by Ilsa Evans
‘The kids told me. They saw his sister on Monday night, and then I went around to her place to confirm it. Actually, I had a lovely time. I haven’t seen her in years but I’m going to see more of her now –’ I stop talking as a truly horrible thought hits me. ‘Oh my god!’
‘What?’
‘I just had a truly horrible thought!’
‘What?’
‘Maggie! She said that she saw me coming out of my therapist’s office a few months ago, and that she was really worried about me. Do you know, I bet that she rang Alex and told him to get his butt back here coz of the kids. Damn! He’s going to think I’m a loony!’
‘Oh, rubbish! Anyway, he should come back. How often has he seen them in five years – twice? It’ll do them good, and him too. You can play happy families. I recommend Daylesford. But tell me more about the sister. Is she a bit of a busybody?’
‘No, not really. I think she was just genuinely concerned. She’s really very nice. You’d like her. In fact, she’s coming for a barbecue Sunday lunchtime. Do you want to come too?’
‘You are aware that it’s winter?’
‘Yes, I am. Where’s your sense of adventure? I’m thinking outside the square I live in and you should too. Besides, I shall probably need moral support. You can always bring a coat if a little cool weather scares you. Would you two like to come or not?’
‘I take it you mean me and Bronte, not me and Dennis?’
‘That’s for sure!’
‘In that case, we’d love to. Well, I’d love to and I’ll see if my daughter is free, or even speaking to me yet.’
‘I’d better warn you that my mother and both sisters are coming as well. That’s why I need the moral support.’
‘You’re asking your sister Elizabeth over for a barbecue?’
‘Yep. I’m also asking her boyfriend, and my mother’s boyfriend as well.’
‘Your mother has a boyfriend?’
‘Not only has she a boyfriend,’ I pause for dramatic effect – and to refill our wineglasses, ‘but they are getting married next February. On my birthday, in fact.’
‘Good god! That must make, let me see, husband number four for your mother, doesn’t it? I thought she already had a major dilemma with three of them milling around up there already.’ Terry waves airily in the direction of the ceiling.
‘She does. Well, at least she did. By now Dad and the other two are probably breathing a sigh of relief and trying to chat up an angel or two. Anyway, now it’s number four, and room for more. The woman marries every Tom, Dick and Harry she comes across. And actually his name is Harry. Well, Harold really but –’ I stop suddenly as something rather incredible occurs to me. ‘That’s it! She is marrying every Tom, Dick and Harry! The first one was Thomas, and then there was Richard – that’s your Dick – then there was my father … he must have been an oversight because his name was Algernon, but anyway, she has recovered nicely, found her Harry and shall now live happily ever after!’
We both dissolve into hysterical laughter at the idea of anyone actually not only finding, but marrying, a Tom, Dick and Harry. I imagine that there wouldn’t be that many nowadays. I must remember to share this with Diane. After a few minutes we calm down and sit in pleasurable silence for a while, sipping wine and eating dip. A couple of possums scramble across the roof above us and then proceed to launch themselves into the air, landing with a thud on the verandah roof where they perform their nightly tango before heading for the trees. Sam waltzes through the lounge-room to say hello to Terry while helping herself to a few crackers and then disappears in the direction of the kitchen. No doubt to find the packet and finish them off.
‘Every Tom, Dick and Harry – that’s hysterical.’
‘Not for them, it’s not.’
‘Hmm. Amazing.’
‘That’s my mother for you.’
‘It was sort of nice, you know.’
‘What was?’
‘Dennis. Being with someone for a couple of days. Sex.’
‘Sorry, I can’t remember.’
‘No, I’m serious. I didn’t realise how much I missed it. Not just sex, but the companionship, the talking, just walking down a street holding hands with someone whose hand is actually bigger than yours. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want another relationship with Dennis. Been there, done that – and suffered the consequences. But if there’s one thing this weekend did for me, apart from the obvious, of course, it reminded me of what I’m missing. And I think that I do want a relationship with someone. Now.’
‘Hey! Don’t look at me!’
‘Not right now, you dork.’
‘That’s quite a speech.’ I look at Terry thoughtfully. ‘I always thought you were the strong, silent, contented single type.’
‘Look, I’m not desperately unhappy, and if you had asked me a couple of years ago whether I wanted another guy, I would have said no way. I wasn’t ready. But now I am. I don’t want to sound too maudlin but I’m sort of feeling actually lonely.’
‘Oh, Terry. That’s sad.’
‘God, don’t go overboard! I’m not crying into my gin every night! I’m just facing facts, that’s all. And I’m going to do something about it.’
‘Like what?’
‘Well, start going out more. Socialising. Joining a few clubs. Going clubbing. I don’t know, I haven’t thought it through entirely yet. One thing I do know is that I’m not going to sit at home moping.’
‘Good on you!’
‘Want to join me?’
‘Me?’ I look at Terry in surprise. ‘Um, but I have a babysitter problem, you know.’
‘So? Just use Sam.’
‘Oh, of course, of course.’ I put my glass down on the coffee table and stall by selecting a cracker and slowly piling it with dip. The thing is, this venture doesn’t sound all that appealing to me. It should, considering that I am always moaning about wanting to get some action – any action – but the thought of getting all dressed up and going clubbing or whatever? Having to make conversation with strangers? No – not my thing at all. Not anymore, anyway. And especially not when I have a lovely warm house, comfy armchairs, a good book to look forward to, great kids – the list goes on.
‘Or if you don’t want to use Sam, I’m sure Bronte wouldn’t mind.’
‘Oh, thanks. That’s great.’ I lean over, grab the wine cask and carefully refill the glasses.
‘C’mon, what do you say?’
‘I know what it is!’ I push the wine cask away and lean back with my glass in one hand. ‘You just want me as a foil! Next to me you look taller, and blonder, and slimmer – and the guys will see your boobs coming before my face even gets into focus! You’re using me, that’s what it is.’
‘Do you know what?’ Terry leans back and looks at me quizzically. ‘You don’t sound very enthusiastic. I’m not forcing you, you know.’
‘I know. I’m sorry. It’s just, on the one hand I’d love to go out with you, I’d love to help you find someone. But on the other hand, I don’t know that I’m the clubbing type. The whole idea just leaves me cold. Really, really cold. Really frigid, in fact. I think I’ve just turned into a boring little homebody – but I like being at home with the kids at night. I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be, dork. I’ll find someone else to enter the dim, dark, dangerous world of single life with me. But when I start bringing home all these gorgeous guys, don’t you start complaining or trying to pinch them. I won’t stand for it.’
‘I’ll try to remember that.’ I grin back at her, relieved that I’ve been let off the hook.
‘Or I could just wait until February and seduce that tall, dark, handsome next-door neighbour you’re getting.’ Terry flicks her ponytail back over her shoulder and takes a sip of wine. Then she looks across at me.
‘God! Look at your face!’
‘What?’ I try to bring my facial features under control. ‘What about my face?’
‘Well, if looks could kill! Okay, okay –
the next-door neighbour is out of bounds!’
‘Don’t be silly! You can do what you like.’
‘Dork! I wouldn’t have touched him anyway! Best friend’s exes are definitely forbidden fruit.’
‘Whatever,’ I say casually as I put my drink down on the coffee table. That is, I have to put my drink down on the coffee table because, for some reason, my hand just started shaking badly.
‘Wish I’d had a camera! Something tells me that someone has issues about her ex.’ Terry is looking at me gleefully. ‘No wonder you don’t want to go clubbing, you’re just hanging out to be neighbourly! It’ll be a new slant on the old “welcome to our neighbourhood, here’s a casserole to keep you warm on your very first night”, ha ha!’
‘Yeah. Ha bloody ha.’
‘C’mon, lighten up.’
‘I thought we were talking about you. You know, you turning into a middle-aged vamp, and touring the singles scene, casting fear into the hearts of any self-respecting men out there.’
‘And wait till they see me in action!’
‘Oh, please! I really don’t want to know!’
We both laugh companionably and settle back into our seats. I pick up my glass again as my hand seems to have stopped shaking. And I know I don’t have issues about Alex, so that’s fine. I raise my glass for a sip and, out of the corner of my eye, see Terry doing exactly the same. We grin at each other.
‘Synchronised drinking.’
‘Should be an Olympic sport.’
‘Definitely.’
‘Do you know, maybe it’s not just the men thing. Maybe I need to do something different. I mean, Bronte’s older now so that’s not such an issue.’
‘I was thinking that as well! Not about Bronte – about the life-change thing. Really, I have. You know how I’ve been feeling sort of in a rut for a while? Well, I’ve decided that I’m going to take this library fiasco as a sign and branch out. Take control of my life. Maybe start a business or whatever. I haven’t thought it through yet but I’m going to do something.’
‘Good on you! That takes real guts – but you are so right! Maybe I’ll follow your example and quit the library too. Look for something different, a mid-life career change.’
‘Oh my god, that reminds me! My sister-in-law, well, ex-sister-in-law, the one who is coming on Sunday, did that! A career change, I mean. She went from a high school teacher to madam – she’s actually running a brothel called “Pleasant Mount”!’
‘You have to be joking! How old is she?’
‘Oh, about eight years older than Alex. That must make her, um, about forty-eight or nine. But she’s not actually working in the brothel, just managing it. She says it’s entrepreneurial.’
‘I can’t wait to meet this lady. I’ve never met a madam. And I can’t wait to meet your mother’s latest as well. In fact, your winter barbecue might prove to be rather amusing!’
‘You can also meet Elizabeth’s latest boyfriend.’
‘As I hardly know Elizabeth, her boyfriend doesn’t hold the same interest.’
‘We are talking majorly cute here, and he’s a vet, and he is very, very nice.’ In fact, I feel sort of goose-bumpy just talking about him. I finish off my wine and refill both glasses.
‘Oh, you only like him because he’s Elizabeth’s.’
‘What!’ I am totally taken aback and stare at her in amazement. ‘Number one, I don’t like him, I hardly know him, and number two, why would I only like him because he’s Bloody Elizabeth’s?’
‘Because my theory is that Elizabeth, bloody or not, got all the best attention, toys and space after she was born, and you have developed an unhealthy case of sibling envy. I bet if he wasn’t Elizabeth’s, you wouldn’t have given him a second glance.’
‘I would so have! Wait till you see him!’
‘Tell me, did you develop this fatal attraction before, or after, you knew he was going out with Elizabeth?’
‘Well, after … but I liked the sound of him before I knew!’ That doesn’t make much sense and I don’t really feel like sharing my stalking experience with Terry just at this moment so I decide to change the subject. ‘You’ve had too much to drink. Here, give me your glass.’
While I refill both glasses and help myself to more dip, I give this theory a bit of thought and then dismiss it as nonsensical. Terry’ll understand better when she sees Phillip on Sunday.
‘His name’s Phillip.’
‘Well, that definitely goes better with a name like Elizabeth than with yours. In fact I bet he wouldn’t have a bar of you. You’d better stick to being neighbourly.’ Terry chuckles at her razor-sharp wit and then raises her glass in a toast. ‘Look, here’s to us. Cheers!’
‘Cheers!’ I reply and take a sip before putting the glass down and leaning back on the couch. ‘And it’s not a fatal attraction, anyway.’
‘Whatever,’ Terry laughs. ‘I’ll check him out on Sunday.’
‘You do that. You’ll see. But – do you know this is good, it’s nice talking about things with you – almost like … Oh! I haven’t told you! I fired my therapist!’
‘About time! What a waste of energy that was. I was wondering when you’d come to your senses.’
Okay, I give up. Obviously I’m not going to get any congratulations from anyone. Instead, consensus appears to be that I have just wasted almost three years diligently making time to spend an hour a week throwing my money away.
‘I mean, yes, that business with Keith was pretty bad and, yes, I think you needed to talk that through, but all the rest was just crap. You should have stopped going about a year ago. All you need now is to be just a little more positive about things. Enjoy life. Do you know, I have a theory. If you expect crap, you’ll get crap.’
‘Your verbal skills amaze me.’
‘No, I’m serious. A positive attitude can do amazing things to your life. But if you wake up each morning expecting the day to be miserable, that’s exactly what it will be.’
‘Do you know, that’s almost exactly what Diane was saying the other day!’
‘There you go. I knew I liked your sister. Brilliant minds think alike. In fact, do you have a piece of paper, and a texta or something?’
‘Well, yeah but –’
‘Go on, go and get them.’
I sigh, hoist myself up from the couch and wander into the kitchen in search of writing implements. When I get back to the couch, Terry sits up and takes them from me. I flop down and watch while she spreads the paper on the coffee table, looks into the air for a minute as if seeking inspiration there, and then writes: THINK POSITIVE – ALWAYS LOOK ON THE BRIGHT SIDE OF LIFE! She smiles at her handiwork appreciatively, puts the texta down and hands me the paper with a flourish.
‘Put that on your fridge – and look at it every time you feel even a little bit down. Count your blessings, you really do have a ton of them.’
‘I know, I really do.’ I take the paper from her and put it down on the couch next to me, smoothing it out with my hand. ‘But what I was trying to tell you was that I am feeling more positive about everything. Negativity is now number one on my hit list. Because, you know, I was just sitting around yesterday and I suddenly realised that I felt great – happy, in fact. For no real reason. This is going to sound really stupid but I’ve felt like I’ve been sort of stuck in mud for ages, really weighed down, and suddenly I’m starting to break free. Bit by bit. God, look at me – now I’m making pathetic speeches. But thanks for this. I mean it. And I will put it on the fridge.’
‘You’d better – I’ll check. And don’t be stupid about the speeches either. I am really glad you’re feeling more up. Really, really glad. But what brought all this about? What happened?’
‘Do you know, I’ve been wondering that myself. And the only thing that I can come up with is Maggie. I don’t think I mean her herself, but more how she saw me. I mean, yes, a heap of major things have been happening this week and I think that helped, it shook me up, but I really was just
muddling along in my own bumbly way until I went around to her place, and I really think the crowning bit was her. You see, she was talking about how she has always admired me as a person and then this morning Diane said something really similar. And I thought, damn it, I want to be that person again. I want to be gutsy, and strong, and I want to wake up in the morning and feel really glad to be me. And I don’t care if it takes a while – I’m going to get there. God! Here I go with the speeches again!’
‘Will you shut up about the speeches! They’re great! And maybe all that therapy did do some good. But I think you’re right, you’re past it now. Perhaps that’s what you needed, to cut loose and take back some control. You’re certainly on the right track anyway – and I tell you, that takes guts. Just remember the paper.’ Terry leans forward and jabs a finger at her artistry. ‘As for the shitty little things that happen from time to time, well, you’re lucky, you have friends, family, you can talk about ordinary stuff with them. Look, just like we’re talking now. Except that I’m not charging you an arm and a leg.’
‘Did he charge you?’ I say to change the subject, because I’m starting to feel more than a little bit emotional. It must be the wine.
‘Who?’
‘Dennis, of course.’
‘What, for sex?’
‘No, you idiot, for the tooth.’
‘He’d better bloody not.’
‘Do you miss him?’
Terry finishes off her wine and appears to give this question a lot of thought. ‘There’s something about that guy that makes you feel, when you’re with him, that you’re special. That you’re irresistible, you know?’
Actually, I don’t know. And, what’s more, I find it extremely difficult even just imagining it. To me, Dennis is just a creepy sleaze, but to each his/her own.
‘Unfortunately, or probably fortunately, I know that at any one time there’s several of us all feeling that Dennis thinks we’re special, that we’re the only ones. I suppose the trouble is, I think singular, he thinks plural. And if there’s one thing I’ve learnt, it’s that the only time you can really change a male is when he’s in nappies. That’s one of the reasons I came back early. I don’t want to fall into that trap again, it hurts too much.’
