Page 3 of Isn’t It Nice We Both Hate the Same Things
She reaches out and grabs my forearm. ‘You could’ve talked to me, you know, if you needed it. I wanted to make sure I said that, tonight. Made sure you knew. I would’ve been there. I know I’ve been friends with Dave for longer, but you’re my family too.’
Without realising it, I’m teary. ‘Thank you, that means a lot.’
And that’s when I spot them: Cinar and Emmanuel. Emmanuel is wearing a sequined blazer with shoulder pads – oh, how he loves to show off new clothing purchases – and Cinar donning a woollen high-neck sweater, standing at the back of the living room sipping on mulled wine.
‘He’s been staying with his parents,’ Josie says, and I realise we’re back to talking about Dave. ‘At their vineyard.’
‘I know.’ We’ve spoken a few times. Brief, and uncomfortable.
‘He’s a mess,’ she says. ‘Been wearing these deep V-neck T-shirts, two sizes too small. Lucky he’s a wine salesman, because he’s going to need plenty of it to get through the next few months, I suspect.’
Her sympathy isn’t surprising, given their history, but I fear it’s only facing in one direction and a teensy bit of jealousy slips through my body. And maybe some anger, too. What about how I’m going to get through the next few months? Do I get no empathy because I was the one who left?
‘Has he seen anyone, while he’s up there? Do you know?’
Her brow furrows. ‘Seen anyone? What do you mean?’
‘Nothing. Never mind.’
Dave and I agreed that we wouldn’t tell anyone what triggered the downfall of our marriage.
That we’d keep it to ourselves. But of course, I told Genevieve the second I could, and I’ve been wondering these past six weeks if maybe Dave did the same.
If he chose someone to confide in. And if there’s anyone in our group he would’ve told, it would’ve been Josie. Best friends since puberty, and all.
But I feel confident she’s in the dark.
‘Let’s not dwell. It’s my birthday after all,’ she says, waving me further into the house. Through the kitchen, towards the back verandah. Out here, there’s a garden of herbs and wildflowers, and two small vegetable patches. Wicker seating and string lights hung across the patio.
She flashes me a carefree smile. ‘Gosh, you must have so much more time on your hands now. What have you been doing with yourself?’
What have I been doing with myself? Moving out.
Putting all my stuff into a storage unit.
Crying. Watching atrocious television. Crying some more.
Convincing Mum not to fly across the country by telling her I’m doing very well (I can only do this when I’m not crying, though, so it’s been difficult to achieve this more than once).
Itemising all our belongings for our lawyers so we can work through our property settlement.
We may not be able to divorce yet, but we can at least separate our assets.
‘Oh, you know. The usual.’
‘And how is Genevieve? I remember, at the wedding, she was—’
‘Oh … It didn’t happen for them.’
Josie deflates, hand to her chest. ‘Oh god, that’s awful.’
‘Their last round was a couple of months ago.’
She’s visibly pained to hear this, shoulders lowering as if crushed under a great weight.
And then, suddenly, Shaun appears. Square face, bright blond hair split with a side part and held in place with a mountain of gel.
‘Charlie, you came. How great to see you.’ He pulls me into a hug, and I catch his strong scent.
Like he’s bathed in cologne – I sense cedarwood, with a tang of vanilla – and I know it’s because Josie told him he had slight BO one day.
Shaun never forgets a thing, and so now he stresses that he smells and no matter what Josie says, she can’t stop him fretting.
When she gets drunk, she lets slip that it’s the one thing in her life she wishes she could change: ‘Should’ve let him stink that day.
Now he won’t stop chewing gum and spraying his body with woodsy scents. It’s like an addiction.’
Shaun turns to his wife. ‘You didn’t tell me she was coming.’ He’s got the widest grin of anyone I’ve met, and he’s wearing crisp cream chinos so clean his lower body glows.
‘Because I didn’t know for sure that she was,’ Josie replies, then smiles at me. ‘It’s a wonderful surprise.’
Her smile is unnerving.
And then, rather suddenly, Josie wraps an arm around Shaun’s torso and abruptly kisses his cheek. Tells him he looks handsome.
I can see on Shaun’s face that he’s just as surprised by this as I am. Josie is not one for public displays of affection. Not sure I’ve ever seen her hold Shaun like this.
‘Drink?’ Shaun asks, pointing at me. ‘We’ve stocked up on everything. Wine, bubbles, spirits. You name it.’
It’s been a few minutes since I’ve seen Genevieve, and she’s now at the forefront of my mind. Something is telling me – pleading with me – to check in with her.
‘In a sec,’ I say, holding up a finger. ‘I’ll be right back.’
I slip away, back inside and down the hallway, past some of the guests and the woven baskets with their towering indoor plants. Past the whimsical artworks on the walls and the macramé hangings.
Knocking twice on the bathroom door, I call out. ‘G? You okay?’
After a brief moment, the door swings open. Genevieve stands there, face pale, hair in disarray, shallow breathing.
‘You look like shit,’ I say.
‘I feel like shit.’
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing.’
She runs to the toilet to empty her stomach.
Darting over, I hold back her hair. ‘You sure?’
‘Must’ve eaten something funny.’ Her voice is strained, her breath quickens.
‘G, come on. It’s me.’ I crouch down beside her.
She stops vomiting, sitting down on the tiled floor. Her mouth spreads out in a smile. ‘Surprise,’ she says, her head tipping back. ‘The twelfth round took.’