Lessons in Love

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Lessons in Love Page 28

by Belinda Missen


  ‘I think a bit of time away will help put things in perspective,’ she explained. ‘We’re going to go home, you’re going to pack an overnight bag for tonight and tomorrow, and we’re going to spend some time in Melbourne.’

  ‘We are?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, matter-of-factly. ‘And I’m driving.’

  Chapter 26

  ‘No, no, no, I can’t do this.’ Penny yanked on the handbrake and threw her seatbelt off.

  ‘Can’t do what?’ I asked. ‘It’s a laneway. You’ll be fine.’

  ‘That’s right, it’s a laneway, look how tight it is!’ she shrieked. ‘The walls might come in on me. What if I take out the side of the car?’

  ‘It’s insured,’ I said with a laugh. ‘We’ll get it repaired.’

  ‘No, no, no, no, no.’

  Before I knew what she was doing, Penny had abandoned the car, standing in front of a heavily graffitied brick wall. It would have been a proper social media worthy shot had she not been completely freaking out. The last five minutes of a four-hour road trip abandoned in an uncharacteristic show of nerves.

  In fairness, the alley was exceedingly narrow, like a lot of Melbourne’s backstreets, but she’d been so confident until now. I was sure she’d make it.

  ‘It’s all right.’ I watched her clip up her seatbelt. ‘You did amazingly.’

  ‘I did?’

  ‘Of course.’

  It was a far cry from the Penny who’d stood over me while we hastily packed bags and ran out the door. The same girl who flirted madly with the concierge as we checked into a Collins Street hotel in the centre of Melbourne. Having not been back since I’d moved, it felt a little jarring, the twinkling lights of the city, the names in neon, and the unrelenting flow of traffic, both pedestrian and vehicular. What once was so familiar and common all felt a bit garish.

  From the window of our room, I looked out on the street below. Orange street lights glistened from windows and wet bitumen and loved-up couples held each other up as they lumbered down the street towards warm restaurants.

  The hotel itself was opulent but offbeat in a way that only Penny could be, and I congratulated her on an inspired choice. Chandeliers swung low towards the horizon of marble floors and our room, which was muted browns and beiges offset with red, had a clawfoot bath and chrome as far as the eye could see.

  ‘Where to first?’ I asked, turning from the window to find Penny asleep atop her bed.

  It was just ticking over 10.30 in the evening, and there was no doubt the stress of driving had exhausted her, so bed sounded like the perfect place to be.

  With nowhere else to be tonight, I took my time in the shower and, in the relative silence of the hotel en suite, mulled over the afternoon that had been. When Penny had first suggested heading to Melbourne, I’d been sceptical, but had hoped that a different environment would indeed help me think of something else.

  It didn’t. Taking the spare bed, I slipped under the covers and hoped for the best. I was still awake at two o’clock, back in the bathroom at three o’clock, and only just drifting off at four o’clock. It would have been a fair comment to say I was crabby when room service woke me up with breakfast the next morning.

  ‘Sorry, you were flaked, and I just wanted to get you breakfast.’ Penny offered me an apologetic look, and a slice of toast.

  ‘It’s fine, I promise.’ I placed my hand over hers. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘What do you think we should do today?’ she asked.

  ‘I have no idea.’ I slumped back in my chair.

  ‘I couldn’t find any concert tickets that we’d like, so I skipped that option.’

  I yawned. ‘No trouble. Let’s just wander about the city, eat, drink, be merry.’

  ‘Are you okay?’ she asked.

  Nodding, I bit down on my toast. ‘I’m just tired. That, and I have a lot on my mind.’

  ‘How do you feel about Marcus?’

  Yes, he’d made a mistake. Yes, he’d apologised for it. But last night had become a lowlight reel of everything I’d experienced since I’d arrived at the school. The cloud of women who gathered around him at morning assembly, changing direction like a flock of birds if he so much as moved somewhere different. The phone numbers pressed into his palm, and the comments from Sally at our afternoon tea. She was supposed to be happily married, but would just as easily ‘go there’?

  And how was it that I was suddenly called into question over my work ethic? Had he been questioned at all? I felt like somehow the blame for whatever this was was all being pointed at me. I needed a distraction. Something to think about other than this. I wound myself in so many knots that, if I were hair, someone would just cut me off and throw me in the bin.

  ‘I feel like I want something other than him to think about.’ I grinned.

  While I’d been asleep, Penny had been scrolling through all the things she wanted to do today. Using a notepad and pen she’d found on the bureau, there were restaurants, parks and contemporary art museums jotted into a list.

  We were soon walking the streets of Melbourne, up past Carlton Gardens and into Lygon Street for an intense coffee and cake hit, boutique clothing stores, and a bookstore I’d always favoured when I’d lived here.

  Rattling trams took us back into the centre of the city, to shopping centres and blinking theatres. We melded with crowds, in and out of alleyways, and crossing busy intersections. Lunch happened when we stumbled upon a crepe van in Federation Square and, when it came to what we were going to do tonight, a jazz club in Flinders Lane caught our attention.

  Back at the hotel room, we plumped and preened and changed into new outfits. Until now, I’d avoided thinking about my problems. Maybe that wasn’t the best idea ever, but it was nice to have a break. But, as I got changed, it made me think of how different my life was now.

  The bright lights of the city had been swapped for the star-drenched sky of the coast. Nights out were now nights in, and loud parties were now a dog racing across a beach or winding herself between legs. I didn’t miss having to get so dressed up to go out anywhere.

  Stepping into the darkened club was like stepping into a new world. It was dark and smoky, brick walls, hidden alcoves, purple lights and ratty seats. In contrast, there were intimate booths and roped off areas, and tables in front of a stage that was currently occupied by a solo saxophonist.

  Penny leaned into me. ‘This is … different.’

  ‘Drink?’ I asked.

  We were either early, or this club was incredibly unpopular. The bartender assured us the night would kick along closer to seven. He suggested we pick the best seat in the house, relax with a drink or two and enjoy the place before the chaos that late nights normally brought.

  So, that’s exactly what we did. We ordered share plates and more drinks, and enjoyed the music, which was presently Ella Fitzgerald. Eventually, we settled into a comfortable silence with each other. We’d spent all day talking, and it felt like the topics well had finally dried up.

  Two men walked by in suits, each of them rather attractive. I couldn’t quite catch their conversation but, judging by the suits and ties, there was every chance it would have been work related. Penny caught the eye of one and followed him up to the bar.

  No sooner had she moved, and her seat was filled by the second man. He was tall and dark, possibly a Don Draper impersonator. He dropped his briefcase and coat by his feet and smiled at me.

  ‘Hello.’

  I grinned tightly. ‘Hello.’

  ‘I’m John.’ He leaned over and offered his hand. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Fine.’ I looked over his shoulder, making sure I could still focus on Penny. ‘Thank you. Yourself?’

  ‘Good. I just … I’ve been over at the bar for a while and noticed you. You’re gorgeous. Can I buy you a drink?’

  I held up my current drink. ‘I’m good, thank you.’

  ‘Do you mind if I get one for myself?’

  ‘Go for it.’


  When he returned, John launched into his elevator pitch. Early forties, lawyer, recently single. His girlfriend, who he adored for her fierce nature and crazy intellect, had moved home. Where was home for her? Geelong, which was an hour away, almost halfway between Melbourne and Apollo Bay. They’d broken up because the guy couldn’t stump the hour drive to his girlfriend’s new home.

  ‘It’s not so much the drive,’ he explained when I questioned. ‘My work hours are all over the place at the moment. She’s just thrown herself headfirst into this big family project. Speaking of which, she was absolutely desperate for a family of her own, which I could never understand.’

  ‘You couldn’t?’ I asked.

  ‘I mean, of course I could, but I didn’t want to be pegged down.’

  ‘Is having a happy life and supportive family akin to being pegged down though?’ I asked. ‘Surely she was supportive of your job?’

  ‘Far too forgiving of it, actually. Look, it was quite a casual affair if I have to be honest.’

  ‘Honesty is a virtue.’ I tipped my glass at him, sarcastic smile the best I could offer. ‘Anyway, tell me about your job.’

  ‘Oh.’ He huffed heavily. ‘Law. It’s a busy game.’

  ‘No doubt.’ I caught the eye of the bartender. ‘Criminal?’

  ‘No. Civil.’ He snorted. ‘Much easier to get money out of businessmen than criminals. Plus, there’s the ethical issue of whether I want to stand up in court and defend a murderer.’

  Between the bartender bringing me a new drink and a text from Penny, I got the inside scoop on John’s latest courtroom conquests. The hours he’d billed for the month, and how he was so efficient he was booked solid for the next twelve months. His boss loved him, of course, bringing in a heap of profit for the coffers.

  He was exceedingly dull. Men in suits, huh? All of them different, none of them alike …

  The music had picked up now, and the club was fast filling with weekend revellers. None of them looked like John, who was fresh from work, briefcase by his feet like an obedient hound.

  ‘Sorry, what?’

  John shook his head. ‘I’m sorry. I’m talking too much about my job. What is it you do?’

  I crossed my legs over at the knees. ‘I guess the first thing you should know about me is that my name is Eleanor.’

  His jaw dropped. ‘Shit. I’m so sorry, I hadn’t …’

  ‘No, it’s fine.’ I waved a hand. ‘And I’m a teacher.’

  ‘What’s that old saying?’ He smiled gently.

  Here it comes.

  ‘If you can’t do, teach?’ he continued.

  I didn’t like this. I didn’t even like John. Not that there was anything terribly wrong with him per se. Then again, I couldn’t find many redeeming features, either. Silence scratched and spun out like a needle on a turntable, right at the moment a side of vinyl had finished. Pivoting in my seat, I turned my attention to the band, who were now playing Miles Davis.

  This was all so completely backwards. Here was a man complaining about a girlfriend who’d moved home to fulfil a life’s ambition. It would be exactly the response I’d get from Dean, too, if ever I’d tried that. Yet, when I drew out a few notes on a piano, I had Marcus right beside me. Not only was he championing me, he wanted to be part of it as well, wanted to learn.

  Where other people had told me not to sweat my divorce, that things were going to be okay, he’d known they weren’t quite the words everyone needed to hear. He’d been where I had and had the insight and clarity of distance that allowed him to walk me through new ideas and different perspectives. As much as others had tried to help and do the right thing, he still knew.

  Yes, he’d stumbled and fallen, but so had I. There was no question, I knew I had. I’d been so caught up in worrying about hurt and anger and repeating the past that I’d done just about that. Only, I’d managed to push him away before he’d had a chance to jump.

  I wanted to go home. To Marcus. To tell him how much of an idiot I’d been. Penny had been right about everything. The push and pull was entirely me. For all the squabbles, the serious and sarcastic, Marcus had always shot straight back up, a bop bag in the boxing ring of life. What had I done other than what I’d known? I’d thrown down my tools and walked away. Like it or not, I was my genes.

  Perhaps talking to my mother would give me a little insight into why this was happening.

  ‘You know, I think you should make the journey to see your girlfriend.’ I placed my empty glass on the table. ‘It’s only an hour. If you love her, an hour is nothing. Or maybe don’t, if it’s all about what you want in this life.’ John’s eyes followed me as I stood up. ‘And, you know, I’ve just realised I need to do the same.’

  When I told Penny I was going back to the hotel, she packed up immediately and followed. She didn’t need to, I assured her, but she insisted. Like John, her companion wasn’t great either. Like me, her weekend hadn’t been the dazzling lights and parade she’d been hoping for and, so, we shivered our way back towards Collins Street.

  ‘Too many sleazy guys,’ she grumbled. ‘We really do breed them differently back home.’

  ‘Have you ever thought about dating Patrick?’ I asked.

  ‘What?’ She threw me a repulsed look. ‘No, no thanks.’

  ‘Really?’ I looked at her.

  ‘Trust me, I tried. It wasn’t long after he separated from his wife. He shut it down quicker than a KFC without chicken.’ She gave her hand a quick wave. ‘And, honestly, the guy is such a perfectionist. He needs someone who’ll burrow right into his brain and gnaw away at him. In a good way, of course.’

  I snorted. ‘Really?’

  ‘“I don’t mix business and pleasure, Pasta, and I’m all out of wanting pleasure at the moment,” he said,’ she mimicked him. ‘And we’ve never spoken of it since. Also, he calls me Pasta, so there’s that. I’m not exactly an air-filled tube. I mean, I adore him, great guy, hot as fuck, but no.’

  ‘I really think you should talk to the barista who gets your name wrong. I mean, you have a great reason to go in and introduce yourself, tell him your name.’

  ‘I do, don’t I?’ she asked. ‘Do you really think that’s why he gets my name wrong?’

  ‘Yep.’ I nodded, swinging from the hanging handgrip of the tram. ‘And if I’m wrong and he doesn’t want a date, at least he has to get your name right.’

  ‘I might do that. Tomorrow. I think he’s working.’

  ‘You know his timetable because?’

  ‘He’s a little cute.’ She scrunched herself up. ‘He is, isn’t he?’

  ‘If you say so.’

  ‘If I say so,’ she baulked. ‘Come on, you think Marcus is cute and he looks like … I don’t know.’

  ‘So does everyone, apparently,’ I said with a laugh.

  ‘Not my type.’ She pointed. ‘Just so you know, he’s safe around me.’

  ‘No?’ I asked. ‘I’m sure you told me how beautiful he was.’

  ‘I told you he was lovely. As for the rest of him, he’s so tall I’d need a chiropractor on call.’ She dug about in her bag. ‘Never mind the rest of him.’

  We fell about laughing as the tram rattled into our stop. Once inside the hotel, Penny took a detour by the bar while I went upstairs to make my phone call. Changed into my ratty old pyjamas, I made a coffee for courage, pulled my mobile out and dialled.

  I hadn’t given too much thought to what I was going to say. I just wanted to talk, see if I couldn’t just get a dialogue going. Nothing more than a friendly dialogue and, maybe, if I asked her advice, she might have something profound to say.

  I wasn’t expecting her to answer. I really wasn’t.

  ‘Hello?’ Her voice, tired and small came down the line.

  ‘Hey, Mum,’ I said. I went for bright and happy, and hoped it got a response.

  ‘Eleanor,’ she chirped. ‘It’s a little late.’

  ‘It is, I apologise,’ I said. ‘But I just … I really needed to talk t
o you.’

  ‘Me?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes. I want your opinion.’ Well, I got there quickly, didn’t I? I swallowed down my nerves and waited for a response.

  ‘My opinion?’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘On what?’ She clattered around in the background, telling Barry I was on the phone. He sounded as surprised as anyone. ‘Barry says hello.’

  ‘Hello, Baz.’

  ‘She said hello,’ she relayed. ‘What did you want advice on?’

  ‘A boy.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Are you ready for a story?’ I asked. ‘This one’s a doozy.’

  ‘I’m just a little shocked that you’d call me,’ she started. ‘Of all people.’

  ‘We don’t really talk much though, do we?’ I started. ‘And I figured this might be a good place to start.’

  ‘Oh, okay,’ she said. ‘Well that … that’s lovely. Let me find a chair. I’m ready.’

  I poured out everything I could think of, rewinding right back to my divorce and all the reasons behind that. Everything that had gone wrong. I talked about the utter thrill of coming across Marcus, and the complete pendulum swing that he’d provided, and how I was wholly petrified of history repeating. I elaborated on the things I loved about him: his work ethic, his way with children, and how he was quiet but solid, and cheeky in an underhanded kind of way, the way that I enjoyed so much.

  ‘You always did have a wicked little glint in your eye,’ Mum added. ‘I can see why you’d take to him.’

  I laughed. Oh, boy, my mum made me laugh, and it was amazing. ‘Thanks, I think.’

  ‘Even as a small child, I could see that much. It’s one of those things that drew me to your father. You just knew you were going to trip yourself up over him, but I couldn’t help it.’

  The mere mention of my father, and hearing her speak of him so positively, blurred my vision and tightened my throat.

  ‘I guess what I’m asking is: do you think I should?’ I managed a few strangled words before I wiped my eyes on the sleeve of my pyjamas.

  On paper, it looked completely ridiculous to go to my mother for advice. I know this much. But I also felt it would at least be the ice-breaker we needed to dig deeper. If Penny was right, and God knows she probably was, then I had to build that trust. It was the elongated silence on the other end of the line that scared me now more than anything.

 

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