by Sabre Rose
I got a taxi home and fell into bed. My mind raced with the thought of him. Having someone like Gabe desire me, left me feeling like I was floating on clouds. But still, there was that nagging fear that kept me from him. I couldn’t imagine any reason for him to want me.
I was scarred. I was broken. I was used.
He was perfect. He was young. He could have the world.
I had the next day off. It was a national holiday and the café was going to be busy, so I was rather glad to be missing the chaos. It was a relief, really, as I didn’t want to see Gabe. I didn’t know what to say to him, or how to act. Derek was the only man I had been with. I didn’t know how things worked. I didn’t know if taking things further with Gabe would actually mean anything to him. But it would to me, so there was no way I could allow myself to get close to him again.
What I needed was a good download session with Peta, a chance to debrief and let it all out. I picked up the phone but it went straight to voicemail. I considered calling the café, but I didn’t want to run the risk of Gabe answering. The way I was feeling, the sound of his voice alone could undo all the internal scolding sessions I had been giving myself.
Smudge climbed up onto the bed and reminded me I needed to get up and feed him. He sat on my chest and stared at me, blinking slowly and meowing painfully every few seconds.
“Alright, alright,” I said, pushing him off and getting out of bed. He scampered down the hall, towards the kitchen and his food bowl. I tipped in a pile of cat biscuits which he sniffed and turned up his nose. I opened a packet of jelly meat and dumped it in front of him. He took one bite then meowed again. You almost couldn’t call it a meow. It was more of a howl. Giving up, I walked away and wondered what I could do to keep myself occupied, and my thoughts off Gabe. I considered doing housework, but since it was just me, there really wasn’t any to do. I used to nag Derek about the way he dropped his clothes on the floor or left his shoes in the lounge, but now, I wished I had something, anything, to pick up. Out the window, the sunshine streaked across the wipe marks from my last attempt at window washing. I could wash my windows, or I could grab my running shoes and hit a trail. I decided on the latter.
It had been years since I ran, and after only a few metres, my body reminded me of that. Instantly, I turned red and sweaty and started sucking in long breaths that never seemed to be enough. My jogging pants kept slipping down with every bounce and I had to keep hoisting them up. I really needed a better sports bra too.
Running used to invigorate me. Now, it was just depressing. After probably no more than a few hundred meters, I decided to walk until I eased back into things. I couldn’t very well not exercise in years and then expect everything to be the same. I needed to start out slow. The problem with walking, though, was that it gave my mind nothing to concentrate on. Without my chest heaving for air and my thighs crying out for me to stop, my mind filled with thoughts of Gabe. And they weren’t innocent thoughts. They were thoughts of him pressed against me, thoughts of running my hands over his muscled shoulders, and him sucking in breath as I ran my fingertips over his chest and followed the slight trail of hair that ran from his belly button and down to…
I had to stop. This was nonsense. I wasn’t some twenty-something who had just discovered the gorgeous boy next door liked her. I was a mature, recently single woman who knew better.
I stopped walking long enough to grab my phone out of the small pouch in my pants and plug in the headphones. The little ear buds were annoying, but the deafening sound of music would keep my mind in check.
I was just beginning to enjoy the damp scent of the forest and the sound of music in my ears when my phone started ringing.
“You called?” Peta said in a sing-song voice.
“I need a wine session,” I replied with no preamble.
“Tonight? Oh, please let it be tonight. We’re supposed to go to the in-laws for dinner and I need an excuse to get out of it. I’m in no mood for them today. I would far rather your company and a good bottle of wine. White. No, red. No. You can choose. I don’t care as long as it’s alcoholic. Shrek won’t say no if I say you need me. It’s an emergency, isn’t it? Please say it’s an emergency.”
“Oh, it’s an emergency, alright.”
“It is? Really? Or are you just saying that because I need it to be an emergency?”
I laughed and a passing runner looked at me, annoyed. Clearly, this trail was not meant for casual phone conversations.
“Either way, it doesn’t matter,” Peta said.
I could hear the gurgle of the milk steamer in the background and wondered if it was Gabe operating it.
I was in desperate need of help.
“The usual place?” I asked, referring to the little place Peta and I used to like visiting. It was the perfect combination of rowdy and quiet. Half the room was a restaurant and the other half reserved strictly for drinking only. No pool tables, no loud music, no dance floor. Good food and drink only.
“Can we still call it our usual place? We haven’t been there in years.”
“It will always be our usual,” I replied.
“It’s a date. I’ll meet you at Mana at six o’clock. That way Shrek can drop me off on the way to his parents’ and I won’t even have to face them. They’ll be thrilled. They’ll get Dylan dearest and the kiddies all to themselves. Goodness knows what the kids will be like afterwards, they’ll probably be all hopped up on sugar and bouncing off the walls. Not that I’ll care, because I won’t be there!” She sang the last part triumphantly. “Where are you, anyway? It sounds weird.”
“I’m out for a walk. Thought it was time I dusted off the old running shoes and took a jog. I think I lasted about two minutes before resorting to walking.”
“My, my, I am impressed. I hope you’re not going all healthy though. We are having dinner tonight, aren’t we? You know how much you love their pasta.”
Pasta was somewhat of a treat for me. Certain noises were like a form of torture; chewing too loudly, zips jiggling when people moved, people clicking pens, fingers rapping on hard surfaces, taps dripping, clocks ticking, small noises that somehow managed to overwhelm all my other senses until I felt like screaming. But the worst noise of all was the sound of sauce being mixed through pasta. The squelching sound assaulted my senses, made me shudder and grit my teeth. That was why I never cooked pasta at home. And that was why I just about always ordered it at restaurants. It was a treat, and the pasta at Mana was the best of them all.
* * *
Peta was on to her third glass of red and I lagged behind, still on my first by the time we finished the main course. We looked over the dessert menu enviously, but as neither of us could claim to be at our most slender, we refused the offer when the waiter came back, claiming we were way too full to even consider it. Liars, the both of us.
It was a lot busier than expected for a Monday night, as most people had the day off work. There were no seats left in the bar area so we just stayed at the little table in a darkened corner.
“What’s the date?” Peta asked suddenly.
“Twenty-seventh,” I replied, looking for a watch I no longer wore.
She grinned. She was wearing makeup tonight, something which she normally didn’t do. She said it felt like paint on her skin and even at the age of thirty she still couldn’t get used to it. Her hair, streaked with blonde and reddish-brown, hung around her face, shiny and smooth. Her cheeks were flushed with wine. “It’s almost one month until your birthday.”
“Don’t remind me.”
“We’ll be the same age again. The big three zero.” She took a mouthful of wine, tossing her head back and swallowing in a rather unladylike fashion. “Are you heading home?”
I shook my head guiltily. “I told them I couldn’t get the time off work.”
“Tough boss.” She laughed. “You know you can go, if you want.”
It was tradition for me to go home for my birthday. My parents, as well as my sister and
her family, lived a four-hour drive away. I usually went up to visit four times a year. Christmas and birthdays. Fortunately, my parents’ birthdays were a day apart. But the latter part of this year had been all about breaking traditions. The tradition of promised marriage, broken. The tradition of working a desk job, broken. And the tradition of not getting completely wasted while drinking was about to be broken for the second time in a matter of weeks. What was one more tradition?
“I’d rather not. I can just imagine the jibes Mother would work into the conversation. I just don’t want to deal with her crap.”
“Your dad will be disappointed.”
I shrugged and emptied the contents of my glass. “I’ll see him at Christmas.”
We were onto our second bottle of wine before I began to realise just how much it had affected us. Peta’s voice was rather loud as she described Shrek’s increased appetite, entertaining our fellow diners with her stories.
“I just don’t know what’s gotten into him,” she slurred. “He wants it, like, every night, and sometimes I just can’t be bothered, you know? I just feel like lying there and saying climb on and do your thing. Let me know when you’re done.”
I laughed and it came out as a snort. A little wine shot into my nose, and it stung and tingled painfully, leaving me light headed. “Why don’t you?” I yelled back, because she was yelling.
She rolled her eyes. “Because he’s not happy with that. He wants me to enjoy it too,” she whined in a deep voice, mocking her husband. She shook her head and took another sip, studying the wine as she rolled it about the edges of the glass. “Considerate arsehole.” She dumped the glass on the table before continuing, “But sometimes, I just can’t. I mean, I try, but I just lie there while he does his thing, trying to concentrate, and the whole time I'm thinking about the coffee order or if changing suppliers will mean I can get cheaper milk.” She picked up the glass again and drained the contents. “The poor guy. He’s at home with the little snots all day. Three of them.” She held up four fingers, then lowered one. “Three, Lauren. How the fuck did I end up with three?” She shook her hand, dismissing her comment. “Anyway, all he needs is to feel wanted and I can’t even muster that. I’m a rotten wife.”
“No, you’re not. I used to feel the same way with Derek sometimes. Especially while trying to get pregnant again. It became so…” I thought for a moment, struggling to find the right word. “So forced. And then, afterwards, it just never really returned to the way it used to be. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, it was just different. Sometimes it was good again. You don’t feel like that all the time, do you?”
Peta lifted her glass. “A little more of this and I certainly won’t be feeling like that tonight!”
The waiter saw her lift her glass and we fell silent as he came over with the bottle. I quickly took the last gulp of mine and he refilled both glasses.
“I saw Derek again the other day,” Peta said while staring at her now full glass. “I’m not sure I should drink this. He’s looking good.”
“He’s on a health kick or something, Mother said. Must be the thought of being a parent.” I looked down at the band of white around my finger which had faded somewhat.
“I’m sorry.” Peta covered my hand with her own. “I shouldn’t have brought him up.”
“Do you know what gets to me the most about him and that man-stealing-bitch?”
“That he cheated on you? Arsehole.”
“Smudge,” I said, and we both laughed. “Well, yes, that gets to me, of course, but it’s not even really the fact that he cheated. Well, it is, but it upset me more that I didn’t even suspect. I feel so stupid.
“You are far from stupid, Lauren Lees.” She hiccupped, as was her custom as soon as more than one glass of wine had been consumed. “I’m sorry, Lauren Greer.”
“Looking back it was so damn obvious, but at the time I had no fucking idea,” I said.
Peta sat up and tilted her head. “Did you just say fucking?” She blinked. “Well, well, look at you, little-miss-good-girl, finally swearing like a trouper. Feels good, doesn’t it?”
I threw my head back and laughed a lot louder than I intended to. Some people at the bar turned and looked at me, so I pulled my chair in closer to the table and leaned towards Peta, talking softly. “There was this one time when we were both working late trying to negotiate some contract deal, and the man-stealing-bitch comes in and literally asked if she could ‘steal him’ for a moment. She needed help with something, and I, innocent and dumb me, was only too happy to oblige. I can just imagine them screwing on her desk in the next office, laughing at my foolishness. I hate feeling stupid.”
“He’s the stupid one, Ren. He’ll realise that soon enough. But by then, you’ll be madly in love with someone who sweeps you off your feet and you’ll never think of coffee beans while making love.”
“Coffee beans are good though. Coffee beans make good husbands.”
Peta nodded, and her whole body swayed with the movement. “Coffee beans are good,” she said firmly.
I fell silent, thinking of Gabe. The whole reason I wanted to come out with Peta was to tell her of my stupid mistake in kissing Gabe, but I didn’t even know how to broach the subject. I’d been avoiding it all night. Finally, I took a deep breath and decided to just blurt it out. “I kissed Gabe.”
It was Peta’s turn to snort wine. She wiped her hand across her nose. “Excuse me? It sounded like you just said you kissed Gabe. As in the young man—and I emphasise young—that works for me?”
I covered my face with my hands. “I did,” I mumbled through my fingers.
“Oh, Ren, you’ve really got to stay away from him. Nothing good can come of it, unless you’re into casual fucking, and I know you’re not a casual fucker.”
“I know!” I wailed. “I know I’m not a casual fucker, and I’m trying, but he’s rather persistent, and just oh so yummy.” I sighed.
Peta patted my hand. “Sure, he’s yummy, as you put it, but as soon as he’s had you, he’ll move on and you’ll be left feeling like the fool. Again. Remember? You don’t like feeling stupid.”
“But couldn’t I just do it for fun? People do it all the time. One night stand, a tumble in-between the sheets and then it’s all over, back to friends, like it never happened.”
“Sure,” Peta said, raising her eyebrows while taking another sip. “From what I’ve heard, Gabe would be able to do that no problem, but would you?”
My shoulders slumped and I started to pick the wax off the candle in the middle of the table. “No,” I said finally.
“You’re a good girl through and through, Ren. You could try to have a casual fling, but we both know you wouldn’t like it.”
“But I don’t really want him as a boyfriend, I mean, he’s so young. Maybe I could—”
“Speak of the devil.” Peta nodded behind me and my heart started to pound. I pulled myself up straight and looked wide-eyed at Peta. “Or rather, his henchman,” she amended. “Hey, Stefan.” She pushed back her chair and stood, wobbling slightly and Stefan reached out to steady her.
“Easy there, boss.” He turned and noticed me. “Oh, hey, Lauren.”
“Hi,” I replied brightly. Too brightly. I stood and the room swayed a little. Steadying myself against the table, I turned to face him, sticking out my hand.
He raised one eyebrow, grinned, and shook it, while still steadying Peta. He was with Elise again and she looked at me, not registering. She didn’t have a clue who I was.
“Having a good night, ladies?” He gently let go of Peta’s arm. She swayed again and he reached out to guide her to the seat. “Very good night, I take it.”
I could have chosen a million things to say, from, ‘Nice day, isn’t it?’ to, ‘How’s Jordan?’ But instead, the only words that came out were to ask where Gabe was.
Stefan shrugged. “Stayed at home tonight. Pussy. Something’s made him sore and he’s sulking in his room.”
Elise looked at St
efan sharply and pulled out her phone. “Maybe I should let Haleigh know.” She started tapping her phone but Stefan stopped her, glancing at me as he did.
“Don’t think that would be a good idea right now.” He looked between Peta and me and smiled awkwardly. “We better get going.” Then he leaned in towards me. “You alright with getting her home?”
Peta’s complexion had suddenly gone pale and she bolted from the table.
“We’ll be fine,” I said to Stefan, flashing a smile that I wasn’t convinced of. “Nothing I haven’t dealt with before.” I tried to brush it off, embarrassed that we were the drunk ones. It was supposed to be the other way around.
I followed Peta into the bathroom and could hear her retching into the toilet bowl. “You alright in there?” I asked when the heaving stopped. She slumped down the wall and her feet stuck out from under the door.
“When are we going to feel grown up, Lauren? You know what I mean?” She vomited again and the sound of it splashing in the toilet bowl set my own stomach turning. The smell didn’t help either. “When are we going to be mature and sensible and not vomiting in public toilets and shit like that?”
“To be fair,” I said, opening the door to her stall. “We haven’t vomited in public toilets for a while now, well, until tonight.”
She laughed and heaved again. “I keep waiting for it to kick in, you know? I keep thinking that one day I’ll wake up and be, like, ta-da!” She flung her hands out wide and hit the wall. “Ouch.” She tried again and managed to do it without hitting the wall. “Ta-da. I’m a grown up,” she said with far less enthusiasm than the first time.
“Maybe when we’re in our thirties?” I suggested.
“I already am and you will be soon,” Peta scoffed.
I pulled myself up on the vanity and leaned against the mirror. My stomach kept turning and I hoped it wouldn’t be my turn to hug the toilet bowl next.
“I’ve got three freaking kids, Ren. How on earth did that happen? Three.”
“If I need to tell you that, we’re in more trouble than I thought.”
“Ha, ha.” She was quiet for some time before continuing. “Sometimes I wake up, and I’m like—” She stopped talking long enough to concentrate on standing. “How on earth did I end up here?” The door creaked and Peta frowned, leaning heavily against the wall.
