10. 10
10
Honey
S tanding in front of the floor-length mirror in my bedroom, I fluffed my high ponytail for the millionth time. The style I was aiming for was effortless, but I’d now done it so much, it looked like I’d just rolled out of bed. I groaned with frustration and pulled the scrunchie back out, leaving my hair to flop around my shoulders in kinked strands. My anxiety only grew when I noticed my roots had become oily with the over-styling. Inhaling a deep breath, I refocused on brushing my hair into a neat ponytail which sat on the curve of my head. Not perfect, but better. It would have to do.
I checked my make-up again, hating how my pores sweated in the heat. Why couldn’t I be a girl who could leave the house without worrying about what she looked like? The types of girls on Instagram who seemed to glow—not a blemish in sight. Skin made of glass. I knew Instagram was the worst place to seek realism but dammit, I couldn’t help but feel intimidated by those girls. I wished I wasn’t like this, unable to relax because I worried how I looked. I wished I was prettier for Beau, just like I always had when dating Colton. Beau told me he loved me just the way I am, as did Colton. Would I someday believe them?
There’d always been a pimple on my face from the age of thirteen, and my monobrow had resprouted quicker than the other girls my age after meticulous plucking. Teenage hormones, and the trauma of my upbringing, had been the reasoning. Which I’d believed. Rather than looking into the reason why I had irregular periods—only having them for a few days with months in between—I was prescribed the contraceptive pill. Because at that age, I didn’t know about the reproductive issues girls and women faced. And I’d never considered that I might have one of them.
But the cleansing face washes never did help my acne, which over the years had turned cystic and angry. As soon as I came off the contraceptive pill, my irregular periods came back—or more like didn’t come back. If I didn’t take the tweezers to my chin every day, I would have more facial hair than a pubescent teenage boy. I’d put it down to genetics, believing that I’d somehow inherited my parents’ skin, which had been picked and peeled from their drug abuse. Until after that fateful day, the day behind the reasoning of my angel wings tattoo, had dealt another blow.
PCOS. Poly Cystic Ovarian Syndrome. A condition in which cysts covered my ovaries. Higher than normal testosterone levels made me feel like I had an invisible set of balls swinging alongside my vagina. There was no cure, and doctors still struggled to pinpoint and understand it in patients due to the varying symptoms. Symptoms which involved acne, excess body hair, weight gain, insulin resistance, irregular menstruation cycles and infertility.
The bastard of a disease, which had been crippling my self-esteem my entire life, and now threatened to take away my dream of having a family of my own.
My phone sounded with a message alert and I moved over to where I’d tossed it on the bedspread. I grinned at the mirror selfie Ellie-May had sent of herself, wearing dark lipstick and a collection of rings on fingers tipped with fierce black nails.
Ellie-May: Reckon I’ll scare little farm boy off tonight?
I thumbed back my reply, along with an awkward selfie of me in my floral summer dress and cowgirl boots.
Me: You? Scary? Never!
Ellie-May: You look so cute!
Me: Remind me how we’re friends again?
She sent a black heart emoji in response—her digital signature.
Beau and I had been on many dates, we used to go for one every week. So I felt a little silly and immature that I was calmed by Ellie-May going on a date with local farm boy, Steve O’Grady, tonight too. Steve was the son of a wealthy farming family who owned thousands of cropping acreage and was a year younger than us. His parents thought him to be the perfect country gentleman, but the younger crowds of Gumtree Valley knew the truth behind his collared shirts, moleskins and dimpled grin. A video of him sitting in a port-a-loo, jeans around his ankles and beer in hand, whilst his mate had towed him with a banged-up Falcon ute at the rodeo had circulated social media last year. It’d even made the news, with two stern-faced news anchors calling the stunt “dangerous” and “reckless” in contrast to the encouraging comments online. How he managed to fool his parents about being the perfect son, I had no idea. Unless they did know of the shenanigans their only child got up to and forced themselves to turn a blind eye.
Mr and Mrs O’Grady thought their son was going on a date to meet a nice girl in a pretty dress—much like myself—rather than the pierced and tattooed librarian. I feared Mrs O’Grady might die on the spot if she found out the pub date was only foreplay for what would be happening in Ellie-May’s tiny rental later that night.
I moved back to the mirror, making sure the girls were behaving in the strapless bra I wore, and adjusted the puff sleeves of my dress.
I couldn’t really understand why I was so nervous. Beau was my boyfriend. This wasn’t a first date. But it was our first date since things had gone weird. Maybe I’d put too much pressure on this date to be the start of our new beginning. Beau was good to me; kind, warm and friendly. I knew having Colton back in town was scaring the crap out of him. But I was a grown woman now, wanting someone sturdy and reliable. Colton, in my eyes, was still that selfish boy who decided I was no longer enough for him. The only reason I still felt a spark towards him was the thirteen years of close history we’d shared. Colton had been with me through a lot of life moments, it would be weird if I could look at him like any other person. The point was, Colton and I were long over. He’d made sure of that.
So damned if I was going to let him ruin my future with Beau.
Duke’s deep barks from the verandah told me Beau had arrived. My palms broke out with a fresh round of sweat as I moved to the window and looked down at the LandCruiser snaking along the lengthy driveway. Misty, who was nosing about an empty feed bucket, snapped her head up to watch the incoming vehicle. Granny had fed her for me so I could focus on getting ready, although I wondered if that perhaps wasn’t the best idea. I’d had too much time to plan, which lead to copious paranoia and a brain laden with overthought disasters.
Beau was stepping down from his large ute and I hurriedly turned to scoop my handbag from my bed. My laptop sat open and I gave a curse under my breath before leaving my room. I still hadn’t sent the review of the manuscript appraisal. Its young author had been emailing me, hoping I was enjoying it, inconspicuously digging for feedback.
I didn’t blame her. I was frustrated with myself.
I was always so on schedule with my duties whether that be creating Instagram content for Appleyard Farm, The Honey Pot, The Queen Bees’ Book Club and Double Q Ranch. I always made sure to pre-order new book releases so they would be on display the same day as the city bookstores with the hope of encouraging people to shop locally. My bookkeeping was always reconciled monthly, organised in my colour-coded folders. I had a lot to prove and I worked hard to make sure I wasn’t nit-picked for the smallest of slip-ups. I’d survived near-death from starvation when my junkie parents hadn’t fed me, too high on the couch surrounded by bongs and spoons to care. I’d gone to university to graduate with a business degree and multiple commendations to prove some small-minded people wrong. I’d opened my own bookstore and made it thrive despite people saying I was crazy to do so in such a small town. I had jumped over a lot of hurdles in my life.
But I was beginning to slip, badly, and I wasn’t yet ready to admit it was because of the Hayes brothers, the two of them tearing my heart between past and future.
Men would not be the reason for my downfall.
‘Oh, don’t you look nice!’ Granny beamed in approval from the kitchen as I descended the stairs. A crossword was on the table with a pen and her wireless radio. A steaming cup of tea would soon join. It was ramping up to be a typical Saturday night for her.
‘Thanks. I got this from the boutique Janice Bailey has just opened.’ I gave the skirt of the dress a swish. ‘With all these online shops making it easy for people far and wide to access their products, it’s more important than ever to—’
‘Support the locals.’ Granny smiled at me, shuffling over with her cup of tea.
‘You know, they have the bingo on tonight. Why don’t you go in and do a bit of socialising?’ I hedged cautiously.
Despite living at Appleyard Farm since I was six years old, it was only recently I was beginning to notice Granny’s age. The hair she’d always kept long had gone white some years ago but it was now looking dead and needing a good trim. Her hands trembled when she penned a letter. Her steps were becoming more cautious and slower. We’d lost Poppy when I was a teenager and I knew he’d given Granny the confidence to get out and about. Now that he’d been gone for some time, Granny was becoming more and more of a recluse in her orchards.
Poppy’s death haunted me. Not just because finding his unresponsive body in the top paddock after a heart attack was something no one wanted to see, but because I carried a deep fear inside of me that I was the reasoning behind it. If Granny and Poppy didn’t have to foster me, would he have still died in that paddock? Would Granny still be alone? Would my grandfather’s prized cattle still roam Appleyard Farm while he tended to them with the fitness of a young stockman?
Granny’s wrinkled hand waved me off as she lowered into the chair behind her crossword. ‘I couldn’t think of anything worse than being surrounded by the old bags who have nothing better to do than gossip. Besides, I don’t think I could even push the clutch in that old ute anymore.’
I smiled in amusement. ‘I’m sure Sam would appreciate seeing you in town. He was asking after you again when I dropped the jams off.’
Granny rolled her eyes with the sass of a teenager. ‘Sam is a good businessman, but he needs to remember that wedding ring on his finger. I don’t want to date anyone, Honey. I’m almost ninety! No, your poppy was it for me.’
I began making my way to the front door when Duke began wriggling and hopping around as much as a big dog could.
‘Well, don’t go too crazy tonight.’
‘Don’t forget your curfew!’ shouted Granny through the closing door, making me laugh.
Having to wait for Beau to end a phone call as he leant against his ute wasn’t the fairy tale moment I’d envisioned. I was glad to have Duke sidle up to me, making myself look occupied by stroking his floppy ears while soulful brown eyes peeked up at me under droopy lids. A small pit of dread opened at the bottom of my gut but I fought to fill it when it sounded like Beau was wrapping up his call. So I hadn’t ran down the stairs and leapt onto his waist to be spun around. Big deal. It didn’t mean the rest of the night would be a disaster.
‘Sorry. Client is wondering when his horse will be ready.’ He smiled sheepishly, shoving his phone into his pocket as he placed a kiss on my cheek. ‘You look beautiful.’
I went to tuck my hair behind my ear, only to remember I’d brushed it all into my ponytail. Dammit! I knew there was a reason why I didn’t wear it like this! I fiddled with the charm bracelet on my wrist instead, rubbing my thumb over the dangling horseshoe Granny and Poppy had gifted me for my sixteenth birthday.
‘That’s okay. Everything sorted?’
Beau held the door of his ute open, helping me with his hand around mine as I clambered into the lifted vehicle. ‘Yeah, I’ve had the horse ready for a week but he wants to come pick it up first thing in the morning …’
Beau closed the door after me, walking around the bullbar to the driver door, leaving me to decipher what this meant. I felt my heart sink a little, that pit in my stomach opening back up again. The night I’d envisioned for us was definitely not turning out the way I’d hoped.
‘So, early night for you tonight?’
He winced as the engine started with a diesel-fuelled rumble. ‘I’m sorry. I know this night is supposed to be about us.’
I forced what I hoped was an understanding smile. ‘It’s okay. I have to hurry up and get this manuscript appraisal finished before I have a teenager blasting negative reviews about my services on social media.’
Beau turned up the country music playing on the radio a little louder, his hand holding mine as he changed gears along the driveway. ‘Well until then, I’m all yours.’
I gave another smile, quickly looking to the fences rolling past when I felt the corners of my mouth waver. ‘How’s your dad going?’
Beau checked for traffic—which was rare—before pulling out of the gateway and onto the dirt road which would eventually connect to the bitumen ones closer to town. ‘Okay as can be. I know it’s killing him having to sit around when he’s been working that farm since he could walk.’ He hesitated, square jaw tensing. ‘Colton’s been babysitting him inside, making sure he isn’t sneaking off to cause more damage to himself.’
‘Oh, that’s good …’ I chewed at my lip, knowing I had to quickly steer the conversation away from Colton before our night was put into further jeopardy. The ute hit a dip in the road, making my stomach somersault. It was most definitely not caused by the thought of my ex. ‘When do you have to go back to the city for his therapy?’
Beau heaved a sigh and it was then, hidden behind his shades, that the neighbour I’d always known, the man I’d been dating, was suddenly different. Darkish circles hung below his eyes, which were no longer deep with a calmness, but a true tiredness. I swallowed, trying to put moisture in my mouth while guilt opened a gaping black hole inside of me. I’d done this to him. I’d been playing with his heart like a cat with a ball of string. Then his dad’s accident. Now his brother, who I’d loved for over half my life, he feared would snatch me away, had returned.
‘Not until next month. Thank Christ for technology. We only have to go to the local hospital once a week and they video chat with the specialist in the city. I know he’s my dad and I shouldn’t complain about having to take him to appointments when he could’ve died, but I hate the city.’
I smiled out the windscreen; cracked roads, wavering horizons and leaning fence posts. ‘I don’t understand how I survived three years there while doing my uni courses. All the traffic, all the people and the pollution .’ I shook my head lightly. ‘It was good for me though. It only reinstated just how much I love living here.’
‘It was weird when you were away.’ Beau gave way at an intersection and left the gravel road behind, the ute’s tyre tracks leaving imprints on the bitumen we now travelled along. Someone had gone to town before us, but I could tell that it wasn’t a four-wheel drive, its imprints slightly narrower than Beau’s chunky off-road ones. ‘Ever since I was eight years old, you’d always been next door. When I’d come over to help your granny with something, it was just strange not having you saying hi. I know she missed you a lot too.’
Small tears misted my eyes. ‘I felt so guilty leaving her. I’m forever grateful to you and your dad checking in on her when you could during those few years.’
Beau smiled warmly, pressing a kiss to the back of my hand, which was still interlocked with his. ‘Of course. Anything for the one I love, even if I didn’t know it back then.’
My heart should’ve soared at his words, tumbling down to my stomach and skipping together around my body hand in hand. But my insides didn’t do anything . I smiled tightly, wondering what on earth was wrong with me, forcing myself to give his hand a squeeze in return when a horrible feeling inside of me wanted to reef it away. The ute’s cab pressed in around me, and it felt like we were going too fast despite Beau slowing down to sixty kilometres per hour on the main drag of town.
It reminded me of being at my year six graduation formal. I’d agreed to dance with Samuel Meyers, my jealous heart a burning rage when I’d watched Colton put his hands on Penny Cartwright’s hips. Samuel had been asking me out all year, but I kept rejecting him, deliriously harbouring my crush on Colton. His sweaty hands had clutched my hips tightly while his face, half-covered with a straw-coloured fringe, had been way too close to mine. My skin had crawled and I’d stammered out, ‘I-I have to use the b-bathroom’ before fleeing.
But Beau wasn’t a creepy and desperate thirteen-year-old boy. He was mature and patient, way too forgiving for everything I’d put him through. We’d been dating seriously for a little over a year now. He loved me and had understood I wasn’t yet ready to say those words back. He knew his younger brother had hurt me. But I knew deep down that it wasn’t the pain of my past that was preventing me from saying those important three words back.
The feelings I’d felt for Colton had started with the flickering ember of friendship, then when we’d started dating, it’d been a bushfire unable to be controlled. Until eventually, as all bushfires do, it’d ended in disaster and I’d been scorched. There was definitely no bushfire with Beau, none of that fearlessness of falling in love like teenagers. It was a sensible slow burn. Like a burn off the council did before bushfire season; calm, sensible and controlled. Things were different—a lot different—this time around. That didn’t mean nothing was there.
Did it?