Love story 43 – The Sydney trip
To have to spend the first few days, of knowing that Anthony loved me, in a luxurious penthouse motel room with a man who showered me with gifts, dinners and adoration was, to say the least, a bit strange. At the end of the first day with the Sydney man I had had enough of his futile amorous attempts and told him the truth and he cried! I had never had men crying over me before so to have two of them in the space of 48 hours was extraordinary.
I have to hand it to the Sydney man; he ended up accepting that even though he thought I was ‘the one’ for him, I most definitely didn’t. So, instead of doing all the romantic stuff he had probably planned, we went on pub crawls, to outside concerts, to fancy restaurants, to art galleries and museums, and even to visit some of his friends. He took me to his nearly renovated house in a fancy suburb and then showed me a cute little flat he had wanted to buy me because he knew I wanted to be a full-time writer. He was obviously wealthy and, no matter how much I insisted, he wouldn’t let me pay for a single thing.
In the evenings, I would sleep in the enormous king-sized bed and, after giving me a chaste kiss (or two!) he would retire to the couch in the other room and watch television. For three nights I went to sleep, counting the hours until my flight back to Western Australia.
When the Sydney man saw me off at the airport, he cried again quite publically which I found extremely embarrassing. Giving me a bearhug, he whispered, “I’ll never see you again, will I,” and, once I’d extricated myself from his embrace, I nodded, thanked him profusely and he left the airport and went back to his life.
On the plane, I got the yellow envelope out of its hiding place in my handbag and stared at all of the things Anthony had said to me just a few days previous. As the plane lifted, so did my exhausted heart.
Love story 44 – ‘I am in love with you, Jules’
I have very little recollection of how I got back to my flat after arriving at Perth airport but, the relief of entering the tinyness of my home overwhelmed me and I sat down and took a breath.
The phone rang repeatedly for the next hour until I finally answered it. It was Anthony.
“Jules?” he said, his big, booming voice somehow diminished by what I now realize was uncertainty.
“Hi Ants. I’m home.”
“I don’t love you, Jules,” he said, but I was so tired I almost didn’t register the devastation of this remark.
“Oh,” I said.
“I am in love with you, Julie. I always have been.”
I paused, unable to find the right words.
“Did you hear me, Jules?”
“That’s nice,” I said, trying to scramble out of the fog of my exhaustion. “I’m happy for you.”
The feeling of power was rather lovely!
Love story 45 – A ‘new’ Anthony
It was strange getting used to this ‘new’ Anthony, who rushed up to Perth the very day I returned from Sydney and arrived on my doorstep exactly two hours after our phone conversation. He must have broken all the speed limits.
The loud knocking on my door woke me from a deep sleep because my flight back from Perth was during the night, so I was a bit disorientated when I answered the door. You see, I didn’t know Anthony was coming up to Perth, so I assumed it was either Andrew, my best friend, or Neville and Robbo, my Guinness buddies, or else one of my girlfriends.
“Just a minute,” I called, tidying myself up a bit in my teensy bathroom.
The knocking grew alarmingly loud, and then I heard his voice: “JULES!” and I got a terrible shock.
I took my time answering the door, trying to compose myself, wanting to appear nonchalant, but my heart was galloping like a herd of wild buffalo.
Well, it was just like in the movies! A reunion made in heaven. He embraced me with such fervor that I had to push him away, laughing, and then we talked and talked and talked, or, rather, he talked. I listened with fascination to his story of love for me over coffee, then a bottle of wine he’d brought, and then we went out for lunch.
He stayed with me for two days and then asked me to come back to the farm with him for the remainder of the week. So I took a week off work (I was working in a nursing home), and off my university studies, and entered, not without some trepidation, a new chapter – a brand new chapter – of life.