Reality Bytes

by Jane Frances

  “I can see the advert now.” Pete grinned. “Vet practice going cheap. Owner desperate. All offers considered.”

  “And wouldn’t it piss her off if one of us bought it.” Emma laughed.

  “Or both of us.”

  Emma nodded, caught up in the dream. “Or both of us.”

  “We could, you know.”

  Emma looked sideways at him. “You’re not serious?”

  “Why not? I don’t necessarily mean Colleen’s practice. Or any other established practice for that matter. But we could start one of our own.”

  “Do you have any idea how expensive that is?”

  “No. But I’m guessing from your expression it’s not cheap.”

  “More than I’ve got in the bank, buster.”

  “But maybe not more than you and me have put together.”

  Emma had no idea how much Pete had squirreled away, but she knew the state of her own bank account. If she didn’t land another job in the next six weeks it wouldn’t look too pretty. “I think maybe it would be.”

  “That’s what bank loans are for.”

  “It’s a nice thought, Pete, but it’s not going to happen.”

  “Only because you don’t want it to.”

  “It’s not that at all.” That comment raised Emma’s hackles. “I would love to have my own practice, but unfortunately I don’t have a money tree growing in my backyard.”

  “Okay, okay.” Pete raised his hand in surrender. “Don’t get shitty. It was only an idea.”

  “A damn good idea too,” Emma admitted, her flash of temper disappearing as quickly as it came. “Tell you what, when I win Lotto you’re the first person I’ll call.”

  “I wonder how much money Judith has?” Pete mused. “Maybe the three of us could go in together.”

  “You don’t give up do you, Peter Jamieson?”

  He downed the last of his beer in one big swallow. “Not usually.”

  “Would you like another? I think I’ve got a bottle or two floating round in the fridge.”

  “No, thanks. I’m driving. A coffee would go down well, though.”

  “Coffee it is.” Emma stood and headed for the kitchen. She stole a glance at the slender young man seated on her couch. Unaware he was being watched, he rolled his shoulders, reached for the National Geographic sitting on the far edge of the coffee table and idly flipped through it. Emma sighed. It was a shame the vet practice idea could never become a reality. She’d enjoyed working with Pete. They had made a good team.

  “Thanks, Em.” A few minutes later, Pete tossed the National Geographic back onto the coffee table and took the mug Emma offered. “Two sugars?”

  “Yep.” Emma sat down, tucking her feet under her thighs again. She took a sip from her mug. “So tell me how come a good-looking, smart young man like yourself hasn’t got plans on a Friday night?”

  Pete shrugged, grinning. “What do you mean? I’m here, aren’t I?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “No, I don’t know what you mean.”

  “I mean, why aren’t you out on a date with a beautiful young woman? Surely you have them knocking down your door.”

  Pete shrugged again. “Maybe I prefer the company of an old lovelorn lesbian.”

  “Not so much of the old, thank you very much,” Emma warned, hiding her smile behind her mug. She supposed that to a nineteen-year-old, anyone beyond thirty was ancient. She shifted in her seat. “And who said I was lovelorn?”

  Pete guffawed. “Jesus, Em, if you had your mouth hanging open any more I’d have mistaken you for Kayisha. Complete with drool. Not that I blame you, though.” He winked. “Justine’s quite a looker.”

  Emma’s face and neck became incredibly hot. She thought she had handled herself with considerable poise. But apparently not. And since Pete belonged to the gender not supposed to pick up on that kind of thing, it seemed she had silently screamed her feelings all evening. “Do you think she noticed?”

  Pete guffawed again. “Of course she bloody well noticed. She feeds off it, Em. You can see it a mile away.” Emma found Pete’s hand on her forearm and she felt a slight pressure as he squeezed. Then he batted his lashes and raised his voice a couple of octaves. “Oh, Emma, are you sure you don’t mind printing the invitations? It would be such a big help.”

  “Piss off.” Emma snatched her arm away, angry and embarrassed. At herself. “Weren’t we supposed to be talking about your love life, not mine?”

  “She’s getting married, Em. She’s not interested in you. Deal with it.”

  Emma stared at Pete, stung and caught off-guard by his directness. Tears threatened, but she swallowed hard, refusing to let them reach her eyes. “I am dealing with it. In my own way.”

  Toni pushed her plate away and sighed happily. “That”—she patted her tummy—“was the best Caesar salad I’ve ever had in my life. You do realize you’ve completely spoiled my lunchtime restaurant routine. Now I’ll have to find something new to pick on the menu.”

  Toni wasn’t exaggerating. Julie’s Caesar was fantastic. Unlike the ready-made salad Toni was expecting, Julie arrived on the doorstep with an overflowing grocery bag. Once in the kitchen it was emptied of contents—cos lettuce, anchovies, streaky bacon, a block of fresh Parmesan and even an Italian Ciabatta for a variation on the usual white-bread croutons. The dressing had been a shop-bought cheat, but it was a delicious, decadent cheat, made all the better by the coddled egg stirred through it just prior to serving. Coupled with a glass of the crisp, dry white wine Julie also extracted from her bag, Toni felt she had entered culinary heaven.

  “Glad you liked it.” Julie stacked both plates in front of her. “It’s one of my own favorites. I make it at least once a week at home.”

  “Let me clear that away,” Toni said as she absorbed this new piece of information, once more experiencing a pang of guilt for not taking the time to find out Julie’s likes and dislikes before now. “You know the rules. The cook never does the washing up.”

  “Which, as you should know, is superceded by the other rule.”

  “What other rule?”

  “She who is sick must rest up and get better.”

  “But—”

  “Stop it.” Before Toni could continue the washing-up debate Julie swiped at Toni’s hand. It was the fourth time she had done so this evening, this time as Toni unconsciously scratched at her upper arm. “You’ll get scars.”

  Protesting, Toni was shooed from the table and she headed for her en suite bathroom, loudly complaining about now having two mothers instead of one. Julie had issued firm instructions Toni was not to worry about the dishes; that they’d be done by the time she emerged from the pine tar bath she also insisted Toni should have.

  Despite the unpleasant odor of the pine tar and the fact she had already had a soak earlier in the day, Toni could have stayed in the bath for hours, the solution soothing her sore and itchy skin, but she made quick work of it, feeling odd bathing while a colleague puttered ’round in her kitchen. She splashed water onto her face, admitting that while it felt odd, it wasn’t an awful odd, more of a pleasant odd. She was still mulling over that fact as she retreated to the bedroom to dot calamine lotion over her body. Feet, legs and bottom were first. Even her groin hadn’t escaped unscathed, so that got a quick dabbing too. Her paw-print pajama bottoms were pulled on and Toni began on her upper body.

  A soft rapping on her bedroom door stopped her mid-dab on her left breast. “Yes?”

  Julie’s voice was muffled through the wood. “Are you okay, Toni?”

  “Fine.” Toni’s quick soak mustn’t have been so quick after all. “I’m just putting calamine on. I’ll be out in a minute.”

  “Do you want me to put some on your back?”

  A little assistance would have gone down well. There was a spot right in the middle of Toni’s spine she could never quite reach. Yes, please. “No. It’s okay.”

  “You sure?”

  No. “Yes.”
>
  “Okay.”

  As if on cue, the hard-to-reach spot on Toni’s back started to itch. Damn, traitorous back. It knew Toni was funny about baring her body in public. She wouldn’t even strip off in the change rooms at the gym, choosing instead the privacy of a toilet cubicle. It was rather an odd quirk, especially since she had no qualms about getting naked with a lover, even the first time. The itch got worse and Toni tried in vain to reach it with her fingertips. “Actually,” she called through the door, “maybe I will get you to do my back. Just give me a second.”

  By the time Julie entered, Toni had tugged on her pajama top and done up the buttons.

  Julie sat on the edge of the bed, Calamine bottle in one hand, cotton ball in the other. “Okay, Toni. Ready?”

  Toni nodded but didn’t move.

  “Um, Toni…you’re going to have to lift your top.”

  Toni lifted the back of her pajamas a little way, stopping as soon as she felt the material at the front begin to shift.

  “It’s okay, Toni. I can assure you, you have nothing I haven’t seen before.”

  Toni was almost certain she heard a quaver in Julie’s voice, despite the light delivery. She hoped her reply was just as light. “Maybe so, but you haven’t seen mine.”

  Toni squeezed her eyes shut as Julie lifted her pajama top all the way up to her neck. The front stayed relatively intact, but just to make sure, Toni folded her arms protectively across her breasts. She shivered involuntarily each time Julie dabbed with her cotton ball. The lotion was cold.

  All conversation ceased and Toni entertained the terrible thought her pajama bottoms weren’t up far enough and Julie was speechless at the sight of her bottom crack. She wriggled a bit, trying to gauge exactly where the drawstring of her pajamas was sitting. To her relief it was well around her waist. But the movement prompted Julie to inquire, “Is that bothering you?”

  Before Toni had a chance to reply, the waist of her pajama bottoms was pulled and a dab of cold shot through the skin just above her left cheek. Now, Toni thought miserably, her bottom crack was well and truly exposed. She searched wildly for something to say that would distract Julie’s attention from her behind. It occurred to her that she could ask if Julie had remembered to pick up her AA batteries. That idea was quickly dismissed. Now was not the best time to initiate a conversation about small, vibrating appliances.

  “How’s Anna’s training going?” Toni asked, just for something to say.

  “Good. They’re only doing a light session tonight. Tomorrow’s the big match.”

  “Are you going to watch?”

  Another cold shot pierced the skin just above Toni’s left kidney. “Of course.” The dabs came to a halt and Toni felt the flannelette of her top fall over her back. Then she felt hands smoothing the material. They emitted hand-sized pools of warmth as they rested, just for a moment, on each side of Toni’s waist. “If you’re feeling up to it, you’re welcome to come along.”

  “Thanks.” Toni was disconcerted by the familiarity of Julie’s touch. She was even more disconcerted at the flash of disappointment when the contact ended. Then she quickly decided she was just being a baby, that being “untouchable” for a week had left her in need of a cuddle. Especially since her usual source of comfort, Virgil, was still barely speaking to her, never mind being physically affectionate. Toni caught a glimpse of herself in the full-length mirror on the far wardrobe door. She looked a sight, the dark spots on her face still visible beneath the pink of the calamine lotion. “But I think I’ll give it a miss. I don’t want to frighten everyone out of the pool.”

  Only a matter of minutes later, Toni stood with Julie at the front door. Anna’s training should be finished and Julie was going to stay the night at her apartment.

  “Thanks again, Julie. That really was a great meal.”

  “My pleasure.” Julie rummaged in her bag for her car keys. “Oh. I forgot about these.” She pulled out a packet of batteries instead. “Here you go.”

  The batteries were handed over and once again Julie delved into her bag. This time keys were retrieved. “Remember, if you need anything over the weekend, just call.”

  Toni swung the small battery packet in front of Julie. “Now I’ve got these, I won’t need anything.”

  Julie cocked her head to one side, curiosity flickering in her eyes. “Why? What are they for?”

  Toni told her, pleased she was finally getting to use her small, vibrating appliance comment. She was doubly pleased at the reaction. Julie’s eyes noticeably widened and color stained her cheeks.

  “I’ll ring you Monday,” Julie stammered, suddenly intent on the keys in her hand.

  “Okay.” The laughter bubbling inside Toni burst forth as soon as Julie’s old Ford Laser pulled out of the driveway. She was still laughing as she closed the front door behind her. Poor Julie. Toni knew she really shouldn’t tease the girl, especially after all she’d done for her lately. On the other hand, it was good to know the shy, sometimes nervous young woman still existed underneath the confident exterior she now projected. It was somehow comforting.

  Toni’s laughter came to an abrupt halt halfway down the hallway, her mind snapping back to the light, brief pressure of hands on each side of her waist.

  “Virgil,” she called to her companion, refusing to allow the thought to linger. It was a silly thought anyway. It was quite obvious she was just in a state of touch deprivation. “Where are you? Mum needs a cuddle.”

  Chapter Ten

  Cathy stretched her legs underneath the table located outside a café located at the edge of Piazza della Rotonda. Her feet were tired after another day of being on the go since breakfast. Today, Saturday, they had done the Capitol and Piazza Venezia. They’d climbed Michelangelo’s long sloping steps to the geometrically paved Piazza del Campidologlio and spent hours in the Capitolene Museum. Once back in the piazza, they’d skirted the Palazzo Senatorio and discovered a terrace overlooking what was probably the city’s best panorama of the Roman Forum. Needless to say, Lisa’s digital camera memory card was filling fast.

  “Grazie.” The latte placed in front of her was almost as welcome as getting the weight off her feet. Served in a tall glass, it had a creamy layer floating on top of robust coffee. She absently swirled the layers together with a long spoon as she watched Lisa conduct her own coffee ritual. Sugar was sprinkled over the froth of her cappuccino, the sugar stirred into the froth and finally the combination eaten with her spoon. All this was done on autopilot, Lisa’s attention focused on the stream of humanity that passed by their table.

  Cathy noticed the slight change in Lisa’s expression, the twinkle that entered her eyes and the smile that crossed her lips. Wondering what had tickled her fancy, Cathy too turned her attention to the hustle and bustle of the piazza.

  Not ten feet away, a couple were in the midst of an argument. Both were raven-haired Italians, both dressed fashionably and expensively, both young, maybe in their early twenties. The man was gesticulating wildly, beseechingly, the woman responding with her own exaggerated hand movements, a toss of her head. She turned sharply on her heel, folded her arms and held her chin high. In the woman’s eyes, the conversation was obviously over. Not so in the man’s opinion. He took her by the arm, spun her around, made some more wild gestures, then fell down on one knee and clasped both of the woman’s hands. Whatever he said worked. Cathy saw the woman’s features visibly soften and she raised her lover’s hands, indicating that he should stand. He did so and within moments they threw their arms around the other, kissed passionately and continued across the piazza, arm in arm.

  Cathy smiled behind her coffee, the incident reminiscent of the romantic Rome both she and Lisa had imagined but had rarely found. Yes, the city was steeped in history and brimming with “must-see” monuments and museums, but unfortunately every one of the tens of thousands of other tourists to the city each day also converged on the “must-see” places. Lisa and Cathy found themselves jostled from morning to nig
ht on narrow, badly maintained footpaths, not designed for the amount of pedestrian traffic they carried; they were constantly harassed by street vendors trying to ply them with cheap and nasty souvenirs; and apart from the restaurants contained within the walls of the expensive hotels, they found the cuisine on offer overpriced, unoriginal and disappointing. She could honestly say she had had the worst pizza ever in Rome, and Lisa’s lasagna beat the one she’d tried over here hands-down.

  Cathy was hoping the rest of their Italian odyssey would unearth some of the true Italian culture that had seemingly disappeared from a tourist-wrecked Rome.

  Come tomorrow they would depart for Capri and the Amalfi Coast. From there it was on to Venice, down to Tuscany and finally back to Rome where they would spend one more night before beginning the long journey back to Australia.

  Despite the disappointment, Cathy admitted their week in the capital had flown by. The hiccup of Toni’s illness behind them, they decided to live by the ethos “when in Rome…” and flung themselves into the tourist role by day. There was the Forum, with its churches and temples, arches and columns, and of course the Colosseum. Then there was Vatican City and its astounding collection of art. The Pope had not made an appearance during their tour, but in the big scheme of things, it was no great disappointment. Over the past few days they’d also shuffled their way through countless museums and galleries, awed at witnessing firsthand treasured artworks, sculpture and architecture.

  Come late afternoon they usually found themselves ensconced at a café, reviewing their day, sipping on their drinks and, as they were right now, people-watching. This piazza, as with every other corner of the city, was touristy, but locals still gathered, probably due to the dramatic backdrop of the Pantheon, especially when lit up at night.

  The only day sightseeing was well and truly off the agenda had been last Monday, their anniversary. Initially Cathy wondered if her hopes for a quiet day together would be shattered, Lisa leaping out of bed almost as soon as the first rays of light peeped through the break in the curtains. Cathy was mistaken. Within minutes Lisa was back in the bedroom, cups of instant coffee in hand to “tide them over” until the real coffee she’d ordered arrived.