by Sue Watson
I took a breath. ‘Don’t be like that… I feel bad, I didn’t want to hurt you. Let’s just… I’m so sorry… Can we talk this through when I’m there?’
‘Yeah, but… I don’t know how I’ll feel,’ he said, suddenly.
‘About me?’
‘No, I know how I feel about you. Unfortunately, there’s nothing I can do about that, though for a while I wished I could. I just wonder how I’ll feel if I see you… I’m not sure I can go through it all again – I think it’s only in the last couple of months that I’ve been able to wake up without feeling like shit because you’re not there.’
The words made my heart beat quicker, but his delivery was a little harsh, and made me feel guilty and sad. We’d both been through it, I understood how he’d felt, and I knew it was all my fault.
‘Of course, I want you to come over…’ he said into the silence.
My heart lifted in relief, but I tried not to let the excitement show in my voice; we needed to work through this. I needed to show him how much I meant it this time and take it gently. ‘I understand you’ll be busy. You don’t even have to meet me at the airport, I could just come directly to your place?’
‘No… no, don’t do that. I’ll come and meet you…’ he answered.
I was finding it hard to read him without facial expressions and body language. One minute he seemed to be up and his usual happy, carefree self, but then other times he’d seem down, like he was choosing his words carefully, which wasn’t the Dan I knew. I wasn’t quite sure what was going on; I wanted to get back to us, to who we were. It all felt so distant, but that might be because we were talking over the phone, thousands of miles away from each other.
‘I don’t have your address anyway, but I could find it,’ I said, trying to lighten things by teasing him, but coming over like a pupil from the bunny-boiling school for girls. With a GCSE in Stalking.
‘Faye, I just think we need to organise it properly, no surprises.’
‘I never thought I’d hear you use the word “organise”,’ I laughed.
Dan never ‘organised’ anything ‘properly’. In fact, he never ‘organised’ anything full stop. The word wasn’t even in his vocabulary; he was the man who loved life and lived it to the full, rode mile-high waves, climbed mountains, was excited about the very existence of fig jam. He loved surprises, he was a free spirit who threw stuff into a rucksack and just went wherever the mood might take him – and now he was suggesting we ‘organise’ my arrival. Really? This was feeling slightly weird, but I told myself perhaps this new and improved Dan was a good thing. I loved his spontaneity, but perhaps his brother’s death had made him take on some responsibility and he was more in charge of his life these days?
‘Well, things are different…’ he was saying.
‘Different?’
‘Yeah, a lot’s happened, Faye.’
16
A Taste of Wedding Cake and a Tingle of Dread
What was he talking about? I felt really uneasy now; I wanted to ask him what had changed, but was almost too scared to know the answer.
‘I understand that things might have changed, and you and I won’t be able to just fall back into the life – the relationship – we had,’ I said, unwilling to push him for any details. ‘I know what I put you through and don’t want to force myself on you, but now I can give you what you wanted… what I wanted. Can you forgive me?’
‘I… It’s just… I feel like we’ve probably both changed and…’
‘Yes, I’m sure we have,’ I said. ‘We’ve probably both grown a little, Dan, and that’s a good thing. I’m not messing about, I want to be with you and I want to prove to you that this time it’s for keeps. We don’t have to make any decisions, any commitments, we just need to spend some time together, do some talking. I’m free to come to Sydney, where we can regroup and… If you still want me to?’ I felt slightly unsure of him, and I’d never really felt unsure of Dan before.
He didn’t answer, and I really couldn’t get used to this rather cool Dan, who didn’t seem to be all that excited about me travelling thousands of miles to run into his arms. The silence down the phone line was agony and though it may only have lasted seconds, it felt like hours.
‘We can watch those fireworks over Sydney Opera House…’ I tried, convinced I just needed to find the right words, the magic key to unlock him again. ‘You have to show me that beach with the skyscraper waves.’
‘Yeah. Yeah, of course… But I meant what I said, don’t just turn up. I’m busy at work and… I’m not in the market for surprises,’ he said, quite seriously.
‘God, as if I’d just turn up without letting you know. I was only joking,’ I snapped, humiliated by his reaction. I wasn’t joking – I’d had every intention of landing on his doorstep looking pretty damn fabulous, with freshly highlighted hair in my new mid-calf blue dress and denim jacket, shouting, ‘Surprise!’ Perhaps not. Thing is, I’d always assumed Dan would be ready, excited, waiting for me – I had it all planned, right down to the underwear. And in the film of my life that I’d run in my head, he’d open his front door looking gorgeous, slightly dishevelled, a little subdued, only for his face to light up when he saw me. Then he would lift me in his arms, carry me into his home and close the door with one foot as the credits rolled on our happy ending.
This call had gone from me phoning excitedly about us finally being together to feeling like I was being put off. He’d talked so fondly of his country, what we’d do, where we’d go – yet now I had this feeling that he wasn’t sure about me being there. I’d been hoping for so much more than this, even contemplating a second proposal, but I understood how he was still carrying the hurt. Emma’s wedding had made me believe that Dan and I could be forever; I’d daydreamed about flowers and the taste of wedding cake ever since. If he still wanted forever when I got to Sydney, I’d have to prove to him that my heart was for keeps and I would get down on one knee and ask him myself this time. If the unthinkable happened and he couldn’t get over my past rejection, then I’d have to rethink my stay. I just kept my fingers firmly crossed that we could work this out when I got there, but talking to him, I realised it wasn’t going to be as easy as I’d thought.
‘Faye, I’ll book you a room somewhere,’ he was now saying, which didn’t exactly sound like the romantic encounter I’d envisaged after being apart for so long. ‘My apartment’s small and cramped.’
His flat over the deli had been tiny and I’d stayed over many times, so why couldn’t I stay with him now? He knew I wasn’t bothered about bloody dimensions, I just wanted to be with him.
‘I’m not some diva who demands specifications for my sleepovers, give me your room proportions and I’ll tell you if I’m available,’ I laughed. ‘You know I’m not bothered about stuff like that, Dan.’
He didn’t answer me.
‘I just want to see you,’ I said earnestly.
‘Yeah, me too. I do.’
We couldn’t work this out over the phone, we had to see each other to understand what was happening between us. Perhaps it wasn’t all about me? Perhaps he was disappointed with how things had worked out in Sydney for him? He seemed pleased about the café, but he probably hadn’t had a chance to concentrate on his living quarters yet. Dan had always said if he moved back to Sydney he’d live in a stylish place with a pool. He probably thought I’d be disappointed with a cramped little apartment, but I didn’t care, he could live in a box and I’d still want to be with him.
‘Okay, book me a room near where you live. That will be fine,’ I said. This didn’t feel right, but I didn’t want to put him under any pressure so would go along with what made him comfortable.
‘Okay. I’ll meet you at the airport,’ he added. ‘Just let me know when you’ll be here, it’s easier on text.’ Was he asking me not to call him?
I didn’t feel the time was right to question him on something so small when there were already so many unanswered questions between us.
Later that night as I lay in bed, I went back over everything we’d said on the phone. I thought about all our times together, the wonderful places we’d been, the kisses we’d shared. I recalled the way he’d smile whenever he saw me, his eyes never far from mine in a room full of other people. Dan had always been there for me, but speaking to him over the phone it seemed things had changed between us. And I finally let the thought in that had been buzzing around my brain since that first call… Was there something in Australia that Dan didn’t want me to know about?
17
Brexit, The Spice Girls and Beyoncé’s Beautiful Twins
I woke the next morning feeling dreadful after worrying all night. I was getting a slight case of cold feet, but I told myself not to think about ‘The Dan situation’ because until we met, there was nothing I could do about it. I thought instead of the waves on Bondi Beach and Sydney Opera House in the sunshine and all the places in between that Dan had talked lovingly of. Ideally, I’d discover those places with him by my side, I just hoped everything would be okay.
So, three days later, with my too many bags, floppy hat, blue linen dress and lashings of factor 30, I landed in Australia. I’d texted Dan (as requested) to let him know my arrival time. It felt rather polite and formal, but after that strange phone call, I wasn’t taking anything for granted. This was the love of my life, the man I’d shared my deepest secrets with, but we weren’t back there yet. He texted back, equally polite, saying he’d booked a room at a hotel for me.
‘I’ve taken two days off so I can get you to your hotel and then show you around,’ he added.
Two days? I’d travelled thousands of miles to see him, we hadn’t been together for over twelve months – I’d expected more than two days! This was the man who’d talked for hours about the waves on sun-drenched Bondi Beach, where he’d grown up and learned to surf as a tiny kid, and the glittering Sydney skyscape by night. He’d been desperate to show me these places, take me through his childhood, eat in every café he’d ever eaten, taste every brand of ‘amber nectar’ and consume Vegemite and Anzac biscuits like a native. He was passionate about his homeland, wanted to open it out to me like a gift. His very soul danced in the waves, made sandcastles, and climbed the Blue Mountains that framed his amazing city. And he wanted to share this with me. Didn’t he?
What the hell was going on with him? I just kept going over and over our conversation and texts and went from ‘he loves me’ to ‘he loves me not’. Going through passport control, it occurred to me I might just be making the biggest mistake of my life. Me and Dan had been wonderful together, but perhaps we weren’t meant to be? Perhaps we were just a holiday romance that had gone on too long, his proposal a moment of madness, and now I was turning up at his home trying to make something of nothing? Why was I having these thoughts now? It was too late, I was here! And just a little bit tipsy from all the gin I’d drunk on the plane. Medicinal, to calm my nerves – besides, it was free, so it would have been rude not to.
Standing alone in the middle of this huge airport, all I could see were strangers’ faces looking back at me as I walked through arrivals. I’d imagined this moment for so long: us seeing each other across acres of shiny flooring, me dropping my bags to the floor and both of us running towards one another, him lifting me off the ground and twirling me round. People would look enviously on, wishing for a moment that they could have a little taste of what we had. We’d be the accompanying gif to #RelationshipGoals on everyone’s social media.
I tried to hold in my stomach, lift my face slightly so I’d look younger – I could only imagine the extra lines and chins I’d developed since I’d last seen him. Mandy’s dubious Botox could only do so much, and this would be Dan’s first glimpse of me. I wanted him to fall in love all over again and any doubts to dissipate at the sight of me.
But first I had to find him and the more I looked, the less I saw. So many expectant faces, so many fair-haired men dressed in T-shirts and jeans making my heart jerk in my chest until they turned or got closer and I saw it wasn’t him. And then, I saw him. It was him. Definitely. A glimpse of fair, tousled hair, a movement of both hands through that hair, a nervous gesture I knew so well. I’d seen it the first time we’d kissed, the first time he turned up at the salon and was accosted by Mandy – and the time he’d asked me to marry him.
The sight of him standing in the near distance had a physical impact, like something had slammed into my chest. He was wearing sunglasses, his face was tanned and a little stubbly, his hair beach blond; he looked a little older, in a good way. And if I’d ever had any doubts about venturing this far, about putting myself on the line, about whether or not we had a future together, just seeing him standing there looking gorgeous erased all doubts. This was no holiday romance – on my part, at least – this was true love. It was heart-in-your-mouth roller-coaster, thirst-quenching, nothing-else-matters love and though it had never really gone away, it now hurtled into me, throwing me off balance. I felt giddy and dizzy, my limbs like liquid; one of those dreams where you’re walking but not going anywhere, each step pointless, like being underwater. And trust me, it wasn’t the gin.
I walked in the direction of where he was standing and felt a little rush as he pushed his sunglasses onto his head and gave me that familiar, twinkly smile, a moment of relief – yes, he was pleased to see me. Everything would be okay.
He began walking towards me (he wasn’t running as I’d hoped). The distance between us felt so short, and at the same time endless. As we grew closer, I tried to search his face for clues, but he was giving nothing away. Suddenly we were together, and we automatically moved into a hug. I tried to let myself go, to relax into his arms. I let my head drop onto his shoulder and immersed myself in his smell – seaside, sunshine and lemons. I wanted to kiss him, but as I looked up into his face, his expression told me this wasn’t something I could do. There was resistance in his eyes, a hardness in his limbs that caused me instinctively to pull back, and a word kept going through my head as I gently stood back and surveyed him – cautious. Dan was being cautious around me. This was not a word I would ever have associated with him before. He was here on home turf, and I wondered if this was the real Dan. And for the first time I had to ask myself how well I really knew him.
‘Hey,’ he said. ‘I can’t believe it, you’re actually here.’ A genuine smile, but his stance was still awkward as he gestured for me to hand him my bags.
‘Thanks for meeting me,’ I said, my hopes of hurling myself into his arms and kissing away the past year in the first ten seconds now gone. This wasn’t how it was going to be.
‘Come on then,’ he said, picking up my bags with one hand, and I noted, not taking my hand with his other. I didn’t feel I could take his hand – I didn’t know why, but I felt like he might not want me to. This was so unlike the ‘us’ we used to be. I could grab him and kiss him in the middle of the street, burrow under his arm and into his chest. But now, without words, he was somehow keeping me at arm’s length, and it hurt like hell.
We headed towards the exit, me running alongside him, trying to keep up.
‘So, where are we staying?’ I asked brightly. I kept things light, no difficult conversations yet about feelings, telling myself he just needed time to get used to me being here.
‘I booked a little hotel near The Rocks. The area’s a bit touristy but the hotel’s good, clean – there’s a place nearby that does good breakfasts,’ he added, a glimmer o
f the old smile at the thought of breakfast.
I smiled back. Our mutual love of food always brought us together.
‘Is that okay with you?’ he asked, turning to look at me properly for the first time.
‘Yeah, it sounds good.’
‘It’s just that you look a bit surprised.’
‘Oh… no, it’s Mandy and…’
‘The Botox?’ he laughed. ‘I don’t know why you put yourself through it, you don’t need Dr Frankenstein, Faye,’ he smiled, and for a moment our eyes met. But it was fleeting and he quickly put his sunglasses over his eyes and turned away. ‘Come on, we’ve got a train to catch,’ he said, picking up speed as I ran along beside him.
‘So, breakfast?’ I said, returning to food, trying to engage him so I could get a feel for what was going on. ‘It sounds great, haven’t eaten since yesterday.’ I looked up at him, still searching for a clue, hoping for a return of that glimmer when he’d looked at me, but he seemed to have closed off again. ‘I was a bit… nervous, coming here… seeing you,’ I said.
‘Nervous?’ He was still walking fast, still looking ahead.
‘Yes, I wasn’t sure whether I was doing the right thing… coming here.’ Again I tried to see a reaction, but nothing.
‘It might be a bit late for breakfast,’ he was looking at his watch, without acknowledging my last sentence. ‘But fortunately this café I know does an all-day brunch,’ he smiled.
He must mean Lemon Myrtle. I longed to see it, but I was torn between feeling excited and scared about this whole trip. For the first time ever I didn’t feel completely sure of Dan.
Boarding the train at the airport, he nodded for me to climb on first. He caught my eye but there was no recognition of the shared love between us, and I wondered if the problem was simpler than I’d imagined. Perhaps he just didn’t love me anymore.
I tried to focus on what was happening. I was going to his café for breakfast, and perhaps once he started showing me round and talking food, the old Dan would return. His exuberance around baked goods was always something I enjoyed and surely he hadn’t lost that? I had to stay positive for now and have patience; we both needed to reacclimatise to each other. The very prospect that he didn’t love me or want me there was too impossible to consider, so I pushed it away like a meal I couldn’t eat. I wasn’t ready to give up on him yet.
