Manhattan Dreaming (3 page)

‘Come back, please,' he said again, breaking the sound of dead air on the phone. ‘I'll wait outside for you. I'm walking back out the front right now, so come back quickly. It's cold. I'll get frostbite and my chopper will fall off.'

‘Good. I hope it does.'

‘Lauren, please. I'm going to stand here until you come back. Even if I have to wait until tomorrow, I'll be here.' There was silence. Adam never called me Lauren. I could feel myself weakening. I didn't really want his chopper to fall off, but if it kept him away from other women, then so be it.

‘Where are you, Lauren?' he asked gently, and it pulled at my heartstrings. I hit ‘end call' and started the engine.

I drove back to Adam's house to find him shivering on the front lawn. He had a big black coat on with nothing but his jocks underneath. He opened the car door and I got out slowly, hoping that in the dark he couldn't see my red blotchy face.

‘Come inside. I'll make us some dinner.' He tried to put his arm around my waist but I pulled away.

‘Don't touch me. Just don't.'

It was warm inside, but I was freezing.

‘Can I take a shower?' I asked softly.

‘Of course, you want me to come in with you?' Adam asked gingerly.

‘No, leave me alone for a while. I'm cold, I want to warm up,' I half-lied, as I really didn't want to be near him just then. ‘And I want you to stay out here and think of something intelligent to say about all of this.'

‘Okay,' he said, hesitation in his voice, like saying something intelligent might actually be difficult for him. ‘I'll make us something to eat. You go shower.'

I stood in the shower and let the hot water cascade down my body. I wanted it to wash all the pain away. I wanted a real relationship. I wanted to walk back into the kitchen and have Adam tell me that he wanted a relationship too. That he wanted us to live together. That he wanted us to eat dinner together every night. I wanted him to be happy for me to hang curtains in his home with the same care as I hung the artwork in the gallery.

I turned off the taps and grabbed a warm towel that Adam must have snuck into the bathroom without me noticing. It had just come out of the dryer. He often did that for me. These were the thoughtful gestures that made me want to forgive him for his indiscretions – the little things that I didn't bother telling Libby about, because in my heart I knew the little thoughtful things didn't make up for the big painful things.

‘There you are. I thought you'd gone down the drain hole.' He smiled cautiously at me. ‘Are you feeling better, warmer?'

‘I'm warmer.'

‘Sit down and I'll serve up.' He pulled a chair out and put a bowl in front of me and poured a glass of red. I was so emotionally spent I could barely sit up straight. I didn't want to talk. I just wanted to eat and sleep. I stared at my bowl of noodles and contemplated what to do and say next.

‘Are you all right?' he asked.

‘No.'

‘I'm sorry.'

‘For what?'

‘For upsetting you.'

‘But you're going to keep doing it, aren't you?'

‘I don't know. It seems lots of things upset you, so perhaps I accidentally will.'

‘I can't do this with you any more, Adam. I can't live like this. I wasn't raised to be a booty call girl.'

‘That's not what you are. I've never thought of you like that.'

‘But that's how you treat me. You treat me like you don't care at all.'

‘I just cooked you dinner. I warmed up your towels. Doesn't that prove something?'

‘What?'

‘That I do care about you.'

‘But?'

‘I just don't want to be in a relationship with anyone. It's not you, Lauren. If I did want to be with someone, properly, then it would be you for sure. But I just want to be single right now. I like my life. I like what we have. I don't want to change it.'

I drank my glass of wine in one go. I was never a big drinker because I suffered hangovers too easily, something about the tannin. But now I felt reckless. I pushed my glass into the middle of the table so he could pour me another one.

‘Are you sure, babycakes? You know you'll be sick tomorrow.'

‘I'm sure.' He poured and I sipped it slowly, watching – but really not watching – the television behind him in the background. I finished as much of the noodles as I could and left the rest.

‘I need to lie down,' I said, already feeling woozy. I pushed my chair back and stood up.

Adam stood up too. ‘I'll clean up and check on you in a minute. I don't have anything sweet for you tonight. I didn't have time to get anything after training. Sorry.'

I went into his room, took off my boots and lay down, feeling drunk and tired. I wasn't designed for emotional turmoil, but then was anyone?

I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I knew, Adam was trying to get me under the covers. ‘Come on, babycakes, time to sleep properly.'

‘I can't sleep in this dress. It's the one designer dress I have.' I started to wriggle out of it.

‘Here.' Adam eased the woollen dress over my head and hung it up on the door. ‘Would you prefer I wore some pjs to bed tonight?' He really didn't seem to know what he should do; he was like a child who knew he was in trouble but didn't know his punishment.

‘Do whatever you want. You do anyway.'

He put on some pyjama pants and crawled in next to me. I was half asleep when he turned off the bed lamp. I had my back to him and he cuddled in behind me.

‘Is this okay, babycakes?'

I could feel his breath on the back of my neck and I prayed he wouldn't get any closer.

‘Are you all right?' he whispered into my ear, sounding genuinely concerned. I didn't answer.

‘I'm sorry, really. I'm sorry I hurt you.' And he kissed the back of neck until I let out an involuntary moan. I turned over to face him but couldn't see anything.

‘We can't do this any more. I can't do this any more. It's not healthy.'

‘I'll miss you, Lauren.' And he put his hand on the back of my head and pulled me towards him and it was too late. We kissed long and lovingly and before I knew it I was straddling him as he tugged my silk slip up over my head and pulled my face down to his mouth.

‘I love you,' I whispered as he undid my bra.

‘I love you too,' he said, burying his face in my cleavage. It was the first time he had said it, and I wasn't sure if he meant my breasts or me.

I woke up and my mood was dark like the early morning. Break-up sex may be hot but it is bad for the heart. Adam was still asleep when I dressed, and I sat on the bed for a while just watching his chest move slowly up and down. I looked around his room. It was grey, dull, cold. It needed a woman's touch. It needed my touch, but would Adam ever realise it?

As I drove down the street I saw frost on the lawns and knew the day would be heavy with winter weather. I felt sad and confused, and I wasn't even sure we'd said ‘Good-bye' properly or that we'd agreed it was over.

On Sunday I met Libby for our usual stroll around Kingston Bus Depot Markets. The weather was fierce and we were rugged up. We strolled aisle after aisle looking at locally made arts and crafts and funky pieces of jewellery. I bought some wasabi and seaweed macadamias for Denise and caramel peanuts and chocolate to satisfy my sweet tooth. Sunday was my day of indulgence and sweets my only vice.

‘See?' Libby said, pointing to two women holding hands, as we headed towards the muffin stall.

‘What?'

‘Lesbians. Canberra is full of them. I told you so. Statistically proven by the ABS.'

‘And your point would be?'

I turned from Libby to the stallholder and said, ‘A raspberry and white chocolate muffin, please.'

Libby leaned in close and whispered in my ear, ‘There are so many lesbians because men are jerks.' She raised one eyebrow, as if to say
and by that I mean Adam.

‘Please don't start. I haven't even had a coffee yet, and I'm freezing. What is it, six degrees?' I scanned the stall for something else that looked delicious.

‘And a banana caramel fudge muffin too, please.'

The stallholder smiled and put it in a bag for me.

‘Don't change the subject,' Libby said. ‘You're behaving like a man.'

‘And I'll have two double chocolate muffins, thanks,' I said to the stallholder.

‘After coffee you're going to talk, Loz. In the meantime, there's a hottie. Ooooh, I bet he's a firey.'

‘I thought you weren't interested in men any more.'

‘I'm still interested in perving, I'm just not interested in letting any of them close enough to me that they can destroy my not-so-easily rebuilt heart and head. Now, hold my hand.'

‘What the hell are you doing now?' I said, playing along and taking her gloved hand in mine like we were schoolkids crossing the road. We walked towards the ‘hottie' and stopped at a stall with coasters, placemats and jewellery boxes adorned with classic images.

‘Straight men love the thought of women together. Trust me, he'll be over here in a flash.'

‘I thought you were just perving.'

‘He's not for me, this one's for
you
. You did break up with Fullofhimself on Friday night, didn't you?'

I let go of her hand and picked up a wooden box covered with images of Audrey Hepburn. ‘I love this,' I said, admiring her absolute beauty.

‘Okay, if you didn't break up then you must have sorted it all out. He's going to be the proper boyfriend now, is he?'

I put the box down and picked up coasters made in the same fashion, only with Klimt images on them.

‘We're still seeing each other. But he's not moving in. He's got the grand finals to focus on. It's his career. His livelihood. It's important. I need to support him.'

‘Oh my god. He's
still
pulling the strings. And you're just doing the puppet dance. Why? He must be a good lay, because seriously, there is no other reason a woman as deadly as you would or should stay with a man like that. Where is the hero today anyway?'

‘He had an away game on the Gold Coast yesterday. They won, thankfully. He scored three tries. I was so proud of him. I would've liked to have gone but I just couldn't afford it.' I loved working in the arts but the pay was poor.

‘Don't suppose he offered to pay, did he? I mean, big shot footy star that he is,' Libby mumbled under her breath. She was shaking her head.

‘It's time for breakfast,' I said. ‘I'm starving. The usual?'

The winter chill had cut right through us as we walked to Manuka from the markets. We sat reading the weekend papers, drinking our coffee and feeling the warmth return to our bodies. Breakfast at Caph's was a regular Sunday morning ritual for Libby and me. We'd been doing it for three years, since we first started working together at the gallery. I liked Libby the first time we met because she drank her coffee just like me – skim mocha in a mug. But more importantly, she was the strongest woman friend I'd ever had. When someone gave her a hard time she was always quick with comebacks, sharp but not sarcastic, and always sensible. Everyone went to her for advice – women and men, young and old alike. ‘Loveable Lib' – that's what everyone called her at work. She often gave advice you didn't want to take, but she was the most honest and generous person anyone had ever met. Adam even liked her – she just didn't like him back.

Just as our food arrived at the table, Libby gasped.

‘What?'

‘Nothing,' she said, and she put the paper aside. ‘Let's eat.' She ate a bit of dill sitting atop her eggs Benedict.

‘Show me,' I ordered and she reluctantly picked the paper up again and handed me the sports section.

There it was: ‘THREE TRIES AND THREE WOMEN – FULLER'S TRIFECTA!' I was devastated. They were triplets. One was almost wrapped around his thigh, another was pushing her crotch into his right leg. The third was standing behind him with her arms around his waist.

One dignified tear ran down my cheek as I dropped the paper on the ground.

‘I don't want to talk about it, Lib. Please.' I took my reading glasses off and put my sunglasses on to hide.

‘You know why men do this, don't you,' Libby said gently, taking my hand.

‘I said I don't want to talk about it. Really.'

‘Okay, then I'll talk, you listen. Men behave badly like this when they know they're not good enough for you, and they can't measure up, even though they wish they could. As soon as they realise it they behave so badly that you have no choice but to break up with them, so they won't look like the idiot dumping a good catch. Instead, they'll be the wounded party. They'll get the sympathy vote from their mates and other women who'll go out with them.'

‘But why? Why would anyone go to so much trouble to get out of a relationship?'

‘Because men –
some
men – have egos the size of Lake Burley Griffin. None of them are going to admit they're not good enough for you. And lots of men just don't have the balls to break up with a woman. If they can hurt you with actions like that' – she pointed to the paper on the floor – ‘they don't have to say
I don't want to be with you.
'

I picked up my cutlery and put a forkful of eggs into my mouth without looking at Libby, who kept right on.

‘All's I'm saying, tidda, is that it's
him
, not you. You are the best and you deserve the best and you deserve some respect … and that …' she said venomously, pointing at the paper on the ground again, ‘is
not
respect.'

‘Can you stop, please? I just want to eat my breakfast without a major crying scene here. I like it here. I want to be able to come back.'

We sat in silence eating our eggs. I stared out into Franklin Street at the grey sky, and wanted to be back in Goulburn with Mum. She'd make me a roast dinner and apple pie for dessert and the fire would be burning, and I would feel loved. I just wanted to feel loved.

When the waitress came and cleared the table I smiled an insincere smile and then hated myself for doing it. It was the Canberra smile. It had taken me a while to get used to it. People just turn the corners of their mouths up to make an empty gesture of hello or thanks or whatever. I was feeling empty, though, and it was the only smile I could offer anyone. Libby was quiet.

I picked the paper up off the ground and had another look at the man I loved being mauled by three strangers.

‘Mum always liked Adam. She thought he was handsome,' I said softly, sadly.

‘Loz, we know he's handsome, but we also know he's not good for you.'

‘I know, and Mum would actually be mortified. She didn't raise me to be treated this way. And my dad would send my brothers over to look after him old way if he knew about this. I'm just glad they don't buy
The Canberra Times
at home.' I sighed with some relief. ‘What now, then?'

Libby put her coffee down, placed her hand on mine and looked me square in the eye. ‘You
have
to tell him it's over, properly. Once and for all, forever and ever, amen. Do it now.'

‘What? He's probably not even awake.' And I felt a pang of heartache, knowing that he was probably not in bed alone.

‘I know you, Loz, you'll spend the entire day moping about sad and miserable. It's time to move on. You know it is.'

‘Yes, I know.'

‘Call him. I'm here with you for support.'

I took a deep breath, grabbed my phone and shook as I hit ‘Adam'. I imagined bringing my eggs Benedict up right at the table.

‘There's no answer. It's gone to his voicemail.'

‘Hang up. Don't leave a message. Text the bastard instead. Men do it all the time. Say something like …
It's over, Chubby Neck, you bastard
.'

I wasn't sure if Libby was being serious or not.

‘I'm not sending a text. It's not my style and it shouldn't be anyone else's either. I'm not a man, and I'm not that bad mannered. I'll wait until he gets back and tell him to his face.'

‘That's dangerous, tidda, breaking up face to face when you're both still attracted to each other. Lust can be a real break-up killer, trust me, I know.'

I just looked at Libby without responding.

‘I'm going to pay the bill,' she said. ‘I'll meet you out the front.' I could tell she wasn't impressed with my idea of telling Adam to his face. She didn't believe I would do it. And she had every right to be angry. She'd let me cry on her shoulder for over a year. She'd come over to my place the nights he hadn't shown up. She'd seen him treat me badly again and again, and she'd seen me put up with it. But she didn't realise that this time I was determined to be strong. I was going to break free once and for all – and keep my clothes on while doing it.

It was already dark at 5.30 when Adam answered the door in his jocks. Central heating in Canberra meant you couldn't tell how severely cold it was outside most days. He smiled when he saw me.

‘Babycakes, this is a surprise.'

‘Don't call me babycakes,' I said angrily, trying to look past him. ‘Are you alone?'

‘Yes, come.' He grabbed me around the waist and pulled me into the house, slamming the door behind me and pushing me up against it.

‘Get off me.' I pushed him away.

‘What's wrong?' he asked, surprised by my reaction.

I threw the paper at him. ‘Well?'

‘Well what?' He looked at the paper and shrugged his shoulders. ‘I've already told you – don't believe everything you read in the paper, babycakes.'

‘So you
weren't
caught half-naked on the beach in Surfers with these three … I won't say
ladies
, because clearly they are not.'

‘It's not what you think.' He smiled as he looked at the photo and I wanted to slap him. I was furious.

‘Oh, you don't want to know what I think.'

‘By your tone, I'm pretty sure I don't either.'

I took the deepest breath I could and lunged into my prepared speech:

‘I am gorgeous and vibrant and witty and sexy. Every woman at my work wishes she had my legs
and
my hair. And that's just the straight ones. And apparently the men just wish they could touch
either
.'

‘And I know why,' Adam said, reaching for my thigh.

I pushed him away. ‘I've got a masters from the College of Fine Arts in Sydney and you didn't even finish your degree. My CV shows I can mix it with the best in the Australian art world and I'm
only
thirty. I'm the
only
Indigenous Senior Curator in the country,
and
I've got the best golf swing on any woman you're ever going to know! I'm the
only
woman I know who can shop in Target and accessorise to look like a million bucks. I am amazing, and you're a fucking idiot for not realising it.'