‘Did you put the chia pudding in the fridge to set?’ Greg tucked the freshly laundered sheet around the corners of the mattress. He believed fresh linen every night helped with his allergies.
‘Yep,’ said Sarah from the ensuite where she diligently coated her face in expensive anti-ageing cream. She tended to sleep on her sheets for at least a week. Sometimes longer if she’d been feeling lazy.
‘You know, you wouldn’t need that if you gave up dairy and sugar,’ he called to her, as he did every time she stayed over.
‘My life is not worth living without cheese and chocolate,’ she replied, as she always did. She set about cleaning her teeth using the special sonic wave electric toothbrush Greg kept in his bathroom especially for her. She used an ordinary manual toothbrush at home, a fact that horrified him.
‘Did you read the blog I sent you? The one about the effects of sugar when combined with fats?’ he called from the bedroom where she could hear him fiddling with his humidifier. ‘There’s real science behind this stuff.’ Sarah was sorry she’d mentioned the vegan bodybuilding article to Greg. Since yesterday, he’d sent her seventeen emails with links to zealous plant-based overachievers. So far she’d read none of them.
Sarah rinsed out her mouth with water from a Star Wars cup she kept for the purpose. Another item causing Greg angst. He believed the cup, made from plastic, was slowly poisoning her, along with her cheese and chocolate and wine. ‘Like the science behind the Paleo diet?’
‘The benefits of the Paleo diet actually have scientific foundation,’ he huffed, taking the bait like he always did.
‘Because we can’t really know what Paleo guy ate given we haven’t found any with the contents of their stomachs conveniently intact.’ She smiled as she rubbed her hand cream between her fingers and across the back of her hands, watching him put the last touches to his night routine which included taking St John’s wort, a fresh set of earplugs, and a facial massage using some sort of special oil he got in a shop in Bondi. He believed in taking care of himself and it was wrong of her to tease him, but it was so much damn fun.
‘You’ve got to admit, it’s not hard to extrapolate what he might have eaten.’ Greg’s tone came across a little sulky and she felt bad for winding him up.
‘Okay, I’ll concede that.’ She sat on the edge of the bed in her nighty, one made from organic cotton he’d bought her especially for the nights she stayed over.
‘I’ve never felt better since I’ve been on this diet.’ He stood and stretched, his pyjama bottoms riding low on his hips. He really did possess an amazing physique, like one of those firemen from Fiona’s calendar, the one her boss wouldn’t let her hang in her office as it constituted a form of exploitation.
Sarah peeled back the doona and slid beneath it, the sheets cool against her bare legs. ‘Paleo guy only lived to his mid-forties, didn’t he?’ She couldn’t help herself.
What was wrong with her? Greg was a good man who wanted to take care of her. Why didn’t she appreciate that? Why didn’t she feel a zing in her blood whenever she looked at him the same way she got zapped when she looked at Lonely in Longreach’s profile picture—a guy she didn’t even know?
‘To be fair, life could be harsh back then. No proper housing, medicine, or clothing, and food could be hard to come by.’ Greg slid into bed beside her. ‘Read or sleep?’
She took in the bedroom. Pale grey walls with soft blue curtains and bed linen. Clean lines, everything elegant and spare. It looked modern, yet the life lived in it could pass for old-fashioned. Their night routine, the same thing every single time, resembled that of an old married couple. Greg’s insistence on nightwear when Sarah usually slept naked. The habit of reading themselves to sleep instead of making mad passionate love.
Suddenly she found herself looking down the barrel of the next fifty years of her life with Greg, the unchanging routine, the health obsessions and, if she were honest, the growing resentment that their life together had become boring and overly cautious. Thirty-five was the new twenty-five. She’d read that somewhere. Oh yes, on the pages of Seriously Sydney. Colin had written it. Possibly made it up.
She sighed and scooted down the bed, pulling the doona up to her chin. ‘Sleep.’
‘Okay.’ Greg shrugged and turned out his bedside light. She felt him settle into his favourite sleeping position beside her. ‘Good night, sweetie.’
‘What about a goodnight kiss?’ She tried to sound indignant to cover the fact she didn’t really care. Kisses from Greg had lost their appeal and she couldn’t pinpoint the moment that had happened.
He dutifully leaned over and gave her a peck on the cheek, staid and chaste. His lack of libido troubled her. She’d stopped taking it personally months ago and sometimes she wondered if his physique had truly been built naturally or if he’d hit up the steroids in secret.
‘There, happy?’ He didn’t wait for an answer before rolling over. ‘I’m beat,’ he said. ‘I’m going to put my earplugs in now.’ He wore them as protection against the incessant hum of the humidifier.
‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Sleep tight.’
Turning off her own bedside lamp, she lay in the darkness watching as the light of the city began to leak around the edges of the curtains. The rumble of Sydney accompanied the humidifier in a sort of industrial orchestral movement, added to by Greg’s rhythmic breathing as he dropped into a deep sleep.
Sarah closed her eyes. She opened her eyes. She counted to one hundred, backwards and forwards. She daydreamed about shopping, about holidays she’d love to take and about shoes. Nothing made her sleepy. She thought about what life would be like when—if—she married Greg.
They’d live together in his flat. She’d have to make some modifications to the way she lived. He’d know if she hadn’t been to yoga or out for a run like she told him she had in an attempt to stop him nagging. And there would be kale and quinoa. Lots of it. Kale was her nemesis; she hated its tough texture and its overly green taste. What was wrong with good old-fashioned spinach, anyway?
On the flip side, Greg was one of the last good men left in Sydney who wasn’t gay. Compromises had to be made. A good man for kale could be seen as a fair exchange.
As she lay there in the darkness, listening to her biological clock ticking madly, she realised sleep had no intention of claiming her any time soon. The tug between loyalty and inexplicable attraction raged in her chest as a physical pain around her heart. Confusion bubbled up until the pressure became so great she couldn’t stand to lie in bed a second longer.
Swinging her legs over the side, Sarah slid out of bed, careful not to disturb Greg who snuffled and rolled over. She hesitated while he settled then tiptoed out of the bedroom, closing the door behind her.
She padded to the kitchen and flicked on the light and the kettle, taking down a cup and a teabag from the cupboard while it boiled. The electric kettle sounded loud in the stillness of the night, its gentle roar filling the empty kitchen. Sarah made her tea and carried it to the table where her laptop sat. Earlier in the evening Greg had been showing her the health retreat he wanted them both to take. The website had shown a lush, green location with promises of Ayurvedic treatments, vegan meals and lots of yoga. At least he hadn’t suggested it as a potential honeymoon location even if Byron Bay itself had sounded rather nice.
Flipping the lid of her laptop, she absently scrolled through her social media, trying to ignore the urge to open the dating site and see if Lonely in Longreach had answered. She’d been hunting for other leads on the internet all week, yet Outback Singles remained her best source. Or that’s what she told herself anyway. She sipped her tea, which scalded her tongue, a pain she took as punishment for her wavering heart.
Opening Pinterest, she scrolled through her collection of images of the countryside. They always managed to soothe her when restlessness struck. Tonight they only served to make her more curious about the kind of man who lived out in the middle of nowhere on a solar farm.
She sighed and closed her eyes. Greg had promised her nothing more than to consider asking her to marry him. To consider. What did that even mean? And when did she settle for so little? When her biological clock started ticking and there was not one single half-decent man in sight, that’s when.
Her eyes snapped open. Greg cared for her, no doubt in her mind, yet he seemed as reluctant as she was to move forward even though they both clearly thought that’s what they should do next. Maybe he thought she was the only half-decent girl he could find. The thought sent a shiver down her spine as if someone had tipped a bucket of ice down her back. Greg settling for her left her with the sense of not being good enough somehow. If he knew she was settling too, he’d feel the same.
Sarah leaned forward and tapped the keyboard with one hand. Outback Singles flashed up on the screen.
Whatever happened between her and Lonely in Longreach, one thing was suddenly clear: she couldn’t stay with Greg out of love and respect for him. Weird paradox as that sounded, he deserved a better love than she had to offer him. And she deserved better too, someone who had no reservations about spending the rest of his life with her. Greg had struggled to get to the point where he could even think about the possibility of marriage. She wanted someone who couldn’t live without her, not someone who, after two years, still scheduled their time together.
She logged into her account and a message notification flashed up. Lonely in Longreach had responded. Her heart beat painfully in her chest as if the blood flow had suddenly become restricted. Up until now, he’d only been a concept, an idea of a man. His message made him as real as if he sat opposite her.
Her finger hovered over the mouse pad. Once she opened the message nothing would be the same again. Regardless of what Lonely in Longreach had to say, she had to end her relationship with Greg. The message represented flag fall on the main event.
With a shuddering breath she put down her teacup. Carefully, as if the laptop might bite her, Sarah clicked on the message. It flickered to life and she held her breath while she read.
Sarah sat back in her chair, her heart still pounding. He found her photo mesmerising. Could it be possible he sensed the same connection she did? She took comfort in the fact he didn’t have much experience online. He could be lying, but she had no reason to think so. Benefit of the doubt, her mother would have said.
While she’d been the one to ask if they could meet, now he’d said yes, fear he’d find her lacking took hold. He might not find her attractive in real life. Or she might not find him attractive!
She’d heard stories of people showing up to dates only to find the person they’d been interacting with looked nothing like their profile photo. He could be years older, saggy and grumpy with his best behind him. The language he used seemed oddly youthful, although he did say he had a fifteen-year-old son.
The sound of the bedroom door opening gave her a start. She slammed down the lid of the laptop and picked up her now cold tea.
‘Hey, babe, what are you doing?’ Greg squinted sleepily at her as he rubbed his belly with one hand. While their emotional life might be on the wane there could be no denying he was a mighty fine-looking man.
‘Couldn’t sleep,’ she said. ‘I hope I didn’t wake you.’
‘I rolled over and you weren’t there. Are you ready to come back to bed? Do you want some St John’s wort?’
She sighed and stood up. ‘You know what, I think I’ll take you up on that offer. I need something to calm my mind. Too many thoughts about a work assignment.’ Okay, so not entirely true but not a complete lie either.
‘You work too hard,’ he said as he unscrewed the bottle and shook out a capsule for her. ‘You need to recharge your batteries. That retreat would be perfect for you.’
‘I sure need something,’ she muttered as she followed him back to bed.
She slid in next to him and he reached over to pat her hip in a comforting way, as if patting the head of a favourite dog. She wondered if Sam had a dog. Sam. She let the name roll around in her mind, savouring the simplicity of it. Sam from Longreach, farmer of sunshine, sports fan, dog lover, and hot chip eater.
Sarah sighed. What had she gotten herself into?
From: Solitary_In_Sydney
To: Lonely_In_Longreach
Subject: Urgent & Important Questions
Dear Sam,
I was excited to receive your response so quickly. You didn’t even give me enough time to start obsessively checking my inbox. Thank you for allowing me to keep my sanity.
What can I tell you about myself? Here goes …
My name is Sarah. I am the eldest child and have one slightly disorderly brother. I’m from the suburbs of Newcastle and have been living in Sydney for many years. Too many. I came to study journalism and I stayed.
I too love wide open spaces. My flatmate is originally from the outback and she reckons we were switched at birth as I’m always longing for the country and she refuses to leave the city.
I find coffee essential to life. I hate traffic and crowds. I’m not fond of the beach or sand. I like pasta and cake and all the things everyone I know has given up. Nothing a plate of pasta can’t make right, especially if it’s accompanied by a good red. If I were on death row my last meal would be pizza with the works. Thin crust. Extra cheese. What would your death row meal be?
I like watching rugby but only get serious about it when the State of Origin is on. I’d like to try fishing and horseback riding. I read like a fiend, and I slay at Monopoly. One day I hope to write a novel. I’ve been plotting it since I was nineteen years old. There never seems to be any time to sit down and start it.
I’m keen to come and visit Longreach but I disagree with you on one point: I think you’d make great interview material. I have a picture in my mind of you catching sunbeams in buckets. (I know that’s not how it works but hey, I’m a writer.) I do agree with you on taking chances although, to be fair, I’ve not taken many in the past.
Before I do, I have two critical questions for you:
1. What is your opinion on kale?
2. How do you feel about yoga retreats?
Sorry this email is so long—I babble when I’m nervous.
Sarah