Counting on Love

by R L Burgess

  The eyes stared again.

  “I’m sorry,” Mel said, her brow wrinkled in confusion. “She said what?”

  “She said that my internalised belief—”

  “Wait, don’t just say it all again. What does it mean?”

  “I think she’s saying,” Enid interrupted gently, “that because Zoe feels guilty about her mum, she doesn’t think she deserves to have a happy relationship. So, her crush on Reyna is easy because it’s never going to happen. It makes sense.”

  “Thanks,” Zoe said. “I think.”

  “Did you tell her you had just bumped into Reyna in her waiting room?” Travis thumped the table with his fist. “I mean, what are the odds of that?”

  “I didn’t.”

  “Why not? I would’ve thought that’s just the kind of thing a psychologist would want to know. Maybe she would have said, ‘Oh wait, you bumped into each other here? That must be fate. Forget everything else I’ve said.’”

  “Yeah, right. Maybe I should have. I didn’t want to tell her everything all at once, you know?”

  Mel narrowed her eyes. “Isn’t that kind of the point?”

  “I don’t know. Got to save something for the next session, right?” Zoe glanced through the crowd at the bar, where an attractive redhead with an array of tattoos and piercings was wiping the counter. “I think I’m ready for another drink. Anyone else? My shout.”

  “I’ll come with you.” Mel slid off her barstool and tucked her arm through Zoe’s. “Help you carry.”

  They made their way through the Sunday night crowd of hipsters and university students who frequented this particular bar. A group of boys sporting chequered shirts and oversized beards ribbed each other at the pool table, squabbling over the appropriate cue to use for a difficult corner shot. Zoe and her friends had enjoyed coming here in their own uni days and revisited it every now and then for a trip down memory lane. Tonight felt more like a trip through a dark alley, Zoe thought, her mind clouded with heavy thoughts. Dr. Singh’s words had struck home. It felt like a key unlocking an important door, but she was scared to open it in case some other demon lurked behind it. Wouldn’t it just be better to keep that door closed and move on?

  At the bar the redhead nodded at them, her sculpted biceps flexing as she hefted a tray of cleaning glasses onto the bench.

  “What can I get you?”

  Mel gave their order, engaging in some friendly banter. “Come here often?” she asked, showing off her dimples to full advantage as the redhead pulled the cork from a fresh bottle of Shiraz, deftly pouring out five glasses.

  “Four nights a week,” she said, wiping a drip from the top of the bottle with a flourish and popping the cork back in. She fluttered her eyelashes at Mel. “Clearly you don’t come here often enough.”

  “Clearly I don’t,” Mel agreed. “Perhaps we can rectify that. Will you be here tomorrow night?”

  The redhead fluttered some more and Zoe inwardly rolled her eyes. Mel was an outrageous flirt, but no one could deny she got the job done. “I’m not working tomorrow night. Night off.”

  “Oh.” Mel fished her credit card out of her wallet and handed it over. “Shall I take you out somewhere instead then?”

  The redhead smirked. “Maybe.” She waved the credit card over her machine and handed it back, holding onto the card for a moment too long as Mel reached for it. “Come see me before you go.” She let go of the card.

  “It’s a date.”

  Mel took the tray of glasses, deftly balancing them on one hand.

  “I thought you were seeing someone,” Zoe muttered as they stepped away from the bar. She placed a hand on Mel’s shoulder, steering her toward their table as Mel attempted to continue dimpling at the redhead over her shoulder.

  “What? Who me?” she said casually, depositing the tray in front of their friends.

  “I definitely got the impression the other day that you were seeing someone.”

  “Oh that,” Mel breezed, handing out the glasses. “It wasn’t a thing, too complicated.”

  “Right. Did you guys know about this complication?” Zoe asked. Her friends looked as baffled as she felt.

  “Not me,” Enid replied. “Do tell all, Melanie.”

  “Really, there’s nothing to tell. It turned out to be a nonstarter. Now, I’ll just return this tray.” With a flick of her hair she tucked the tray under her arm and trotted back to the bar.

  “Something weird is going on with her,” Zoe said, perching on her stool. She rubbed her temples, trying to massage out the stress of her weekend. “Maybe she should see my psychologist.”

  “Speaking of,” Chiara continued, picking up the thread. “Did she give you any advice? Tell you what to do next?”

  “She did. She said I could go on some dates. Replace thoughts of Reyna with positive thoughts about other things I’m looking forward to. I can’t remember everything she said. I took notes, though.”

  “Sounds like good advice. So, shall we get moving on setting you up?”

  “Who’s setting who up?” Mel asked, shimmying back to the table. She waved a slip of paper in front of her with a look of glee. “Guess who’s got a hot date tomorrow night?”

  Zoe shook her head. “You’re incorrigible.”

  “I’m proactive.”

  “Zoe’s psychologist says she needs to start dating,” Enid advised. “Maybe you can bring her with you.”

  “Thanks a lot, Enid. Anyway, she said I could start dating. Big difference.”

  “Oooh, yes,” Mel crowed. “Where shall we start? Who do we know who would be perfect for Zoe? Wait! Who have we already tried?”

  Zoe tuned out, letting her friends discuss her as if she wasn’t there. She wasn’t ready to start dating. If the psychologist was right, and she had stopped dating because of the guilt she felt about her mother, she was pretty sure it would take a bit more than just one session to get over it.

  Chapter Ten

  Zoe (Monday, a.m.)

  Zoe sat on the floor in her kitchen lacing her runners and eating a banana. First light was beginning to creep into the sky and everything seemed very still around her. She loved the quiet of the morning. If she got up early enough, there was no traffic on the roads, no people crossing in front of her, only the occasional light on in a passing house. It felt special, like she was getting some extra secret time in the universe that everyone else was missing.

  She stood and did a little jog on the spot to test the tightness of her shoes followed by slow lunges to warm up her muscles. It would be cold outside, the heating in her apartment giving her a false sense of the temperature. She tucked a key into the little pocket in her running shorts, tossed her banana peel into the compost bin, and headed out the door. The stairwell was brightly lit, causing her to squint against the harsh fluorescent light as she skipped quickly down the stairs.

  A gust of wind greeted her at the bottom of the stairs and she shivered, striding out onto the pavement to get warm as quickly as possible. Finding her rhythm, she took a familiar path through the quiet suburban streets leaving her mind free to roam. She had been so overwhelmed by her visit to Dr. Singh she hadn’t even begun to process it. But she did her best thinking in moments like these, when her body was occupied, legs pounding to the tempo of her heartbeat. Was Dr. Singh right? Was she really trying to avoid finding love because of the guilt she felt about her mum’s death?

  She crossed the street, checking for cars over her shoulder. She liked listening to music while she ran, but it wasn’t safe in the mornings, especially in the winter when it was still so dark. She liked to be able to hear what was going on around her.

  Thinking about her mum brought up the familiar stab in her abdomen, and she stumbled, breaking her stride momentarily. It had been a year and a half since her mum had died. Surely that was time enough to process the emotions. Although, she admitted to herself, if she were honest, she hadn’t really done anything proactive about it. She had just waited for the emotions t
o run their course, expecting it would all settle in time. She hadn’t cried much in the beginning. She had felt an empty tickling loss, like there was always something missing but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. She had been caught a few times going to ring her mum after work, sitting with her mobile phone in her lap and a hollow ache in her breast. But a few months later the tears had come, taking her by surprise while she was watching a very average film late one night. In the film, the little girl’s mother had died and Zoe found herself sobbing uncontrollably on her couch, curled up in a tight little ball of anger and disbelief, the movie playing on in front of her.

  She had fought waves of grief, almost nauseating in their intensity, for a month or so after that, but they had gradually eased. She had been left with the overarching feeling that something had changed deep within her, but she had no idea exactly what it was or if it was okay that it had. Sometimes she felt adrift without her mum to care for, to plan for, to check in on. And sometimes she felt so relieved not to have to do any of those things any more that she burned with shame at the feeling. Had she done enough? She told herself she had done all she could, but shouldn’t she have tried harder? Why hadn’t she pushed her to go to a rehab center, even an AA meeting, something to help her clean up and fight the cancer? But even as the familiar question plagued her she knew it would have been impossible. Her mother would never have gone.

  Stopping to grab a quick drink at the fountain in the park, she stretched out a twinging calf muscle while she caught her breath. How this all tied in with her feelings for Reyna she didn’t understand. Surely she hadn’t just invented a crush to stop herself from finding a proper relationship. Had she?

  She checked her watch. It was time to head back or she would be late to work. She picked up the pace, pushing herself harder, enjoying the burn in her muscles and the elevation of her heartbeat, blood pulsing swiftly around her body. She supposed she didn’t have much to lose by trying Dr. Singh’s idea. She had thought about it last night, trying to pinpoint something she was excited about that she could focus on instead of thinking about Reyna. She realised she had plenty to choose from. She was excited to put together her presentation for FinCo, not to mention the upcoming trip to Alice Springs. She had never been there before, but pictures of the place looked amazing and she was seriously looking forward to exploring it. As an added bonus, she had looked up the expected weather and it would be warm and sunny, the perfect antidote to the chill of Melbourne’s winter.

  Yes, she had plenty to look forward to and focus on instead of Reyna, she decided, making a final tired push up the hill to her building. Her legs trembled as she reached the stairwell, and she wobbled up the four flights into her apartment. She kicked off her shoes and wrapped a towel around her shoulders, setting the coffee percolator on the stove. It was a new day, a new chance to make better choices. Leaning against the bench, she sipped a glass of water as she waited for the coffee to brew.

  The award she had received for Victorian Adviser of the Year caught her eye, acting as a book stop on the end of the shelf. She had worked incredibly hard last year. Every year really. But after her mother’s death she had really just lost herself in her work, treating herself to time out with her friends, occasionally seeing Danny, but for the most part, setting the bar high for excellence in her field. It was gratifying to know that work had not gone unnoticed, but she realised with a sting that an award was a poor substitute for the warmth and enjoyment of another human being.

  She added a dollop of cream to her coffee and settled on the floor, doing some light stretches before her shower. Was she ready to start dating? She had convinced herself for so long that this crush on Reyna was genuine. It was hard to imagine looking at anyone else. But of course, Dr. Singh was right. Zoe knew nothing about Reyna so how real could this crush actually be? It had been a shock seeing her in the waiting room with her nephew, a boy who had looked so similar to Reyna that Zoe had assumed at first sight that he was her son. And wasn’t that exactly the point? Reyna could have a son. She could have a whole family Zoe knew nothing about. She could like Mongolian throat singers and scary movies and Hawaiian pizza for all Zoe knew. She eased up from the floor, peeled off her running gear and stepped into the shower.

  She had just over three weeks to prepare for FinCo and she wanted her presentation to be brilliant. What better event to focus on?

  Chapter Eleven

  Reyna (Thursday, p.m.)

  Being five thirty p.m. on a Thursday, the tea room was deserted when Reyna went in to make a fresh pot of tea. An unavoidably late meeting with an executive group she belonged to meant her parents were with Holden for the evening. As she stood by the sink cleaning out her teapot, she hummed gently to herself, a tune she had heard on the radio with Holden that morning on the way to school. Suddenly she became aware that someone else had entered the room, and she looked quickly over her shoulder, embarrassed to have been caught singing to herself.

  “Only me,” Zoe said. She raised her empty cup by way of greeting. “One last refill.”

  “You’re working late,” Reyna said, making room for her at the sink.

  “I’m working on a very important presentation for a very important financial conference I’m attending in a few weeks,” Zoe said with a grin. “Coffee is my best friend.”

  Reyna acknowledged her humour with a smile of her own. “I can’t drink caffeine this late in the day. I’d be up all night.”

  “Sometimes being up all night can be fun,” Zoe said, and then seemed to catch the double entendre in her words, her gaze flicking away from Reyna’s. “I just meant back in the day, you know? Trying to finish off an assignment for uni, my friends and I would brew up a never-ending pot of coffee and settle in for the night to get it done. I guess it sounds weird but it was fun.”

  “I think we definitely have different ideas of fun,” Reyna said, thinking of the obstacle course Zoe had described as “fun” the week before.

  They prepared their drinks in silence, Reyna slowly dipping her tea bag into her favourite ceramic mug as she waited for it to steep.

  “Tea has a fair bit of caffeine too,” Zoe said, peering into Reyna’s cup. Reyna caught the scent of her perfume, a subtle hint of orange blossom, suddenly aware that Zoe was standing quite close to her. Her hair was back up in its clip today, showing off the line of her neck and the delicate shape of her ears. Reyna could see the fine silver necklace she had spotted in the waiting room, nestled in the curve of her throat. She had an overwhelming desire to rub her thumb over that curve. From under her lashes, her eyes met Zoe’s, a sudden heat streaking through her body.

  “It’s herbal,” Reyna said, swallowing hard, resisting the urge to take a step back. She held up the little cardboard tag on her tea bag. “Actually, I’m glad to catch up with you, Zoe.” Reyna removed the tea bag from her cup and tossed it in the bin, attempting to sound casual. “I wanted to tell you, well, to ask you really… The other day when we bumped into each other at the clinic, I was there on private business for my nephew and I would prefer it if you didn’t mention it to anyone here.”

  “Sure, of course. Same for me, I guess. I mean, not the nephew part, but I wouldn’t particularly want it bandied about the office that I’m seeing a psychologist.”

  “It’s a deal.”

  “Did it go well for him?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “For your nephew. Was it a success?” Zoe’s look of concern was disarming.

  Reyna frowned, studying her cup. For the first time she noticed little lines in the porcelain, a sign of its age. “I suppose,” she said, torn between the desire to share and keeping her professional boundaries intact. “I think it will be a bit of a journey.”

  “Exactly. My friends seem to think I should be all sorted after one session, but I feel like it could take a bit more than that.”

  “Well, best of luck with it all. I’m glad to see you’ve sought help,” Reyna said, thinking of the bruises. “If there’s an
ything we can do within the organisation to support you, please don’t hesitate to sing out. Just speak with your manager.”

  Zoe snorted and then seemed to catch herself, as if suddenly aware that she was speaking with the boss. “Oh yes, it’s all fine thank you. Some old emotional scars from the death of my mother. No need to speak with Thomus, thanks.”

  “Oh. Your mother.” The surprise in her voice escaped before she could help herself.

  “Yes,” Zoe frowned. “Why did you think I was there?”

  “Well,” she took a small sip of her tea, “I thought, the bruises,” she trailed off, feeling lame.

  “From Tough Mudder?”

  Reyna nodded, dialling up a half smile like a peace offering.

  “Oh.” Zoe looked taken a back. Then suddenly she laughed, her face clearing in that way the sky does when the sun slides out from behind a cloud. “Actually I was worried you had thought that. Really, it’s a hectic course. Everyone ends up with cuts and bruises everywhere. I wasn’t just making it up.”

  “I’m relieved to hear it. When I saw you in the psychologist’s office so soon after coming to work with a face full of bruises, I assumed the worst.”

  “Well, it does happen and I guess you can’t be too careful.”

  Zoe was taking her misassumption very well. Reyna wasn’t so sure she would have been quite so understanding.

  “Seeing as you’re here,” Reyna found herself saying, “and you’re working on your presentation, would you like to show it to me? I have an hour before my conference call starts.”

  “Sure, that’d be great.” Zoe looked genuinely pleased. “Your desk or mine?”

  Reyna smiled. It had been a while since anyone had invited her to their desk. Usually she issued the invitations and it made sense to sit in her office where the space was bigger.