Manhattan Dreaming (2 page)

‘Really?' Emma sounded interested. ‘I have no idea about the dating scene any more. When you're married with kids and everything is about the soccer and excursions and homework and so forth, you really don't keep up with the perils of single life.'

I glared at Libby. I didn't want my boss knowing my personal business.

‘Did you get a chance to consider the “Urban Voices” exhibition proposal I gave you?' I asked Emma.

‘Yes, and I love it!' she replied. ‘I'd like to talk about it now if you're free.'

After our meeting I went back to my desk, thinking only about the tasks at hand and the amount of work I had in front of me. My job consumed much of my waking life. But then my BlackBerry rang and it was Adam.

‘Hi. Where are you?' I said accusingly.

‘Hi babycakes, I'm home. You want to come around tonight after I finish training?' I melted every time he called me babycakes. That was the gentle Adam I loved.

‘Okay.' I caved immediately, forgetting about the tears of sixty minutes prior.

Libby was frowning at me. I waved her away so I could have some privacy. She didn't budge an inch, rather stood feet apart and hands on hips. ‘Hang up!' she mouthed aggressively.

‘Half past seven, okay.' Adam hung up, but I held on to the phone, pretending I was still talking, because I didn't want another lecture. But I think she guessed that Adam was no longer on the line so I put the phone down.

‘Before you say anything, I'm going over there to tell him it's over. To point out all the things I am and what I offer, and to explain that I want a loving, committed, exclusive relationship, and that if he can't give it to me, then I'm moving on,' I said, but I was still warm from having just heard his voice.

‘Oh yes?' Libby looked at me unconvinced. ‘All I'm going to say is don't go to his place to do it. Meet somewhere public so that there's no chance of falling into bed. And be strong.'

‘Where are you off to on a school night?' my flatmate Denise asked. She was a teacher and rarely went out during the week.

I couldn't tell her I was going to see Adam. I knew she'd seen the newspaper, even if she hadn't said anything about it.

‘We've got an artist in town, just going to check they've settled into the hotel all right, might take them out for dinner if they're up for it.'

‘Cool, have fun!' she said, going back to watching the news. I hated fibbing, but I'd already had Libby on my case. I just wanted to talk to Adam, no-one else. Against Libby's recommendation, I hadn't asked him to meet me in a public place. I wanted to be alone with him, and I would lie to Libby about it if I had to.

Adam was amazing in many ways, especially as a sportsperson. Without him knowing, I often watched the Cockatoos train at Canberra Stadium, parking my car as far away in the car park as possible and hiding behind a hat and dark glasses. He looked drop-dead sexy in the red, black and yellow team colours. Adam was a whitefella, but his playing for a team in the Aboriginal colours was a sign we were meant to be together. The fact he had so many friends in Goulburn, where I was born, was another one. There were lots of little signs like these that Libby just didn't see, or want to know about. She always said that I stretched everything to make it seem like a sign, that the team colours were just a coincidence and that Goulburn was the next town to Canberra so it was normal for a Canberra boy to have friends there.

Unlike Libby, my flatmate Denise had always liked Adam. When he'd come to our place he was polite and generous. If Denise was home when we ordered food in, he invited her to join us and paid for everything. She saw his gentleness towards me, and she treated him the way he treated her, kindly. In reality, Adam was kind and sweet most of the time. When I was at his place, he often cooked for me. And he always had apple pie or cheesecake in the fridge when he knew I was visiting, because I had a sweet tooth. I wasn't a big drinker; sweets were more my vice. When I go out with my friends I'm always checking the menu for desserts while the others read the wine list.

Adam was my first real love. I dated a few guys in Goulburn, but nothing was really ever that serious. But when I studied at COFA and lived in Sydney, all the men were gay so I never even went on a date, and it never bothered me. Then when I met Adam, it was love at first sight for me, and he was still the only man I'd ever loved.

Today I drove to the stadium and sat alone, as usual, and it was typically cold and already dark at 6 pm. I shivered as I watched Adam pass and kick and tackle. I hated seeing him hit the ground during a game or at practice and was glad for his chubby neck at those times. At least there was no chance it would snap. I looked around the boundary of the oval and noticed other girls hovering around shouting out players' names, including Adam's. A pang of jealousy burned right through me, but I convinced myself it was heartburn from a rich Indian lunch.

As soon as his training session was over I raced from the stadium to my car. I freshened up my makeup, fixed my hair and noticed the look of sadness on my face reflected in the rear-view mirror. As I drove towards Adam's house I felt nauseous at the thought of the conversation we had to have, but I was still looking forward to seeing him. I'd missed him. But, as I walked to his front door and put my keys in my bag I felt the newspaper and immediately became angry again. When he opened the door I said firmly, ‘We need to talk.'

‘It's never a good thing when a woman says that.' Adam pulled me close and kissed me hard on the mouth, his tongue teasing mine before I had a chance to pull away and remember all the things I had to say. The heartburn jealousy was momentarily gone.

‘I need to get out of my training gear. I had a good session – you should've seen me,' he said, pulling his clothes off. ‘I must be the fittest guy on the team, seriously. I work the hardest in the gym – can lift more than any of the other guys.' I tried not to look as he flexed his muscles but it was true that he was in good shape.

Adam walked around starkers a lot. I found it odd at first. No-one in my family walked around naked. You would've been considered a weirdo to do that. But there he was, all ripply and still sweaty and naked. It was hard not to look at his body. But I was going to keep my clothes on tonight. If for no other reason than to save a lecture from Libby on Sunday when I saw her at the markets.

Adam came towards me and grabbed me tight.

‘You stink, get off me. Take a shower.'

‘You want to join me, babycakes?' he asked.

‘No, I'm not dirty.' I was being cool. I was being strong.

‘Well, I can make you dirty.'

I remembered the devil woman in the photo. ‘Go shower so we can talk.'

‘I might be a while.' He was stalling.

‘Go,' I said as I pushed him away.

‘I'll wait for you to come wash my back, babycakes … and then I'll wash your front.' He left the room singing ‘I Wanna Sex You Up'.

While I waited I looked at the action shots of Adam on his fridge and a pile of autographed photos on the coffee table in the lounge room. On them was a post-it note saying Queanbeyan High School. I loved that Adam did a lot of work in schools, building the kids' self-esteem. It was the kind of thing that Libby never gave him credit for and I never bothered to tell her. Libby would say that being good in the daytime didn't give him the right to play up of a night.

Adam came out with his towel around him and beads of water still on his chest and arms. He sat on the couch and tried to cuddle me.

‘Get off, you're all wet.'

‘And what about you, babycakes, are you wet?'

‘Oh, for godsake, stop it.' I jumped up off the couch. ‘What happened when you were out the other night? You haven't returned any of my calls, or my text messages, all week. You haven't answered my emails on MySpace but I see you managed to make new slutty friends. And what's with the song “Simply the Best”? You sound severely up yourself.'

Adam shook his head like a dog shakes itself after a bath, and sprayed water all over me. He started talking but didn't look at me.

‘What's with my MySpace page all the time? It's marketing, that's all. And I love that song, it was so written for me, don't you think?'

I liked a man with self-esteem. I just didn't like that every other woman liked it too, and that he liked them liking it. I was confusing myself by this stage.

‘Why don't you have me up there as your girlfriend? In fact, why don't you ever refer to me as your girlfriend? Am I your girlfriend or not?' I grabbed his face gently so he had to look me in the eye.

‘You told me you don't like labels,' Adam said, playing dumb and rubbing my thigh.

‘I don't like racist labels, and you know that's what I meant.'

He moved towards me and smiled. ‘Or labels on your clothes, right?'

He tried to look at the tag on my top. I flinched away.

‘Don't change the subject. I read the newspaper.' I pulled it out of my bag and threw it at him; it was all tattered from having been read too many times.

‘And?' He played dumb again.

‘And?
And?
And what have you got to say for yourself?'

‘Don't believe everything you read. You know the media manipulate everything just to sell papers.' He was behind me, snuggling into my neck. ‘I missed you.'

I could feel myself go weak, but I was still angry. ‘Your hand was right on her breast. I saw it, the whole world saw it. How do you think that made me feel? Did you even know her?'

‘I wouldn't call the readership of
The Canberra Times
the whole world, babycakes.'

‘You know what I mean,' I said through gritted teeth.

‘She's just a friend is all, like you and me.'

‘What?' I pushed him away hard. ‘So we're friends? We're FRIENDS? That's not what we are at all. We're lovers. We're together. I don't want to be just friends. Friends don't sleep with each other.'

‘Babycakes, we're
special
friends.'

‘Like friends with benefits? Is that what we are? Is that what you're saying?'

He didn't answer me directly. He was as good at sidestepping an issue as he was at sidestepping on the field.

‘Look' – he stroked my hand – ‘you get more of me than any other woman in my life, even my mum.'

‘Great, now I'm in the same league as your mother.'

‘League, that's funny, like football,' he laughed.

‘It wasn't meant to be funny, Adam,' I scowled.

‘Well, I love your sense of humour anyway – god knows you need one with me.' He started kissing my neck again.

‘How do you feel about me?' I asked.

‘What do you mean?'

‘How … do … you … feel … about … me?' I pronounced every single word slowly and clearly so he couldn't confuse the question, or his answer.

‘You know how I feel. Why are you asking me?'

‘If I knew, I wouldn't need to ask, would I?' Sarcasm had crept into my voice.

‘I'm very fond of you.'

‘That's it? Fond?'

‘Fond is good.'

‘I'm
fond
of apple pie, but I don't need it every day. I don't miss it. I don't care if other people eat it.'

‘What are you getting at, babycakes? You want me to eat apple pie instead of you? I don't know what you're talking about. I'm just a dumb-arse footy-head.'

‘What?'

‘I know that's how your friend Libby talks – in fact, I think she may have said it to my face one night at your place, but the music was loud, though, so not quite sure.'

‘You're doing it again, trying to change the subject. What I am getting at is I want us to be together properly. I want to be your girlfriend. Your
only
girlfriend. And I want you to stop ending up in sleazy shots like this one. It's the third one this season already, and it's only June!'

‘What's brought all this on? I thought we were having a great time together. That you were as happy as I was with our situation.'

‘Our
situation
? You think I'm happy about booty calls, and you in photos like this, groping the devil herself for the whole world to see?'

Adam laughed but when I looked at him with dagger eyes he stopped immediately.

‘We've been seeing each other for a year, Adam. That's a long time. I want us to be exclusive. I don't want to be with anyone else, only you. I think we should move in.'

‘Whoa, back up, babycakes. There's a lot of
I
's in that last statement. You want to move in? You want to be exclusive? That's a bit much, isn't it? I mean, what next, marriage and kids? I'm younger than you, remember? Is this about your biological clock thing? Cos, babycakes, I'm not telling time that way.'

‘It's not about that. It's about our future.'

‘
Our
future? Right now I'm focusing on the next few months of
my
future. I've got the finals to work towards. I need to focus on the game – this is my career, my livelihood. It's important.' Adam stood up, re-adjusting the towel around his waist.

‘So I'm not important to you?' I stood up too and I burst into tears.

Adam dropped the towel and put his arms around me. ‘That's not what I said – you women are good at twisting things, aren't you.'

‘I didn't twist anything. It's what you
don't
say that matters,' I sobbed. I wanted him to say he loved me, that he only wanted to be with me, that I was important to him, and I didn't want to have to extract it from him like a splinter. My heart sank – I didn't seem to figure in his future at all.

He wiped the tears from my cheeks with his fingers. ‘Don't cry, babycakes, you know I hate it when you cry. Your eyes are too beautiful to be full of tears. You're the loveliest woman I know. That's why I don't have you on my MySpace page, because you're too lovely to be up there with the others.'

‘Lovely? I'm lovely? That's it?'

‘You're more than lovely. You're exotic.'

‘I'm what?'

‘You're my coffee-coloured princess.'

‘Oh god, you're unbelievable! Is
that
the only reason you see me? What am I, your own personal reconciliation project or something?' I grabbed my bag and stood up, dizzy with anger. ‘I'm exotic all right, especially compared to all those other botoxed bimbos you get around with. Goodbye!'

Adam grabbed onto my arm firmly, but I yanked my wrist free and ran for the front door. He followed me, still just in his underwear. I ran into the driveway, got in the car and pulled the door shut quickly behind me. I pulled out onto the street with him standing there in his jocks looking surprised, speeding away like a crazy woman.

As soon as I turned the corner I pulled over, because my eyes were so full of tears I couldn't see the road. I leaned on the steering wheel and sobbed like a child, my heart heavy in my chest. I rummaged through the glove box looking for a tissue and stopped abruptly when my phone rang. It was Adam. I didn't want to answer it. I didn't want him to hear the tears and sadness in my voice. I didn't want to go backwards. I didn't want to disrespect myself, again. I didn't want Libby to be right about me putting up with his crap. But I couldn't help it. I answered.

‘What do you want?'

‘I want you to come back, babycakes. You can't run off like that. I'm worried about you driving when you're so angry. Just come back, we need to talk.' Adam sounded concerned. Perhaps he'd realised what he was losing. Perhaps he'd move in, and promise not to end up in any more of those awkward situations that he said the media manipulated to sell papers.