Authors: Juliet Madison
Grace paused for a moment. ‘Oh, are you thinking of
writing
a book on that topic?’
Mark felt as though he was standing in quicksand. He’d never told anyone his dreams of being an author before, and all of a sudden he felt silly for some reason. ‘Um, yeah, I mean…possibly.’ More than possibly, he’d already written half of it. But he hadn’t touched the manuscript for almost two years. What if all his work led to nothing and the book was a complete flop? And anyway, was it really that important a topic? Perhaps he should write about more significant things like cancer, or Alzheimer’s, or diabetes, or—‘
‘You should go for it!’ Grace interrupted his thoughts. ‘My friend’s boyfriend is a swimmer hoping to try out for the Olympics, so I’m sure he’d like it. And, there must be a lot of up-and-coming athletes who would welcome anything to boost their performance,’ Grace spoke quickly. ‘Oh! And you could give talks at the Australian Institute of Sport, and promote your book to local sports clubs, schools, fitness centres…’ Grace’s eyes darted all over the place, as though searching her mind for more promotion opportunities for his unfinished book.
‘If I become an author, remind me to make you my publicist!’ Mark laughed, as a ripple of excitement spread through his body at her suggestions. Maybe he
should
dig the manuscript out of its digital cave and resume working on it.
Just then, Grace raised her index finger and clicked her tongue. Mark envisioned a light bulb appearing above her head.
‘I know just the book for you!’ She scurried over to the shelves in another section, and returned with a book in her hand, giving a flourished wave around it with her other hand as though she was on
The Price Is Right
television show.
‘
Become An Author In Seven Easy Steps
, huh?’ Mark picked up the book and turned it over. It looked good, but he did wonder if it was a
Dr Don’s Weight Loss Revolution
for the aspiring author. Maybe he’d follow the program, get the book written, but nothing would come of it and he’d be back where he started.
‘Apparently,’ Grace said as she led Mark back to the health section and picked up a book, ‘this author followed the program and now her book’s a bestseller.’
‘That’s good to know.’ Mark flipped briefly through the book on becoming an author, then closed it with a decisive snap. ‘Sold.’ Mark smiled at Grace and followed her to the counter.
‘You’ve got an awesome sales assistant here,’ he told the other woman at the counter.
She smiled at Mark, then at Grace. ‘We know.’
As he walked out of the bookstore, Mark realised he’d managed to keep Sylvia out of his mind completely for the last few minutes. Well, until now. Thinking of how he’d stopped thinking of her, he was now thinking of her again! The way she tensed her shoulders around him, the way she raised her chin in the air when arguing her point, the way her soft curls swam around her face…
What?
He shook his head and decided he better eat some lunch. The low blood sugar was probably playing with his mind.
Five minutes later he was sitting on a bench in Miracle Park, eating a sushi roll. A swarm of seagulls leapt overhead, flying in the direction of the beach.
Lucky buggers.
When he finished eating, Mark tossed the plastic wrap into a bin and walked over to look at the Wishing Fountain. He read the plaque, and the story of the supposed ‘miracles’ that had occurred years ago. ‘Hmmph,’ he mumbled.
Where was my miracle when I needed one?
‘Bye, take care.’ Mark farewelled his last patient for the week. Back in his consulting room he slumped in the chair and exhaled slowly. Since returning from lunch he hadn’t crossed paths with Sylvia and was hoping to keep it that way. Throughout the week he’d tried to either leave as early as possible, or leave later—after she’d left. He’d use the time to work on his marketing plan and check his emails.
He sat silently for a while, ears pricked in anticipation of the trademark scuttle of sensible heels along the hallway. Nothing. Maybe she’d already left. Sylvia had mentioned this morning that she ‘didn’t have time for arguments’ as she had somewhere to be tonight and didn’t want to run behind schedule with patients. Despite this, she’d managed to keep talking, reasoning her point of view. He couldn’t keep avoiding her forever though, and he hoped she’d eventually grow to like him and respect his work.
He filed documents away, turned off the equipment and power points, and headed towards the staff kitchen to get his uneaten lunch and car keys.
‘Ouch!’ Sylvia’s voice surprised him as he pushed open the kitchen door and it collided with her head. She was obviously on her way out, and just about to open the door from the inside.
‘Oops,’ Mark said, shuffling past her. ‘Sorry, I didn’t know you were in here.’
‘Oops, is that all you can say?’ Sylvia rubbed her temple.
‘I said sorry, too.’
‘Right. Well, I’ll be okay, it’s just a little bump.’ Sylvia straightened up, as Mark grabbed his car keys. ‘You’re not working late tonight?’ she asked.
‘Nope. It’s Friday night, I have plans.’
‘Good for you. So do I,’ she replied.
‘Oh yeah, what sort of plans?’ Mark probed.
‘You know…places to see, people to go.’
Mark grinned.
‘What’s funny?’
‘Don’t you mean; places to
go
, people to
see
?’ he corrected.
‘That’s what I said,’ she replied, rubbing her temple again.
‘You sure it’s just a
little
bump?’ Mark asked, still grinning.
‘It’s nothing.’ Sylvia looked confused, obviously unaware of her verbal slip
.
‘Anyway, I have to go. Enjoy your…plans,’ she said, closing the door behind her.
Mark laughed. She may be irritating and narrow-minded, but she was also incredibly…cute. He withdrew his lunch container from the fridge, and went to open the kitchen door, when it opened for him. He held the door open as Sylvia slid past him.
‘Forgot my jacket,’ she said, picking it up off the chair before sliding past him again, leaving a subtle floral scent in her wake. He stood for a moment and watched her exit the clinic, then followed suit.
‘God, I’m an idiot!’ Sylvia got into her car forty-five minutes later, and having realised her faux pas a little too late, shrunk in the seat and rested her head on the steering wheel. ‘Ow!’ She shot up, reminded of her little bump to the head courtesy of Mark. It’d been a long day, and her cognitive abilities had officially switched off. At least she had an enjoyable evening to look forward to at Larissa’s wedding rehearsal dinner. She could eat, drink (just one), laugh, and forget about the past week.
Putting the gearstick in reverse, she backed out of her garage and onto the road, turning towards the highway. Out the corner of her eye she saw Nancy Dillinger’s kitchen curtain move. Nothing new. The poor woman must lead a boring life if all she did was watch other people. She seemed perpetually at home, barring Sunday mornings when she’d walk to the end of her driveway and collect the newspaper, before scurrying back inside. No car was ever parked in her carport, and Sylvia occasionally saw her getting out of a taxi with grocery bags, never more than two or three at a time. Maybe she
should
bring her a cake and show some neighbourly courtesy, like Grace suggested. She’d have to buy one though. Baking and Sylvia didn’t mix. She could whip up a fancy dinner easily enough, but for some reason, whenever she tried to bake a cake it would either burn to a crisp, crack like an earthquake, or sink in the middle like an old mattress.
Sylvia turned her head to check for oncoming traffic and veered onto the highway. Heavy grey clouds hovered anxiously above, as though waiting for the most opportune moment to spill their load—probably as soon as she got out of the car. She quickly swivelled her head to look towards the back seat. Phew—her expensive black umbrella was exactly where it always was, poking out of the pocket on the back of the front passenger seat, along with a small box of tissues, and a street directory. Always prepared. She liked knowing what was ahead of her, and that all contingencies were planned for. Surprises weren’t often welcomed in her life, although meeting Grace was an exception. She still couldn’t quite believe that her grown daughter was really here in town, spending time with her.
Sylvia glanced at her phone in its holder on the dashboard as it rang. Larissa. She’d be seeing her shortly, so why was she calling? Probably just checking that she’d left on time. Even though Sylvia was never late. Larissa had been getting anxious about the wedding, and kept repeating things like, ‘Are you sure the band has been given the correct date?’ and ‘You’ll be at my place 9 a.m. Saturday, right?’ and ‘Where on this bloody planet did I put my garter belt?’ Sylvia let the call go to voicemail, it wasn’t worth the risk to drive and talk on the phone at the same time, but she always liked to have it visible in case there was an emergency with a patient
Before too long, Sylvia pulled into a parking spot just around the corner from the church at Welston. They’d be rehearsing the formal proceedings before walking a couple of blocks to a restaurant for dinner. She exhaled deeply as she got out of the car, releasing all tension from the day.
A high-pitched beep pierced the air as Sylvia pressed the central locking button on her key. She walked around to the front of the church and climbed the steps, and Larissa appeared at the doorway above.
‘Sylvia, I tried to call to warn you, but—‘
‘What’s
he
doing here?’ The tension she’d released came hurtling back to her like a boomerang. The bump on her head throbbed as she reached the top of the steps and saw Mark inside the church, talking to Larissa’s fiancé, Luke.
‘He’s one of the groomsmen, a uni friend of Luke’s,’ Larissa explained. ‘I got talking to him before you arrived, and he said he’d moved to Tarrin’s Bay. When he told me where he now worked, I realised he must be the Mark you mentioned the night of my hen’s party.’
‘How did I not know this before?’
‘You weren’t at the engagement party, remember? You had that bad flu at the time.’
Sylvia tipped her head backwards. ‘Holy crap. This will be…awkward.’
‘Sylvia!’ Larissa exclaimed, gesturing to the cross above the church doorway.
‘What? At least I said
holy
,’ she rebutted, attempting a laugh.
Larissa took hold of Sylvia’s arm and leaned in close. ‘Sylv, there’s something you should probably know about…’
‘Hey there, Doc!’ Luke suddenly appeared behind Larissa. ‘Right on time, we’re just about to get started. Have you met Mark?’
Mark took position next to Luke, but kept his distance from her. By the unsurprised look on his face, Larissa must have already told him Sylvia was coming.
‘We, ah, work together actually,’ Sylvia replied. ‘Evening, Mark.’ She glanced briefly at him.
‘Sylvia.’ Mark gave a polite nod of his head.
‘Well there you go! Small world. Good thing you two are partnered together for the ceremony, much easier if you already know each other.’ Luke smiled, before ushering everyone inside.
Much easier my arse.
Sylvia gritted her teeth and walked into the church foyer, her heels clicking on the floorboards and sending sharp jolts right up her legs to her throbbing temple. Larissa was whisked away by the maid of honour, who pretended to adjust her veil and train, while Larissa’s mother, Judith, suddenly appeared and shoved Sylvia into position, ready to practise her walk down the aisle.
The flower girl skipped along the aisle, throwing pretend petals along the way, and Judith nodded sharply at Sylvia, mouthing ‘Go!’
Sylvia made her entrance, while Luke, Mark, and the best man stood at the front of the church staring at her while she walked the length of the aisle.
‘Slowly, Sylvia. Slowly!’ Judith whispered insistently from the sidelines.
Could this get any more uncomfortable?
After what seemed like an hour, she arrived at the front of the church, soon joined by the maid of honour. Larissa followed, delivered to the altar by her father, tears dribbling down her face.
‘Oh, Riss, it’s not even the real thing yet!’ Luke leaned in and planted a kiss on his fiancée’s forehead.
‘Sorry! I can’t help it. I can’t believe we’ll be doing this for real tomorrow.’ Larissa clasped Luke’s face in her hands and kissed his lips.
‘No kissing until I pronounce you man and wife,’ the priest said, grinning.
‘Oops, sorry!’ Larissa stepped aside and tucked her hands behind her back.
The priest proceeded to explain what would happen next, showing everyone where they should sit and stand at the appropriate times as though directing a play. Larissa kept getting confused and apologising, while Luke’s ever-present smile softened the awkwardness. Mark kept quiet, his eyes distant, as though lost somewhere in his mind. As Sylvia linked her arm with his and walked down the aisle once the proceedings had been rehearsed, she felt his bicep muscle tense ever so slightly, almost making her flinch. They couldn’t release their grip soon enough, stepping away from each other as soon as they reached the church doorway. By the time the happy couple exited the church, Larissa was crying again, Luke wrapping his arms tenderly around her. If she was like this now, Sylvia could only imagine the blubbering mess Larissa would be tomorrow.
Seemingly oblivious to anyone around them, Larissa and Luke began walking up the road towards the restaurant, followed by their loyal army of bridesmaids, groomsmen, parents, and friends. Sylvia picked up her pace, but Mark’s easy stride caught up with her.
‘We keep bumping into each other,’ he said, his eyes straight ahead.
‘So we do,’ she replied.
‘How long have you known Larissa?’ he asked.
‘Since primary school. We’ve kept in contact ever since. And you met Luke at uni?’
‘Yep.’
Sylvia nodded, even though Mark wasn’t looking at her. They walked the rest of the way in silence, as the maid of honour and best man were deep in conversation, and Judith kept trying to stop the flower girl from climbing the nearby trees.