40
HAYLEY, LUKE, PATRICK, Mac and I walk as a group to the restaurant. Bobbi and Jean are taking the left-over stock and EFTPOS machine back to the shop, and my parents are helping them, and they’ll all meet us there.
Patrick walks beside me and takes my hand in his.
Mac walks on my other side, a step ahead. I feel slightly faint.
‘So Mac, how long did you say you were here for?’ Patrick asks.
‘Just a week,’ Mac says. He looks back, his eyes landing on our joined hands.
‘Visiting family?’ Patrick asks.
‘Something like that,’ Mac says.
I glance around. Where are Hayley and Luke? Where are my buffers? They’ve fallen behind. Hayley is fiddling with her shoe. I told her not to wear those shoes.
‘Well, it’s nice you could be at the launch,’ Patrick says.
‘It is,’ Mac responds. He has his hands in his pockets, and he keeps glancing back at me, and I can’t concentrate properly. My hand in Patrick’s is sweating.
We walk into the restaurant, and as soon as we sit down I ask the waiter to bring some appetisers, because if people have food in their mouths, there is less opportunity to talk.
Patrick sits next to me, and Mac sits opposite. I am staring right into his eyes. I have looked at his face on my laptop screen so many times in watching and rewatching episodes of Arcadia Rising , it feels surreal to have the real him in front of me again.
Patrick is edging his chair closer to mine, and his elbow knocks into me. I pick up my water and drink it slowly.
Hayley has gone to the bathroom and Luke is talking to the waiter about wine. They are failing me right now.
‘So, what happens next?’ Patrick says to me.
‘What do you mean?’ I ask. I’m so distracted, I have no idea what he’s talking about.
‘With your book.’
‘Oh well, I guess I just hope it sells copies and readers like it,’ I say, with an awkward laugh.
‘Have you read it?’ Mac asks, looking at Patrick.
‘I haven’t yet,’ Patrick says. ‘Just got my copy tonight.’
‘I thought Anna might have given you an early copy.’
‘She didn’t.’
‘Did you like The Hike ?’ Mac asks. His tone is mild, polite, chatty, his expression impenetrable. I gave Patrick a copy of The Hike on our second date, when he asked. Since then, every time I’ve been at his house, I’ve seen it on his bedside table. His bookmark has not moved. I checked the page—number fifty-five. The spot where the woman who hated it and returned it on my first day in the shop had given up. I have been determined to read nothing into this.
‘I still working my way through it,’ Patrick says now. ‘I’m not a fast reader. I warned Anna about that,’ he says, squeezing my hand.
‘He’s a visual guy,’ I say, smiling and yet wanting to rip my hand away from Patrick’s because I feel, absurdly, like I’m cheating on Mac. I can’t compute the two of them here, together. I can’t touch either of them. I can’t look at either of them. I can’t breathe.
‘So did Anna know you were coming tonight or was it a surprise?’ Patrick asks Mac.
‘It was a surprise,’ Mac says.
‘I think I’m going to order the steak,’ I say, pretending to be fascinated by the menu.
‘That’s nice,’ Patrick says. ‘A surprise visit.’
‘Yep,’ Mac says.
‘Or maybe the gnocchi,’ I add. My voice is getting louder, in the hope I can just drown out their conversation.
‘So what are your plans for the rest of the week?’ Patrick asks.
‘I’m not sure yet,’ Mac says.
‘Oh look, here come the parents,’ I say, as if this is an exciting and unexpected development.
Hayley has returned from the bathroom and, blessedly, she and Luke start talking to Patrick, and the parents are all chatting, and the hum of noise is like a comfort blanket. I look at Mac, and he’s looking at me, and we hold each other’s gaze for several beats too long.
My chest is physically aching, I can hardly stand it. I need air. I stand up and head for the bathroom and as soon as I am around the corner in the hallway and out of sight of the table, I stop and rest the back of my head against the wall and deep breathe.
Mac walks around the corner, stops, and leans against the wall opposite me.
‘I remember that dress,’ he says, looking at me. ‘From the night in New York when we saw the show.’
‘Don’t,’ I say.
‘Don’t what?’
‘Don’t reminisce.’
‘It’s a great dress,’ he says softly. Somehow I’d forgotten how good his voice is.
I can’t handle all the feelings burning my chest right now, so I settle on anger, the easiest to reach for, the safest.
‘Why are you here?’ I say.
‘I wanted to come to your book launch. You know that.’
‘Mac.’ I don’t have an end to that sentence, I just wanted to say his name out loud. It’s hard being this close to him. With our history in hallways like this, our history at restaurants, I must not move an inch. I cannot be trusted. A waiter comes down the hall between us. I’m suddenly scared Patrick is going to walk around the corner. I grab Mac’s arm and pull him into the women’s bathroom with me. It’s a single room, just one toilet and a sink, and I lock the door. It’s small, and we’re standing way too close to each other now.
‘Why are you here?’ I say again.
‘You sent me that photo,’ he says. ‘And that note.’ His expression looks a little wild.
‘I sent it as a goodbye, for closure.’
‘ That’s how you do closure?’
‘It was a nice picture. I thought you’d like it—as a keepsake.’
‘Why did you really send it to me?’
‘Because. Because I couldn’t move on if I kept it.’
‘And you’ve moved on now? With Patrick?’
‘Yes,’ I say. ‘I have.’
‘Have you?’ Mac says, stepping closer.
‘Yes. He’s sweet and he’s funny and he’s caring, and he wants the same things as I do and he buys me beautiful yellow flowers,’ I say, stepping back as far as I can. ‘And he’s here .’
‘I’m here.’
‘For a week,’ I say.
He says nothing and just looks at me. I can’t bear the silence. I can’t bear his eyes on me.
‘And even if I wasn’t with Patrick, even if I was still single, what good is it coming here? It doesn’t solve any of our problems,’ I say.
‘I miss you. I miss you so much,’ he says in a near whisper.
‘And?’ I say.
‘And I want to kiss you right now.’
I shake my head.
‘I’m with Patrick.’
‘I don’t care about Patrick,’ he says, moving very close to me.
‘Well, I do. He’s a good guy. And you’ve come here—to what? Ruin things for me? Are you that selfish?’
‘No.’
‘Then why are you here?’ My voice wobbles slightly. I swallow hard, pushing down every emotion. The urge to reach out and touch him is suddenly overwhelming.
He doesn’t say anything.
‘I’m going back to the table,’ I say.
‘Wait,’ he says.
‘What?’ I say flatly. I am determined to stay strong. I can’t fall apart now.
‘I haven’t been sleeping. I can’t sleep knowing I’m not going to talk to you in the morning.’
‘So you’re here to get a good night’s sleep? See a doctor. Get a sleeping pill.’
‘No. I’m here to tell you that I’m in love with you, Anna.’
‘You’re…what?’
‘I love you. I fell in love with you in New York. No, before that. At the wedding. In the hammock. Or on the dancefloor. Maybe Patrick captured the exact moment in that photo. I should have said it months ago. I felt it, when we were standing in the hotel foyer in New York, and you asked for my hoodie. I felt it so badly then but I didn’t want to admit it. I love you and I have loved you for a long time,’ he says, the words rushing out, like it’s a gift, like it’s something he can hand off, get rid of, like it’s a goddamn photo.
‘What the hell?’ I say, giving him a little shove.
‘What?’
‘Why would you do that? Why would you say that to me now?’
‘I don’t know. Closure?’
‘ That’s how you do closure?’
‘I think it’s still better than your way.’
‘Mac, this is fucked up.’
‘It’s fucked up that I’m in love with you?’
‘No. That you came here and told me now. In a toilet cubicle.’
‘The setting isn’t ideal.’
‘With my boyfriend sitting at the table out there.’
‘The timing isn’t ideal either.’
‘I, just, I can’t deal with this right now, okay?’ I say. I move him out of my way and unlock the door. I peer out, make sure no one is around and then step out.
I sit back down at the table, and Patrick puts his hand on my knee. My face feels incredibly hot and I’m worried about how red my cheeks are. I need to slow my heart rate down.
We order, and Mac returns, just in time to add his order, and the conversation carries on cheerfully.
We talk about the launch, and my book, and Luke’s work, and the upcoming wedding Patrick is photographing, and the role Mac has just auditioned for in a TV show about a group of teenage girls in a small town who are dabbling in witchcraft. Mac auditioned to play one of their fathers.
‘Father,’ Hayley says in horror. ‘Surely you’re not old enough to be playing the dad of a teenager!’
‘Well, the plotline involves me getting her mother pregnant in high school, but I move away and never know about the pregnancy, and now that she’s a teenage witch, she casts a spell to bring me back into her life.’
‘Oh, I like that,’ I say.
‘Yeah, the script is pretty decent,’ he says. ‘I wanted to show it to you when I read it,’ he says, making brief eye contact with me. And then the conversation continues.
That’s the only direct interaction we have for the rest of the meal. I am eating, smiling, chatting.
Patrick gently rubs my neck at one point. Is he always this touchy, or is it just tonight? Is he marking his territory in front of Mac, or is he just sensing my stress and trying to calm me down?
I hate that I am second-guessing everything.
It’s just this particular circumstance, I tell myself. It’s just because Mac is here. And in a week, he’ll be gone and you won’t feel this way anymore. Just get through this night, this week. Don’t think about what he said in the bathroom. Never think about that. Ever.
I push my fingernails into my palms. The waiters are taking away the plates. Everyone is saying how full they are. No dessert. The night is almost over.
‘We’re going to get going,’ Mum says, leaning down to kiss my cheek. I know she has a hundred questions—about Mac, about Patrick—and she’s barely holding them all in. ‘Your father has eaten too much, he needs to unbuckle his pants.’
‘I didn’t need that visual.’
‘Talk tomorrow?’
‘Yes. Thank you for coming.’
‘I’m so proud of you.’
‘Thanks, Mum.’ Earlier, the waiter commented on the matching T-shirts she and Dad are wearing, and she sold him a copy of the book, an interaction I do not have the emotional capacity to even acknowledge right now.
Bobbi hugs me next.
‘How many books did we sell?’ I ask her.
‘No shop talk.’
‘Just tell me, quick.’
‘Sixty-three.’
‘Oh wow, that’s great.’
‘I was very pleased.’
She smiles at me, and then her eyes slide between Patrick and Mac, and she walks out behind Jean and my parents.
‘So we thought we’d go back to our place and get some drinks,’ Hayley says.
We , I think. Who is we , exactly?
We pay and walk outside to wait for a cab, and when one appears, everyone starts climbing in and I realise we won’t all fit.
‘We need another one,’ I say.
‘No, it’s fine, I’m going to head back to my sister’s place,’ Mac says. ‘I’ll get the tram. Luke, I’ll catch up with you tomorrow, yeah?’
‘Yeah mate,’ Luke says.
Everyone is in the cab now except me and Mac. He takes a few steps away, tilting his head at me, and I follow him.
‘Anna,’ he says. ‘Goodbye.’
Be numb, be numb, be numb.
‘Thank you for coming to my launch,’ I say, as if he drove twenty minutes rather than flew across the world. ‘It means a lot to me.’
‘Well, I can’t wait to read the book,’ he says.
Maybe we’re both just going to pretend what he said in the toilet never happened.
I look over my shoulder, and Hayley is leaning out of the cab window.
‘You coming?’ she says to me.
‘Yes,’ I say, turning back to Mac. ‘Deja vu,’ I say to him. ‘First the restaurant, now Hayley and the cab.’
‘Our greatest hits,’ he says. ‘Except this time you’re getting in the cab and leaving me.’
‘I am.’
‘It was good to see you one last time.’
I can’t help myself, I have to hug him. He’s thinking the same thing, and we step into each other’s arms.
‘Why are we always saying goodbye?’ I whisper to him.
Be numb, be numb, be numb, you are not going to cry.
‘Do you love him?’ Mac whispers to me. ‘Because if you do, just tell me, and you’ll never hear from me again, I promise.’
‘Mac, don’t.’
‘Because I love you so much, Anna.’
Tears prickle my eyes and I press my face into his shoulder, hard, trying to get a grip on myself.
‘Stop saying it,’ I say. ‘I can’t bear hearing it.’ I step back from the hug and wipe my eyes quickly.
I look up at him.
‘Will I see you again this week, before I go?’ he asks.
‘I don’t know. Maybe. I need to think.’
‘Okay,’ he says. ‘Well, if I don’t see you, goodbye.’
‘Goodbye.’
‘I love you.’
‘Mac!’
‘Sorry, it slipped out.’ He gives me a cute smile that I refuse to find cute, and I turn and rush to the taxi, and get into the backseat, pulling the door shut.
‘Are you okay?’ Hayley says, turning around from the front seat. She’s doing her best to keep her face neutral in front of Patrick, but I can see the real questions in her eyes.
‘Yes. Fine. Just a bit, you know, all over the place after the launch and everything.’ My hands are shaking and it takes me three tries to do up my seatbelt.
‘You sure you’re okay?’ Patrick asks gently. He’s sitting squished in the middle, with Luke on his other side, which is a terrible place for the tallest person to be. His knees are practically touching his chin.
‘Yes,’ I say. ‘I’m just feeling emotional.’
‘Anna is always emotional after being the centre of attention. She doesn’t do well with it,’ Hayley says, which is true but I know she’s actually saying it to deflect from my Mac feelings.
‘You were a star tonight,’ Patrick says to me.
He’s so nice, it’s killing me.
I look out the window as we drive, trying not to think about what Mac said, but my mind can’t seem to focus on anything else. He loves me. It’s a surprise and it isn’t. It’s not a surprise because whenever we were together, whenever we spoke on the phone, it felt like we were in love, in a way where we didn’t need to say it, it just was . But I was never sure if this was real for both of us or only a feeling on my side. And now. I guess I know. He flew across the world and told me he loved me. It should be the most romantic thing that has ever happened to me. And it is, except I didn’t want to see him again and I have a lovely boyfriend and a life that works better without being in love with someone in another country.
I give myself a silent pep talk.
Do not be seduced by this. He is leaving in a week. Do not blow up your life for a meaningless love declaration. He is the guy who said he has nothing to offer you. He still doesn’t. Do not go running. You have learned your lesson. Remember Joel. Remember the psychic. The universe wants you to have Patrick. You want Patrick. Be numb, be numb, be numb.
But Mac’s question is playing on my mind too. Do I love Patrick? We haven’t said ‘I love you’ yet, but the other night, Patrick was tracing words on my back, mostly jokey words and silly phrases, but I am pretty sure he wrote ‘I love you’, right as I was falling asleep. But do I love him? I turn to look at him, and he picks up my hand and squeezes it.
How can I not love him? It would be utterly terrible and self-destructive not to.