30
Saskia
I am in the living room, shedding a few tears over a glass of wine, when Mum and Brian return home.
They have been to a Moroccan art exhibit where all the sculptures are made from dried camel dung.
They walk into the living room, Mum sees me on the sofa, tears clinging to my cheeks, and she dashes across.
‘What is it, love? What’s happened?’
‘It’s just Lou,’ I tell her, even though it’s so much more than that.
Last night, I returned home to a barrage of questions from Mum, worried texts and voicemails from Jess and Brad, and I had to explain to everyone what had happened. Brad offered to come over and take me out today, but I said I needed some time alone. I need time to think.
‘Sorry, love,’ says Mum, sitting down next to me. ‘It must happen all the time though, what with it being an old people’s home. It’s sort of why they’re there.’
‘I know, but Lou was special.’
‘What was special about Lou?’ asks Brian, walking across and sitting down, too.
This is a good question, and the truth is, I don’t really know.
Lou was often grumpy, rude, misogynistic, occasionally racist and not always pleasant to be around.
But there was also a softer side to Lou, a glimpse of the man he might have been if things had gone differently for him.
If his son hadn’t died, if his wife had lived, or maybe if he had become an actor.
Perhaps he might have had grandchildren and not ended up dying alone in a retirement home with me.
From time to time, I saw glimpses of that man.
Although it has to be said that on the whole, he was quite unpleasant, generally offensive and with a terrible choice of aftershave.
‘I don’t know, Brian, but we had a real connection,’ I say before I add. ‘He also left me a cheque for twenty thousand dollars.’
‘He did what?’ says Mum incredulously.
‘He gave me the cheque just before he died. He told me he wanted me to have it.’
‘But why? Was he okay, you know, mentally?’
‘He was fine mentally, Mum, and before you ask, no, I didn’t con an old man with dementia out of twenty grand. Jesus, who do you think I am?’
‘I wasn’t suggesting that, love, but twenty thousand is a lot of money.’
‘He just had no-one else, Mum.’
‘That is sad,’ says Brian. ‘It’s one of the problems with the modern Western world. We used to take care of our old people, but now we just chuck them in retirement homes. Promise me, Sas, when the time comes, you won’t put me in a home.’
‘I promise,’ I say, although I have no idea if this is actually possible, but it’s a long way off and hopefully he won’t hold me to it when the time comes.
‘Are you even allowed to keep it?’ asks Mum. ‘Is it legal? Is it fraud?’
‘It’s not fraud, Mum. He gave me the money because he had no-one else to give it to.’
‘You’re sure?’ says Mum. ‘One hundred per cent sure because the last thing I need right now is you going to prison because you swindled an old man out of twenty grand. The Moroccan camel dung sculptures took a lot out of me emotionally.’
‘It was an intense exhibit,’ says Brian. ‘People were literally breaking down and crying.’
‘Really? Wow, it must have been incredible,’ I say.
‘It was,’ says Brian. ‘Although the smell from the camel dung was quite intense, which maybe explained some of the tears.’
‘It stung my eyes,’ says Mum.
‘Well, it’s not illegal, Mum. It was just a gift from a nice old man, and I already know what I am going to spend the money on.’
‘Yeah, what’s that, love?’ says Brian.
‘On a flight to London to meet Ben,’ I say, and Mum looks horrified. She grabs Brian by the hand. He looks worried too, or perhaps in pain because Mum is squeezing his hand so tightly.
‘You’re going to use the twenty thousand you got from a dead old fella to flee the country?
’ says Mum. ‘To meet some bloke you met online, who could be a murderer for all we know, and you think this is okay, Saskia? What has happened to you? I thought you had turned a corner with Brad, but instead you’ve gone backwards! ’
‘I’m not going backwards, Mum. I think Ben might be the love of my life.’
‘But you don’t know him. You’ve only spoken online. What if he’s a murderer? Or a rapist? Or both? A murderer rapist!’
‘He’s an asset manager, Mum. From Clapham!’
‘So he says.’
‘He’s on the company’s website. I’ve seen around his flat, spoken with his flatmate. Checked his LinkedIn page. He’s legit.’
‘Doesn’t mean he’s not a psycho, love,’ says Mum, with the same look of disappointment in her eyes.
‘Some of the worst ones had normal lives. We watched one on TV the other week, didn’t we, Brian?
A true crime show about a serial killer in America.
He was a husband, a father, went to church every Sunday, and he murdered fourteen people! Two of them with a shovel!’
‘Ben isn’t a murderer, Mum!’
‘What’s wrong with Brad? He seems lovely, has his own flat, a chiropractic practice and he’s not a killer. Although with those biceps it wouldn’t be hard.’
‘Susan, love, I think you need to give Saskia some credit,’ says Brian suddenly, before he looks at me with a warm smile. ‘She’s a grown woman, and if she thinks Ben is The One , then who are we to stand in her way, eh?’
‘Thanks, Brian,’ I reply. ‘And Mum, honestly, if I think, even for a second, that Ben is going to murder or rape me, I’ll be on the first plane back to Sydney.’
‘You promise me? First plane? Murder or rape?’
‘Yes, Mum. Promise.’
‘Right,’ says Brian, standing up. ‘I don’t know about you, Susan, but I need to take a shower. I can still smell the camel dung.’
‘It is potent,’ I say because it’s making my eyes water.
Mum and Brian take showers to wash away the smell of camel dung that is lingering, while I have something to do myself. I have to break up with Brad.
It came to me after the gig when I was sitting with Lou.
I like Brad, and obviously he’s ridiculously hot, but I just don’t have ‘the feelings’ with him.
I wish we did because it would be a lot easier than flying across the world to meet Ben.
Brad has the perfect life in Bondi, and it would be so easy to slip into that, but you can’t feel something that just isn’t there.
Brad and I are fine, but I think I am too old to be settling for fine.
Brad was the boyfriend I could have had at twenty-five, when all I wanted was a bit of fun, but that just isn’t me anymore.
I want a big love story like Daphne was to Lou or like Jess and Aaron.
I want to be with someone who makes me feel all the things they feel – the big, overwhelming, can’t get you out of my head, love.
After I have a shower, get changed, and say goodbye to Mum and Brian, who are both finally camel dung free, I leave the house.
I walk to Broadway Shopping Centre, and then I jump on a bus to Bondi, which takes about fifty minutes.
It isn’t the shortest journey, but it gives me time to think about what I might say to Brad.
We have only been dating for the shortest amount of time, so I don’t think he is going to be heartbroken, but I want to be sensitive.
I know Jess thinks the worst of Brad – the devil dressed up as a gorgeous chiropractor – but I have seen a different side to him since we started dating.
There’s a softer, more caring side to Brad I wish Jess could see too.
I eventually get off the bus and walk the short walk to Brad’s flat.
I didn’t message him that I was coming, and now I am here, I’m worried he might not even be home.
I was just so desperate to get it over with so I could move on and start looking into flights to London.
I’m almost at his flat when I stop because I see someone leaving his building.
It’s a young woman in just a bikini. She’s pretty with a great body, probably no more than twenty-three, and then from behind her I see Brad appear.
He just has a towel wrapped around his waist, and he leans in, kisses her, before she leaves and then Brad walks back inside his building.
I can’t fucking believe it! Brad is cheating on me!
Just like Jess said he would. The two-timing snake!
I feel like such an idiot. I defended Brad to Jess, and as it turns out, she was right the whole time!
I am about to walk away and head home, my tail between my legs, when I decide not to.
Why should I let him get away with being a cheating arsehole without saying something?
Why should men like Brad get away with murder just because of their looks and ridiculous abs?
I march across the road, get to the front door of Brad’s building and push the button for his flat.
‘Yeah?’ says Brad after a moment.
‘Hi, Brad, it’s me!’ I say into the intercom, and immediately he sounds flustered.
‘Oh, hi, babe. I didn’t know you were coming over.’
‘I was just in the area. Can you come down here?’
‘I can buzz you in. Just give me five—’
‘Actually, Brad, I need to see you outside now!’ I say with a hint of menace in my voice, and then I add with a softer tone because I don’t want him to get suspicious. ‘I have a surprise for you!’
‘Okaaay,’ says Brad, and then I wait. I don’t really have a plan, other than to shout at him, and call him some quite undignified names in public, but when he appears in the same towel as before, something happens inside me and I know exactly what I am going to do.
What I must do for women everywhere. For me, Jess and especially poor old Caroline.
‘Hey, babe, how ya going’?’
‘Actually, not great, mate. I just saw you with that girl.’
‘Girl? What girl?’ says Brad, but even he can’t muster up enough balls to sound convincing. ‘It was just a one-time thing, babe. I’m sorry. I promise it won’t happen again. You’re the only girl for me.’
‘There was me thinking that you and I were exclusive, because you said that, remember? Girlfriend and boyfriend.’
‘Yeah, I know, babe, and I’m sorry. It was just a stupid mistake, that’s all.’
‘I guess Jess was right about you all along, Brad. You are the fucking devil!’
‘I’m not, I just … I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Maybe I’m addicted to sex.’
‘That’s what you’re going with? Sex addict?’ I say in disbelief. ‘Like it’s an actual addiction and you can’t help it, and all you need is someone to understand you.’
‘That’s right. It’s a disease, babe.’
Then he comes towards me, trying to hold my hand, but I’m not falling for it.
Instead, I reach down and whip the towel off him.
I imagined that he had some underwear underneath or maybe some swimmers, but instead he’s completely naked.
His hands immediately go to his penis, trying to cover his modesty, and while he’s doing that, I run behind him, toss the towel inside his building, and then slam the door shut so he’s locked out.
‘Babe! You can’t leave me like this!’ shouts Brad. ‘Babe!’
‘Actually, I can, Brad, and also, don’t call me fucking babe!’
I walk back towards the bus before I head back to Glebe, knowing I don’t have to worry about Brad anymore.
I take one last look at him as I am walking away.
He’s naked, and some people are laughing, pointing, some are avoiding him, and he doesn’t look like the confident, handsome man who whisked me off my feet. Actually, he looks kind of pathetic.
Brad and I are done, and now I just need to arrange my flight to London.
I am terrified, nervous and second-guessing the whole thing, but I keep thinking of Lou lying there on his deathbed, and the thing that keeps coming back to me is that I don’t want to have any regrets.
It’s always the thing you hear people say when they are dying.
You will be more disappointed by the things you don’t do in life than by the things you did.
I don’t want to look back and regret not flying to London because I was afraid.
What if it changes my entire life? What if it’s just the beginning of my big love story?