Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
“You yourself, as much as anybody in the entire universe, deserve your love and affection.”
~ Buddha
‘Internet dating? You’re brave!’ said Miranda’s colleague, Linda, as she held open the door to the staff bathroom.
Miranda popped her phone into her bag, having been periodically checking her dating app and messages every spare moment. ‘I don’t want to keep wasting my time with losers. At least with internet dating, I can get a preview first, and decide whether to meet them or not.’ Miranda pushed open a cubicle door, and Linda did the same. ‘Not that it helped much last night, my first attempt was a disaster!’ She took off her nametag and shoved it into the phone compartment of her bag as well, the interior way too overcrowded with all the items she had packed in there, then removed her work jacket .
‘Ooh ... do tell, Miranda!’ Linda urged from the next cubicle.
‘His name was Abe. The fact that he said he liked movies, dressing up to go out, and discussing interesting topics over a gourmet meal piqued my interest.’ Miranda wriggled out of her pencil skirt, wiped sanitiser spray onto the seat, and sat on the porcelain throne. She didn’t like to think of them as ‘toilets’, it was such a horrible name. Her mother had told her it was a throne in an effort to more easily ‘toilet’ train her as a child. It worked. However, when strange looks came from the teachers and children at school whenever she asked, ‘May I use the throne, please?’ Miranda was encouraged to learn the correct terminology.
‘So, what was the problem?’ Linda asked.
‘What I didn’t know until I met him, was that the movies he liked were sci-fi flicks, the topics he liked to discuss were sci-fi flicks, and the dressing up meant wearing costumes from sci-fi flicks.’
Laughter erupted from the next cubicle. ‘Did he ‘dress up’ for your date?’
‘He wore a cloak. Can you believe it? A cloak! It even had a hood!’
‘I’m so glad I’m sitting on the toilet right now, Miranda!’ Linda said, before a flush punctuated their conversation.
Miranda changed into black pants, a purple V-neck top and denim jacket, and emerged from the cubicle with her bag over her shoulder. ‘You know what else?’ Miranda washed her hands with a large, frothy helping of liquid soap. ‘He even offered to take me to his car to show me his light sabre. Apparently, it not only lights up, but makes a noise as well.’ She shook her hands and wiped them with two sheets of paper from the dispenser .
‘Was that the moment you knew he wasn’t for you?’ Linda sniggered, and Miranda gave her a friendly slap on the arm.
‘I knew the moment I saw him wearing a cloak, but I stuck it out through two rounds of drinks, before making an excuse of having an early morning the next day.’
‘So, Abe was no Babe,’ Linda concluded.
‘Definitely not!’ Miranda slid fuchsia-coloured lipstick from one corner of her lips to the other, then plumped them together, while Linda pulled her hair into a ponytail.
‘You off to your night class?’ asked Linda.
‘Yep, not long to go before I’m qualified. You off to the gym?’
‘Sure am, Pump class.’
‘Good on ya girl, I must go back one day, but I’m a bit scared to face No Excuses Naomi again. Actually, I’m thinking of going jogging this weekend. Yes, that’s what I’ll do. I’ll take advantage of the cooler weather; they say you burn more body fat when it’s cold.’ Miranda squinted as she brushed mascara along her eyelashes.
‘So, you’ll be the one in the park wearing shorts and a singlet?’ asked Linda.
‘That’ll be me! Except ... maybe not the shorts. Might need a few months before I’ll be brave enough to expose my thighs, they’re nothing but dimply flab at the moment.’ She pulled a chiffon scarf with a swirling fuchsia pattern from her bag, and looped it around her neck.
‘You should come to my Pump class sometime. It’s a killer on the thighs.’ Linda pulled open the door. ‘See you tomorrow! Oh, and Miranda?’ She turned briefly. ‘May the force be with you. ’
‘Oh, shush!’ Miranda flicked her hand and laughed, as Linda and her toned thighs walked out.
Yep, definitely going for that jog on Saturday. Miranda was determined to end up with thighs like Linda’s. I wonder if Trisha will want to come with me? She withdrew her phone from her bag and was about to call Trisha’s number, when she saw the screen already on a call.
What?
It was Abe.
She must have accidentally pressed the call button when she put her nametag in the bag! Inconveniently, being alphabetically blessed, Abe was the first contact in the list.
Damn, why didn’t I delete his number last night?
Her mouth hanging open in a mortified gape, she lifted the phone tentatively to her ear as though it might bite her. She was about to say a feeble, ‘Hello?’ when she chickened out, quickly pressing ‘end call’ with a shaky finger and putting the phone back in her bag. ‘Oh my God!’ She flung her hands to her warm, flushing face. ‘I wonder if he heard anything? Oh no! What if he heard ... everything ?’ Miranda realised the phone must have been on the whole time she was in the toilet cubicle. The whole time! She spun around, and back again, not sure what to do. Should I call him back and apologise? Or pretend it never happened? Umm ... It’s not like I’m ever going to see him again .
A beep sounded from within her bag. Miranda squinted at the screen in hope of lessening the impact.
Heard everything, sorry 2 disappoint u. Dont worry bout me, I know my Princess Leia is out there somewhere. BTW, I hope u find a man who likes ur thighs the way they are. Abe.
She didn’t know whether to cringe or laugh. Biting her lower lip, she texted :
I’m so sorry, didn’t mean to hurt u. I’m sure u will find your Leia. Good luck. M.
After pressing ‘send’, she deleted his number from her phone, eager to swipe this ‘Miranda Moment’ from her memory, or, at least her phone’s memory. She walked out to the golden rimmed doors, ignoring David’s advances on the way, and flicked her scarf over her shoulder in a symbolic effort to leave behind the past few minutes of her life.
The thing about exercise was; it only worked if you did it. It had taken Miranda a while to figure that out, but as she jogged through the park, she raised her chin with pride. Trisha wasn’t able to join her today, which didn’t really matter as it gave her a chance to listen to a motivational podcast on ‘Becoming the Best You’.
The sun shone between branches in the trees lining the pathway, making patches of light on the ground, and the crisp autumn air pushed against her skin as she jogged. Wisps of her hair flapped up and down, as though doing the Mexican Wave in honour of her exercise initiative, and Miranda hoped her fat cells were shivering themselves to death. As she neared the children’s playground, she noticed a familiar mop of curly blonde hair belonging to a woman sitting on a park bench; her foot rhythmically pushing a pram back and forth, and a cardboard coffee cup in her hand. Miranda plucked her earphones out with a tug of the cord, and was about to say, ‘Hi, Cara, nice weather isn’t it?’ when she noticed red blotches around Cara’s eyes. ‘Cara?’
Cara looked up as though woken from a trance, and quickly wiped away her tears with the back of her hand. ‘Miranda, hi, um ... how are you?’
‘Cara, what’s wrong?’
Her bottom lip trembled. ‘It’s just ... everything!’ she blurted, bursting into tears. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said between sobs. ‘I sure am making a habit of crying in public!’
‘Hey, it’s okay.’ Miranda put a reassuring arm around Cara’s shoulder.
A young girl and boy came over, looking worried. ‘Mummy, are you okay? Did something bad happen?’ the little girl asked.
Cara quickly wiped away the remaining tears and forced a smile, putting her coffee to the side of the bench. ‘No, sweetie, everything’s fine. My friend Miranda here told me a sad story, that’s all. You and Jacob go back and play, it’s alright.’
‘Okay, Mum.’ Cara’s daughter then looked at Miranda with narrowed eyes. ‘Don’t tell my mum any more sad stories okay, Rimanda?’ she instructed, her finger raised in warning.
‘I won’t, I promise.’ Miranda made a cross sign with her finger over her heart. The kids ran to the playground. ‘So, tell me, Cara, what’s got you so upset?’
‘I’m still upset about disappointing Pete, you know, about the ‘having more children’ issue,’ Cara said. ‘Today is just one of those days when everything goes wrong. Pete’s at work, and my Mum was supposed to watch the kids for me while I spent some time on my art. She called at the last minute to tell me she woke up with a stomach bug.’ Cara dabbed her eyes with a tissue. ‘I’d already set up my equipment on the outside table, and forgot to put it away after Mum’s call. Anyway, Jacob wandered outside and accidentally knocked over a container of paint, all over an artwork I’d been working on!’
‘Oh no! What a shame.’
‘So, I had to get out of the house. But, on the way, I walked past the newsstand and saw Vogue magazine.’ More tears escaped Cara’s eyes. She explained to Miranda how her old friend, Donna, not that she could really be called a friend, works in design for magazines like Vogue, travels around the world, meets interesting people, and has her talent displayed in the glossy magazine at newsstands everywhere.
‘Who gets to see my talent?’ Cara complained. ‘A bunch of four-year-olds who don’t appreciate it, that’s who!’
Miranda listened as Cara talked about the hopes she’d had for her future after finishing school, how she wanted to start her own graphic design company, take a holiday to Greece with Pete when they finished their degrees, and how she was plunged into motherhood before she’d really finished being a kid herself. She spoke of the love she had for her family, and how she knew she was lucky to have a supportive relationship and three healthy kids. ‘But I don’t know who I am anymore. I feel like I’m just here to take care of all these people, and no one’s taking care of me.’ Cara slumped against the back of the park bench. ‘It’s like my own life is passing me by, and later when the kids have grown, I’ll wake up and not know what to do with myself. I’ll have forgotten how to be me. Not Cara the mother, or Cara the wife, but Cara the woman . I don’t even know who that is!’ She leaned forward and buried her face in her hands.
Lily and Jacob came over to get a drink from Cara’s bag. Toby opened his eyes briefly before falling back to sleep in the pram.
‘Has Rimanda told any more sad stories, Mum?’ asked Lily.
‘No. No more sad stories.’
‘Good.’ She looked at Miranda. ‘Because you shouldn’t do that, it makes people sad.’ Lily turned and skipped back to the playground, Jacob following her.
‘Sorry about that! She’s a bit bossy sometimes. I think she might end up being a lawyer, or a politician.’ Cara smiled. ‘Hey ... I’m sorry about the way I reacted before, at the club meeting when you spoke about your ideal day,’ Cara said. ‘It just seemed ironic that you were wanting what I have, I mean ... the husband and kids at least, and I want what you have ... the career satisfaction, the freedom.’ She paused. ‘I envied you. I still do.’
‘But, I envy you , Cara,’ Miranda revealed. ‘The thought of having someone to come home to ... to talk to. And three little people that think you’re the most important person on Earth’. Miranda glanced up at the rays of sun streaming through patchy white clouds, as though casting a wish to the universe for her dream to come true.
Cara smiled, watching her kids as they jumped in the amber leaves that littered the playground.
‘Anyway...’ Miranda shifted her position and crossed one leg over the other. ‘I guess it’s a bit silly to expect my soulmate to...’ she wiggled her fingers, ‘...magically appear before I’m thirty, let alone one that brings me breakfast in bed!’ she confessed. ‘It does sound kind of na?ve. But if I’ve learned anything so far, it’s that the universe has a way of pointing you in the direction of what you need, not necessarily what you want.’ Did I just say that? Miranda was surprised at the words coming out of her own mouth. Maybe reading all those self-improvement books was starting to pay off.
‘Well, I wish Mr. Universe would give me a week off from being a Mum,’ Cara said.
Miranda pursed her lips to one side. ‘Would a weekend be enough?’
‘Honey, an hour to myself would be enough these days!’ Cara laughed.
‘Well, why don’t you reserve a weekend at the hotel I work at? We’ve got some great package deals at the moment, with massages, facials, oh ... and there’s twenty-four-hour room service of course, so you wouldn’t have to cook or clean.’
‘Yeah, we have twenty-four-hour room service at home too, except I’m the one who does the serving.’ Cara laughed again.
‘C’mon, it’d be great for you. You need to do something for yourself. I’ll even take you out for a night on the town. What do you say?’ Miranda patted Cara’s hands with enthusiasm.
‘Well, my birthday is coming up, maybe I should treat myself, but I’d have to ask Pete; make sure we can afford it, and it would have to be on one of his weekend’s off, and – ’
‘Cara.’ Miranda placed her hands firmly onto Cara’s shoulders. ‘You need this. You need a break. I want you to go home and tell Pete, not ask , but tell him that you need a weekend off, and you’re going to book into Harbourside Towers.’
‘Geez,’ responded Cara. ‘Lily’s not the only bossy one around here.’