I’ve been feeling unusually emotional lately. I think the pressure of having my first solo exhibition is getting to me. And since Sebastian called me this afternoon, my emotions have been on a roller coaster.
“By the way, I have a date for my exhibition,” I tell him after we’ve exhausted ourselves and lie sweaty on my sofa. “It’s the twelfth of November.”
“That’s great.” His voice is sleepy, his hands skimming lazily up and down my back.
I screw up my courage. “Would you … I mean, if you want to, you could maybe come …” Wow—so articulate.
“Hmm. I think that might be the night of the partners’ dinner, actually. I’ll check with Mandy and let you know. Is that okay?” I feel his body stiffen next to me.
Now I’m in full retreat. “Oh, no, don’t worry about it. I know how busy you are.” I’m equal parts disappointed and relieved. I wait for Nick to respond, but the silence stretches on. I get up, and in a strange reflection of the first time we had sex, I fill a couple of glasses of water.
“The work on the office is almost finished. Another couple of weeks and it will all be over. The tradies have pulled out all the stops to get it done quickly.” As a diversionary tactic, it’s not great, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
“Yes, I noticed things seemed to be winding up.” He grabs the change of topic and runs with it. “I expected we’d be in for a much longer process. What you’ve achieved is quite stunning.”
“Even your office?” I’m trying for light-hearted. I even throw in a poke in the ribs, but I’m not sure he’s buying it.
His answering laugh seems forced. “Especially my office.”
I curl into him and feign sleep, all too aware we might soon reach our expiry date. For the first time in my life, that’s an unwelcome thought. Which is, in itself, an unwelcome thought.
The very next morning, I’m hit with another unwelcome reality. I’m having trouble focussing on anything today. Nick’s reaction to my invitation last night is going around in my mind and I can’t see any other explanation than he’s beginning to feel like he’s had enough. And it scares me.
I’m in Will’s office trying to concentrate on what the painter is saying about tints and stains when Nick’s office door, which is right beside me, opens. Nick can’t see me, but I can see him, and his body language is screaming tense and uncomfortable. With him is an older woman I can only see in profile, but even from a distance, warm is not a word you would associate with her. She’s all hard angles and cold colours.
They’re obviously in mid-conversation.
“I’ve bought you some time for now, Nicholas. But she won’t wait forever so whatever is going on, sort yourself out quick smart so we can move forward with our plans.”
Nick replies, his voice so low and gravelly I can’t make out his words. But he puts his hand on the small of her back and leads her towards reception.
Mandy appears out of nowhere and sees me watching Nick and the woman round the corner into reception.
Gesturing towards them with her ever-present iPad, she grimaces. “Glad I was away from my desk when she arrived.”
I raise my eyebrows at her, asking without asking.
“Nick’s mother. Lovely woman. If you have a thing for cacti.”
I try to make some sort of vague noise of disinterest, although even to my ears, it sounds like the cry of a wounded animal. Which is how I feel. Wounded.
What I heard was vague, to say the least. But is it possible they were talking about me?
This evening is my regular boot camp date with Rosanna. And when I say regular, I mean we drag ourselves there once in a blue moon, although if anyone asks, we definitely go every week.
The class is held in the park at Rushcutters Bay, a short walk from Rosanna’s apartment. You’d think exercising with uninterrupted views of the harbour would be a little less painful. You’d be wrong.
I get to the park early and find a bench in the sun to watch the beautiful yachts moored at the Cruising Yacht Club. The breeze is fresh with salt and carries the clink of rigging and cries of seagulls, while the afternoon sun is sliding towards a golden glow. Sights, sounds and smells which would normally relax me, have no effect.
Yet again, I’m reminded of the perils of eavesdropping. I can’t quite make sense of the conversation I overheard this afternoon, but I can’t shake the feeling it was about me. I know we said this wasn’t a thing at the start. But lately, I’ve felt like maybe that’s not entirely true. And if there’s someone else waiting in the wings until he gets tired of me, well, I’m not okay with that.
Ro turns up at the last possible minute, just as the class starts.
“Why does it never rain on boot camp days?” she grumbles, laying her towel out on the grass and dropping onto it for some stretches.
“Because one of us did something terrible in a previous life,” I answer with a groan as I grip my ankles and lower my head to my knee.
“I hate this. I mean. I. Really. Hate. This,” she grumbles.
