by Lisa Heidke
Okay, he’s still tall, tanned and has a full head of hair. Even from this distance, I can see he’s drop-dead gorgeous in a Hugh Jackman/Wolverine way.
He smiles. ‘Hey! What took you so long?’
‘What? It’s only been a dozen years.’ I am desperate to appear happy, together and casual.
‘Thirteen,’ he corrects and engulfs me in a huge bear hug. ‘Come here.’
I’m overwhelmed, but can’t take my eyes off him. His complexion is a little more lined, his teeth a little less bright, but his hair’s as thick and shiny as it used to be. And as for those gorgeous blue eyes, they’re still gorgeous. All of a sudden I’m back in Newtown all those years ago and we’re in love. Or at least I am.
‘Dom, this is Sam,’ I say, pulling the children towards me and hiding behind introductions. ‘He wants to be an assassin when he grows up. And this is Bella, my beautiful girl.’ I push her in front of me.
‘Hi, guys. Welcome,’ Dom says, smiling. ‘Ah, and the dazzling Gloria! Still working that black to perfection I see.’
‘Well, it is my signature,’ Gloria replies, a huge smile across her broad face.
I can’t help staring as he leads us up the stairs and onto the verandah. Even with Gloria poking me in the back, I’m lost for words. Every emotion I felt for him all those years ago is rising to the surface. I’m powerless to stop them.
‘Your home is gorgeous,’ I manage, as Dom takes us on a tour of the house. ‘And your furniture is exquisite.’
‘All locally made,’ he says.
I’m hardly listening. He could say he tortured chickens for a living and I’d reply, ‘That’s nice.’ Clearly, I’m not in charge of my emotions. I’ve been in his presence all of five minutes and my legs are jelly. I just want him to kiss me.
‘This place is massive,’ says Sam.
‘You live here alone?’ Gloria asks.
I mouth the word ‘subtle’ at her and shake my head.
She glances in my direction then smiles sweetly at Dom.
‘Nah, I live with Rusty. Hey, Rusty,’ he calls out. ‘Our visitors have arrived.’
My stomach lurches. Immediately, I feel nauseous and sad.
‘Here she is,’ Dom says as a portly red Labrador lumbers up beside him. ‘Rusty, this is everyone. Everyone, this is Rusty.’
‘She’s beautiful,’ Bella says, dropping to her knees and enveloping Rusty in a gigantic hug.
‘If you throw a tennis ball for her, she’ll be your best friend,’ Dom says.
‘Cool,’ Bella and Sam chorus. They run outside, Rusty at their heels.
‘So it’s just you and Rusty?’ Gloria persists. ‘You’re not married or -’
‘Gloria!’ I warn.
‘What?’ says Dom. ‘I don’t mind. Yes, I was married. Didn’t work out.’
‘Lucy was -’
‘Is,’ I remind her.
‘- married to an arsehole,’ Gloria finishes.
‘Surprisingly, it’s not that difficult to marry an arsehole,’ Dom says.
‘So how long have you lived here?’ I ask, changing the topic.
‘I’ve owned the property for eight years, but up until a couple of years ago I’d probably only spent a month here.
I was working overseas a lot.’
‘That must have been wonderful.’
‘To a point. I got tired of travelling, so two years ago I quit.’
‘Sculpting?’
‘Yeah, I was commissioning pieces for various galleries.’
‘Sounds glamorous.’
‘It wasn’t. I spent most of my time planning and juggling budgets instead of sculpting. So I packed up and came home. Now, it doesn’t matter whether people buy my work or not - I’m doing what I love. I decided I didn’t need the money that badly, or the aggravation. I have everything I need right here.’ He gestures to the spectacular view across the hills to the ocean. ‘I was always pissing off my agent because I wasn’t aligned with a particular school or movement, rarely attended openings and got sick of the critics.’
‘Because,’ says Gloria, ‘those who can’t, criticise.’
‘Exactly,’ Dom says with a shrug. ‘And I’m happy here.’
‘I can understand why,’ I say, peering out to where Bella and Sam are patting the horse through the fence. After waving to them, I turn to Dom and ask, ‘No horse flu here?’ Mother would be pleased with me.
‘Not likely,’ he says. ‘Disease wouldn’t dare present itself in the southern highlands.’
‘You were saying?’ Gloria asks him, giving me the eye.
He grins. ‘I like it here. I’m not saying that if a great offer came along I wouldn’t consider it, but I have a piece in an art gallery in Paris. That’s my claim to fame. I’m happy with that.’
‘And a gallery in Wollongong too, I hear,’ Gloria adds.
‘Yeah, the Gong has one of my sculptures.’
‘So, no desire to go back to the city?’ I say.
‘To live? Not at all. I have a much simpler life here, and I’m much calmer now that I’m running the show.’
‘And what show is that?’ Gloria asks.
‘Dabbling here and there. It keeps me off the streets and out of trouble. But enough about me, I want to hear all about my two favourite girls.’
‘Honey,’ says Gloria, ‘we’ve got more stories than could fill a book.’
‘New Idea, anyway,’ I say.
‘I’m sorry things are a bit of a mess for you,’ Dom says later when we’re sitting out on his verandah in the afternoon sunshine, enjoying a pinot gris from a local winery and some aged brie. ‘You deserve so much better. Max was obviously insane to leave you, Bella and Sam.’
‘Yeah, it’s tough, but in some ways I’m glad he left,’ I say, relaxing into a comfortable wingback rattan chair. The kids are off climbing mountains with Rusty and Gloria’s dozing in a hammock between two ancient gums. It’s all rather idyllic. If I get any more comfortable, I’ll fall asleep too.
Dom gives me an unconvinced look.
‘It’s true,’ I say. ‘The marriage wasn’t working - hadn’t been for a while. It was like a really worn pair of shoes that you know you have to get rid of, but I was scared to chuck them out and go barefoot. But when I did finally take them off and toss them out it was an absolute relief. Does that make sense?’
Dom smiles. ‘You’re happy walking barefoot and Max isn’t coming back?’
I nod and take a sip of wine.
‘But would you take him back?’
‘Of course not.’
‘That’s good to hear. So …’
‘So?’
‘What’s up with you and Rock Hardy?’
‘Why? Do you find the match so unbelievable?’
‘That he could be attracted to you? Absolutely not. You’re great, you know that. But do I think you could be with him long-term? Somehow, I can’t quite see it.’
‘Why?’ I say, punching him on the arm.
‘Because, he’s a baby.’
‘Oh, right. So it’s okay for men to cradle-snatch -’
‘Hey!’ He puts his hands up in defence. ‘All I’m saying is that surely whatshisname couldn’t satisfy you … intellectually?’
‘Because I’m so scholarly?’ Then I grin. ‘All right, I admit it was all a bit silly really …’
‘So, there’s nothing going on?’
‘No, of course not. The man wears shoe gloves, for God’s sake.’
I sip my drink and look around. Dom’s home is rustic country, not pretentious at all, kind of homey and comfortable. I can just make out Bella’s and Sam’s voices in the distance. ‘I love this place,’ I say. ‘It’s so peaceful … pure.’
‘Smooth change of topic, Luce, but you can’t get out of it that easily. Tell me about him. Besides being young, Rock’s good-looking and charming, isn’t he?’
‘It was a momentary lapse - I didn’t plan to fall into bed with him. It wasn’t premeditated … I was feeling vulnerable …’
‘Exactly.’
‘And is this madness likely to recur?’ Dom leans across and takes my hand. It’s comforting, strangely familiar and very sexy. It’s as if the years we’ve spent apart have been erased with one touch. I’m having trouble concentrating on the conversation.
‘What about you?’ I manage. ‘You’ve got an ex-wife - any children?’
‘No, unfortunately. We tried though. Really tried.’
I expected him to be guarded. Just because I’m an open book doesn’t mean others have to be. But Dom brings me up to speed on everything about his personal life.
‘In the end, Sybilla couldn’t cope with us not having children, and she blamed me. Said I was too caught up in my work, my own needs … It certainly wasn’t an easy separation and divorce, but is there ever such a thing? Lucy?’
I’m thinking about Dom and his ex-wife trying to conceive a child … man, oh man.
‘Lucy?’ he says again. ‘Your phone.’
I glance over at my bag. Inside it, my mobile’s ringing.
Loudly. ‘I thought you said you didn’t get good coverage here?’
‘We don’t. Usually. Would you like to … ?’
Yes. Yes, I would.
‘… answer it?’
‘Of course,’ I blurt and put the phone to my ear.
‘Only me, darling. Have I caught you at a bad time?’
‘Mother,’ I answer, and the moment with Dominic is lost. Not that there necessarily was a moment. Maybe it was all in my imagination.
‘I’m pleased things are finally turning around for you,’ Mum says. ‘What with all the drama of the last few months.
I just wanted to tell you that I’m proud of you.’
While I’m pleased that Mum is proud of me (from memory, she’s uttered those words only twice before: when my wedding scene in The Young Residents was voted Most Popular Soapie Moment, 1996; and again when I gave birth to Bella in 1998), I tell her as gently as I can that I’m in the middle of something and will call back later.
Mum’s still very much on the need-to-know diet, and the last thing she needs to know right now is that I’m a hundred and twenty kilometres away from home visiting the man from my past who I’ve never really stopped loving. The proud status I’ve just attained would be toast.
I’m taking a couple of minutes in the kitchen after dinner to gather my thoughts when Dom saunters in. I can’t think of anything to say so I just smile, but it feels more like a grimace. I’m drenched in excruciating, mind-numbing expectation and want to scream ‘Kiss me!’ I picture the two of us entwined …
‘What’s up?’ he asks.
‘Nothing.’
Don’t ask me why, but I jump up to sit on the kitchen bench, attempting insouciance, and knock over a carton of milk in the process. Briefly, I imagine having sex with Dom right here in the spilt milk, before sanity takes over and I jump down and mop up the milk with a tea towel.
‘Carry these?’ Dom asks, ignoring my absurd behaviour, handing me a stack of dessert plates. I follow him back into the dining room to join the others.
‘So,’ Gloria asks Dom and me when we’re all eating ‘homemade’ apple pie from a local bakery, ‘would you rather be happy yet slow-witted and unimaginative, or unhappy but bright and creative?’
‘How can you be happy but slow-witted?’ I ask, inhaling the aroma of baked apples.
‘Look, you’re not allowed to get analytical. It’s not part of the game. You just have to answer the question.’
‘Okay,’ I say. ‘Then I’ll take unhappy but bright and creative.’
‘Why?’ Gloria asks.
‘Because I can take medication to make me happy. I can’t take a pill to fix slow wit and lack of imagination.’
‘Good answer,’ Dom says, sucking his dessert spoon, clearly impressed with my reasoning.
‘I’ve got one,’ I say. ‘Would you rather go a week without bathing but be able to change your clothes, or a week without a change of clothes but be able to bathe?’
Gloria laughs. ‘You’ve got first-hand knowledge of this one, Luce.’
It’s not until a couple of hours later, when the kids have gone to bed with fat Rusty and Gloria’s strategically removed herself from the conversation, that Dom and I talk again.
‘What happened?’ I say, staring into the open log fire, watching the embers as they float up and disappear inside the chimney.
Dom looks at me, serious and concerned. ‘With what?’
‘Us.’ I glance away from him. Us … I want to know what happened to us. What might have been, should have been, but isn’t.
‘Luce, it wasn’t the right time for us. You know that. If I hadn’t left that morning, I never would have gone to Europe. I would have stayed behind and -’
‘I might have gone to Europe with you.’
‘Even worse. You were on the brink of great things in your acting career, and, if memory serves, they happened.’
‘So I have you to thank for that?’
‘Exactly. Besides, we were too young. Way too young. At least, I thought we were. You, on the other hand, found yourself a bloke quick smart.’
‘And wasn’t he a keeper?’
‘You know, Luce,’ Dom says, taking a sip of wine, ‘I always thought I’d come back to Australia in a couple of years and we’d pick up from where we left off.’
‘But you didn’t come back for ten years.’
‘That’s only because I found out about you and whatshisname. A couple of years after I leave, you’re married with a baby on the way.’
‘I guess it was a bit quick,’ I say, breathing in the wood smoke.
‘A bit?’
‘I didn’t think you cared. After all, I did throw myself at you that night.’ I cringe at the vivid memory.
‘And I loved it. Do you know how much self-control it took for me to leave the next day?’
‘Didn’t you think I was pathetic?’
‘Never. It was all about timing.’
‘Isn’t it always?’
‘I knew I could wait. And you?’
‘I can explain …’
‘The clock’s ticking, sweetheart. I was gutted about you and Max. I wrote you a letter.’
‘I didn’t get it.’
‘I didn’t post it.’
‘What did it say?’
‘Don’t marry him.’
‘I could have done with that advice.’
‘Would it have made a difference?’
‘I’m not sure,’ I answer truthfully. ‘I thought I was in love with Max, but I knew I was in love with you … ah, at the time when I knew you,’ I say, back-pedalling.
Dom leans forward and kisses me. It’s been thirteen years. And his kiss is definitely worth the wait.
‘Mmmmm,’ I say.
‘Mmm good? Or mmm bad?’
‘Mmm, more … Maybe I still have a little crush on you …’
‘What? Only a little one? We’ll have to see what we can do about that.’
A small voice breaks the moment. ‘Mummy, I had a bad dream.’
It’s Sam. Perfect timing. Perfect.
Reluctantly, I wrench myself away from Dom and walk Sam back to his room where I tuck him into bed. After I’ve rubbed his head and kissed him goodnight, I try to leave, desperate to recapture the magic with Dominic. But Sam won’t let me.
‘Please don’t go, Mummy, I’m scared.’
Fair call. We’re in a strange house, staying with a stranger.
‘I’ll take you into my bed,’ I say. ‘Would you like that?’
He jumps up and is in my room before I’ve gathered his dressing gown and stepped out into the hallway. When I catch up with him, I see that Bella has already put herself to sleep in my bed as well.
‘Are you getting in, Mum? It’s freezing,’ Sam says, snuggling next to Bella.
I change into my comfortable pink-striped flannelette pyjamas (se
e, I wasn’t really expecting romance) and am suddenly exhausted. The three of us cuddle in the king-sized single bed. With Rusty lying across the foot of the bed, it’s very crowded in here! As I’m drifting off, I realise I don’t ever want to leave my kids or for them to ever leave me.
I’m happy just the way we are.
Day 63
It’s after nine when I wake. There are no little people in my bed. Surprising, given their fear last night. And there is no dog.
Oh … last night.
I realise Sam saved me from making a complete fool of myself. As if I haven’t got enough on my plate without adding the heartache of unrequited love to the list. Did I really believe that Dom and I could make wild passionate love on a sheepskin rug in front of an open fire with only scented candles and the moonlight to guide us? How old am I? Eighteen?
I stretch for a few minutes before deciding I really should get up and tend to my children, even though I’m sure Gloria and Dom can handle them.
‘Must be that fine country air,’ says Gloria, when I finally wander into the kitchen.
‘Coffee?’ Dominic asks.
I nod and quickly look away. What was I thinking last night? The past is in the past. I definitely have to get over it … and him. But I can’t stop my eyes wandering back to the man. His hair falls boyishly over his forehead … and his hands … so strong. His fingers, long and perfect. Just like the rest of him.
His right hand brushes against mine as he sets my coffee down on the table. Dear Lord! At this point, I’d sell my soul for half an hour with Dom naked. Don’t get me wrong though. I wouldn’t sell my children. Rent them, maybe. But never sell them permanently.
‘Glad you slept,’ Dom says with a smile. ‘I didn’t sleep a wink.’
‘Where are the kids?’ I ask, looking around.
‘Watching the Disney channel,’ he replies.
I raise my eyebrows.
‘In the TV room. We’re not as backward in the country as folks would have you believe. We have electricity, telephones and, yes, cable television. As well as a flying fox rigged up over the river nearby.’
‘My kids’ll never want to leave.’
‘That’s okay,’ Dom says. ‘I could use the company. But at the moment, I’ll settle for you,’ he says, looking straight at me, ‘coming outside to collect some eggs so we can have omelettes for breakfast.’
