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“Tell me something I don’t know.”
Natasha
The morning sun warms me through the windscreen as I sit in my car. I watch Max slowly walk across the pedestrian crossing with the two little girls, one in each hand. We are dropping them off at school for his girlfriend Hallie who had an early shift this morning. I watch attentively as the girls point and talk in over-animation as they show him things around the playground. One of them bounces on the spot, full of excited energy. He looks and smiles as he comments, then he laughs out loud. I smile broadly. Max is happy when he’s with his girls, carefree even. I myself have a huge soft spot for the two of them, their beautiful little personalities ooze honesty. Their father died when they were just one and three. Cancer. I cannot imagine the horror of not having my dad alive and around as I grew up, and yet they can’t even remember what he looks like, or the sound of his voice. Tragic.
Speaking of tragedy. It has been nine long months since I lost my beautiful dad. I miss him. Christmas was the hardest. I don’t know whether the dread of the impending day was worse than Christmas Day itself. Brock was still in Afghanistan so it was just Mum, Bridge, Grandma and me. The Stantons graciously invited us to their house in Melbourne but Mum declined, because Josh and Cam were not going to be there and it was too far to travel with Gran—not to mention the small matter of us all not being able to stand Margaret. I have kept her sordid secret … regrettably.
Joshua and Cameron had Christmas in LA with Adrian. I know if Joshua had been in Australia Mum would have been in match-making heaven—she hasn’t given up, nor have the girls. I’m not so sure though, maybe I have. On Christmas night after an afternoon of silently crying in my bed, I did the unthinkable. I rang him. He didn’t pick up. And yet he knew how desperately sad I would have been about my dad—he still didn’t pick up. I’ve blown it. I have no doubt he has moved on, with who though I’m unsure. The girls speak to Cameron and Adrian on Facebook every couple of days and they told me Joshua hasn’t seen Amelie since the Armageddon day at the hospital. I find that hard to believe. Cameron asks about me every time he speaks to Bridget. I know this because unbeknown to him, half the time he is speaking to me.
On New Year’s Eve with a few margaritas under my belt I texted Cam, Josh and Adrian.
Happy New Year
Thinking of you
X
I remember smiling and tearing up when Cameron’s message bounced straight back. He must have been really drunk.
Happy New Year, baby.
I love you.
X
I waited again and when my phone beeped a message I excitedly grabbed it … Adrian, who must also be inebriated, as his text didn’t even make sense.
Happy New Year Cinderella.
We miss you.
Read the message!
Read the fucking message. I wanted a message from Joshua… not you, not Cameron. I wanted him, only him, to miss me. After realising that Joshua was probably on a secluded island like he has been for the last five years with bitchvet, I had no choice. I did what any self-respecting girl with a broken heart would do in this situation. You know the situation … staying home to watch the fireworks on television with my mother and grandmother on New Year’s Eve. I threw my back into those margaritas, put on Beyonce and danced for two hours while Gran and Mum sat on the lounge and watched me, and of course pretended I was a good dancer. I think the term was Bootylicious to be exact. Jeez if that’s not love, I don’t know what is. What a way to bring in the New Year. I frown as the memory crosses my mind. I’m such a loser.
Max pulls me out of my daydream as he jumps back into the car.
“Ready for your first day?” He widens his eyes at me as he smiles.
“Not really.” I frown. I’m starting a new job today and I’m nervous as hell. I’m going to be working in the public hospital system as a psychologist. A regular straight psychologist and it’s only for thirty hours a week. After Joshua’s divorce settlement, thankfully money is no longer a problem for me. I haven’t touched the money but the interest isn’t bad. The girls and my psychologist have been on my case about the fact that my job as a sex therapist was perhaps affecting my personal life and in the end I had to agree with them. I still suffer from the nightmares but I’m so nervous about starting this job that I haven’t had one in five days, a record. Maybe the change is working already.
“Are you still going out tonight?” Max asks.
“Yeah, is Steven coming?” I murmur, as I check my makeup in the sun-visor mirror for the tenth time since we left home.
“Yes, he starts at nine. What time will you be leaving?”
I shrug. “Not sure, we will wait till he starts if you want.”
“Ok. Good.”
Max has become over-protective and I have to say it’s rather comforting. The whole Coby Allender episode and the knowledge that the authorities still don’t know if he has an accomplice on the outside totally freaks me out. Twelve young women raped and murdered in cold blood … disturbing. In the end I had to tell Max about the whole embarrassing vibrator theft and threatened hi
m with death if he told Joshua, Ben or Adrian. He has thankfully stayed silent but has hired two more bodyguards.
Steven is young and good-looking. He comes out with us at night … and Abbie is conspiring to sleep with him. Surprise, surprise. Mark is older and he works Saturdays and Sundays through the day and Max hangs with me through the week. It works out well because Max gets to spend time with his girlfriend and her girls and Joshua is still footing the bill. Not sure about why … but who cares … It’s not like he can’t afford it.
He pulls into the hospital car park. “Good luck boss lady.” He smirks
