Call Waiting

by Dianne Blacklock

  “It’s not a state secret. Sharyn had big plans for us. She’d done a business diploma at tech, back home. She got a job, and she was powering along. Pretty soon it was embarrassing to have a tradesman for a husband, so she pushed me into a job as a salesman.”

  “You were a salesman?” Ally had met a lot of salesmen in her time, Bryce most notably. Matt didn’t seem the salesman type at all.

  “Oh, don’t worry, I hated it. I was working for this firm that built project houses, and they were that shoddy. Cheap, flimsy houses that people bought by the square meter. The bigger the better, never mind the quality.

  “I couldn’t stand it. I wanted to quit, but we’d had Becky by then, and Sharyn kept at me that we needed the money. We were fighting all the time.”

  “So what happened?”

  There was that hesitation again. Ally didn’t want to pry, but she was intrigued.

  He sighed, staring out across the valley. “One day I just walked out.”

  Ally stared blankly at him.

  “I went north. I didn’t care where I ended up, I just had to get away. I couldn’t be around her anymore.”

  Ally felt a chill inside. Her throat went dry. “But what about Rebecca?”

  “Well, she’s the reason I went back. I mean, I was sending money, but that wasn’t being a father.” He paused. “I woke up one day and realized I was nearly thirty. I’d lost six months of my daughter’s life. She probably wouldn’t even know me. I had to grow up, make a go of it for her.”

  “What, you got back with Sharyn?”

  “Oh no, that was never going to happen,” he said tightly. “We had a pretty rocky time until we sorted out what we both wanted.”

  “That’s when you came down here?”

  “I had to get out of the city, but I didn’t want to be too far away from Beck. Working for myself meant I could knock off early on Fridays and come to Sydney to pick her up.”

  “And Sharyn’s okay with that?”

  “Sure. Look, to her credit, she’s always supported our relationship. Besides, she’s not too bad, we just wanted different things. Though she’s a bit pushy with Beck—you know, private school, after-school lessons in everything under the sun. I try to lay off her a bit when she’s here. Just let her relax and be a kid.”

  “It must be working. She seems very well adjusted.”

  Matt shrugged. “I don’t know how much longer she’ll want to keep coming, though. That’s why I got her the horse, something she can’t have living in a townhouse in North Sydney.”

  “You got her a horse?”

  He nodded.

  “I always wanted a horse. But my grandfather wouldn’t get me one, he said they were too expensive.”

  “Well, he’s not wrong there. And they need a lot of looking after. I have to ride him at least once a week, especially when Beck hasn’t been here for a while. And I’m not exactly the Man from Snowy River. The horse has it all over me.”

  Ally smiled self-consciously.

  They sat quietly, watching dusk turn into twilight. The dogs sat at their feet, content. Ally mulled over everything that Matt had said. He’d just walked out? How bad could it have been? She wondered what Sharyn was like. She must be okay if she let him back into Beck’s life, after what he’d done. Leaving his own daughter like that. She was only a baby. How could he just abandon her?

  “The oven’s beeping, Dad,” Beck called from inside.

  “I hope you’re hungry,” said Matt.

  Monday

  Meg walked resolutely up the stairs to Simon’s office. She had avoided him all day, even ignoring a direct summons to his office this morning.

  “I’m tied up with something, Simon. I promise I’ll come and see you later on.”

  “Meg—”

  “You have my word.”

  “Well, that’s not worth as much as it once was,” he’d returned, hanging up the phone.

  She had bought him a bottle of red as a peace offering. The man in the bottle shop had recommended the wine, fortunately, because Meg wasn’t a connoisseur. Not that she didn’t enjoy good wine, but she happily drank wine from a cask, it didn’t really bother her. Simon thought she was a peasant. Add to that the fact that she liked instant coffee, and it was lucky he even spoke to her.

  She tapped on his door and opened it when she heard a muffled “Come in.”

  “Hi.”

  Simon looked up at her and frowned. He returned his attention to the papers on his desk. “What do you want?” he muttered.

  He really was cross.

  “I was wondering if you had time for a drink?”

  “Not really,” he replied without looking up. “I don’t feel like going to the bar tonight.”

  She held up the bottle. “We don’t have to!”

  He still looked unimpressed. He sat back in his chair, folding his arms. Meg closed the door behind her.

  “Look, Simon, I’m sorry I asked you to lie for me,” she began. “But it was only a little lie.”

  “Meg, that’s like being only a little bit pregnant. A lie is a lie.”

  “But you didn’t have to lie at all. Chris didn’t even ring here in the end,” she added brightly.

  Simon remained unmoved.

  “You’re right. Of course. I should never have asked you to lie in the first place.” She put the bottle and two glasses down on the desk in front of him and took a corkscrew out of her pocket. She’d started to twist it into the stopper when he finally stood up.

  “Here, give me that.”

  He opened the bottle and poured them both a glass, handing one to Meg.

  “What should we drink to?” she said hopefully.

  Simon seemed to be choosing his words. “Friendship. Honesty. Trust.” He paused. “Loyalty, fidel—”

  “Oh, okay, okay! If I wanted a sermon I would have gone to church.” Meg plonked down on the sofa and put her feet on the coffee table.

  “I still expect a confession.”

  “I have nothing to confess.”

  “Is that the truth, the whole truth this time?”

  “Nothing but the truth,” she said, holding her glass up to him.

  “Then what’s going on?”

  Meg sighed. “I’m not doing anything wrong. I don’t think.”

  Simon came and sat beside her on the sofa. “What does that mean?”

  “Can I ask you something, hypothetically?”

  He nodded.

  “If I met a woman at work and went out with her a couple of times and had fun, would you think I was being unfaithful to Chris?”

  “No. Not unless you’ve changed your stripes.”

  Meg ignored his inference. “Okay, so what if it was a man instead of a woman. Can’t a married woman be friends with a man?”

  “Are you attracted to him?”

  “I’m speaking hypothetically.”

  “And I’m Fred Nile,” he said wryly. “You can’t be friends with a man, Meg, if you’re sexually attracted to him.”

  “I’m friends with you, and I’m sexually attracted to you.”

  “You are not.”

  “Well, I used to be.”

  “That doesn’t count, it was before you realized I was gay.”

  Meg turned sideways, leaning her head on the back of the sofa. “Why didn’t I realize you were gay?”

  He sighed. “Because I don’t have it tattooed on my forehead.”

  “But usually I can tell, I think.”

  “How do you know?”

  Meg frowned at him.

  “How do you know how many men around you are gay?” he repeated.

  “I’ve got as good a barometer as the next person.”

  He laughed, shaking his head. “Hets and their gaydars! I guarantee you, there are a lot more gays around than you realize.”

  “Really? Like who?” said Meg, jumping up to get the bottle.

  “You’d be surprised.”

  She refilled their glasses. “Tell me.”
/>   Simon considered her. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you’re changing the subject.”

  “I didn’t mean to,” she said innocently.

  “So back to what we were saying. Friendship between a single man and a married woman—you’re asking for trouble.”

  “You and I are friends,” Meg said, sitting back down again.

  “I’m gay, Meg!” he reminded her. “I’m not exactly a threat.”

  “Mm,” she murmured. “Is that why women and gay men always get along?”

  Simon nodded. “Sex is out of the ratio. I think women get tired of fighting men off. You know, they look sideways and guys take it as an invitation. Women can get friendship and affection from a gay man without the pressure.”

  Meg sighed. “That’s why Rupert Everett was more appealing than the other guy in My Best Friend’s Wedding?”

  “No. Rupert Everett was more appealing than the other guy.”

  She grinned. “Mm, I reckon. I was so disappointed to find out he was really gay.”

  “Why? Were you expecting a call?”

  Meg laughed at herself. “Okay, so what you’re saying is, I can’t be friends with a single, straight man if I find him attractive. But when do you cross the line? When does it become adultery?”

  “‘Whosoever looketh on a woman to lust after her hath committed adultery with her already in his heart,’” Simon recited.

  Meg just stared at him.

  “I’m sure it goes both ways, you know, a woman looking upon a man with lust, yada yada. And lust is ‘an excessive desire for the sinful pleasures forbidden by the sixth commandment.’ Which brings us back to adultery—”

  “Slow down, altar boy!”

  “I was an altar boy actually.”

  “What, on a Mardi Gras float?”

  “Meg!” He shook his head. “How else do you think I’d know all that stuff?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Believe me, when Sister Annunciata is standing over you with a ruler, rapping you on the knuckles for every word you get wrong, you learn pretty fast.” He smiled ruefully. “It’s no wonder I’ve never looked upon a woman with lust in my heart.”

  “You’re Catholic?”

  Simon nodded. “Well, lapsed these days.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “International man of mystery, they call me.”

  Meg grinned. “At least it explains why you’re so conservative on the issue.”

  “I’m not conservative at all, Meg,” Simon insisted, turning around to face her fully. “I know married men who sleep with women, when they’re away on business, at a conference or whatever, and I wouldn’t call them adulterers.”

  Meg looked dubious. “That’s generous of you.”

  “They haven’t betrayed the spirit of their marriage contract. They still love their wives, they were just getting their rocks off. It’s only a physical release.”

  “It’s nice for men how they can pretend their penis has a life of its own.”

  “On the other hand,” Simon continued, ignoring her, “you could be committing adultery without laying a hand on another person, if your emotions are involved.”

  Meg took a long, slow mouthful of wine, staring off into the distance.

  “So, I should just jump into bed with him,” she said after a while. “Then I wouldn’t have to feel guilty?”

  “Jump into bed with whom, may I ask?”

  Meg glanced sideways at Simon. “His name’s Hypo Thetical.”

  “His name’s Jamie Carroll.”

  She looked at him warily.

  “I’ve seen him skulking around here once or twice since that night at the launch when I had to wipe up the trail of drool you left behind.”

  Meg sighed. “Nothing’s happened.”

  “Then why did you want me to lie to your husband?”

  She couldn’t answer him.

  “I don’t get it, Meg,” Simon said in a quiet voice. “I thought you and Chris were happy?”

  She shrugged. “It’s hard to explain…”

  “Try me.”

  Meg looked at his eyes. They were so earnest, wanting to understand.

  “The excitement’s gone.”

  “That’s normal, Meg. You can’t be like newlyweds forever.”

  “Why not? It doesn’t seem fair.”

  “But it happens to everyone. You can’t maintain that first flush of love after you’ve been together for a long time. It’s an oxymoron. You only feel that way because it is new.”

  “Well, then it’s unfair. Are married people just not supposed to have any passion in their lives?”

  Simon paused, reflecting. “I think you’re supposed to work at it.”

  Meg pulled a face. “This from a serial monogamist. I haven’t seen you stay in too many relationships past the use-by date.”

  “We’re not talking about me.”

  “Then let’s stop talking about me, too. It’s boring.”

  He frowned at her, but his eyes still looked concerned. “I just don’t know how you can risk losing everything you’ve got.”

  “I’m not risking anything, because I won’t take it any further. We’re just friends.” She was trying to forget the kiss, but it was not an easy thing to forget.

  “Meg, you know what you sound like? Those people who go into casinos, setting themselves a strict limit…”

  She stared at him.

  “Then, once they get a taste for it, they push it just a little more, and a little more, and before they know it they’ve lost the shirt off their back.”

  Meg was startled. “That’s a stupid analogy!”

  “No it isn’t. It makes the point.”

  “Well, I’m not a gambler. I won’t do anything to jeopardize my marriage.” She swallowed. “Or hurt Harrison.”

  Simon touched her arm gently. “I believe you, Meg. Just be careful.”

  She breathed out heavily. “You know me, I’m always careful.”

  The following week

  “What are you doing?”

  Jamie had a habit of not announcing himself on the phone and launching into conversations from a point somewhere farther down the track.

  “Working,” Meg replied shortly, propping the receiver between her shoulder and chin and pretending to be occupied with whatever was on the computer screen. She didn’t know why she was bothering with the charade, it wasn’t as though he could see her.

  “Have you had lunch yet?”

  “Nope.”

  “Do you want to get some lunch?”

  “I can’t today.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m getting my hair cut.”

  “Oh? You need a haircut?”

  She sighed. “I have a regular appointment every six weeks.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  “No I’m not. There’s something wrong with that?” she said defensively.

  “Okay, don’t get touchy.” He paused. “Do you want some company?”

  Meg laughed.

  “Are you bored?”

  “No, I want to see you.”

  She stopped, taking hold of the receiver. “You don’t really want to come and watch me get my hair cut, Jamie.”

  “Yes I do. What time’s your appointment?”

  Meg looked at her watch. “In about forty minutes.”

  “Then I’ll meet you in the carpark in half an hour.”

  “I won’t hold you to it.”

  “I’ll be there, Meg.”

  She tried to focus back on her work, but she couldn’t ignore the debate going on inside her head. Only a friend would come to the hairdressers with you, she told herself. In fact, only a girlfriend would do that. She’d show Simon. Of course she and Jamie could be friends. There was nothing wrong with him keeping her company at Fringes. Her heart started to race. Oh God, yes there was! Almost all the women from the office went to Fringes.

  Meg picked up the phone and
dialed. “Hi Karen? It’s Meg Lynch. Look, I won’t be able to make it today, we’re flat out here. Can I call to reschedule? Great. Thanks Karen, talk to you soon.”

  Half an hour later Meg told Donna she was going for a long lunch if anyone asked, because she had some errands to run. She walked out of the building and spotted Jamie straightaway, leaning against her car.

  “Hiya,” he said languidly as she approached him.

  Meg tried to suppress the haphazard flutter she felt inside. He was just a friend. You didn’t get all giddy when you met a friend.

  “Where to?” he asked.

  “I canceled my appointment.”

  “Why did you do that?”

  Meg shrugged. She may as well be honest. “You know what hairdressing salons are like. They do a sideline in gossip. I’d rather not be the latest hot topic.”

  He studied her for a moment. “Have I stuffed up your schedule?”

  “No,” she insisted. “I’m not as rigid as you think I am.”

  “You could still get your hair cut.”

  “No, it’s alright.”

  “I know a place.”

  That you obviously haven’t visited in a while, she could hear Simon saying.

  “No, it’s alright. I always go to the same woman.”

  He nodded. “And get the same haircut?”

  “Well, yes.” Meg touched her hair self-consciously. “You don’t like it?”

  “I didn’t say that. Your hair always looks … perfect.”

  Meg stared into space. “Mm, it does, doesn’t it?” she said vaguely. “Where did you say this place was?”

  “Newtown.”

  “Oh right, and come out with dreadlocks?”

  Jamie laughed. “You can get regular haircuts in Newtown, you know.”

  Meg took a breath. What the hell. “Okay,” she said, tossing him the keys. “You drive, I suppose you know the way.”

  He looked surprised. “Yeah? You’re really going to do this?”

  “You were the one that told me not to think about things so much.”

  * * *

  The salon was not too outrageous, and the Jamaican woman who cut her hair was delightful. They had to wait for more than half an hour, but just as well, it took Meg that long to decide on a style.

  “You’ve got such gorgeous hair,” the hairdresser remarked when Meg told her what she wanted. “You’re sure you want to do this?”

  What was it, did she have a big sign on her back that read Caution—woman terrified of change?