Just As You Are

by Kate Mathieson

  ‘Nick?’ I could barely make out any shapes, or Nick. ‘Nick, this isn’t funny, turn it back on.’

  To my right I saw a shadow move out of the corner of my eye. ‘Nick!’ I said in a high-pitched voice. ‘Where are you?’

  In an act of desperation, I reached out to grab the light, and as I did Nick turned it on, up against his chin, so it made his face look grotesque, and he let out a horrible low moan, like a disturbed ghost.

  Petrified, I opened my mouth and shrieked like a banshee, a bit like Britney Spears did when she shaved off all her hair (well, as I imagined her to be doing in all those photos of her), and I couldn’t stop.

  ‘Shush. Emma, it’s me,’ Nick said, dropping the flashlight, which fell to the ground and switched off, so we were standing there in pitch black again. I thought I felt something on the back of my neck again, and I was thinking of all the horror movies I’d seen, especially the horrible devil thing at the end of Paranormal Activity, and I couldn’t stop screaming.

  Suddenly, Nick reached out, his hands found my arms, and he pulled me into his broad chest. ‘Emma,’ he said, and his mouth was warm and so near my head. Being against his chest as I had been in Fiji jolted me out of my banshee state. He felt so warm, and strangely familiar. And I could feel my heart pumping hard, and tiny little bolts of electricity run through my chest. ‘I’m sorry. I had no idea that was going … Are you OK?’ And he felt so wonderful. I literally thought I was going to lean up and kiss him. But I couldn’t. That was entirely inappropriate and unprofessional.

  Suddenly, I had a brilliant idea to get me away from Nick’s wonder-hug and to exact my revenge for him scaring the bejesus out of me.

  I pretended to run out of breath and faint, collapsing in his arms. It sounds romantic, but it wasn’t. Nick staggered around for a bit, trying to keep me upright, with some overexerted ‘ooofs’ as I made sure my legs were like jelly. Eventually, he managed to lay me down on my back on the ground.

  ‘Emma? Emma?’ I could feel him peering over me. ‘God, Emma, are you OK?’

  I stayed silent, eyes closed, trying not to laugh.

  ‘Emma,’ I could hear him fumbling around for his mobile phone, ‘Emma talk to me. God are you still breathing?’

  He leaned his ear over my nose and mouth and I held my breath.

  ‘God, hold on, Emma, I’m calling someone.’ He sounded panicked. I could hear him press the keys on his phone to dial someone; just before he finished, I grabbed his knee with my hand.

  He let out a yell and dropped the phone.

  I sat up cackling evilly and said, ‘Ha ha, sucker.’

  He fell back, panting. ‘Oh, my God. I nearly had a heart attack.’

  ‘That makes two of us,’ I said happily, switching the flashlight app on my phone on. In the light, Nick’s face looked sweaty and red, and I almost felt bad. Almost. ‘You deserved that, and you know it.’

  His eyes narrowed but I could see he was trying not to laugh. ‘Did I?’

  ‘Yes!’ I stood and dusted myself off, and picked up my flashlight, which was well and truly broken.

  He got up and still looked a bit shaky. ‘I thought you’d totally passed out, or …’

  ‘Or you’d killed me?’ I couldn’t help but smile. ‘Sorry, because then maybe my funeral could have been the macabre event.’

  ‘At this rate, it will be yours and mine together. If we don’t have something for Glenn tomorrow.’

  ‘Possibly. But, unfortunately, I think the only thing that’s dead around here is this light. Now, before we meet a ghost, let’s get the heck out of here.’

  On the walk out of the cemetery, I suddenly realised all the excitement had made me really hungry. ‘Do you want to get something to eat?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ Nick admitted with a glint in his eye. ‘You almost killed me.’

  ‘And you almost scared me to death.’

  ‘So, we’re even?’ he asked.

  ‘I believe I still owe you one shark scaring at sea …’ I teased, before I could think about what I was saying. Then I realised I’d inadvertently brought it back to Fiji and the idea of us together, and the seafood platter. And put my foot in it again. God, I had no filter.

  I couldn’t read his face, but he ignored that comment completely, and I wasn’t sure what that meant. ‘Well, there’s a pretty good Mexican up the road.’

  ***

  Over burritos and bottles of cheap beer, we chatted about other ideas for the macabre night, until I said, ‘I can’t talk about death any more. It’s so depressing.’

  ‘Shall we talk about Santa instead?’

  ‘The tooth fairy?’ I grinned.

  ‘Easter Bunny and a round of chocolate?’ Nick took a swig of beer. ‘So, what was that back there?’

  ‘I think, mostly, that was you trying to scare me, and me getting you back,’ I said, licking a clump of yummy black beans and cheese from my fork. ‘Even better, if I do say so myself.’

  ‘And then you falling into me, like you were some sort of damsel in distress.’

  ‘Correction – you grabbing me because you scared me to the point of banshee screaming. Did someone mention harassment?’ I smiled at him, to show I was completely joking.

  ‘Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to hug my employees.’ Nick ate a bite of his beef burrito then said in an offhanded way, ‘Especially since I heard Phil talking about you dating someone. Wouldn’t want to make someone jealous.’

  Jealous? I couldn’t work out what he meant by that. It could have been totally innocent, but also it could mean … no. I wouldn’t obsess over one word, and overanalyse it as I’d done with every other guy previously. Nick was my boss. And was clearly making conversation. Nothing more, nothing less.

  I snuck another look at him as he took a swig of his beer. His hands were so perfect. If only he weren’t so good-looking, so kind, so nice, so funny. Damn it. No, I wouldn’t think about how it felt to hug him back there. Or the way I wished he would hug me again. Even thinking about it made my heart start pumping so loudly I thought it was going to bounce out of my chest, and come to rest on Nick’s plate, yelling, I THINK I LIKE YOU.

  ‘Oh, you heard that?’ I said, trying to downplay the conversation. ‘You better watch out, he’ll be offering his set-up dating services to you, if you’re not careful.’

  ‘Actually, Phil has already poked his head into my office and asked me if I wanted any help on the dating front. Twice,’ he said.

  ‘He did?’ I laughed at Phil’s gumption. That took guts, offering to help your boss out in the dating stakes. ‘And you said …?’ I was intrigued to find out if Nick was single.

  ‘I said I didn’t need his help. He seemed a little gutted.’

  Oh, so he was potentially seeing someone.

  ‘I think he wants a new career as a matchmaker,’ I said, looking at Nick. Even slightly hot and sweating in the burrito shack, he looked gorgeous, with his dark blond hair tousled to the side, and his T-shirt revealing his wonderfully smooth tanned skin. ‘Besides, there’s no time for anyone to date at Maker. I mean, my crazy boss is making me work very long hours.’

  ‘Oh, is he?’ Nick shook his head and made tsk-tsking noises.

  ‘You’ll never guess what his latest idea was – that we go walking in the dark in a cemetery.’

  ‘He seems interesting.’

  ‘You got interesting from that?’

  ‘Yes, at least he’s not vanilla,’ Nick pointed out.

  My hand froze in mid-air with the chilli bottle in my hand. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘Vanilla. You know boring, plain—’

  ‘I know what it means. I’ve just not heard anyone else say that. It’s what I normally say.’

  ‘Great minds think alike.’ He leaned his glass forward as if to cheers me, and I felt unable to drag my gaze from his hand. He had great hands. Big hands. Great. Finally, I lifted my beer to meet his.

  Nick was still speaking. ‘So, then, if you’re not va
nilla, what flavour of ice cream would you be?’

  ‘Tutti frutti,’ I said quickly. ‘Full of surprises. You never know what you’re going to get.’

  ‘Also,’ Nick pointed out, ‘a flavour that no one chooses.’

  I stared at him. ‘Are you seriously saying that, when I have the chilli bottle and could douse your entire dinner in …’ I read the label carefully ‘… level nine, hot crazy sauce?’ For extra effect I popped a dash over the end of his burrito. ‘Did that even come out?’ I asked and tipped it up for a few more splashes but the bottle appeared to be blocked.

  Nick took the bottle out of my hand, and slightly grazed my fingers, which gave me a warm tingle up my arm. ‘I think we should put that down,’ he joked. ‘And I meant that particular flavour isn’t something people choose, so maybe you’re not that. Maybe you’re something else.’

  ‘Like?’ I prompted him.

  ‘Like … gimme a minute.’ He looked up at the ceiling, carefully considering it.

  ‘Well, what would you be?’ I asked, taking a bite of my burrito.

  ‘Easy. I’d be peppermint chocolate chip. Peppermint is refreshing, it always feels new. And, well, chocolate is strong and resilient. There isn’t a situation that can’t be made better with chocolate.’

  I held up my hand. ‘Wait a second! I’m sure there are situations that chocolate doesn’t come in handy.’

  ‘White chocolate and butterscotch,’ he said quickly.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You’d be white chocolate and butterscotch caramel. Mostly white chocolate, but some globs of butterscotch caramel, that catch you unaware, by surprise.’

  How on earth did he come up with that? Nobody liked white chocolate; I mean, technically it wasn’t even chocolate. And a glob? A glob? To be globby felt big, or fat. I suddenly became aware that I was eating an entire burrito plate. For a moment, I almost stopped eating. But then I thought screw that. I loved tortilla wraps with refried beans with cheese.

  ‘So, basically, I’m the white version of you? Besides, white chocolate isn’t even chocolate,’ I pointed out. ‘It’s just a whole load of milk and sugar. Like vanilla.’And the word, as it always did, spun my mind back to seven years ago. Murray. Busline. Suburbia. Long service leave. My wedding dress had been the colour of French vanilla. The colour of my thighs when we were together had been vanilla, because he hated the beach and being out in the sun. And honestly, Murray was vanilla. Come to think of it, most things that were white were really bad. Or at least I thought they were.

  I bet some people out there loved vanilla. Loved security and stability and having salmon Mondays and chicken Tuesdays and tuna casserole Wednesdays, and going to Bunnings hardware stores every weekend for a sausage sizzle, before taking the two kids to the park for a bike ride. But that life seemed like my worst nightmare. I was never made to be vanilla, and Murray was, and that was just how we were.

  We’d never belonged together. Suddenly I realised all this time I’d felt guilty that I was too much of a free spirit, and maybe I should have settled down. Maybe I should have taken that house on the busline. Maybe I wasn’t grown up enough.

  But suddenly I saw it so clearly: Murray was vanilla and that suited other vanilla people. And I was tutti frutti, or globby white chocolate, and both those flavours needed something else completely. I felt a fierce jolt through my veins, because I realised it wasn’t my fault. It felt electrifying. I shook my head and said with confidence, ‘Plain, simple vanilla is not my style. At all.’

  ‘Why do I get the feeling we’re not talking about ice cream any more?’ Nick put down his beer and looked at me, waiting for me to speak.

  ‘You’re right,’ I admitted. I wasn’t going to say anything, but when I looked up at him, his unshakeable chocolate eyes looked so kind, it all just came tumbling out. ‘I dated someone vanilla once.’ I paused. ‘And it went well for a while, until it didn’t go well at all.’ And suddenly I was spilling parts of my past I’d promised never to tell anyone again. And once I started, it all fell out, including The White Horror.

  When I finished, I picked up my beer and downed it in one gulp, then asked the waitress to bring me another. Then I gave him a small smile. ‘Sorry, I don’t know why I’m talking about that. It was a long time ago. But I think what you said the other day rung a bell with me. Once someone breaks the trust it’s hard to get back. Not even with the same person, but with different people too.’

  Nick looked at me intently, and said softly, ‘I get exactly what you’re saying.’ He took a swig of beer, as if he was building to say something. ‘Something about me that I don’t tell many people: a few years ago my partner of eight years cheated on me.’

  I grimaced.

  ‘Yeah, it gets worse,’ he said with a tight smile. ‘With her work colleague. Isn’t that like so clichéd? And not just once, they were seeing each other for a while – a year, I think.’

  I shook my head. ‘Gosh, I’m so sorry.’ I gasped, feeling so bad for him. I wanted to hug him, and it was all I could do not to lean over the table and touch him. I literally had to put my hands on the table in front of me, almost wedge them under my plate.

  ‘And Emma, I’m sorry. Being left at the altar, even if they’re not your person, is not OK. Ever. I’m so sorry that happened to you.’ And I was sure he went to put his hand on top of mine, but then he stopped. Because he was my boss? Because he thought it would give me the wrong idea?

  I took a sip of my beer. ‘Thanks. I think when it’s the right person, you just know. Even if it’s after a day, a week.’

  Nick and I stared at each other and it felt dangerous. There was something there, I was sure of it. I was starting to have thoughts like – maybe some office relationships can work. Maybe we’re the one per cent.

  I was about to suggest we have one more round of beers, when Nick took a bite of his burrito, then quickly spat it out, fanning his throat. ‘Hot, hot,’ he spluttered.

  Oh, God, the sauce.

  ‘Water,’ he said in a strangled voice.

  I shoved his glass of water in front of him. He downed it in a second, so I shoved my glass, which he downed too.

  ‘Milk, please!’ I called to the waitress, who brought over a glass of milk and some rice.

  ‘Rice!’ she said. ‘It helps.’ We were both looking at Nick, who was going a deep shade of redish-purple, and drooling out of the corner of his mouth.

  He started spooning in rice and then throwing down the milk. I couldn’t help but laugh as his face went back to just a red colour. ‘Do you think chocolate would have made that situation better?’ I teased, thanking God it felt as though the awkward moment was over and we were back to normal. So, it turned out that was all you needed to clear up a bit of awkward tension – choking.

  Finally, he managed to talk. ‘I think I’m dying,’ he said, falling back against the wall, sweaty and hot.

  ‘Oh, my God, that’s it!’ I looked at him with glee. ‘The theme to our event!’

  Chapter 19

  Thankfully, Glenn loved the idea. When we pitched it, he actually had a smile on his face, something I’d never seen before.

  ‘Inspired by Día de los Muertos. Mexico’s Day of the Dead,’ I said, flicking to our presentation, ‘a day when the veil thins between the two worlds, the living and the dead. And the spirits come back to their family for one day to join the living.’

  I paused. ‘It’s macabre, because we’ll decorate the place with traditional Mexican skulls, but there will be the typical festival celebration feel to it, and the area will be decorated with marigolds, candles and rosaries. But our event will honour unity – it will celebrate all countries, all cultures, and all people. From Africa to Asia, we’ll have cultural dancing and music, from each country IAH is established in, to celebrate the spirit of family and coming together. And also act as a remembrance for those on the other side of the veil.

  ‘Instead of the staid sit-down meals, the three-course dining, the elegant tables
, we at Maker live on the edge,’ I continued. ‘We’re pushing the boundaries by asking people to enjoy international Michelin-starred food carts set up around the room. They will be able to choose for themselves what they want to have, and then take it back to their tables.’

  I clicked to the next slide, and continued. ‘This is not your average sit-down ball. Yes, people will wear ball gowns, but they will be treated to a feast for all the senses. They will really feel like they are in Mexico. Or Japan. Or India. A completely submersive experience.’ I smiled. ‘People will talk about this for ages.’

  When we finished, I almost felt like bowing, especially when Glenn said, ‘Call in the clients, Nick. It’s ready to show them for final sign off. And don’t tell anyone about it. Keep the mystery, it’s getting everyone talking. I even had the CEO of the SydneySider magazine ring me the other day, dropping her title and wanting an exclusive.’

  Nick smiled. ‘That’s great. We’ll wait until the day before to do a press release about the theme, until then, you got it – no one but the three of us, the executive clients and the designers will know.’

  Glenn’s phone started ringing. He held up his hand, to signal it was important, and left the room to take the call. When he came back, his face looked dark. ‘Honey is on her way home, on the plane. We have to meet it.’

  ‘Problems?’ Nick asked.

  ‘Another run in.’ He shook his head. ‘It will be splashed all over the media tomorrow. This time, she’s been charged with …’ he paused and shook his head ‘… assaulting a police officer.’

  Nick and I shared a look that said ‘holy crap’.

  ‘She needs babysitting, twenty-four seven. I don’t even know how we’ll spin this, to line up with her as the new spokesperson for a charity.’ He shook his head again. ‘Christ. We need to go into crisis mode. Immediately.’

  ‘Fine, Glenn, Emma and I will look after it, twenty-four seven.’ Nick nodded.

  We would? This was news to me.

  ‘Who can pick her up from the airport?’

  Nick looked at me. ‘I would, but I have plans that can’t be moved tonight, so, Emma?’ It didn’t sound like a question.