Lisa Heidke by Lucy (mobi) (book club reads TXT) 📗

never fought when we were friends and house-mates all those years ago. The closest we ever came to disagreeing was the night before he left for Europe. And then he was gone - all the way to the other side of the world.

Day 42

After much coaxing, the kids agree to a day trip to Ubud to visit the monkey forest. On the drive, Max calls. He’s surprised to hear that we’re in Bali. That’s the thing about Max. If he doesn’t want to believe what he’s hearing, he’ll make you repeat it again and again, as if he misheard the first time or you’re going to miraculously change your mind.

‘You’re really here, in Bali?’ he asks again.

‘That’s right.’

My heart’s pounding. I’m talking to him and he sounds . . . normal. Suddenly I miss him. I miss our life together; the fantasy of the perfect family playing board games, sharing good times and bad, but ultimately sticking together.

‘Where exactly?’

‘Right now, driving to Ubud.’

After Max finally accepts I’m not joking, he agrees to meet us at Jimbaran Bay for an early dinner.

‘It’s a small fishing village on the peninsula at the southern-most part of the island,’ he explains, as if reading straight from a guidebook. ‘We can eat on the sand and watch the sun set.’

Why doesn’t he want to meet up right now? Why isn’t he desperate to see Bella and Sam? I would be.

I don’t get the chance to ask, because he abruptly disconnects. I’m left feeling unsettled and anxious. And a little scared.

Ubud is charming. It feels secluded and unrushed, even though there are plenty of tourists strolling the streets. It’s also a lot cooler.

At the monkey forest, we watch, amazed, as masses of monkeys, from babies to the old and withered, fight over peanuts, bananas and other food scraps. The children aren’t so enamoured when the monkeys tug on their shorts, begging for food. One lands on Sam’s shoulder, pulls at his ear, steals his chips and stalks away with his red bulbous bottom high in the air. Sam’s not sure whether to be scared or to laugh.

Wayan drives us to Jimbaran Bay well before sunset. The kids race down to the water’s edge to maniacally splash each other. I follow them at a slower pace, amazed by the number of traditional fishing boats bobbing out on the calm water. The beach has dozens of open-air restaurants, with endless rows of tables and chairs on the sand mere metres from water.

I find the restaurant Max and I are meeting at and ask an enthusiastic waiter for a table in the front row on the sand before ordering a Bintang. The beer comes and I sip slowly, watching the kids play a chasing game on the beach with other children. Every so often Sam looks over to the table, then shrugs and goes back to the game. I glance at my watch: Max is late. Some things never change. I wonder if he’ll show.

You know, I never imagined this particular scenario eleven years ago on our wedding day: that one day, I’d be in a foreign country, waiting to meet my adulterous husband to discuss the state of our ambiguous union.

Then again, I guess no one thinks about such things on their wedding day. It’s all sunshine, roses, happiness and sex. Don’t get me wrong. I didn’t think our marriage would be all Brady Bunch swell times. I knew there’d be dirty socks, disagreements and the odd dull moment. But I certainly didn’t consider that the road ahead might be paved with frustration, boredom and mutual loathing. Not that I thought our marriage was like that - all of the time. And I definitely didn’t entertain the notion that one of us might end up cheating. How could I? Eleven years ago, Max and I were in love.

What if Max wants to come back to me now? To us? Would I be happy? I try to picture Max begging me to give him another chance, but his face is fuzzy around the edges. He’s fading from my memory just like he’s fading from my life.

I’m staring out to sea when I notice Sam and Bella running up the beach towards something . . . someone. Max. And suddenly my heart is in my mouth. I’m shaking and having trouble breathing. I want to throw up. I take a large gulp of beer.

He lifts them both up at the same time and covers them in kisses. He looks different. Casual. Maybe it’s the tan. Or the longer, blonder hair. It’s unsettling seeing him so laidback; at home and at work he’s all about time management, appointments, suits. Is that a bracelet around his wrist?

I walk down the beach to meet him. He hugs me quickly, awkwardly, then stands back.

‘Wow, I can’t believe you guys are really here,’ he says as the children continue to climb over him, smothering him with infinite love. ‘It’s great. I’ve missed you guys so much.’ His tone is upbeat but strained.

I’m struggling to believe him. But then, of course he’s missed the kids - he’s not a bad father, just an absent one. And, generally, Max hates conflict unless it’s with Gloria. He would rather run away (to Bali) than confront me. So part of me isn’t surprised to hear the words. He’d hardly want a scene here . . . or anywhere.

I try to speak but can’t find any words. We head back to the table, no doubt looking from the outside like a normal, happy family.

‘Have you been lonely, Dad?’ Sam asks.

Before Max can answer, Bella points to a beach seller loaded with trinkets that flash neon colours. ‘Can we go and look at what that man is selling?’ she says. Max gives them each some rupiah and seconds later they’re gone.

‘So,’ he says, turning his attention to me. ‘It’s good to see you, Luce.’

He doesn’t ask whether I’m happy to see him. Maybe he just assumes I am.

I finally