Someone like Tim. Except, after his random dick pic, Tim had gone silent. The photo had shocked Alice. It wasn’t so much the content, more its out-of-the-blue appearance and complete lack of context. When she’d told Tim it had put her in an excruciatingly embarrassing position, he hadn’t exactly apologized.
He’d mumbled something about the lateness of the hour, as if that excused the fact he’d sent it. When she’d explained that it would have made more sense if they’d been sexting at the time, he hadn’t said anything that implied he understood the subtle difference. Both of his reactions annoyed her. Not that she’d told him that—she was keen to give him the benefit of the doubt. After all, it was only one mistake after weeks of fun. Almost everyone deserved a second chance.
She’d given him a few days to absorb her point about context, photos and timing before texting him again with a breezy, How’s it going? She followed it up with R U OK? a day later. He didn’t respond to either text. It was one thing not to meet in person because he was frantic at work, but it was another thing entirely to ignore her after one perfectly reasonable request. Her annoyance had been simmering now for a few weeks. How could he have walked away from such a great connection? And they had connected—she hadn’t imagined it. They’d shared a lot of great conversations before they’d moved on to sexting.
Partly out of low-grade anger but mostly out of a need to take back control of her dating life, Alice had returned to the dating app. Initially Finn had seemed like a great guy, funny and interesting, but when she’d insisted they set a date for coffee, he’d texted, Wow, I didn’t realize you were a control freak. The follow up text—Kidding!—hadn’t eased the discomfort, which had stayed with her for days, making her constantly question, whether she was a control freak. She eventually realized that whenever she deviated from banter and asked Finn a direct question, not only did he avoid answering it, he managed to insult her. She’d been in the Pirellis’ office when his next text pinged onto her phone.
You look pretty good for someone your age.
She’d audibly huffed.
“What’s up?” Missy asked.
Knowing she couldn’t bother Libby with any of this stuff, she’d told the young backpacker about Finn.
“That’s negging, Alice. Ghost the prick.”
“Do what now?”
What followed was an entertaining and enlightening, if sometimes worrying, explanation of dating terms. After three more negging texts from Finn, Alice blocked him without a moment’s thought, which, for someone raised to be polite and considerate, was a huge breakthrough.
Missy gave her a high-five. “You’ve graduated to the next level of online dating—take no crap.”
Two more weeks of lackluster conversations with five other matches followed before Alice faced up to the reality that there wasn’t a single spark between her and any of these men. The only person benefiting was the owner of the dating site and Alice could ill afford to throw good money after bad. It was time to reassess and strategize—free dating apps. She’d gotten as far as downloading Tinder and Bumble, but she was yet to activate her account.
And why is that Alice?
Shut up.
“Would you like me to read your tea leaves, Alice, love? See who’s in your future?” Tansy’s question interrupted Alice’s thoughts.
“Oh, I don’t think—”
“She’s good,” Bert said. “Told my Ivy we were having a baby before we knew.”
Tansy had already grabbed Alice’s almost empty cup and was upending the dregs on the saucer. Peering at the leaves, she turned the saucer and viewed them from different angles. “There’s a lover in your future.”
“Soon, I hope,” Alice joked and immediately changed the subject. “Let’s get back to your story, Tansy. What do you think of using this photo of you with the Landcare group next to the article from—” She glanced at the woman, who’d taken a sharp breath. “Everything okay?”
Tansy was frowning now and even though Alice knew she shouldn’t take any notice of an old lady and tea leaves, it didn’t stop unease skating through her. “What?”
“Nothing, dear.” She exchanged a look with Bert, who immediately said, “I’ve changed my mind, Alice. I do want this photo of me and the shark.”
“Hang on, Tansy. You can’t look upset and then say that.”
“Don’t take any notice of me. I’m just a silly old woman.”
“Is it something to do with the lover?”
“No.” Tansy knotted her arthritic fingers. “I can see an owl.”
“Great! Owls are wise and I could do with some wisdom.”
Tansy shook her head. “In the leaves, they mean sickness or poverty.”
Alice laughed. “Relax, Tansy. There’s nothing to worry about. I’m as fit as a flea, but the poverty part is close to accurate. I’m not earning as much as I used to when I worked in Melbourne.”
“So, you feel well?”
Lately, Alice had been sleeping fitfully from midnight and by 4:00 a.m. she was wide awake again, her head full of her worry for Libby and Nick and the girls. Not to mention the weight of her mother’s fretfulness at her current life choices. After Alice lay in the dark examining the entire mess, she’d crash back into a deep sleep somewhere between five thirty and six o’clock only for the alarm to drag her unhappily back to consciousness at 7:00. Most days she was foggy-headed and desperate for a nap by 3:00 in the afternoon.
“Nothing that a good night’s sleep won’t fix,” she told Tansy.
The elderly woman patted her hand.
Alice arrived home to an empty house. She dumped her tote bag on the kitchen table and a notepad, two gel pens, tampons, loose change and her drawing hat spilled out. She lacked the energy to scoop them back. All she really wanted to do was slouch on the couch, but she had a 5:00 till 8:00 shift behind the bar at the RSL and she needed to eat something first.
The fridge
