Girl in Between Read online

  He gazes at the coffee in his cup. ‘To be honest, Lucy, I don’t know why I’m here. I don’t know about anything.’

  My shoulders slump in defeat, and my heart sinks again. He’s not here to reconnect with me. He’s confused, that’s all.

  ‘So, what’s going on with Claire? What’s happening?’ I ask, attempting to play the supportive-friend card, rather than the sad-as-hell hand.

  ‘Well, she doesn’t know if she wants anything long term, and I think I do, so …’ He looks up at me. ‘I know this really doesn’t concern you, but I suppose I’ve done a bit of thinking, and I know you had a tough time in Port Douglas with everything last year.’

  ‘I chose to go to Port Douglas. I had to do it. I had to break my own heart, I suppose. But it has been hard, leaving Melbourne and my job there—all that stuff was hard …’ I take a deep breath and continue. ‘Maybe you should just tell her straight out that you want to commit. Maybe that’s the answer for you.’

  He reaches across and puts his hand on mine. ‘You’re a good person, Luce.’

  I look away and see Oscar walk into the café. I withdraw my hand quickly and wave.

  There’s a quizzical look in his eye as he walks over.

  ‘Hello,’ he says to Jeremy. ‘I’m Oscar.’

  ‘Hey, mate. Jeremy.’

  Jeremy gets up and they shake hands. They’re about the same height. I can feel myself blushing.

  ‘I’d better jump in this queue before it gets any longer,’ says Oscar, giving me a smile as he leaves.

  Jeremy looks at me. ‘You’re blushing.’

  ‘No, I’m not,’ I say, my face burning.

  ‘Ah well,’ he says, finishing his coffee, ‘I’d better get back on the road, I suppose.’

  ‘So soon?’ I ask.

  ‘Yeah. I sort of think it might have been a mistake to come here.’

  ‘Well,’ I say, exasperated, ‘what were you expecting? We’re not together, so what was the point?’

  I slide my chair back from the table and he does the same. We walk outside and I resist the urge to throw my arms around him and beg him to love me, to promise that I’ll change the aspects of myself he found frustrating, tell him that I’ll follow him anywhere or prove to him that I can set my own agenda, that I’ll become tougher and less introspective. But I do none of this, and we get back in the car and drive towards Mum and Dad’s.

  ‘You know what I wish?’ he says as we pass the Irish pub on William Street. ‘I wish you’d been more assertive.’

  ‘But you never knew what you wanted either!’ I counter. ‘You used to say how you just needed to get away from Melbourne and figure things out, but it wasn’t that at all—it was just that I wasn’t right for you.’

  ‘Yeah,’ he says quietly. ‘I suppose I felt a bit restless with you.’

  ‘Mmm.’

  We pull up in the driveway, and I turn off the engine.

  ‘Lucy,’ he says. ‘You’re awesome. You’ll find someone.’

  ‘Mmm.’ I stare at the steering wheel.

  ‘I’d better get going.’

  ‘Okay, well, I don’t even know where you’re going …’

  ‘Back up to Port Douglas,’ he says and then pauses. ‘I’m off to Berlin in a few weeks to see my cousins.’

  His words rattle in my heart and I look across at him. ‘All I ever wanted to do was to walk arm in arm with you around Berlin.’

  ‘You know,’ he says whimsically, ‘I always hoped I’d end up with someone like you.’

  ‘That makes no sense, because I am me, and you could have ended up with me, but you didn’t want to.’

  He reaches over and gives me a hug, and I sense that we will never be like this again, hugging, in my Corolla.

  I watch as he gets out, walks to his car and drives away, knowing he’s not looking back, not even for an instant. I put my head on the steering wheel and sob like I’m going for gold in the sob Olympics.

  It’s not long before there’s a tap on the window, and Mum’s concerned face is pressed against the glass. Then the car door opens and I look over to see Rosie clambering into the front passenger seat.

  ‘Oh, mate,’ I say.

  ‘Lucy, what the fuck? What the hell was he doing here?’

  I’m vaguely aware of Mum opening the back door and hopping in.

  ‘Well, what was all that about?’ she asks, doing up her seatbelt.

  ‘Mum, you’ve just done up your seatbelt.’

  ‘Oh, it’s an automatic thing,’ she says, unbuckling it. ‘I hope he hasn’t set you back, Lucy. By God, if you’re thinking of chasing after that man, I’ll throttle you both.’

  ‘What did it all mean, Luce?’ asks Rosie, her eyes searching mine.

  ‘Nothing,’ I say, looking at her. ‘It meant nothing, Rosie, and the worst part is that I wanted it to mean something.’

  ‘Then why did he come at all?’ asks Mum, with a sigh. ‘What was the point?’

  ‘I think he just wanted to make sure I was okay and didn’t want me to see him as the bad guy.’

  ‘So, it was a guilty conscience thing,’ says Rosie. ‘That’s rough. It just makes him feel better, not you.’

  I want to put an end to this tedious and unproductive talk. I don’t want to become emotionally engaged in the Jeremy saga again; it does my head in too much. And yet I know full well I will spend hours mulling over his visit, going back over every word of our conversation and analysing it for deeper meanings or glimmers of hope.

  I turn to Rosie. ‘I don’t know what to do.’

  ‘Often when I don’t know what to do, I—’

  ‘Mum, I don’t care what Cher would say or what Cher would do. I don’t care about Cher.’

  We sit in silence.

  ‘Do you want me to get you a KFC bucket?’ asks Rosie.

  ‘No.’ I stare straight ahead.

  ‘Well,’ says Mum, ‘you just have to dust yourself off. Completely move on now, and not give Jeremy one more thought.’

  ‘But why would he have come if it meant nothing?’ I say weakly, knowing Mum’s answer as I ask the question.

  ‘Because he’s had time to reflect and wants to hear that you’re alright.’ She pauses. ‘Obviously he cares about you, but not in a meaningful way, or you’d be together.’

  Rosie nods. ‘You have to completely cut each other. It’s the only way.’ She speaks with the authority of someone who’s been there.

  ‘But I had! I hadn’t spoken to him for nearly nine months, but it didn’t mean I hadn’t thought about him. I could have contacted him a thousand times, but I didn’t, because this is how I thought it was meant to be. You just carry on like the other person never existed. You don’t expect to see them out of the blue, talking about where their relationship’s at with their new girlfriend.’

  ‘So they’re still together?’ asks Mum.

  ‘Yes, he said he thinks he might be keener than she is, so I ended up giving him advice.’ I chew my fingernails.

  ‘It’s not your role to give him advice and support, particularly about his new relationship. You’re too nice, always letting him back in and being understanding. You have to respect yourself more. I bet this new girlfriend doesn’t let him walk all over her, and that’s probably why he’s with her. You have to be tougher or people will take advantage of you. It’s not being unkind; it’s protecting yourself.’

  I feel sick in the stomach, because I know Mum’s right.

  ‘He’s looking at you to boost him up when he feels a bit flat, but where does that leave you?’ says Mum, who’s on a roll now. ‘You’ll probably get a message from him in a few months saying, “Thanks, Lucy, for the chat, everything’s rosy with my girlfriend again now. Good luck!”’

  I look at her in the rear-view mirror. ‘They’ll get married. I know it. He loves her.’

  ‘Oh well,’ says Rosie, ‘who cares who or what he loves anymore? He’s of no concern to you, Luce. Yes, you care about him, but your heart’s so big you�
�ll be able to care about someone else—someone who loves you back.’

  ‘I couldn’t agree more, Rosie,’ says Mum, winding down the window. ‘Look, I’m going to have to get out of this car—the perspiration’s just rolling down my back.’

  ‘Yeah, me too, Denise,’ says Rosie.

  ‘Alright, I’ll come up in a sec.’

  ‘A sec!’ exclaims Mum. ‘What are you going to do? Not gas yourself, I hope!’

  ‘No, Mum, I don’t even know how I’d do that. I’m going for a drive. I need to be by myself, even if it’s just twenty minutes. I’ll take Glenda.’

  ‘Good idea, I’ll go get her,’ says Rosie.

  ‘Lucy,’ says Mum, after Rosie has left, ‘I want you to know how beautiful you are. You’re going to meet a lovely young man, I have no doubt about that, so please don’t give Jeremy any more of your energy, because I can guarantee he’s not wasting one second thinking or worrying about you. Not one second.’

  Rosie opens the car door and Glenda leaps up onto the passenger seat and licks my tear-streaked face.

  We drive to the Yeppen Lagoon, one of our favourite spots, and after a long walk we sit on the grass, watching the pelicans glide by. Glenda’s getting older now, so isn’t as keen on chasing the birds, but she still cocks her head to one side when they stray close. I take a deep breath as the sun winks at me through the swaying eucalyptus leaves. Kookaburras cackle from the ghost gums along the lagoon edge and a couple of cattle stray further up the cracked bitumen path where a fence has broken. I relax my shoulders and try to let go of all the tension. This sadness I’ve been carrying seems so futile now, particularly when I know with gut-wrenching clarity how considerably Jeremy has moved on.

  Glenda rests her head in my lap and looks up at me.

  ‘Yes,’ I say to her, ‘I know I’ve been silly. I know, Glenda. But how do I regain my trust and confidence?’ The tears slide down my face. ‘How do I do it, Glenda?’

  She licks my hand, closes her eyes and sighs heavily. I smile. She knows how to let go.

  It’s been a month since Jeremy visited and, just like I knew it would, his visit has hit me for six. Our conversation from that day has gone round and round in my mind like dirty laundry on a heavy-duty cycle. It all leads back to one cold, hard fact: he’s still with Claire. Even though he’s not sure if Claire’s on the same page, it still hasn’t made him think I was actually the right one for him all along, so there it is.

  I’ve stopped writing, stopped test-running careers and making plans, and adopted Mum’s daily routine. In the morning, we put on any washing, go for a coffee with Dad at Bits ’n’ Pizzas, then I do yoga with Mum and her friends, and hang out the washing on our return. We have lunch and a cup of tea, and she leaves for the drumming circle, or to have her hair cut or blow-dried or coloured, and I sleep. In the afternoon, Dad goes to the Jockey Club and I walk Glenda, then help Mum prepare dinner. Dad returns from the Jockey Club. We watch New Tricks or Inspector George Gently or Midsomer Murders, then I head to bed, read a self-help book and sleep on and off for about three hours. I wake the next morning to Mum drawing my curtains open, and the new day is a repeat of the last.

  Mum, poor thing, is clearly worried. Right now, she is standing outside my bedroom, hitting what sounds like a gong. It’s horrifically loud.

  ‘Mum!’ I yell above Glenda’s frantic barks. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Sorry to wake you, love, but it’s nine o’clock and I tried to hold out as long as I could.’

  ‘What? What do you mean?’

  She opens my door clutching a huge cymbal and wearing a full-length, bright pink embroidered robe and matching headpiece.

  ‘It’s part of Qi-Gong, darl. You bang this healing symbol ten times in the morning around a person who’s hurting, and gradually the sound brings about peace and harmony.’

  ‘Well, right now it’s bringing about a headache and Glenda’s not a fan,’ I say.

  Mum perches on the edge of my bed and peers down at me.

  ‘That outfit is ridiculous,’ I say. ‘You look like you’re about to audition for The Mikado.’

  ‘I know!’ She laughs. ‘I got the set over the internet. Lucy, I hate to see you like this. Look at the bags under your eyes. Talk to me.’

  ‘I can’t talk to you while you’re wearing that thing on your head.’

  ‘Alright, it’s gone,’ she says, taking it off.

  ‘I’m just tired, Mum.’

  ‘No, it’s more than that, and it’s gone on too long. You’re still thinking about Jeremy, aren’t you?’

  ‘A bit.’

  ‘Lucy, only you can decide you’re better than all this. Only you can move on. I can’t do any more.’

  Mum leaves and I stare at the ceiling. What is it that I’m waiting for? If I’m giving myself a three-year window before I hope to have children, then shouldn’t I be heading back to a capital city and steamrolling ahead with my career? Or even going overseas for a last hurrah? Who knows who I could meet on a train in Vienna? I’m certainly not meeting anyone lying on this bed at Mum and Dad’s. Maybe I’m giving off the wrong vibe. A girl who’s scrounging around her parents’ car for spare change is not going to be eligible for WHO Magazine’s annual list of Sexiest People.

  My bedroom door opens and I brace myself for another pep talk from Mum, but it’s Rosie, in her bicycle lycra.

  ‘Lucy,’ she says sternly, sitting down exactly where Mum had sat, ‘I don’t like to say this, but you’re turning into a bit of a dickhead.’

  ‘Man, are you and Mum working in good cop/bad cop shifts or something?’

  ‘You can’t do this anymore, Luce. You can’t lie here and mope around all day and only go out to do yoga with your mum. You’re acting like you’re fucking retired and you’re thirty-two! You’re wasting away!’

  ‘Mmm.’

  ‘Even Ruth is worried about you. She stopped me when I rode past the car wash today and asked how you were going and said to wish you all the best. Ruth is wishing you all the best! Mate! Come on!’

  I give a half-hearted chuckle. ‘Has she ever wished you all the best?’

  ‘She’s wished me dead and buried, but that’s not the point. Come on, Luce. Get out of bed. We’ll go to Bits ’n’ Pizzas for a coffee. I’ve got a plan.’

  ‘A plan?’ I sit up straighter.

  ‘Yeah, a plan. A definite plan.’

  ‘Okay, but I’m not going speed dating, or joining RSVP, or hanging out at that pub opposite the meatworks.’

  ‘Well, neither am I, so that’s good. Come on, get up and get dressed. I’ll see you in the lounge room.’

  ‘Rosie,’ I say, ‘I love y–’

  ‘I know, mate, I know you love me, just get up.’

  ‘I love yoga—I was going to say I love yoga,’ I reply, laughing properly this time.

  Colleen from the bottle-o and Video Ezy slams down our cappuccinos. Rosie and I look at each other and grin as the froth splashes onto the saucer. Colleen walks away, sighing.

  ‘Right, so, today is the twenty-fifth of June,’ says Rosie. ‘We’ve got exactly six months until Christmas.’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘So, here’s two sheets of paper. We have to write down the top five attributes we’re looking for in a guy.’

  ‘I didn’t think you were into this stuff?’

  ‘I’m not, but let’s face facts: we’re thirty-two, time’s not slowing down, and some of our friends are having their second children. The aim is to find this man by Christmas Day. We’ve got to try this.’

  ‘Okay,’ I say, nodding.

  ‘Right, so all the best.’ She scribbles furiously and hands her page to me within seconds.

  ‘Oh, Rosie, you’ve thought about this already!’ I laugh. ‘You’ve cheated!’

  ‘No, I haven’t cheated! I’ve just had a bit of time to reflect while on the bike recently. What do you reckon?’

  I look at her list, which reads:

  1) Hardworking

/>   2) Honest

  3) Fit

  4) Wears decent pants and shoes

  5) Has good dental hygiene

  I almost choke. ‘Hardworking?’

  ‘Yeah, I know I’m not, that’s why he has to be.’

  ‘Okay, but what about four and five: wears decent pants and shoes, and has good dental hygiene. Aren’t they the same thing? Don’t you think if someone wore decent pants and shoes, they’d also take care of their teeth?’

  ‘You’ve got a point, but I can’t be arsed thinking of an alternative.’

  ‘Fair enough.’

  I hand back her list and she studies it.

  ‘Rosie?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Do you think we’re too old to get married and have kids now?’

  She puts her paper down.

  ‘We keep hearing from all these friends of ours who are going back to work after sorting out childcare, you know, and it’s made me wonder,’ I say.

  ‘Lucy, we’ve got to cross that bridge when we come to it. We’ve still got at least five years, don’t you think? And surely we’d have met someone by then? And I don’t think you’re ever too old to get married and have a big fucking party if that’s what you want. Don’t you reckon?’

  ‘Yeah, you’re right,’ I say.

  ‘I generally am,’ she replies, ever modest.

  I’m silent for a while, then say, ‘I think I might want to be a doctor.’

  ‘What?’ says Rosie, surprised. ‘Really?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Really?!’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because you’re helping people,’ I say. ‘It’s a worthwhile job. And I could live in a big city or a small town.’

  She runs her hand through her hair. ‘Lucy, can I just say this … nothing that you do, or say, or achieve, will make Jeremy come back to you. It’s over for you guys, Luce. He wouldn’t care if you won the Nobel bloody Prize for literature or became the first woman in space. He’s not coming back.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be doing it for Jeremy; I’d be doing it for me,’ I reply. ‘And anyway, I think I’ve missed the boat on being the first woman in space.’