With a heavy sigh, I bring the words drumming through my head back into focus. It’s time to tag a few extras on to the end.I don’t want to do this alone, but I will.
Take-off is an experience in terror all its own, but I keep a close eye on the other passengers and take comfort in their total lack of panic. Once we’re in the air, I marvel at how tiny Brisbane looks beneath us. In the distance, storm clouds stretch across the length of the horizon. Thankfully, I’ll be long gone before they get too close.
Picking up my book, I force myself to read for a while. The ninety-minute flight passes in a relative state of calm. I know I’m in the right seat and headed in the right direction. I can’t get anything wrong while I’m in the air. But as the plane descends, and the wheels touch down in Sydney, my senses go back on high alert.
Objectively, I know there’s no cause for alarm. I’m perfectly safe and making my way to the hotel shouldn’t pose any difficulties. If only my rational mind would inform my amygdala of these facts, my life would be so much easier. Unfortunately, the two aren’t on speaking terms at the moment, so the riot ramps up once more.
I get off the plane with my overnight bag in hand. Checking my pockets for my wallet and phone, I fall in with the rest of the passengers who have disembarked from the plane. Most of them will be heading for the baggage claim, but I have everything with me. I choose a couple of businessmen who look like they were probably only in Brisbane for the day and follow them towards the exit. Sure enough, they lead me straight out to the taxi rank.
A short while later, I’m on my way to the hotel. Tristan booked the room in his name, but he made sure the staff knew I would be the one checking in when he changed the dates, so I manage to get the key card with a minimum of fuss. When I get to the room, I close the door behind me and then release a weary sigh.
I did it. Not with ease. Certainly not with any pretence of comfort. But I did it.
Using Tristan’s strategy of breaking everything down into small parts helped. I limited myself to focusing on getting through the task in front of me before moving on to the next and then the next and the next. It worked, as it’s been working for months now.
Tristan would be proud of me.
Dismissing the thought, I explore the hotel room. It’s a studio room, small but comfortable. The king-sized bed has thick, fluffy pillows and crisp white sheets. Through the large windows, the streets of Sydney’s central business district bustle with activity.
I hide in my hotel room for a few hours. A hot shower and a long meditation calms my body and clears my head. I make tea using the small kitchenette and watch people and cars move about on the streets below.
When I get hungry, I put my shoes back on. Making sure I have my key card, I put one foot in front of the other to leave the hotel in search of dinner. The late afternoon breeze is warm, and a few hours of sunlight remain. I turn left and start walking. After spending time over the last few days studying the map of the area surrounding the hotel, I already know there are plenty of restaurants in this direction.
I choose a cafe that looks busy, but not overrun with people. I order a burger with a side of chips and an iced tea before finding an empty table in the back corner of the room. Once I’m settled, I pull out my phone only to realise I forgot to turn it back on after the flight. I’ve missed three phone calls from Tristan in the past couple of hours, and some texts asking me to call him as soon as I get them.
My jaw tightens as I stare at the screen, tendrils of irritation working their way through me at his apparent concern. I don’t want to be angry with him, but I am a little bit. At the same time, I don’t want him to worry about me. He has enough on his plate with Claire’s anniversary tomorrow.
Jabbing my fingers at the screen, I type out a brief message.Have landed in Sydney and checked in to the hotel. Need to rest. Will call tomorrow after the interview is done.
I read over the message three times before hitting send. I feel petty. My pettiness feels justified. The combination leaves a sick sense of dread in the pit of my stomach.
My food arrives and I eat in silence, trying to relax into the experience of being somewhere new. A full stomach helps ease the tension and, by the time I step back out onto the footpath, I’ve managed to envelop myself in a little pocket of calm.
All that’s left is a short walk back to the hotel. I even manage to stroll as I retrace my earlier steps, my head lifted and my shoulders back. It’s almost enjoyable.
My mother would be proud of me.
Back in my hotel room, I’m exhausted but pleased with my accomplishments. I don’t have to go anywhere or do anything until morning. After quickly washing my face and cleaning my teeth, I change into a pair of pyjama pants and climb into bed. Getting comfortable, I pick up the TV remote and flick it on. I’ve never had a television in my bedroom, so it feels decadent to lie in bed while flicking through the available channels. Unfortunately, nothing catches my interest.
My hand strays to the other side of the bed. I wish Tristan were here with me, the way he’s supposed to be. It’s no longer the need for help or support that makes me long for him. Instead, I just miss him. Life is more fun with him around and this was supposed to be an adventure we went on together. Without him here, it feels more like work. Or some kind of extended therapy session.
Picking up my phone, I consider calling him. These last few days have been strained and I want to put things right between us. But after everything I’ve accomplished today, I can’t help feeling like calling Tristan now would be a step backwards. Hearing his voice would make the ache caused by his absence worse. Which in turn would feed the anger lingering beneath my acceptance of the situation. I don’t want this to come between us, but it’s given me a lot to think about.
Do I want to devote my life to a man who will put the supposed needs of someone who is long gone ahead of my needs? I’m not sure the answer is something I’m ready to face.
I put the phone down. First, I need to get through tomorrow morning’s interview. Then I can think about what’s going on between me and Tristan and what it means for the future of our relationship. The wait is uncomfortable, but it’s the right thing to do.
The next morning, my alarm goes off in the early hours. I shower again and dress carefully in my suit. Another taxi takes me to the studio where the morning show is filmed. Thankfully, the instructions Shelley provided are detailed and I find the right place without any difficulty.
It’s not until I’m sitting in a dressing room having my hair fussed over and make-up applied to my face that I realise… I’m not as afraid as I thought I would be.
It’s strange. Everything I’ve done so far in this journey—getting on the plane, navigating to the hotel, finding food along the way—is supposed to be the easy part. For most people, the interview itself would be the only cause for apprehension. But for me, getting this far all by itself has been so anxiety-provoking, the interview doesn’t feel so scary anymore. I’m still nervous about doing it, of course I am, but it’s not anywhere near as overwhelming as I expected.
I know how to talk about meditation, and I know how to promote theSleep with Meapp. Thanks to Tristan, and the many 5-star reviews I’ve received since the relaunch, I’m confident the app works for a lot of people. I love what I do and I’m good at it. I’ve even come to appreciate my silly Siren Sam nickname. What do I care if someone makes fun of me or thinks I’m weird?
Tristan and I may have some issues to work through, but he loves me exactly the way I am. I also have friends, like Yolanda, who love me exactly the way I am. Compared to those people, the opinions of others are nothing more than background noise. If they don’t make me feel good, there’s no real need for me to listen.
Closing my eyes, I spend my last few minutes alone calmly going over my prepared interview responses. When a young woman comes to collect me, I’m ready. Fixing a wide smile on my face, I follow her to the stage.
