by Lisa Heidke
‘Don’t mind me,’ Gloria says and waves us off. She’s happily ensconced at the kitchen table, coffee in one hand, weekend papers in the other.
‘I didn’t know you had chooks,’ I say once we’re outside in the dazzling morning sunshine.
‘I don’t, so this little expedition could take a while.’
Dom takes me by the hand and leads me through a field away from the house.
‘Where are we going?’
‘Up here, so we can be alone … maybe talk.’
I want to ask what he means by ‘maybe talk’ but the words aren’t forthcoming. My throat is dry and those stomach knots are back.
Ten minutes later we’re lying on the grass under a gum tree at the top of a hill. There’s no one around; except for a few black and white cows dotted on the hillside and a slight breeze blowing stray leaves, it’s quiet. The sun is warm and the air is a heady mix of cow manure, eucalypt and honeysuckle.
Dom leans across my body and kisses me on the lips. He pulls back and looks at me. I wrap my arms around his neck and we kiss again, this time more insistently. For a very long time. But still nowhere near long enough for me.
I tug at his shirt. Even though my hands are trembling, I pull it over his head and do a double-take … He smells fresh, is muscled but not too buff. Just right. And not a hint of fake tan.
I stop. Am I setting myself up for a fall again? We’ve only just re-established contact. Dom is my friend. Why would I want to jeopardise our friendship a second time? I like him and don’t want to wait another thirteen years before meeting up again. I don’t want to have to manufacture reasons to see him. If I stop now and we remain just friends, I won’t have to, but if I have sex with him, everything will change. We’ll no longer be friends …
While I’m having these sensible adult thoughts, my hands, evidently with their own agenda, have unbuttoned Dom’s Levi 501s and they’re now lying on the grass.
‘Wow,’ I mean to think, but instead say it out loud.
‘Wow, good or wow, bad?’
‘Wow, amazing,’ I say. Breathe, Lucy. Breathe.
He takes hold of me and pulls me towards him. I am deliriously happy. ‘Would you call this premeditated?’ he asks, drawing circles with his index finger over my stomach through my top.
‘Definitely … most definitely.’
‘And you’re willing to take responsibility for your actions?’ he says. My body tingles everywhere he caresses it.
‘Stop talking,’ I say, kissing him with every ounce of feeling I have.
‘You’re beautiful, Lucy.’ He kisses my neck.
‘Take my clothes off,’ I say, eager for some skin-to-skin action.
‘You haven’t answered my question. Will you take responsibility for what we might be about to do?’
‘What might we be about to do?’
‘Not the answer,’ he says, pulling my hands to the sides of my body and straddling me. I try to move my arms but they won’t budge.
‘Yes, yes, I’ll take responsibility. Yes, I know what I’m doing.’ I’m laughing. ‘Anything, Dom, please. Just kiss me and take off my clothes.’
‘All of them?’ he teases, lying back down on top of me and kissing my lips.
‘Everything,’ I demand, showering his cheeks and lips with light butterfly kisses.
I don’t have to ask twice. We’re naked. A good, happy, in the sun naked.
His tongue plays with my nipples. Exquisite. Divine.
By the time he slips his hand between my thighs I’m ready to explode.
‘Make love to me now,’ I croak.
‘Too soon,’ he says. ‘Far too soon.’
He takes me in his arms and kisses me long and hard.
I’ve waited forever for this moment. I want to tell him that I’ve always loved him, and that I’m sorry I didn’t go to the airport. That I wish … Well, there are so many things I wish.
‘Dom,’ I start.
‘It’s okay,’ he murmurs, his tongue nuzzling my breasts.
‘Ohh,’ is the last intelligible sound I make for a very long time.
We make love, the weight of his body on top of me, beside me, inside me. It’s perfect. He’s perfect. We’re perfect.
I want to cry with happiness, but I’m still unsure about where I … where we stand. I just know I could lie here forever and let the world pass me by. I want to tell him I love him. Always have. Always will. Even if this turns out to be a one-off, never-to-be-repeated episode. But I don’t want this feeling to end. Ever. I’m in heaven and can’t ever imagine getting enough of him.
I wonder if this is what it’s like for Max and Alana - that feeling of wanting to be touched, never satisfied, needing the moment to last a lifetime. I can’t believe I have these strong feelings for Dom, feelings that have been locked away for years …
As I reach to retrieve my discarded clothes I wish I could throw a child’s tantrum, demand that Dom and I remain lying together in the grass like this for the rest of the day. I don’t want to go back to the city, my house, reality - because in my reality, Dom has always been a fantasy and fantasies never come true.
On the walk back to his house, I take every opportunity to touch him … his arm, his face, his hair. But neither of us says a word. I don’t want to speak for fear of breaking the magic. Just before we reach the back door, Dom bends down to kiss me and I feel somehow overwhelmed, scared. Scared it will all come to an end now … after this kiss. Before it’s really begun.
‘What’s up?’ Dom asks when I hang on to him longer than I should.
‘I … It’s just …’
‘I know. You have a lot going on in your life right now.’
‘It’s not that complicated,’ I say, half laughing. I don’t want to have a serious conversation. Don’t want to lose the moment. I reach up and try to kiss him again, but he stops me.
‘Come on, admit it’s a little complex,’ he says, then hugs me tightly.
‘Shhh. Kiss me.’
‘Luce …’ he says, releasing me and kissing me lightly on top of my head. ‘Ready to go inside?’
‘No.’ Stay outside with me, I think. Once we go inside, I don’t know what will happen. I’m terrified.
‘Too bad.’ He whacks me lightly across the butt. ‘Come on, we’ll walk this path together.’
‘Where are the eggs?’ Gloria demands as we walk through the kitchen door.
I shrug my shoulders and feel like crying.
‘Thought as much,’ she smirks and pulls a twig from the back of my hair. ‘So … voila! Bella, Sam and I collected our own eggs - from the fridge - and made scrambled eggs.’
‘With mushrooms,’ says Sam.
‘And tomatoes,’ adds Bella and laughs.
‘This is delicious,’ I say to Bella and Sam as I devour a huge plate of toast, eggs, mushrooms and tomatoes. ‘I’m ravenous.’
Then I notice the dining table we’re sitting at is the same as mine. ‘This table, Dom?’ I say. ‘You bought this from the same place as mine, didn’t you? It’s almost as beautiful.’
‘Well, dining tables are so important, aren’t they? You spend so much time sitting at them. Eating at them.’
‘Reading the weekend papers,’ says Gloria.
‘Doing homework,’ says Bella.
‘Sticking chewing gum under them,’ adds Sam.
‘Exactly. Timber, especially recycled timber like this,’ Dom thumps the table with his hand, ‘has so much history, mystery. If timber could talk …’
‘Go on,’ I say.
‘Too much?’ he asks.
‘Not at all. You’re passionate. I like that. I really like that.’
‘If I could interrupt,’ Gloria says, just as the kids disappear into the other room to watch The Suite Life of Zack and Cody. ‘I found an article in the paper this morning that might be of interest to you both. About Gracie. You remember Gracie Gardener, don’t you, Dom?’
‘Darlene, you mean? Yeah, she was infatuated
with me at one time.’
‘You never told me that,’ I say.
‘See, you don’t know everything about me.’
‘Did you ever give her one?’ Gloria asks him.
‘Certainly not. When I told her I was saving myself for Lucy, she went ballistic.’
‘Did you really say that?’ I ask.
‘Yes, and I meant it.’
‘So that’s why the slut has hated me for years. I never understood until now.’
‘Do you want me to read this to you or not?’ Gloria says, busting her chops to reveal all.
‘Go ahead, I’m listening,’ I say.
‘Okay,’ Gloria says, getting all dramatic and clearing her throat. ‘Former Australian soap star Gracie Gardener was not let off lightly on charges of welfare fraud because she’s a celebrity, her lawyer says. Not let off lightly, my arse.’
‘Without the running commentary, thank you,’ I say.
‘Gardener, whose most recent role is as Seasons’ femme fatale, was sentenced to a six-month jail sentence and two-year good behaviour bond with a non-parole period of three months. The thirty-eight-year-old -’
‘Thirty-eight!’ I cut in. ‘I knew it. That lying bitchy witch. I knew she was older than me and now I have proof.’
‘Now who’s interrupting?’
‘Girls, enough. Gloria, keep reading,’ Dom says.
‘Gardener’s lawyer said the star was relieved to put a “long and arduous period of her life, which she regrets” behind her and that she urged others in her position to “come clean”.’
‘Yeah, right.’
Gloria glares at me before continuing. ‘Gardener was suffering from depression at the time of the offences, after the recent breakdown of her marriage to theatre critic and sometime celebrity spruiker Edwin Cassidy. The prosecution claimed the only reason Gardener stopped drawing the payments was because she was dobbed in by her former husband after she glued his genitals to his abdomen. The defence argued that Ms Gardener “had an inability to face reality” and had suffered a near breakdown after her fraud was brought to light.’
‘Any more?’ I ask.
Gloria raises her eyebrows and goes on. ‘Gardener, best known for her portrayal of the soapie siren Liv the Lush in the long-running TV series The Young Residents, won a Gold Logie in 1994 for the role, and five Silver Logies for other work.’
‘That’s it?’
‘What more do you want?’ Gloria asks.
‘I never knew Gracie loved you, Dom,’ I say.
‘I didn’t say she loved me. She harassed me. Once she came around wearing a full-length black fur coat and very little else.’
‘Charming. How could you resist?’
‘The point is I did resist. I ordered her out of the house, as I remember, and she went crazy.’
‘Excuse me, people. According to the evidence,’ Gloria waves the newspaper in the air, ‘I think you’ll find she’s still a loon.’
Afternoon arrives far sooner than it should. It almost kills me to pack the car for the drive home.
‘Before you go,’ says Dom, ‘I want to show you something.’
My gaze is instantly drawn to his crotch.
‘Not that,’ he says, giving me a nudge. ‘Though, on second thoughts …’
‘Okay, okay,’ I say, laughing. ‘What do you want to show me?’
‘My little workshop over here.’ He points to a large building close by.
‘I assume you keep cars, decrepit tractors in here, that sort of thing,’ I say when we arrive at the roller door.
‘Not quite.’
He opens the automatic door and turns on the light. Bella and Sam scurry in behind us.
‘This is so cool,’ Sam says. ‘So you make all this stuff, the chairs and everything?’
‘Sure do. I’m out here most days, making furniture - like tables.’
‘My table,’ I say, tears welling in my eyes.
‘Afraid so.’
‘Wow, I knew you were an amazing sculptor, but these pieces …’ I run my hand over a recycled hardwood sideboard.
‘They’re so distinctive. Original. I can’t believe it.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Nothing. It’s just that when I knew you, you were working with copper wire and making plasticine models.’
‘Fair call, but then I decided I’d had enough of copper.
I wanted to work with wood, so I started doing bits and pieces of furniture. I find it incredibly soothing.’
‘It’s all so beautiful, Dom. I bet you can’t keep up with demand.’
‘Yeah. What I thought would be a quiet venture is turning out to be huge. Word of mouth in a small town is incredible. I started making tables, but now I’m making every piece of household furniture you can imagine - sideboards, TV cabinets, beds.’
‘Where do you find the wood?’
Dom coughs. ‘Timber.’
‘Timber,’ I say, smiling.
‘I search demolition sites, go to country yard sales, travel around Australia attending timber auctions. It’s fascinating -’
‘Because of the history and the mystery?’ Gloria interrupts.
‘Yes, brat girl, exactly. And I make practical, functional pieces that’ll hopefully be around well into next century -’
‘Unless there’s a fire.’
‘Gloria!’ I say.
‘Joking! Geez. I get it. Timber - it’s a living thing, one of a kind, yada, yada.’
*
Dom and I don’t get a chance to talk alone. So when we leave, I feel awkward, sad and confused. I’m torn, and hesitate at the car door while the kids pile in.
‘Come on, Mum,’ Bella says. ‘It’ll be dark soon.’
Why is Dom just standing there? Why doesn’t he hug me, say something, anything? But he doesn’t. He doesn’t ask me to stay. He doesn’t cry or throw a tantrum. He just calmly watches while I reluctantly get into the driver’s seat.
‘So, we’ll catch up in another twelve or so years?’ I say feebly and start the engine.
‘Ten’s long enough next time,’ he says and smiles, then pats the bonnet of my car. ‘Hey Luce, if you could take back something you said or did, what would it be?’
I look at him, not quite understanding.
‘You know, our game.’
‘I’ll have to think about it,’ I say unsteadily.
As I drive away, I can feel the tears on my cheeks.
Max is waiting at the house when the kids and I arrive home. This is all I need.
‘Dad, we had the best weekend!’ Sam shouts.
‘So good,’ says Bella. ‘There were horses and everything.’
I busy myself unpacking the car while Max talks to the children. But minutes later, he comes looking for me.
‘Unless you let me come home right now, Lucy, I’ll put a stop on all the accounts and you’ll have to sell the house.’
I look at him, completely shocked.
‘I mean it.’
What the hell! I call his bluff.
‘Max, as luck would have it, the reality show is forking out for most of the renovation so you’re off the hook as far as financing it. And when it’s all finished, we can put the place on the market and sell it. It’s just a house. You’ll get half of what it’s worth - I’m not going to claim more than my share.’
‘Hang on, let’s not rush things. There’s no need to sell the house -’
‘I want to.’
It’s true, I realise. While I live here I’ll be forever tied to Max. I know I’ll always be connected to him because of Bella and Sam, but I don’t want a financial connection too.
I don’t want him or his threats hanging over my head.
‘That’s not what I want. I just want you to love me again … please, Lucy. Take me back,’ he pleads. ‘I really want to come home. Don’t you love me anymore?’
Just a few weeks ago I would have welcomed him back with all my heart, despite the guilt, the sh
ame, the everything. But it’s too late now. Way too late.
‘You’re the father of my children, which means I’ll always love you in some way, Max. But it’s not enough. So I’m setting you free to live your life with Alana.’
‘That’s not what I want.’
‘Well, live your life with some other teenager then. But not me. I’m sorry, Max, I really am.’
‘After all this time, it’s over, just like that?’ Max snaps his fingers.
‘I wouldn’t have said it’s happened just like that. You made your choice months ago, and now I’m living with it. But, yes, it’s over. End of story.’
‘But where will I live? What will I do?’
As if that’s my problem. I walk away, refusing to be drawn into Max’s circle of guilt. Max is the one who forced this situation, he’s the one who needs to deal with it. Moments later, I hear the door slam. He’s gone. It’s high time I changed the locks on the front door.
I go to bed confused. I’m desperate to see Dom again, but worried that it is all too complicated. After all, I do come with a lot of baggage - and two kids.
At least I feel confident about my decision about Max. I’m no longer willing to accept how he’s treated me - first the affair with Poppy; now Alana. The Max part of my life is over. But still I toss and turn in bed all night and think what if ?
Day 64
The phone wakes me at 6.36 am. It’s Mum.
‘Have you got the TV on?’ she asks breathlessly. he ‘I’m not even awake -’
‘Hurry up, hurry up,’ she babbles, then slams the phone down in my ear.
What fresh hell awaits? I drag myself out of bed.
While we were away over the weekend the builders positioned the TV in the new family room - and look at that, I think as I switch it on, it works!
My red leather lounge has also reappeared. Bliss. As well as my favourite coffee table, which is offset beautifully by Dom’s dining table and chairs at the other end of the room. There are even rugs on my beautiful parquetry floor. And primed bi-fold doors opening onto the sandstone terrace. Magic! It’s really coming together. The doors just need a couple of coats of paint … There are even knobs - beautiful, mother-of-pearl knobs - on the kitchen cupboards!
I turn the sound up, flip through several channels - Bob the Builder; Greek News; Snooker, Premier League - then stop. I can’t quite believe what I am seeing. It’s the footage of me pretending to be David Attenborough. In the background, the house looks a complete wreck.
