The Wife Before Me(8)

Her pregnancy was unplanned. She was as shocked as Zac when it was confirmed. She sensed his panic, which he tried to hide in the beginning, thinking there must be some mistake. Elena was on the pill. Taking it in the morning was as habitual as cleaning her teeth. They had been away for a long weekend at a rock festival that month and, perhaps, the late nights and the hash, the shots that had her leaning into the bushes to be violently sick… perhaps… perhaps. Zac rocked her in his arms. He told her they were too young and carefree to be burdened with parenting and the responsibilities that came with it. Termination. He made it sound like the end of a bus journey. He accompanied her to the clinic and followed her back to their apartment when she stood up in the middle of the consultation and ran. They faced each other, ships passing in the sunlight, and discovered there was nothing left to say.

Alone in the apartment they had shared, Elena longed for her mother. She organised a flight home, planning to surprise Isabelle with the news that she was to become a grandmother. Two nights before her flight she awoke, her insides in spasm, blood on the sheets. Isabelle understood when Elena broke the news to her. She agreed that Elena had no option but to cancel her flight until she had recovered. Soon they would be together. Two weeks later, the phone call came from Rosemary.



* * *



The red dress is an impulse buy and the heels of her designer shoes should come with a health warning, Elena thinks as she slips them on. She loves their precarious height. Her reflection satisfies her, the shadows gone from under her eyes and her skin lightly tanned from working in the garden. She clips her hair upwards into a casual knot and secures it with a comb, then stops, her hands still raised. Her lips are too red, too shimmery, her dress too revealing. Suddenly, filled with an unreasonable fear, she decides to cancel and tell Nicholas that a headache has laid her low. She is about to call him when he rings. He has organised a taxi to bring her to the restaurant. It will be with her in five minutes.

‘I didn’t expect you to order a taxi for me,’ she protests.

‘It’s my pleasure,’ he replies. ‘I’m looking forward to meeting you again.’

On Dawson Street, people are dining outdoors under colourful awnings. Lights glisten on trees and the city basks in the balmy summer air. He stands to greet her, fixing his eyes on her with that same concentration, and she knows that her red dress was the right choice.

Throughout the meal they talk about music, films, Brisbane, New York. Safe subjects. Anyone seeing them together, relaxed in each other’s company, would never suspect the stories they both hid. He asks when she is returning to Brisbane.

‘I’ve changed my mind,’ she says. The thought of setting up her own company no longer holds any appeal. ‘I’m going back to university. I’ve a degree in communications but I’ve lost interest in working in advertising. I’d like to do media studies or social justice. Last night, I thought it would be wonderful to study zoology… as you can see, I’m all over the place at the moment. All I know is that I need to focus on something. How did you decide to become a fund manager?’

‘I’ve always been a good communicator and I’ve an analytical mind,’ he replies. ‘I make correct decision quickly and am a problem-solver. Throw in a first in maths and my career choice seemed inevitable.’

‘Is making decisions on how people should invest their money a huge responsibility?’

‘Not when you know what you’re doing.’

‘Do you always know that?’

‘Always.’

‘How come you didn’t add modesty to your list of accomplishments?’ she jokes. ‘Or self-confidence.’

He grins and fills her wine glass again. ‘Modesty is only an excuse to hide one’s weaknesses but self-confidence will always help you to achieve what you want. That’s what you need to get back, Elena.’

‘I never thought I lacked confidence.’ She is surprised by his comment.

‘I’m not saying you do,’ he replies. ‘But confidence takes a battering when you receive a sudden shock, as you did. Don’t worry. It’s a natural reaction.’

Is he remembering his own tragic experience? She waits for him to mention Amelia but he asks her to tell him more about her time in Australia.

‘I have a sense it was your natural home,’ he says. ‘Isabelle was afraid you’d settle there for ever.’

The wine has relaxed her and it is easy to talk about the exhilaration of bodyboarding. To describe how she and Zac met when they were carried ashore on the crest of the same turbulent wave. She is nervous talking about the ocean in case it triggers thoughts of Amelia. She searches his face for signs of distress but he shows no indication that his dead wife feared the waves as much as Elena embraced them. She longs to tell him everything about Zac but it is too soon to share such intimate secrets.

‘I’m talking too much,’ she says. ‘Tell me about yourself.’

‘Another time, Elena. Our waiter is hovering nearby so I suspect he’s hinting he’d like to see his bed before dawn.’

She is surprised to discover that the restaurant has emptied out and they are the only diners left. Nicholas insists on taking her home. Will she have to invite him in? And, if she does, what will happen then? She is flustered and flushed from too much wine. ‘I live in the opposite direction,’ she protests. ‘I can easily call a taxi.’