‘Seriously?’ Fiona placed a steaming hot cup of tea down on the table in front of Sarah. ‘Are you really going to go?’ She sat down on the chair opposite and folded one leg under her. ‘I mean, you taking a risk for love.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Sarah picked up her tea. ‘Thank you for this by the way.’
‘Nothing and you’re welcome.’
Sarah took a sip, the too-hot brew scalding her tongue.
‘I take risks,’ she said as she returned the tea to the table to let it cool. ‘What makes you think I don’t?’
‘Are you kidding me? Two years of Greg? Plus, you look like a total townie.’ Fiona, from the country herself, constituted the closest thing Sarah had to an expert on rural fashion.
‘I could get a hat and some boots,’ she suggested.
‘That’s exactly the kind of thing a townie would do,’ Fiona scoffed. ‘You don’t need to dress up like it’s Halloween. Regular jeans and a shirt are fine.’
‘I’ve got jeans and shirts.’
‘You’ve got designer jeans and fifty-dollar t-shirts.’
‘What do I do? Go shopping at the charity shop?’ Sarah threw up her hands in frustration.
‘Now that is plain insulting,’ said Fiona. ‘Us country folk don’t go around looking like we dressed out of a rag bag.’
‘I never said you did, and you know it. Charity shops sell perfectly good, decent clothes. I’m confused as to how I’m supposed to dress is all. Jeans are jeans where I come from.’ Sarah crossed her arms in frustration.
‘Borrow some of my stuff. You’re only going for a couple of weeks.’
‘Thank you.’ Sarah looked out the window at the tightly packed apartments and never-ending stream of cars passing by. She’d never been to the outback before despite dreaming about it for years and she found it hard to imagine what its reality would be like while she sat in suburbia drinking tea. Boots, there’d have to be boots which meant she’d have to get some new ones.
‘You are going, right?’ Fiona asked.
‘Yes.’ The question rattled her out of her daydream. ‘It’s a great opportunity to get out into the country and meet people. For my article, I mean.’
‘Right, for your article.’ Fiona nodded slowly. ‘And what about Lonely in Longreach? Great to meet him too.’
‘Of course.’ A surge of irritation took her by surprise. ‘I think it’s important to interview as many people as I can about the challenges of finding love in the country, Lonely in Longreach included,’ she said primly. She really should tell Fiona she knew his name, yet something held her back. As if saying his real name had the power to conjure him up.
‘Really.’ It wasn’t a question. They’d known each other since the first day of university and Fiona’s straight-shooting personality refused to give quarter on Sarah’s delusions.
‘Alright then,’ she snapped, more annoyed with herself than her friend. ‘I do want to meet Sam. I want to find out if this … this thing I feel is real or all in my imagination before I go off and marry a man I have no right to marry in the first place.’ She sunk down in her seat. ‘There, happy?’
‘Why, yes I am, thank you.’ Fiona took a sip of her tea, smiling in an irritatingly satisfied way. ‘Sam, hey? Not a bad name.’
Sarah rolled her eyes. ‘I was totally not going to tell you his name.’
‘You are a lousy liar and I wanted you to admit the truth about what you’re doing, that’s all. We both know you shouldn’t marry Greg. The question is, does Greg know?’
Sarah sighed. ‘God, I don’t know.’ She put her elbows on the scarred kitchen table and sunk her head in her hands. ‘He’s off on a retreat with some of the gang from the gym.’
Fiona’s eyebrows ratcheted up a notch higher.
‘No, I didn’t want to go and I’m fine with him going,’ Sarah answered Fiona’s unasked question.
Fiona sipped her tea and regarded Sarah over the brim of her mug.
‘And I’m fine with Rachel going too. I think it’s possibly a good thing.’ Sarah couldn’t stop talking, goaded by her friend’s silence.
‘That’s Rachel of the too-small shorts?’ Fiona spoke at last.
‘You know it.’ Sarah mushed her face with her hands so her words were muffled. ‘I bet she’s taking those shorts too.’
‘As if they’d agree to be left behind,’ snorted Fiona. ‘Those shorts want Greg, you mark my words.’
Sarah flopped back in her chair. ‘Surely he must know on some level how different we are. He keeps hoping I’ll change into a fitness-slash-health nut like him. And I have changed, a little, but I don’t think I can change enough for a lifetime.’
‘Honey,’ Fiona’s tone gentled and she reached out a hand across the table, ‘you shouldn’t have to change at all.’ Sarah took her hand, comforted by her words. ‘If you two were right for each other you’d click into place with no one having to completely re-scaffold themselves,’ Fiona continued. ‘Greg needs a girl who is as passionate as he is, and you need a man who is as crazy as you are.’
‘Hey!’ Sarah took her hand back, the tender moment evaporating under Fiona’s acid wit.
‘Just calling it like I see it.’ Fiona chuckled.
‘Yeah, good on you.’ Sarah stood up.
‘Where are you going?’
‘To get my laptop and look up Longreach. I want to know what I’m in for.’ Sarah padded the few feet into their tiny lounge room to collect her computer. ‘And I want to look at photos to see what everyone is wearing.’
‘And there I was hoping you were staging a flounce-out. Stop by the kitchen and bring me back some of those mini muffins while you’re at it,’ said Fiona.
‘Are your legs painted on or something?’
‘Fine, I’ll get them myself.’ Fiona sighed, stood up and grabbed the box of muffins as Sarah sat back down with her laptop.
‘You want to read the latest message?’
‘Love to.’ Fiona sat back down and popped a muffin into her mouth.
‘Here,’ Sarah slid the laptop in front of Fiona, ‘read this while I get more tea.’
She took the teapot with her to the kitchen, exactly four and a half steps from the dining area, and flipped the kettle on to boil water for a fresh pot. As she prepared the tea, Fiona read the message out loud.
‘Wow.’ Fiona sat back in her chair and stared at the screen. ‘He’s sounds like he might be the real deal.’
‘Not a guy in Nigeria with a laptop.’ Sarah bit into a double chocolate mini muffin, the kind the local supermarket baked on site. What Greg didn’t know wouldn’t stress him.
‘This is all getting a bit real.’ Fiona tucked into her strawberry muffin. ‘These are okay, but I think I like the double choc ones better,’ she said with her mouth full.
‘I agree, on both topics. What have I got to lose? I go up to Queensland. I visit the man in question. I use the time to interview as many people as possible so I can write a killer series about love in the country. The weather is at its best out there and now is when the towns hold loads of events so there’s a good chance I’ll find some great stories in amongst that lot. I happen to be including Longreach on the agenda. Then I come home.’ She stopped and took a deep breath. ‘Worst case scenario, I get some great material for my story.’
‘Best case scenario, you fall in love,’ said Fiona.
‘I can’t even think about that right now,’ said Sarah. ‘My feelings are all tangled up like a ball of wool belonging to a rabid kitten.’
‘Nice analogy. The rabid kitten of love. I think you should trademark that.’
Sarah offered up a weak smile. ‘I guess I’ll deal with the love stuff if it happens. One thing I know for sure is I have to go see for myself. The old woman I’m going to be one day would regret not going, not finding out when I had the chance. At least I’ll have an awesome trip under my belt.’
‘What are you going to do about Greg?’ Fiona picked the muffin crumbs off her t-shirt.
Sarah shrugged. ‘I’m hoping he’ll ditch me for Rachel, I guess.’
Fiona snorted in an unladylike manner. ‘Chicken.’
‘Are you disapproving of me?’
‘Actively. You should call off your relationship with Greg before you go.’ She held up a hand as Sarah made to speak. ‘Or at least confess to Lonely Sam that you’re coming out of a long-term relationship. Keep it honest, kiddo.’
Sarah sighed. Why was the high road always the hardest? Fiona was right. She ought to end one relationship honestly and approach the next one from the same position.
‘They don’t call Longreach the heart of Queensland for nothing. Be a great angle for your series if you do fall in love. Might as well milk it for all it’s worth.’ Fiona closed the laptop with a click. ‘Though take it from me, the outback might not be what you expect. There’s nothing romantic about life out there. It’s tough and the people are tempered by it.’
‘You’ve gone soft, living in the city,’ Sarah scoffed good-naturedly.
Fiona shrugged. ‘Maybe, but I’d rather be soft here than hard out there. One thing I know for sure is that you’re going to need some wardrobe advice and I’m the girl to give it.’
From: Solitary_In_Sydney
To: Lonely_In_Longreach
Subject: True confession
Dear Sam,
I want to let you know I’m in the middle of the end of a long-term relationship. It’s all friendly, as much as these things can be, I guess. We’ve run our course and are now more friends than we ever were lovers.
By the time I meet you we will be well and truly broken up. Why am I telling you this? Because I wanted to be honest and open with you. Start as I mean to go on, if you know what I mean.
The attraction I feel for you confuses me. I don’t understand what’s happening here but I know something is, so it’s important to me not to have any secrets.
I hope you understand.
Warmest,
Sarah
Watching cricket on a lazy Sunday afternoon proved to be Sam’s one true indulgence. He bought his favourite snacks, got the beer in, cranked up the air-conditioning and turned off his phone. Yes, he could watch it down the pub with his mates but there was something deliciously indulgent in sprawling out on the couch and settling in for an afternoon of yelling at the telly.
And that’s exactly what he was doing.
He shovelled a handful of peanuts into his mouth and chewed, enjoying the crunchy salty taste. He could do whatever he wanted. Put his feet up on the coffee table, have the telly up too loud, and balance the bowl of snacks on his belly Homer Simpson-style. Levi had gone out so there was no one to set an example for, no one to care.
Sam sighed happily. Before now, the thought of no one to tell him off might have left him depressed. It only served to highlight Michelle’s absence. Since he’d gone out on a couple of dates with Kylie, he enjoyed his autonomy more. That part of him he thought had shrivelled and died with his wife’s death, lived on. While he wasn’t ready for any kind of commitment, he enjoyed the knowledge that he wasn’t entirely dead yet.
He took a swig of beer and lost himself in the match, offering his opinion now and again to an umpire who couldn’t hear him. Total immersion.
He didn’t hear Levi come in until he stood right next to the couch.
‘Hi, Dad.’
Sam started, nearly choking on a Cheezel.
‘Geez, Levi,’ he said between coughs. ‘A little heads up would be nice.’
‘Didn’t realise you’re so jumpy, old man.’ Levi perched on the arm of the couch.
‘Less of the old man thank you very much.’ Sam brushed the crumbs off his t-shirt and sat up straight. He’d have to resume the responsible adult persona now.
‘Who’s winning?’
‘Why don’t you come and watch it with me?’ Sam patted the empty space on the couch. Soon Levi would be too old to bother spending time watching sport with his dad. He’d have better things to do and more interesting people to do them with.
Levi slid sideways into the spot, his eyes glued to the screen. Sam smiled and offered him the peanut bowl. Levi took a handful without looking.
For some time the two of them watched the match, both offering their opinions whenever necessary, enjoying the simple pleasure of a good combative sport played well.
‘Dad?’
‘Yep.’
‘Are you going to miss Miss Kempton?’
‘What?’ The question caught Sam on the hop. He’d been expecting Levi to say something about the quality of umpiring or debate the merits of a particular player. ‘I guess. I mean I don’t know her all that well. She seems nice.’
Could he be any lamer?
Levi nodded as if satisfied with the answer.
‘Why? You worried she was going to move in or something?’ Sam couldn’t let it go.
Levi’s head snapped around from the telly. He wore a frown. ‘No, why would I worry about that? It’s not like she could ever take Mum’s place. She’s not the right sort.’
‘Right sort of what?’ His curiosity had been peaked.
‘You know, the right sort of woman.’ Levi had turned his attention back to the match as if bored with the direction the conversation had taken.
‘And you’d be an expert on that?’ Sam shifted to face his son, the cricket match forgotten.
Levi shrugged without taking his eyes off the television. ‘Wouldn’t say that. From what I saw it’s not love at first sight.’
‘Not this again,’ Sam sighed. ‘Where do you get this crap from? No …’ He held up his hand as Levi made to speak, ‘… don’t tell me. Maddie McRae.’
‘Speaking of Maddie,’ Levi looked at Sam for the first time since he walked in. ‘She wants to invite a journalist from Sydney to come speak at the school and she was thinking it might be nice to plan a welcome dinner. Maddie wondered if you’d like to come? I’d come with you of course and Maddie’s mum and dad will be there.’ His words became more rushed as he galloped to the finish line, no doubt worried Sam would give an automatic no.
He was tempted.
‘When would this journalist arrive?’ He’d play along.
‘I’m not sure.’ Levi returned his attention to the TV. ‘Maddie hasn’t emailed her yet.’
‘Okay, this is a theoretical welcome dinner for a journalist who hasn’t confirmed they’re coming yet. Have I got that right?’
‘Yep, that about covers it.’
Sam nodded. ‘Then I agree to dinner. In theory, of course, pending their confirmation.’
‘Thanks, Dad. Knew you wouldn’t let us down.’ Levi rose to leave.
‘Can I ask why Maddie wants me there?’ Not that it mattered, he was curious all the same.
‘How would I know?’ Levi looked at him as if he’d asked the dumbest question ever. ‘I’m going to my room.’ And he slunk off, leaving Sam to his cricket.
Sam slowly shook his head. Teenagers. How Kylie put up with thirty of them every day boggled his mind. He was flat out dealing with one.
He took a reviving sip of beer. Had to hand it to Miss Maddie, the girl had initiative. He had no doubt she was behind the plan to lure a poor unsuspecting journalist out to the sticks. Wouldn’t have occurred to Levi. Maybe Maddie had her eye on a media career. Could do worse for herself. She might inspire Levi to some dream of his own. So far he’d shown little ambition for much more than dirt-bike riding and playing video games.
Sam sighed and returned his attention to the match. The kids would let him know when and where he was required. He considered it nice that Maddie wanted to stage some kind of welcome. Fair enough. He’d consider it his civic duty if the time came.
‘That’s definitely out!’ Sam shouted at the television, his promise forgotten for the moment in the light of terrible injustices being carried out on the cricket pitch.
An hour later the cricket had finished and a kind of restless apathy descended upon Sam. Even though Levi was down the corridor in his room, loneliness wrapped itself around him, a bit like being caught in a spider’s web. Every time he tried to shift the mood, it seemed to cling tighter until he despaired of ever untangling himself from its sticky grip.
He grabbed a cold beer from the fridge, screwing the top off and tossing it onto the kitchen sink where it landed with a tinny clatter. The bottle started sweating almost immediately despite the air-conditioning in the room.
Sam pushed open the back door, the eternal heat hitting him as he stepped out onto the veranda. He paused for a moment, letting the warmth of the late afternoon claim him, before he ambled over to the tree stump on the edge of the yard, kicking up dust plumes with his feet as he went.
The tree had been cut down generations before yet no one had ever thought to remove the stump, which provided a handy front row seat to the spectacular outback sunset. As he sat down upon the stump worn smooth from generations of Costello butts and silvered by weather, he absentmindedly traced the initials carved into its surface, a set for each Costello man who had come before him and one set made by his son. His fingers followed the curve of the crude carving, each letter like a message from the past and a talisman for the future. In moments like these, he missed his dog. Kevin used to sit on the stump next to him, tongue lolling, and watch the sunset as if he understood the significance of the event.
Sam settled in for the show, sipping his beer and allowing the great silence of the outback to recalibrate him. It never failed. He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, the tension ebbing away as the sun began to dip below the horizon, its rays glinting off the solar panels as it took its leave.
The sky looked like a paintbox had exploded with vibrant pinks, electric orange, and deep violet tinged with gold. Beneath it, the land turned dark with shadow steeped in silence, that deep stillness only the desert brings. That was what he waited for; not the colours or even the quiet, but the stillness.
He couldn’t remember when he’d first become aware of the presence contained within that peace, long ago perhaps, when he was a little boy. The indigenous people of the region, the Iningai, knew it. They knew the stories and song lines which accompanied it. All he knew how to do was appreciate it, allow it to fill his soul. He did that now.
Sam stayed put until the riot of stars filling the night sky pushed all the colours off the edge of the earth. He sighed as the last of the light disappeared, leaving him and the unseen spirit of the land. This was what kept him here, these moments of deep communion with something greater than himself. People he met from the cities and the coast never understood why he stayed when life could be so hard. They didn’t know how a land could claim your soul.
He sensed he’d somehow woken up from a sleep he hadn’t known he’d been taking. Maybe his life was beginning to change but one thing would always remain the same—the outback’s hold on his heart.