Sydney's Song (18 page)

I stood up and ran. We had been sitting by the park's rose arbour in front of Hornsby Aquatic Centre after work. Sipping chilled milk.Planning to swim here on this sweltering summer day. And he imparted this horrific news in a remarkably casual manner. Like a friend telling you what he had for breakfast.

Married! For God's sake. The first thought crowding my mind was the memory of me raging at my parents. My outburst the night they announced their divorce. I distinctly remembered asking them, in self-righteous plea, not to throw their marriage away. And now
I
myself had been dating a married man? And a divorcing one to boot.Ohmygosh…

I reached the corner of the park. Pete was right behind me. Perhaps I should have run to the pool and swum. I definitely needed to cool off or I would kill someone.

“Sydney. I'm sorry. God knows all these three weeks I've been trying to find a way to tell you. Having this hidden made me feel like a devious cad. All I've ever wanted between us is total honesty.”

I kept on walking. Abruptly I thought of Dad. I wanted my dad.And I wanted Pete. And I wanted to murder the both of them.

Some part of my mind warned perhaps I was behaving like an unreasonable youth. The other part said the shock entitled me to be furious. Whatever! Right now I was mad with jealousy. I did not want Pete to have a past or to have known happiness with any other girl. I had strongly wanted to have only
one
love in my life. One!And it had to be special, absolutely perfect, and totally unblemished all at once.

How dare he have been married!?

Somehow my steps had taken the right turn and brought me to the beginning of the forest behind the swimming pool. I kept on walking very fast following the track into the woods. Pete, of course, was unshakeable, walking next to me. I hoped to God he would have sore feet following me through the bush in his office dress shoes.

All kinds of thoughts churned in my head. To wring his neck was the foremost.

“Honey, talk,” he urged when we neared the Rifle Range.

It was dark and cool in the bush despite the summer heat, gum trees soaring high. I picked my way across the creek and glanced at him for the first time. He was looking around with those exquisite eyes of his. How good looking he was. My heart did a flip each time I looked at him. He observed the path curiously, noting the vegetation and searching for a glimpse of the birds we could hear chirping.

“I've never really walked in the bush before,” he said reverently.“This is beautiful.”

And his face looked so calm. So unruffled. While mine must have shown the onslaught of a million emotions.

“Pete,” I glared. “This is not sightseeing!”

He turned to me, love and tenderness swimming in his eyes.“We've visited so many places in Sydney these past few weeks. Yet this is the first time we explore Hornsby when we've worked here most days. Look around you, Sydney. Isn't the bush amazing?” he wondered aloud. “Doesn't feel like we're in Sydney.”

“Many Sydneysiders are yet to ever step into the bush,” I snapped.“A lot have never even heard of the Great North Walk.”

I turned around and walked again. Still simmering with rage. He had been another woman's husband.

“Sydney, I can't change what I have been before I met you,” he reasoned, unfazed. “But the past is past and it's over. I only want to be near you now. You and no other. What we have is very rare. I've never known this connection with anyone before. And I'm not about to let you throw it away. I'll fight for you.”

“But you've never told me about any of this before. The whats.How. When. Who.”

“I'm sorry. How I wanted to tell you, but couldn't find a way.”Never once did he blame my own vulnerability as the reason, taking full responsibility on himself instead.

But I was not done having our first real fight. I whirled to face him, scolding.

“For God's sake, you're only twenty two, Pete! And you've been married. Married! If you're married and divorced by twenty-two, it means you haven't been a good judge of character or have been extremely reckless in making important decisions! It makes me feel I don't know you at all. Before this, I thought we knew everything about each other without even having to spell it out. And you know what? I hate
everything
about a divorce! I hate divorcing people. Just hearing about it sickens me. The word divorce itself gives me an allergy. Ohmygosh… you don't have kids, do you?”

“Whoa. No. Not any.”

Gosh, what a relief. But tears were running down my cheeks and I swiped at them fiercely.

“I've been angry at my parents. To my mind they've not bothered to fix whatever was wrong to preserve their marriage. They've smashed my model of everything good! Carelessly. I promised myself never to fall in love. Never to get married. Never to have a child of my own. Because when I'd be no more, my child would cry in heartbreak and loneliness. But then I met you. I thought you were Mr Maybe, hoping in future you'd be Mr Definitely. Before today, I'd entertained the possibility of someday having a family. Because I've been so happy with you! Because I couldn't imagine living in a world without you! You'd been so good you took away all my insecurities. But now—now you heap doubts on me again. How can I trust you after this? I hate you!”

Pete was looking at me with fascinated eyes, a slight smile tilting his lips.

“You're not even paying attention to my words!” I yelled. Man, all the birds and wallabies of this bush must be offended by my ruckus.

“But Sydney, you're gorgeous when angry. So full of fire. So adorable. I love you so much!” and he wrapped me in his arms.

“No you don't,” I beat at his chest with fury.

“Believe me darling,” eyes dancing. “I do.”

I pulled free and scrambled several steps away.

“Pete, when a person loves, he'll protect her from hurt and never hurt her himself. He'll be her rock, her support, her defence against the world. He'll
always
stay with her. Now with your divorce history how could I be confident that you'd
always
be there for me? You yourself said we wouldn't spend much time quarrelling ‘cause you wanted us to give something of ourselves to the world. You dreamed of a life partner who wouldn't fight with you but instead walked with you caring for others. I agreed ‘cause I saw the bigger picture in much the same light! Together we were meant to devote ourselves to humanity. So we weren't supposed to have problems between the two of us! Now with this proof that you view marriage so lightly, how do I know you'd never desert me or treat me badly?”

He considered this. And said reflectively in unruffled calm that just now I found highly exasperating, “By knowing for sure that I know what it was like and would never wish it on anyone. By knowing for sure I'm going to treat my love the way I've always wanted to be treated. By knowing for sure that I'm a much better person today after my experiences.”

I stared at him. My heart ached thinking he had been hurt. I did not like it that someone had hurt him. How could anyone want to hurt such a lovely soul?

“So who was she?” I seethed with anger at this unknown identity.Gosh, how could she hurt such a fine man?

“The orchestra's cellist,” he answered.

A musician! More talented than my best friend Brenna? My insecurities and ire doubled. I did not know how to play a single instrument. Except a triangle.

As close as we were, I actually kept one BIG, dark, mortifying secret well hidden from Pete. I had never ever let him hear me sing.Never let out that I loved to sing. While he sang out loud when he liked a song on the radio, I sang in my head, tiptoeing carefully. Or my tonal failure would cause me to die of embarrassment.

“Well?” I pressed. “Aren't you going to elaborate?”

“I don't like talking about her. I don't like her. Past is past, Sydney.” He darted a glance around us. “How far does this track go?”

“Berowra.” Privately I had started to think I would exit the bush at Hornsby Heights before Galston Gorge and catch Shorelink's 596bus. But I wasn't about to let him know. “That's nine hours' walk.”

“It's gonna be dark in five.” He inhaled, savouring the scent of the forest. “I don't mind spending the night in the woods with you. Have you ever been in cadets or something like that? Any bush survival skills?”

“Pete,” I hissed, “Don't change the subject.”

“Right,” he capitulated. “I don't like talking about it, but I care for you—so I'm gonna tell you anything. What'd you like to know?”

We had passed the Rifle Range and picked our way across the winding creek again. The trail branched out to several paths here and I picked the left. Dad and I had occasionally walked through this bush, but we normally started in Berowra and came out in Hornsby at the park near Rosemead Rd.

“Why did you marry her?”

“We met when we joined the Symphony at the same time. But she was four years older.” Of course. Not many people graduated from university at 17. “She was a wild thing and full of fun. I was hooked.We married three years later. I mean, I did get her to agree to marry me. I wanted this sole right to sleep with her. But she was very outgoing. Turned out she still wanted freedom to do as she pleased, even when wearing my ring.” He shrugged. “She—she liked
men
and social outings.”

“Oh.”

“Does that answer your curiosity?”

“But didn't you fight to keep her? Didn't you try to save your marriage?”

“Sydney, I reached my limit. It came to a point when I just shrugged when I came home to find her making out on the couch with some other guy. She had left me three times before, but I'd fought to get her back. That day, as I passed them on the way to my room, I realized that I didn't feel hurt or anything. I didn't care anymore. I realized then I didn't want to live with her anymore. So I walked out. Dropped my wedding ring in the first beggar's bowl I encountered.”

“Oh.”

“But I figured there must be something more to life than just a crap marriage and a world chained to music. At least I knew that
I
wanted something more. I wanted to find
how
and where I could be happy, so help me God—one day I
would
be happy! I also had this firm belief that a real marriage was meant to make you happy, and one day I would find somebody who'd love me back. Up till then I'd been totally immersed in my music. I'd been playing music since I was little more than a toddler. When I was 20, I found I wasn't happy. I wanted a break. Not to give up my career of course, just to explore what else there was in this big wide world. I didn't set any goals. I didn't set a time limit. I just wanted to see how others were doing. I wanted to observe life. To broaden my horizon. Learn what I could.”

“That's it? And am I to take you at your word just like that?”

“Sydney, you're a hard young woman.”

“But I did notice you looking at Sinead. Possessively. When she was flirting with other boys, when the centre was new.” I stopped walking and leaned on a gum tree facing him. Watching his eyes, his expression, searching for possible lies. “Did your travels include having sex with whomsoever you could?”

“'Course not. That would make me like my ex, don't you think?Sex with every person you're with?” He regarded me with earnest eyes. “I'm not into casual sex. Go ask the backpacker kids. They call me a stitched-up wowser. The interest just wasn't there. That day when we were introduced, I only wanted to warn you what kind of followers Sinead has.

“I met Sinead in Victoria. We were ski trainers at Mount Buller last winter. Your Aussie winter. At night we went to a disco and she was wild, but nothing happened. I didn't sleep with her. Then we travelled north. Those other friends were strangers at first, but they joined us and we sort of formed a group. And you know, when you travel, you really get to know everybody for what they truly are. All their bad habits will come out. I told you about getting lost with a bunch of friends while climbing Sumatra's Mount Kerinci once, how some friends turned out to be terribly selfish.

“In travelling, you get to know who takes advantage when a person is being kind or generous. And Sinead's okay to travel with. She's become like a sister to me. I do watch out that the guys she sleeps with don't give her drugs. She doesn't want to be a user, but what happens when she's too drunk to know?”

“Well don't get drunk in the first place!”

He grinned at that. “I won't. I've given up on drinking now. But the fight is harder for her ‘cause she happens to be Irish.”

I pulled away from the tree and walked again.

What could I say? He had made wrong choices in the past—when he was too young to know better—and had learnt his lessons. Should I stay churlish and narrow-minded? I thought of Dad telling me,“Honey, don't fight too hard.”

I turned this over and over in my mind.

First and foremost, my anger could not alter the fact that I needed Pete like I needed the air I breathed. There was no way we could separate without HUGE emotional damage. How, just how would I ever survive without his wake-up call every morning? How would I ever go to sleep without him on the phone saying he loved me?

I had been so at peace knowing I was truly loved. I couldn't face it being taken away from me.

Should I condemn him, and myself, to a life of misery because he had a history? He had had to live his life somehow, all the years before he met me, hadn't he? Just because I had this divorce-phobia didn't mean all divorces were bad, right? At times one had to differentiate being stupid from being patient or face peril. Lucky Pete had the option to walk out on his dreadful mistake.

No wonder he had talked more about his travels than his life at“home” in the US. Really, he did not even behave like an American guy. Or had I been prejudiced in thinking many Americans were unpleasant and so full of themselves? Like, why did they always talk so loudly on their
cell
phones?