This Foreign Affair by Harper Bliss

Author:Harper Bliss [Bliss, Harper]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9789881491077
Publisher: Ladylit Publishing
Published: 2017-05-06T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

Two weeks after Camille has left, I’m the one instigating contact with Rebecca. I finally feel ready to attempt a blameless conversation with her.

I invite her to the house, which I still haven’t put on the market. I want to move to Darlinghurst, but the sense of urgency I had before I met Camille has left me. I haven’t allowed any more bookings in the Airbnb. I’m not ready for that yet. Perhaps when Myrtle has finally recovered from her pneumonia and she can deal with everything again.

It’s strange to let Rebecca into the house she lived in for more than a decade, but she gave me her key the night she left. I’m sure it was meant to be some sort of symbolic gesture for her, leaving the past—being me—behind. For the longest time, I left it in the spot she put it.

“God, this place,” she says, and looks around as if she’s seeing it for the first time. “We were happy here for a long time.” She turns to me. “I’m glad you called. I need this too.”

“How are things?” Without asking, I make her a cup of the chamomile tea she always drank.

“Good, I—I just worry about you. I’ve been meaning to get in touch after last time, but I didn’t really know what to say so as not to provoke too much of a reaction.”

“I’ve met someone,” I blurt out. It feels good but also strange to say it.

“You have?” Rebecca looks as though this is a big surprise to her. As if, after she left me, I must have become the least attractive woman in Sydney. “That’s great.”

“It made me realize some things about why it went wrong between us.” The only reason I’m able to speak to Rebecca in such a calm manner about this is because I practiced this conversation with Camille on Skype yesterday. When all you can do is talk—instead of other activities that occupy the tongue as well as the mind—you tend to spill your guts. Not being able to touch Camille has given me a clear window into her soul, and vice versa. Sometimes we talk without seeing each other. I just lie down, close my eyes, and enjoy the sound of her voice in my ear and the fact that, even though she’s so far away, she can still feel so near.

“I told you before. What I did was wrong, in any respect. There’s no excuse for going behind your back and not having the guts to tell you I’d met someone else. I should have made a choice sooner,” Rebecca says.

“But life is not perfect like that. Things ending with one partner and seamlessly moving on to the next.”

“Life is bloody messy,” she says, and sends me a smile that used to drive me mad. A long time ago. “Tell me about the woman you’ve met.”

I can’t suppress a grin, then tell her all about Camille.

“Paris?” Rebecca raises her eyebrows. “Damn.”

“I know. It’s a bit far.” I look away, past her, straight at a piece of art she acquired, but failed to take with her.

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