My brain is fried by the time I finish my Monday night class and lock the door behind the last student. Some days are better than others—I’m used to that. Lately, though, it feels like all the days are rushing me at once. Life has become an overwhelming blur of discomfort and change.
People invade my bubble constantly now. Between me, Yolanda, and the new room hire clients, the studio is filled with dozens of students nearly every day. Sometimes, I hear them down here—through the single door at the top of the stairs that separates my home from the studio. Music will blast from a dance class, or I’ll be startled by the abrupt shouts of martial artists. It makes me feel exposed in a weird way, vulnerable, despite knowing they can’t see me. I catch myself tiptoeing around my own home for fear of disturbing someone else’s class. I am getting used to it, little by little, but it still feels weird.
I don’t regret any of the changes I’ve made. They were all needed and I’ve benefited greatly. My business is growing steadily. I’m helping more people than I ever dreamed of. Both through increased class sizes, and through the extra app subscribers I’ve picked up since the recent relaunch. My bread box, once overflowing with overdue bills, now closes with ease. I’ve even started an Instagram account and I’m posting nearly every day. I have honest to goodness followers.
There are a lot of pros to outweigh the cons, but… it’s a lot. Change is hard. And I’m tired of being tired.
If I can just get through the television interview, everything will be better. That’s the thing keeping me on edge. It’s the monster lurking in the shadows of my brain. The interview. Only two sleeps until the big day. Tristan and I are booked to fly down to Sydney tomorrow afternoon. The knowledge he’ll be with me is the one thing keeping me from shaking myself apart with nerves. He’s promised to take care of everything—checking us in to our flights, arranging the taxi to the airport, getting us to our hotel and then to the television studio the next day.All you have to concentrate on is getting through the interview itself, he told me a few nights ago, when suddenly I was the one who couldn’t sleep.I’ll take care of the rest.
I’m so grateful to have his support in this. I’ve never even been on an airplane before. There’s no way I could do such a big trip without him. I wouldn’t know where to start.
The interview will happen early Wednesday morning. Then we’ll be free to enjoy the city before flying home Thursday afternoon. I have someone I know from my meditation course coming in to teach the couple of classes I have on while we’re away. Everything is set.
On Friday morning, Tristan and his parents have made plans to visit the cemetery where Claire is buried to mark the eighth anniversary of her death. Apparently it’s something they do every year—on her birthday, again on her anniversary. I offered to go with him, I want to be there, but he’s made it clear he plans to go alone. It’s his choice, of course, but I can’t help feeling like he’s shutting me out. I want so badly to support him, the same way he’s supporting me. For now, though, I have to respect his wishes. I’m in this for the long haul and I’m confident he’ll let me in eventually. One step at a time, as always.
Turning out the studio lights, I trudge up the stairs, eager to be safe and cosy in the privacy of my own space. When I open the door at the top of the stairs, the scent of cooking food hits me. My mouth waters and I make a soft sound of appreciation.
I head to the kitchen, pausing to take in the sight of the man at the stove, standing guard over a sizzling fry pan with his trusty set of tongs. He looks relaxed, having changed out of his work clothes into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. It’s nice, coming up the stairs after my work is done to find him here. Sometimes he’s practising his developing cooking skills to make dinner. Other nights he’s watching television or finishing off some work tasks he didn’t get through during the day. Tristan’s presence in my home is the one change I’ve adjusted to without any problems at all. I want him here, in my bubble with me, forever.
My bare feet make no noise as I enter the room. “Hey there, gorgeous.”
Tristan startles, looking over at me with a broad grin. “How was your day?”
Pushing away any signs of lethargy, I stroll over to greet him with a kiss. “It was good.” Maybe that’s not entirely true, but Tristan’s tried so hard to help me, including making every effort to keep to a pace that’s tolerable for me. I can’t bear for him to know how heavy the accumulation of small changes has become.
Hoping to distract myself from my fib, I check my phone for messages while Tristan dishes up dinner. My heart skips a beat when I see a missed call from Shelley, my contact person for the morning show. Closing my eyes, I remind myself the interview will be over soon and then I can put a ban on further changes for at least a few months. Then me, and my frazzled brain, can take a well-earned break.
Pep talk complete, I put the phone to my ear to listen to the message. By the time I’m done, my heart is sinking. I was so close. So close to putting all this behind me and moving on with my life. Now, with a single phone call, all the plans we made are about to blow up in my face.
Putting the phone down, I join Tristan at the kitchen table.
“Is something wrong?” he asks, picking up his cutlery.
“That was Shelley.” I hide my hands under the table, so he won’t see the tremors that have crept into them, but the quaking of my voice betrays me anyway. “There’s some famous tennis player who’ll be in Sydney on Wednesday and he’s agreed to come in for an interview, so the show wants to bump me to another day. Apparently, an actual celebrity trumps some nobody from the ‘burbs in Brisbane.” I stop to lick the dryness from my lips. “Shelley wants me to call her back in the morning to confirm I can make the change.”
“Okay,” Tristan says easily. “It shouldn’t be a problem. We knew last minute changes were a possibility. When do they want to do the interview?”
“Friday.” The day of Claire’s anniversary. The day reserved for her and his parents—no boyfriends allowed.
“Oh.” He sets the cutlery back down on the table. Neither of us will be eating tonight. “You can’t choose a different day?”
I shake my head. “That’s not the impression I got from the message. It’s Friday or nothing.”
He frowns. “That’s not fair.”
“It’s a puff piece, Tris. If I can’t make it, they’ll replace me with someone who can. I’m not important.”
“You’re important to me,” he insists, but the regret on his face reveals the truth. I’m not important enough. “I wanted to come with you.”
I clear my throat to make sure my voice still works before responding. “Maybe you still could.” I’m reluctant to even make the suggestion. Claire has always been the most important part of Tristan’s life. While he and I have grown close, I’m reluctant to test the strength of our connection. I’m not sure I’ll come out on top. “We could catch the first available flight back to Brisbane after the interview. You could meet your parents at the cemetery in the afternoon.” I manage a short pause before adding. “I could come with you. I’d like to be there.”
“It doesn’t work like that, Sam.” Standing, he takes his untouched meal over to the counter beside the sink. “It’s the anniversary of my sister’s death and I’m the reason she’s gone. Tagging a drive by of the cemetery onto the end of a whirlwind trip to Sydney with my boyfriend isn’t a viable option for me.”
I grimace as I rise from my seat and turn to face him. “I didn’t mean for it to sound like… I just…” I don’t even want to say the words out loud, I’m so scared of living them. “I don’t want to go to Sydney alone.”
“I know, ignore me.” Closing the distance between us, he wraps me in a hug. “I’m being an arsehole. I’m sorry.”
My eyes close as I hold on to him, taking comfort in his presence. There has to be a way through this. He promised me he would be there. He promised.
