by Jane Frances
Cathy accused Lisa of having an affair. Lisa vehemently denied it.
“Honestly Cathy,” Lisa said, her angry tone softening. She had initially flared at the mention she was doing anything untoward. “I am not having an affair. I would never do that to you.”
Cathy still harbored doubts, but took Lisa at her word, deciding another change of tack was required. Instead of ranting and raving, she would just let Lisa go. Hopefully, with no more barriers, she would snap out of this crazy stage and they could get on with life again as normal.
Deciding on the plan of action was the easy part. Living it was quite another. She spent many lonely nights as Lisa took full advantage of the free rein she had been given, staying out later and later and more often than not returning home cock-eyed from beer or bourbon, or whatever drink she had imbibed that night.
It was the night Lisa didn’t come home at all that tipped Cathy over the edge. No longer able to hold her tongue, she flew at Lisa from the moment the key turned in the lock at nearly midday. Accusations of affairs resurfaced, as did old hurts and old threats from many arguments prior.
“Jesus Cathy. Get a grip will you.” Lisa stood in the entrance, not having made it past the front door. “I’ve already told you, Jack and Evelyn split up last night. I stayed with Jack because she was upset.”
“Yeah, and I’m sure you well and truly consoled her.”
“Think what you like.” Lisa shouldered past Cathy and stalked down the hallway. “I’m sick of this.”
Still steaming, Cathy followed Lisa into the bedroom. “Well I’m fucking well sick of this too Lisa. Either pull yourself together or get out. I’ve got better things to do than sit around and wait for you to come to your senses.”
Lisa spun sharply on her heel. “You know what Cathy? That’s the best idea I’ve heard in a long while.”
Within an hour of walking in the front door, Lisa walked out of it again, armed only with her keys, her sunglasses and whatever she had thrown into her backpack. The last words she said before closing the door were, “Enjoy your boring little existence.”
For two days Cathy clung desperately to the belief Lisa would return. By day three Cathy was on the phone to the hospitals, praying Lisa had not had an accident but thinking it was the only plausible reason she had not come home. That afternoon she called Lisa’s mum. No, Lisa had not been in contact. Yes, she would ring as soon as she found out anything.
Genuine concern echoed through the phone line, “Are you okay Cathy?”
“Yes Mrs. Smith,” Cathy lied, wiping her eyes with a shirt sleeve. “I’m fine.”
That same evening Cathy was nibbling on the dry cracker she called dinner when the phone rang. It was Lisa’s mum. Lisa had called and given a contact number. It was Jack’s. Cathy knew it by heart from the number of times she stood over the phone, fingers ready to dial and words ready to tell Jack and her partner to get the hell out of their life.
But she never had.
To Cathy’s complete surprise, it was Evelyn who answered her call. Either Lisa had lied about Evelyn and Jack splitting, or they had patched things up.
“I’m sorry,” Evelyn’s chirpy manner made Cathy want to reach through the phone and strangle her. “She’s not here at the moment.”
“Can you ask her to ring me please?”
“Will do.”
Cathy waited. And she waited. She avoided leaving the house for anything more than a quick dash to the mailbox in case she missed Lisa’s call. But it never came.
The first time she left the apartment for any period of time was for the start of classes. Hopeful Lisa might turn up, Cathy scanned the crowd milling outside the lecture theatre. But she didn’t show at either the lecture or the tutorial immediately following.
When she returned home, she found all of Lisa’s things gone. Cathy sank onto the bed and for the first time admitted to herself that it was truly over. The empty drawers and horrendously naked space in the wardrobe drove home the fact that the woman who Cathy still loved helplessly was not coming back.
Cathy was desolate in her loss. She retreated into herself, spending long hours alone, her only contact with the outside world when she occasionally dragged herself to class. In the dark hours before dawn she would lay awake reliving the time she spent with Lisa and analyzing why things had turned sour. Cathy swung on a pendulum of blame. At one extreme she was at fault, at the other the rift was caused entirely by Lisa.
It was not long before Easter Cathy made the conscious decision to get back on track. Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, she fingered hair that had lost its gloss, and noted the dark shadows under her eyes. She had shed a tremendous amount of weight, and not having carried an excess in the first place, the reflection that stared back at her was gaunt and pallid. Her pendulum was high in its self-blame arc. As Cathy critically assessed herself she came to the conclusion Lisa had left because she was ugly unlovable, and stupid. Cathy was also staring down the barrel of her first academic failure. A raft of assignments were due before the Easter break and she hadn’t started any of them.
As Cathy continued to study herself, the pendulum did a sharp swing in the opposite direction. Lisa may have chosen to leave, but she was not to blame for how Cathy handled it. She could either continue wallowing in her grief forever and a day, or she could rejoin the land of the living and try to get on with things.
Cathy decided on the latter. First thing she did was force down some food. Then she threw herself into her studies, rising early and working late to catch up on all she had missed. It was a struggle and she just made the deadline for the last pre-Easter assignment with minutes to spare. But she did make it. She continued to make it for the rest of the year, her devotion to her study providing a welcome distraction from all the triggers that served to remind of Lisa. Each time Cathy was reminded—by a song on the radio, a similar laugh or even by something as small as a familiar turn of phrase—she would tune it out by concentrating harder on her books. By the time her studies drew to a close her results reflected her hard work. They also did not go unnoticed by the companies conducting on-campus graduate recruitment interviews. Cathy was left in the enviable position of having to choose between three accountancy firms vying for her services, all of them large reputable companies, one based in Sydney. The choice was not a hard one to make. A few days after New Year, Cathy handed the apartment key back to her father, hugged her mother good-bye and boarded a plane for the other side of the country.
Six years later, Cathy landed back in Perth. It was not her first trip back; she tried for at least two visits to her family each year. But this time, when she walked out to the arrival lounge, it was not for a three- or four-day stay, it was permanent. Cathy had enjoyed her time in Sydney. It was a vibrant, multicultural city where there was always something happening. But over time its luster dulled and Cathy found her return to the East a bit more difficult with each visit she made to her home state.
Despite her homesickness for Western Australia, the decision to relocate did not come easily. Cathy had risen through the ranks of her company at speed and would be leaving a hefty salary package behind, not to mention colleagues she both admired and whose company she enjoyed. She didn’t have a job waiting in Perth; she instead made the decision to hang out her own shingle. Financially there was no problem, her trust would more than cover her needs. Professionally, Cathy knew she was well equipped for the task. Emotionally . . . well, Cathy was pretty sure she was ready to face Perth again.
She had been. Time had done what time did best. It had ironed out the creases, and smoothed out the kinks in her armor. Cathy set to building her practice and rebuilding her life in Perth with gusto. Her doors opened for trade within two months. Sue was hired as receptionist shortly after that and twelve months later Toni came on board. Cathy had bought a house, leased a car and joined a couple of women’s groups. Everything was going along swimmingly.
But there was always a lingering thought that one day s
he may run into Lisa. For the most part it was kept locked away, but occasionally Cathy let the thought wander freely. It was at these times Cathy wondered what Lisa was up to, what direction her life had taken, whether or not she was still even in Perth. Once she checked the phone book, but with Smith for a surname it was like trying to find a needle in a haystack. She also toyed with the idea of calling Lisa’s mum, but never acted on it. If she and Lisa were to meet, it would have to be either by Lisa’s doing or by chance. Cathy was not going to orchestrate any moves. Still, it was an interesting exercise to imagine how she may react to such a meeting.
However, none of Cathy’s theorizing prepared her for the reality, which struck with a force as real as a physical blow to the body. Cathy winced as she remembered. There actually had been a physical blow to the body. She’d walked around with a sore arse for days after her tumble off the fence. But the physical pain paled in comparison to the jolt to her psyche.
Successfully quashed memories re-emerged in a torrent, so fast she felt she could not grip onto any of them. It was only when Cathy bid her goodnight to Toni and was in the safety of her car that she allowed herself to begin sifting through her jumble of thoughts. The task had occupied her for the remainder of the weekend, and the results were unnerving. Even more so in light of the doubts Toni later placed in her mind.
Now, finally resolute, Cathy shunted the garden center accounts away and drew the phone closer. Her fingers thrummed on the desk as she waited impatiently for the call to connect to Lisa’s mobile. Cathy cursed as a woman’s voice cheerfully announced the call could not be connected. Lisa must have either turned her phone off or moved out of range since they had spoken earlier. Still determined, Cathy figured she could try the fixed line. It was mid-afternoon; maybe Lisa had already packed it in for the day. On the fifth ring it switched to an answering machine.
“Hi you have reached Hawthorn Tiling. We’re currently unavailable to take your call—”
The deep timbre of Joel’s voice caught Cathy completely off guard, and she quietly placed the receiver back in its cradle, not wanting to listen to the rest of the message.
Her mind raced. Lisa and Joel worked together. Maybe they also shared a house. Separate bedrooms. The whole platonic housemate thing. Or maybe . . .
No. Cathy refused to believe it.
She didn’t know what the hell to believe. All she knew was she wished she had never clapped eyes on Lisa again. Then she wouldn’t have to face the fact time hadn’t really healed, it had only delayed. Eleven years, two cities and two lovers later, and one look from Lisa could still send Cathy into a tailspin. That must surely qualify for some world record in pathetic.
“Damn you Toni.” Cathy folded her arms on the desk and rested her forehead on the cradle that they formed. “Of all the tilers in Perth, you had to choose Hawthorn Tiling.”
“Damn cat.” Virgil was next to take the verbal onslaught. “Should never be allowed out of the damn house.”
Interior design trends, tax deductible capital works and the general state of the nation all took a thrashing. It made Cathy feel a bit better. Not much. But a little.
Chapter Seven
“I’m never going to get this done.” Lisa hefted the washing basket full of freshly dried clothes onto her hip so she could pick up the phone. All morning she’d been fielding calls—so much for her bonus Friday off. Their last job finished a day earlier than expected and with no weekend work scheduled, three days of leisure stretched ahead. Hence this morning had been earmarked for a flurry of housework to get it out of the way.
Forgetting she’d set the answering machine after taking the last call, Lisa started as the machine kicked in. Oh well, she was here now. May as well pick up. She shifted the washing basket again so it sat more firmly on her hip. “Hello.”
“People are going to start to talk if you don’t change that thing.”
“Hey Steph,” Lisa broke into a smile. Steph had already had a go at the Joel message less than a week ago, just before she flew out to Melbourne. Lisa promised to change it, but never seemed to get round to the task. She hated talking into a machine. “When did you get back in?”
“Late last night. And Van left this morning for a weekend soccer camp—”
Lisa could almost see Steph pouting on the other end of the line. Van’s job as a high school sport teacher rarely took her away for more than a day, so Steph was used to having a warm bed and a warm body in it when she returned from her own business trips. “So you’re looking for a playmate,” she cut in.
“Uh-huh.”
“You can come over and watch me vacuum if you like.”
“Now there’s an offer I can’t refuse. I’ll be there in half an hour.” The phone clicked and the line went dead.
Lisa hurried to the bedroom with her washing basket, delighted at the welcome interruption Steph would be making into her day. One of her closest friends, Steph was a buyer for a chain of clothing stores and subsequently was often away over East or in some exotic rag trade location. Combined with Lisa’s own topsy-turvy work schedule, contact other than by phone was frequently a strategic nightmare. Despite the reins it placed on their gettogethers, Steph’s career choice suited her perfectly. Even without the fringe benefit of a steady supply of the latest fashions, she was glamour to the core, her manner and confidence commanding attention wherever she went.
True to form, when Lisa answered the knock on the door, an impeccably attired Steph greeted Lisa with kisses on each cheek, gave a brief but firm squeeze around the waist, and swept down the hallway straight for the kitchen. “I hope the kettle’s boiled, I’m in dire need of a caffeine fix.”
As soon as Steph was furnished with a coffee, they began their usual argument over what they should do with themselves. Vacuuming was quickly discarded as a lousy spectator sport. Lisa didn’t want to go shopping, and Steph didn’t feel like going out to lunch—she’d just got back from foodie heaven in Melbourne and was all gourmet-ed out. Eventually, they decided daytime television was as good an activity as any. A quick trip to the local store to stock up on definitely non-gourmet goodies and they settled in for a dose of talk shows and B-grade movies.
“I don’t believe we’re supposed to be sucked into believing this is real.” Lisa threw a green M&M at the screen. It bounced off the head of the talk show guest who had just announced he was having an affair with his fiancée’s sister and her best friend. “What a load of crap.”
“I can’t watch this shit anymore,” she announced a few moments later. The fiancée had stormed onto the stage with arms swinging. Yet another on-stage fight was about to erupt. But of course, no blows ever made contact. “Do you mind if I change the channel?”
Steph shrugged, alternately nibbling on her chocolate biscuit and sipping on her third coffee as Lisa flipped channels on the remote.
“Stop here,” Steph pointed at the screen. “I like this one.”
“Ah ha.” Lisa teased. The program was a long running soap. “Now we know what you do on your days off.”
“And what of it?” Steph huffed. She leaned forward and pointed again at the screen. “He’s married to her, but she’s pregnant to his youngest son.”
Lisa rolled her eyes and focused her attention on trying to find the last of the red M&Ms in the packet, “Riveting.”
“It is. Watch,” Steph said as she poked Lisa in the side. “You see that stupid look she’s giving behind his back as he gives her a hug? That’s because even though she’s married to him and pregnant to his youngest son, she’s actually still in love with the oldest son.”
“So why isn’t she with the oldest son then?”
“Because he was in a plane crash at sea and everyone thought he was dead, but he wasn’t, he was just missing, and when he came back she had already married the father.”
“Oh.” Lisa went back to her red M&M search, half thinking how stupid it was and half thinking about the parallels between the show and her life at the moment. Well,
no fathers and sons were involved and no one was pregnant or married and no one had been in a plane crash, but she could see the similarities.
“Steph,” she ventured.
She got a distracted, “Hmm.”
“Have I ever told you about my first girlfriend?” Lisa knew full well she hadn’t. She had never told anyone.
That got Steph’s attention. A true romantic at heart, she thrived on all tales of human relationships. The television was immediately forgotten. “No.”
“Well, do you want to hear about her?”
Steph’s response was another foregone conclusion. “Of course I do.” She pulled Lisa to her feet. “But let’s get another coffee first.”
They settled at the kitchen table armed with fresh brews. Lisa was a bit nervous, mainly because she had vowed to tell Steph the whole story, warts and all. She hoped Steph wouldn’t think too badly of her by the finish. Steph was watching Lisa expectantly so she launched straight into it.
“Well we met on the first day of Uni . . .”
Lisa told how she’d quickly developed a blinding crush on Cathy. How her disastrous experience at school made her determined not to do or say anything to let Cathy know of her feelings. How the knowledge of the sleeping arrangements in Cathy’s two-bedroom (but one had been converted to a study) apartment sent her reeling from the moment she dropped her overnight bag onto the bedroom floor. How the way she coped with the thought of lying next to Cathy that night had been to get blind drunk. How, had she known Cathy shared the same feelings she’d probably have gotten drunk anyhow because she’d have been so nervous.
“And so it was actually the next day that we, umm, got together. And then—”
