I knew I should sell up and start again, but that house meant something to me. It was a symbol of becoming a real-life grown-up. And anyway, even if I wanted to sell it, I needed James to consent, and he wouldn’t even return my calls. I took a hasty gulp of my drink, then another for good measure.
‘What about you?’ I asked Chris. ‘What do you do?’
‘I’m a musician.’
‘So I guess you’re broke too, right?’ Well, that explained the tattered leather jacket.
He laughed. ‘I manage.’
‘Do you live here in Melbourne?’
He hesitated. ‘No, just visiting.’
I waited, but he didn’t elaborate further. ‘What instrument do you play?’
‘Lead guitar and vocals.’ His voice was short, almost impatient at my curiosity. Maybe I’d misinterpreted his signals.
‘How is it possible to play an instrument and sing at the same time?’ I babbled in an attempt to lighten the mood. ‘Isn’t it a bit like patting your head and rubbing your belly?’
His teeth glowed white in his face as he laughed. ‘I guess it is, kind of.’
‘So you’re part of a band then?’
His smile faded and his jaw tightened. ‘Aye.’
Hmmm. There it was again. I thought all musicians were egomaniacs, but this one was obviously different. Which was cool, except I sucked at small talk and I was running out of topics fast.
‘So is the band here as well?’ I persisted. ‘Are you doing any gigs?’
He stared straight ahead. ‘All done now.’
There was no mistaking that he was getting pissed off with my questions. Across the room a number of girls were staring at Chris and casting baleful glares in my direction. Poor guy. A bar full of chicks perving on him and he was stuck with a whining dumpee giving him the third degree about his music career.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I didn’t mean to be nosy. I’m just gonna go to the loo before I make a bigger fool of myself.’
As I leapt to my feet, the glass in my lap upended onto Chris, spilling ice cubes over his legs. I dropped to my knees to retrieve one, but it slid out of my clumsy fingers. I was chasing it up his leg when I realised I was about to grab his balls and I snatched my hand away, face burning with embarrassment.
‘Oh god, I’m sorry! I’m such an idiot.’
Smooth, Sarah. Really smooth.
He looked down at me, a bold smile covering his own awkwardness.
‘Sit down, Sarah.’ I did as I was told as he brushed ice cubes from his lap onto the floor. ‘You don’t need to go anywhere. Unless you actually need to go to the loo, in which case you probably should go.’
We both laughed.
I fidgeted with my empty glass. The last thing I needed was more booze. I could drink a grown man under the table any day of the week, but even I knew I’d just about reached my limit. Nevertheless, I was on the verge of doing something I might regret tomorrow and could really use another drink right about now.
‘So, what’s going to happen with you and your ex?’ Chris asked. ‘Think you’ll get back together?’
My stomach lurched at the reference to James. I forced a rough laugh. ‘Not bloody likely. I don’t even know why we broke up. He just… he just left.’ To my horror, I could feel tears in my eyes. I stood up again. ‘I think it’s my round.’
As I waited at the bar, I stared up at the ceiling to prevent the tears from spilling out onto my cheeks. Every time I thought I was coping with the break-up, someone else would bring up the topic and it would all come back. James’s face, expressionless where I had only ever seen tenderness. His voice flat as he told me he needed a break. His body unyielding as I tried to turn him towards me, pleading with him to tell me what I’d done wrong, what I could do to fix this. His back, rigid as he walked away, a bag over each shoulder packed with his clothes and other belongings.
And now there was no money left in my purse and I was going to have to put my nearly maxed-out credit card on the bar all because I didn’t want a stranger to see me cry. As the bar girl dropped my card into an empty glass on the shelf between the vodka and gin bottles, I almost felt the dull thud of my proverbial arse hitting the ground as I fell off the last step of my dignity.
I probably should’ve called it a night, but it wasn’t like I had anything to go home to. Or anyone. The single, cash-strapped life certainly wasn’t the carefree experience I remembered from when I’d been a student. Now I was thirty years old, I should well and truly have my shit together.
Heading back over to Chris with our drinks, I saw another girl chatting to him, leaning over to give him prime view straight down her top. I paused to watch as she gushed over him. Chris was smiling back at her, but he had the same aloof expression I’d observed earlier. No one likes a try-hard, honey, I thought with grim satisfaction.
She backed up a few paces, then skittered away to her group of friends. They crowded around her as she brandished a scrap of paper, laughing excitedly. I frowned. Had he just given her his phone number? I may not have come out with the intention of picking up, but it was a bit much if he was teeing up a date with another girl while I was at the bar buying him a drink. And how charmingly old school to write it on paper rather than entering it straight into her phone like everyone seemed to do these days.
Then Chris looked up at me with an easy grin. His eyes lingered a moment too long on
