Page 16 of Love, Just In

‘Hello, darling, how are you coping?’ Mum asks right off the bat, like I’ve checked in to prison instead of Newcastle.

‘I’m going well,’ I reply truthfully. ‘I just finished up my first week at work, and it was all very calm and easy compared with Sydney. I think the news director here likes me,andI made a new friend called Lola.’

‘Well, that’s wonderful.’

Mum pauses so she can relay all this to Dad before she comes back on the line.

‘What do you think of the city itself?’ she asks. ‘It was quite small when we were there all those years ago.’

I flip on the indicator to make a left turn onto Hunter Street. ‘I’m still getting to know it, but I like it so far. It feels like a cool mix of beachy and quirky, like someone combined the best of Sydney and Melbourne.I also can’t believe how much cheaper everything is here.’

‘Sounds like you might actually enjoy the next six months in the boondocks,’ Mum jokes.

I breathe a light laugh. ‘I wouldn’t go that far.’

Mum pauses. ‘Have you seen Zac?’

My throat draws tight. ‘Yeah.’

‘How is he?’

My teeth dig into my bottom lip. ‘I don’t know yet. I’m still trying to figure that out.’

There’s not much either of us can say on that complicated topic right now, so the conversation shifts to Mum and Dad’s latest adventures in Thailand, which included a visit to the jungles of Chang Mai. Throughout our catch-up, I say nothing about the panic attacks I’ve been having over my health. It took incredible courage and planning for my parents to chase their retirement dream in Thailand, and I don’t want to be the one who sticks a pin into their happy bubble and makes them feel bad for being far away. It doesn’t help that my sister has a fantastic life and career in London as the communications director for a British politician, and is the living definition of having one’s shit together. I love Ingrid to death and want only the best for her, but I’m determined not to be the sibling who can’t keep up.

After I finish the call with Mum, I make an unplanned turn towards Hamilton. I haven’t spoken to Zac all week, and showing off my new set of wheels is a good excuse to make contact. Plus, Fridays used to be ourfavourite night to hang out when we were living in Bathurst. We’d usually start with a game of pool at our local, then hunt out some live music—even if it was a crappy soloist—and end up stumbling home while making each other laugh with retellings of the night’s events … odd people we got chatting to, singers who’d screwed up the lyrics, my weird dance moves if it had been a particularly rowdy one.

My car slows outside Zac’s place, where a massive moving van sits blocking his house. There’s no sign of Zac’s black Subaru. I pull over behind the van and decide to text him when a shadow falls over my passenger-side window.

Zac’s housemate, Lindsay, is standing on the footpath clutching a cardboard box. He spotted me right away—this guy should be a reporter.

I reach across the car seat and push the button to open the window. ‘Hey there.’

His smile crinkles his eyes behind his glasses. ‘I thought that was you. Zac’s friend, Josie, right?’

‘Definitely Josie. But Zac’s friend?’ I shake my hand like it’s touch-and-go.

I have no idea why I even said that, but Lindsay chuckles, his eyes gleaming. ‘Zac’s not here right now.’

‘Ah, OK. I was just driving past.’ I rest my hand on the gearstick, but Lindsay shows no indication of leaving.

‘You’re moving out today,’ I observe. I don’t know why I’m continuing this conversation, but the thoughtof heading back to my dingy house with Davide and his clouds of incense sends a swell of loneliness through me. I already suggested to Lola that we go for those cocktails she mentioned, but she’s got a date night planned with her live-in boyfriend, Nathan.

‘Yeah, we’re obviously running late,’ Lindsay replies. He plonks down the box he’s holding while two guys in orange hi-vis shirts heft a bedframe in the background. Lindsay thumb-points at them. ‘Those dickheads booked two jobs in one day and didn’t get here until an hour ago.’

Silently, I note that Lindsay’s not exactly hurrying either.

‘Zac’s an all-right guy deep down; that’s not why I’m moving out,’ he adds randomly, like I know nothing about my oldest friend. ‘We just didn’t see eye to eye on a few things. Plus, my folks have an awesome pad over in Merewether that they’re not using, so they’re letting me move in. Rent-free.’

‘Sounds like an offer too good to refuse.’

I’m trying not to think about Zac’s description of Lindsay as a nudist who can’t aim his pee. With his rimless glasses, white polo-neck shirt and blingy watch, Lindsay comes off as more of a weekend golfer with a corporate desk job. And I can’t deny that his boastful smile looks good on his face.

I hold his gaze for a few jittery heartbeats before switching on the engine. ‘Will you tell Zac I stopped by?’

Lindsay leans closer to the window. ‘You know, Zac’s been holding out on me. He never told me he had a stunning friend called Josie.’

Zac never told him about me.That little nugget of information unlocks a desolate feeling in my chest that I push away.

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