Call Waiting

by Dianne Blacklock

  “Come on, I won’t bite,” he was saying.

  She breathed out heavily. There was nothing wrong with an innocent drink with someone she met at work. I mean, she could even mention it to Chris. Not that she would.

  “Okay.”

  They walked down the street to the pub where everybody went after work. Though it wasn’t called a pub anymore. It had been done over in chocolate brown and chrome, and now it was a “bar.”

  They carried their drinks to a booth in the corner of the room. Meg watched him take a sip of his beer. Then he looked straight at her.

  “So, what’s the Meg Lynch story? You seemed to have a bit of authority in there.”

  “I’m the head of the computer graphics department,” she explained.

  He shook his head slowly. “So that makes you beautiful and clever?”

  And that line makes you a flirt and a charmer, Meg thought to herself. He was staring at her again, and she found it unnerving. His eyes were so … penetrating, she thought, wishing that wasn’t the first word that came to mind.

  “So how long have you been modeling, Jamie?” she asked, shifting the focus off herself.

  “On and off, maybe ten years.”

  How old would that make him? She supposed it depended when he started. Meg knew she had to be older than him, and that was flattering, to a degree. Beyond that it was just pathetic.

  “On and off?”

  “Well, I don’t do it full-time.”

  “What else do you do?”

  He shrugged. “I travel a lot.”

  Meg was intrigued. “You must be pretty successful to have such a jetsetting lifestyle?”

  Jamie grinned. “It’s not exactly jetsetting, lugging a backpack around on foot most of the time. And you should see some of the places I’ve stayed in. They’re not what you’d call five star.”

  “So what do you do? Just travel around, sightseeing?”

  “I pick up work where I can.”

  “Modeling?”

  “Sometimes. In Japan they like blonds. But I’d rather do something different. I’ve worked on a few documentary crews. That’s always fun.”

  Meg was fascinated. With her urging, Jamie told her about his travels: trekking along the silk route through China, working on sailing ships in the Mediterranean, bartending at night in Aspen and skiing through the day. He only stayed in Australia long enough to earn his next ticket overseas, with a little pocket money. Then he would pick a place on the globe and go.

  “Just like that?”

  “Just like that,” he nodded.

  “I always wished I’d traveled when I finished school, taken off with a backpack,” Meg said wistfully.

  “Why didn’t you?”

  She didn’t want to explain to Jamie that at nineteen, she was working three jobs supporting the family. Only when her brothers had started university, and she’d covered their first year’s fees, did she feel she could leave them to fend for themselves. She left Brisbane for Sydney and art college. There was no time for travel, no time to be young and irresponsible.

  She shrugged. “Oh, you know, you go to college, start work, there never seems to be the right time.”

  “So what’s stopping you now?”

  “A very demanding male.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Oh?”

  “Mm. He’s two feet tall, and still in nappies.”

  “I’m guessing you’re talking about a baby, not some sick fetish?”

  Meg laughed. “I have an eighteen month old son.”

  “And he’s part of a matching husband-father ensemble?”

  “The lot.”

  “So,” Jamie paused, considering her, “shouldn’t you be getting home?”

  Meg knew what he was inferring. “Soon enough.”

  He leaned forward. “Would you like another drink?”

  She smiled slowly. “Sure, why not?”

  Eleven p.m.

  “Are you awake?” Meg couldn’t sleep, and she wouldn’t sleep until she got this off her chest.

  Chris didn’t respond. She turned on the bedside lamp and leaned right over the top of him.

  “Chris, are you awake?” she said loudly.

  He blinked and frowned up at her. “I guess I am, now.”

  “Good.” She propped up some pillows and sat back against them.

  He watched her, squinting. “What’s up?”

  “I was thinking…”

  “Uh oh,” he yawned.

  Meg nudged him. “Why don’t we go to London for Christmas?”

  “What?” That seemed to wake him up.

  “Let’s go to London. It’s snowing, and we could give Harrison a white Christmas. It’d be fun, and romantic, and well,” she drew her knees up, hugging them, “a bit of an adventure.”

  “Meg,” he sighed, rubbing his eyes and turning around fully to face her, “what are you talking about?”

  “I just feel like taking off!” she exclaimed. “Doing something on a whim.”

  “But we’ve made plans. You know Mum and Dad are really looking forward to Christmas this year, now that Harrison’s a bit older.”

  “I’m sure they could survive one Christmas without us.”

  “What about everything else? We’re booked up from now until Christmas Eve. There’s my work party, and yours—”

  “I could miss that,” she insisted.

  “And isn’t Ally coming to stay tomorrow? You can’t leave your best friend with a broken heart at Christmas.”

  “I don’t think it’s broken exactly. Just a little bruised,” she said glumly.

  Chris leaned over and nuzzled into her shoulder. “What’s the matter? What brought all this up?”

  Meg shrugged. “I just thought it would be fun to do something spontaneous, like we used to.”

  “Did we?”

  “Didn’t we?”

  “Not that I recall.”

  “We must have.”

  “I don’t think we ever just took off before, not without making plans.”

  Meg had a sinking feeling he was right. They didn’t do anything on a whim. That’s what had drawn her to Chris in the first place. He was solid and dependable. He was nothing like her father.

  Chris leaned across her and switched off the lamp. “We can talk about this in the morning, you should try and get some sleep.”

  She slipped down under the covers and turned on her side. Chris snuggled up behind her.

  “Oh, by the way, Neil called,” he murmured.

  Meg twisted around. “He’s in Sydney?”

  “Apparently.”

  “What did he want this time?”

  “Well, mostly he wanted to talk to you.”

  He must need money. Her brother only contacted her when he needed money.

  “What did you tell him?”

  “I invited him for Christmas.”

  “Chris! Why did you do that?”

  “Because it’s exactly what you would have done.”

  Meg sighed deeply. He was right, of course. Good old reliable Meg. She always said yes.

  What would happen if for once she didn’t? What would happen if she did just take off? Even the idea was ludicrous. People with babies and mortgages didn’t do whatever they felt like doing. And if they did, then they were just like her father.

  Meg closed her eyes and backed up closer to Chris. Even though she was tall, he still managed to enfold her completely in his arms. It felt safe, if a little stifling tonight.

  Two days before Christmas

  Chris walked into the room and threw himself into an armchair.

  “All’s quiet on the Western front.”

  “He’s asleep finally?”

  He nodded. “What is it with babies? The more tired they are, the more they seem to resist sleep.”

  Meg and Ally were sprawled out on the two sofas. They had opened a bottle of wine and were steadily making their way through it.

  This was the first night since she had landed
on their doorstep that they’d all been at home. Meg and Chris had been to one Christmas party after another, but at least it had given Ally lots of time with Harrison. They insisted they didn’t expect her to babysit just because she was staying there. But Ally enjoyed it.

  Meg heaved herself up off the sofa and picked up the wine bottle, holding it up to the light.

  “Here,” she said, leaning over to refill Ally’s glass and draining the bottle. “I’ll have to open another one.”

  “Not just for me,” Ally protested. “Aren’t you drinking, Chris?”

  He shook his head. “Not after last night. Never, ever again.”

  “Ha, until tomorrow night!” scoffed Meg. “I was the designated driver last night, Ally, so I’m going to enjoy myself tonight. I’ll get us another bottle.”

  She walked out into the kitchen.

  “So when do you head off?” Chris asked.

  Ally grinned. “Counting the hours, eh Chris?”

  “You’re kidding, aren’t you? We’ve got a built-in babysitter. I’m in no hurry to see you leave.”

  “Well, thanks, but I told Lillian I’d be there Boxing Day.”

  “You don’t have to rush off, though,” said Meg coming back into the room. “She’s not even going to be there.”

  “Yes, but she has a tradesman coming to do some work for her, so she’s glad I’ll be around to keep an eye out, you know.”

  “And the guesthouse is closed for the week?”

  Ally nodded. “Lillian always closes it this time of the year, spends Christmas with her son down in Melbourne.”

  Meg uncorked the bottle and filled her glass. “So, Chris, hasn’t the football started yet?” she asked him pointedly.

  “You know as well as I do, darling, there’s no football on this time of the year.”

  “Mm, basketball, golf … table tennis perhaps?”

  “I have the distinct feeling that you’re trying to get rid of me.”

  “No, not at all! We’re just about to turn on the Chic’s Flic Marathon on Foxtel,” Meg said, consulting the guide. “You know, Sleepless in Seattle, Terms of Endearment … Oh look, Pretty Woman’s already started.”

  “Okay, okay, you’ve made your point, I’m out of here,” said Chris, lifting himself out of his chair. He kissed Meg and walked to the doorway. “Night, ladies.”

  After he had left the room, Ally frowned at Meg. “We’re not really watching Pretty Woman, are we?”

  “Why, what’s wrong with Pretty Woman? I love that movie.” She picked up the remote control and aimed it at the television. “Oh look, here’s the part where she goes shopping.”

  “Doesn’t the premise of the story irk you, though?”

  Meg didn’t take her eyes off the screen. “Oh, don’t get all politically correct on me, Ally.”

  “Come on, Meg, you have to admit, if you had a daughter, would you want her to believe that prostitution was the only way an attractive, intelligent woman could make a living? But that, not to worry, she would eventually be saved by Mr. Tall, Dark, Handsome and incredibly Rich?”

  “Richard Gere’s not dark.”

  Ally rolled her eyes. “The point remains, the story would be far more realistic if they showed her, I don’t know, going to evening college, enrolling in a course, doing something to better herself.”

  Meg looked at her, dumbfounded.

  “What?” said Ally defensively.

  “Are you for real?” She held her hand to her chest and feigned a dramatic voice-over. “‘Julia Roberts is a girl with no future, until she picks up a copy of the university handbook.’ They could call it ‘Pretty Student.’ I can see the queues forming now!”

  Ally laughed, shaking her head. “You know, you’ve got a career woman’s brain and fairy floss for a heart.”

  “I’m just a romantic.”

  “You actually believe in romance?”

  “Of course I do! What kind of a world would it be if we didn’t have some romance?” Or even just the idea of it. Meg considered Ally. “I assume you didn’t just end one?”

  Ally frowned. “Yeah, right.”

  “Why on earth did you stay with him for so long?”

  “Because he stayed.” She twirled the stem of her wine glass around between her fingers, staring at it. “He was kind to me, he took me in.”

  “You sound like a stray dog.”

  “Now there’s an analogy!”

  “Oh Ally,” Meg chided. “What made you finally leave then?”

  “I realized I was starting to hate him. I hated watching him getting dressed, grooming himself. I hated the way he was always brushing crumbs off everything, tables, the sofa, me…!”

  “What?”

  “Don’t get me started! He was so anally retentive. And the way he ate! I couldn’t even be in the same room when he was eating his stupid organic muesli. Hearing the crunching sounds, his jaw clicking.” Ally shuddered, pausing. “I wasn’t going to live like that, hating him. That would be unbearable.”

  Meg looked at her. “Have you spoken to him since you left?”

  “No, actually. But he keeps leaving text messages on my mobile.”

  “Like what?”

  “Oh, yesterday it was, ‘What if I put together a proposal?’”

  “Does he mean marriage?”

  Ally shrugged, “Who knows? He only speaks in real estate jargon.”

  “He’s such a weirdo. You’re better rid of him.”

  Ally didn’t answer her.

  “Sorry, but you know I was never overly fond of him.”

  “No? Really?” Ally smiled wryly.

  Meg looked directly at her. “Do you feel lonely?”

  “No. I felt lonelier when I was with him.”

  Meg sighed, reaching for the wine bottle. “What you need is a nice, juicy love affair.”

  “Okay, get me one for Christmas? I’m sure they sell them in the Hollywood catalog of dreams and fantasies.”

  “Such a skeptic.”

  Ally cocked her head toward the TV screen. “You really believe that happens anywhere but in the movies?”

  “Of course I do!” Meg insisted. “My knight in shining armor is lying in there, snoring as we speak.”

  “What does it feel like,” Ally hugged her knees. “… being in love?”

  “You just want to have a lend.”

  “No, really, I want to know.”

  “Are you telling me you’ve never been in love?”

  “I don’t think so. What made you fall in love with Chris?”

  Meg paused, considering. This was not the best time to have to answer that question. Or maybe it was. If she could rekindle some of what she felt when they first met, maybe she wouldn’t feel so restless now.

  “I knew when I met him that this man would never let me down. I knew he’d stay by me forever.” For better or worse, she sighed inwardly. Till death do us part.

  Ally thought that if she had that kind of security she could face anything.

  Meg thought if only there was a little passion, a little excitement. If only she didn’t feel that everything was quite so safe.

  “I don’t know if that answers your question.”

  “Sure it does.”

  “It’s not very romantic though,” Meg said wistfully.

  “I think it’s very romantic. I wish I could find someone who could give me that.”

  They stared at the screen. Richard Gere had just spotted Julia Roberts in a stunning black dress sitting at the bar.

  “Of course, it’d help if I looked like her.”

  “Who? Julia Roberts? Why would you want to look like Julia Roberts?”

  “Why would I want to look like Julia Roberts?” Ally repeated, deadpan. “Oh, I can’t imagine.”

  “It would be terrible to look like Julia Roberts.”

  “Yes, I imagine it would be a real burden.”

  “If you looked like Julia Roberts, you wouldn’t get a moment’s peace. Everywhere you’d go, even j
ust walking down the street, people would stop you—‘Has anybody ever told you, you look exactly like Julia Roberts?’”

  Ally was laughing.

  “‘But really!’” she continued. “‘You look exactly like her. Are you related or something?’”

  “Enough!” Ally held her stomach.

  “Seriously, Al,” Meg poured herself another glass of wine, and handed the bottle to Ally, “your self-esteem is shot from living with that man! It will do you good to get away. I guarantee, a month in the Southern Highlands and you’ll be swept off your feet by some gorgeous Man from Snowy River who’ll carry you off on horseback to his mountain cabin…”

  Ally laughed out loud. “Ugh, he’d have to catch me first, I’d be running a hundred miles in the opposite direction.”

  “Why?”

  “Too much like my grandfather,” she cringed. “Besides, I’m going to Bowral, not the wilds of Tasmania. It’s très sophisticated these days. I think the entire population of the lower north shore migrate there every weekend. There’s more cafés than in Darlinghurst.”

  “So, you’ll get yourself a nice merchant banker.”

  “I’m sure they’re all married with their families in tow!” Ally retorted. “Bowral is hardly a Mecca for single women looking for a man, and besides, I’m not looking. I’m going down there to settle my grandfather’s property, and because I haven’t exactly got anywhere to live at the moment.”

  “You can live here!”

  “I think I’ll have to, when I come back at the end of January. Just till I find a place, if that’s alright?”

  “Of course it is, that’s if you come back.”

  “What makes you think I would want to stay down there?”

  “Well, you’re pushing thirty-five, you’ve been in the same job for ten years, and you’ve just left a long-term relationship. You’re heading for a sea change.”

  “You watch too much television.”

  “It’s a real term, not just a television show! It means a major change of direction.”

  “Well, it’s not much of a ‘sea change’ to go back to where I started. I could think of nothing worse.”

  “Why? I haven’t been down that way for years, but I remember it was lovely.”