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

‘should haves’ and ‘what ifs’, and when I glance at my watch I smack the back of my head against the bathroom wall, annoyed because I’ve wallowed far longer than I’d intended.

I wash my face, brush my hair into a high ponytail, then head down to the kids club in search of Bella and Sam. They’re playing ping-pong and eating donuts, oblivious. And as pissed off and emotional as I am, I’m also determined to enjoy these last couple of days with them so they take home good memories of Bali.

When I suggest we take an afternoon cruise, they jump at the chance. After sailing around Lembongan Island, the boat anchors and the kids and I spend our time collecting shells along the shore and swimming. The kids love the banana boat rides and snorkelling, but their absolute favourite activity is the ride in the glass-bottom boat along the fringe of the coral reef, where they can see all the sea creatures up close. Unfortunately, the captain has a penchant for Dr Hook and ‘Living Next Door to Alice’ is on high rotation.

My favourite is snorkelling in the crystal clear water, which gives me time to think without Dr Hook playing in my ear. To think about how much of my life I’ve wasted on Max.

In the evening, after much pleading from Bella and Sam, we walk along the block of shops near the hotel. Speeding scooters and cars zoom through the streets, narrowly avoiding stray dogs, but the taxis are empty. It’s sad and depressing. I feel bad walking into the deserted stores, but the shopkeepers plead for the kids and me to buy, knowing that when this batch of tourists leave, very few will come in their place.

‘You don’t see that in Sydney, do you, Mum?’ Bella says, pointing out two policemen gripping machine guns who ride past on the one motorbike. She has no fear in her voice. Seconds later, she returns her attention to the pirated movies, as if she could possibly buy any more. Perhaps the joy of buying inferior clothes and DVDs takes the fear away. I don’t know.

‘You’re having fun, aren’t you?’ I ask her as we try on bracelets in a bead shop.

‘Yeah, but I wish Dad was here more.’

‘Bell, about your dad and I -’

‘I don’t want to hear,’ she says, covering her ears.

As we walk out onto the street, Sam says, ‘Are you and Dad getting a divorce?’

‘Dad and I are trying to sort some things out but it’s going to take a while. We both love you very much.’

‘So you are getting a divorce,’ Bella says, stopping in front of a reflexology shop. ‘Dad’s not going to live with us anymore, is he?’

I shake my head. ‘No, I don’t think so.’ I stare at my bare ring finger; it feels weird, naked. My bottom lip trembles with the knowledge I’ll never wear my wedding ring again. But I have to keep repeating my mantra: Max and I are finished. It’s over.

‘That’s sad,’ Sam says, hugging me. ‘I’ll always want to live with you, Mummy.’

We’re all silent on the walk back to the hotel. Near the foyer, Bella picks a frangipani flower. ‘Smell this,’ she commands, and pops it behind my ear when I lean forward. ‘You look pretty, Mum. And you’re not frowning so much anymore.’

‘Do I really frown that much?’

‘You used to frown all the time, but you don’t now.’ Bella takes my hand and squeezes it tight.

Waiting in our room is a message from Max. He wants to take the children to Sanur tomorrow. I want to say, ‘Damn you! You can’t take my children away from me on the last day of our holiday’, but then I think: I have to do what’s right for the kids.

I go to bed depressed about Max and humming ‘Living Next Door to Alice’.

Day 47

Max has the surprising decency to arrive alone at eight o’clock in the morning to take Bella and Sam to Sanur. He asks me along (how very civilised - I hate him!) but I decline, much to his bewilderment. The man has no idea at all. I’m happy for the kids to spend the day with their father and am polite to a point, but I certainly don’t wish to play happy families when we’re anything but.

After they leave, I figure I have a choice. I can stay in my room all day and cry, or I can go out and have fun. I opt for the latter, deciding to make it an ‘I Love Lucy Day’. It’s been years since the last one.

For the first two hours, I sit by the pool and read a new psychological thriller. (Husband mysteriously disappears on a yachting expedition; wife is the main suspect. I hope she has a watertight alibi.) Fantasies of Max similarly disappearing, or getting fatally bitten by a funnel-web or accidentally ingesting rat poison, keep me amused for some time.

Nearby, a father is teaching his son to swim. The boy is all of three years old and nervously clings to his father’s shoulders and neck. ‘Don’t let me go, Daddy,’ he pleads, his chubby arms wrapping tighter around his father’s neck, almost choking him.

A moment later, a woman and a girl, maybe a year or two younger than Bella, jump in beside them. They’re laughing. The father hands the boy to his mother and turns to pick up the girl and lifts her high in the air. ‘Throw me, Dad, throw me!’ she screams. He obliges, and after a splash she disappears under the water. The mother looks at the ripples on the surface, waiting for her daughter to break through the water. Nothing happens. I feel a lurch of panic. But seconds later, the girl’s head appears and she’s giggling. ‘Throw me again - higher this time!’

I turn away, realising I’ll never have that family time again. Max is right: it is what it is.

Over at the pool bar, a couple sit