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First, I needed my twin. I pulled my phone from my back pocket and dialled my sister’s number.
“Pick up, Lily, pick up.” I ducked behind a huge boulder, a centrepiece in one of the homestead gardens, hidden from view of the party. I paced back and forth, waiting for my call to connect. Finally, a husky voice answered, with rustling in the background.
“Ugh, happy birthday, Tom-twin.”
“Hey there, Lil-twin. Happy Aussie time zone birthday to you.”
Lily chuckled, then yawned. “It’s 5.17 a.m., and the sun isn’t technically up yet. What time do you call this?” Her Australian accent was stronger today; only the faintest southern American accent affected her voice.
“8.17 p.m. Ballydoon time,” I grunted. “Our birthday and a twin emergency.”
She sighed into the phone. “I told Mum to call after 9.30 p.m. Ballydoon time, at the very least. And my birthday is tomorrow, local time. I don’t share our birthday over here in Nashville.”
“I said it was a twin emergency, okay?”
“I’m gonna need coffee, aren’t I, Tom-twin?”
Despite the waves of panic overwhelming me, I sighed with relief and managed a small smile. “Definitely, twin.” I let out a ragged breath and tugged on the collar of my woollen jumper. “First of all, anything you see on social media about me from the last twenty-four hours is lies. Okay?”
At Lily’s end, cars honked in the distance, and wind whipped over the phone’s speaker. A door slid closed, and then there was nothing but her breathing.
“Lil, is everything okay?”
“I’m fine, Tom. Lily-Cat always lands on her feet.” I frowned, about to ask again, when Lily cut me off. “So, spill your tea. Coffee beans are grinding.”
A machine blasted to life over the phone, destroying coffee beans into grounds.
“Ahh, well, a friend told me today she loves me.”
A long pause. Lily sucked in her breath. “That’s a big milestone in a relationship. For a friend.”
I stared out towards the paddocks with the mountain range beyond illuminated by the moonlight and watched the sheep move towards the water trough.
My surprise birthday party pulsed behind me.
“She’s not even a girlfriend. We’re, you know, friends. With benefits. It’s a mutually beneficial thing. Not even dating.”
I tugged at my collar again. I needed more air.
You’re in the bloody country on thousands of acres. There is literally nowhere with more air.
“I see. And you don’t love her?”
The shush of the steamer heating milk muted our conversation.
I cleared my throat. “Lily, I bloody well told her I loved her too,” I whispered. “Oh god, I’m about to be sick.”
I dry-heaved for a few seconds and took more deep breaths.
“Oh Tom,” Lily whispered. “I don’t know much about love.”
“You have two albums on which you sing about it constantly. You must know something more than I do!”
“I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to feel like this when you tell someone you love them.”
I hung my head. I’m pretty sure this panic was justified if you thought you were in love with someone else. “I don’t love her. I blurted it out while we were … you know. In the middle of … ‘the act’, so to speak.”
“It’s called sex, Tom. Fucking. Orgasm.”
