopped on twice as much moisturiser as usual, hoping it would soak into my skin quickly enough to make me look half-alive.

  There probably wasn’t enough concealer in the world to handle my tragedy of a face, but I did my best, disguising my red-rimmed eyes and Rudolph nose. I added some mascara—waterproof, just in case—and a swoop of blush. I dotted some translucent powder over the top and appraised my work.

  At least it was FaceTime and not face to face. Maybe I could sit next to a window, so he could only see me in silhouette, like they do on 60 Minutes.

  “Lins?” I called out the bathroom door. After a moment, she popped her head around the corner.

  “Well?” I asked, holding my
arms out wide.

  “You look fine,” she said.

  “Fine? Is that all?” I looked at myself in the mirror. She was right, but sometimes I wished she lie to me. Still, “fine” would have to do as I was running out of time. I sighed. “Okay, let’s get this over with.”

  “That’s the spirit,” she teased.

  I followed her back into the living room, where I rifled through my carry-on bag for my iPad. “You know what I mean. What if his big news is that he’s getting married?”

  She didn’t dignify my idiotic question with a response. I plopped down on the couch and Lindsey sat on the one opposite me. “Are you going to listen in?” I asked.

  “I don’t have to.” She started to get up.

  “No, no, stay. Sorry.” I stared at the iPad. Then, being the master procrastinator, I called my cat. “Dom-i-noooooo. Here, baby.” Nothing. As I said, he’s his own cat. I chanced a glance at Lins and she gave me a look that said, “Get on with it, you wuss”.

  I took a deep breath, turned on the iPad, and tapped the FaceTime icon. I tapped Josh’s name, which was at the top of the list, and after two rings, his face appeared on the screen. A wave of happiness flooded over me and without guile or conscious thought, I grinned. It was Josh. And I’d missed his face.

  “Hi!” he exclaimed. “You look great! How are you?” I laughed; his joy was irresistible.

  “Great! Good, yes.” It wasn’t even a lie. “And thank you,” I added.

  “So, you’re away for the weekend?” I’d already forgotten the lie I’d told to stave him off, but I quickly recovered.

  “Yes, sort of, but I’m back in Sydney now.” Then I remembered it was only Saturday. “I mean, we just went away for a couple of days.” Great, I’d introduced a “we” into the lie. I said I recovered quickly; I did not say I recovered well.