Don't Mean a Thing

Chapter 2-1

Chapter 2

I braved the kitchen to make a cuppa. Thank goodness that scary fry pan had been dealt with. Propped up in a pillow nest on my bed, a cup of tea in one hand, I flicked on my e-reader.

Just as I became engrossed in the story, my phone rang. I flinched, sloshing the tea around in my mug. Luckily, I’d drunk half of it, or I would’ve given myself a tea-shower. The image of my sister flashed on the screen and my heart tugged. Just thinking about her made me yearn for home. No, this room was my home now.

“Hi, Emily.” I’d been planning to call her later that night. I was never sure what time she’d get her kids to sleep and be able to talk uninterrupted.

“Hey, Macie. How are you settling in?”

“So far, so good. My room is pretty tiny, but I’ll make it feel more like home when I get all my stuff.”

“How long ‘til it all arrives?”

“Bertie is due this week, and the rest of my stuff should be here next week.” I couldn’t wait until I had my canary yellow Volkswagen Beetle, Bertie. I’d be able to stop relying on Rachael to go anywhere.

“Speaking of due...” Emily said.

I sat bolt upright. “Are you?”

“It’s only early days yet, but yes, you’re going to be an auntie again in September.”

“How are you feeling?” Emily’s morning sickness had been awful with the first two.

“Better this time ‘round. I’m pretty tired, but I was expecting that.”

“What are you calling this one?” They’d nicknamed her first baby bump Peanut and the second one Jellybean.

“Blueberry.”

“I wish I was there. I wanna rub your belly,” I replied wistfully, sinking back into my pillow nest.

Emily laughed. “I’ve got plenty of belly to rub, but none of it is baby-shaped yet. Looks like we won’t be coming up to visit in the September school holidays like we’d planned, though.”

“I’ll see if I can come down to see you instead.”

“That would be great. I miss you already. Enough about me, though. Tell me about your new job.”

“So far, so good,” I replied, “but it’s only day one, so I don’t really know. Ask me again in a month.”

“What about friends? Anyone you clicked with yet?”

Here we go, twenty questions. Three down, seventeen to go.

Emily always had to know the latest gossip. Over the years, I’d given up trying to keep things from her. She could always tell if I was trying to hide something, so it was easier to get it over with and put up with her interrogation.

And if I let her ask all the questions, I didn’t need to think of what to say. The phone wasn’t my best method of communication. It made me feel like I was under the spotlight. “Rachael’s here. I met her on the course. I never really clicked with her, but at least I know someone.”

“Any cute boys?”

Jeremy was more handsome than cute, but I’ll never hear the end of it if I let that slip. “Nah. Most of my team are in their early twenties and want to go clubbing and drinking every night.”

“You should go out too. Meet some people.”

“You know I hate clubbing. I don’t want to go out with those kids. They’re so exhausting to be around with their non-stop chatter. And they make me feel so old.”

“You don’t have to go clubbing. Why don’t you try something else?”

“Like what?”

“Have you checked out Meetup yet?”

“No, social media queen, I haven’t.” I had a f******k account, but that was it. Emily was always pinning, and tweeting, and snapping and chatting, and ‘gramming, and who knows what else. We might be sisters, but we were different in so many ways. She was an extrovert, while I was an introvert. We even looked the opposite. She had Dad’s olive complexion while I was pasty white like Mum.

“When we get off the phone, Google it, and see if there’s anything that looks like fun. Maybe an exercise class or something where you don’t have to sit around making conversation the whole time.”

“Okay, I’ll have a look later. I could do with some extra exercise to maintain my fitness level to pass the PFT next year.”

“The what?”

“Physical Fitness Test, PFT.” I’d never seen myself as unfit until I started training for the fitness screening test to join the military. The beep test. Running back and forth twenty metres didn’t sound too bad. Until I tried it. The number of times I ran up and down my driveway, increasing in speed each lap to keep up with those irritating beeps. I mentally replaced the “beep” with a large range of expletives. Thank goodness it’s not in the annual PFT. The 2.4-kilometre run is longer but less intense.

“I’m glad it’s you. I don’t think I could run two kays if my life depended on it.”

“I think you’d make it. You spend half your day chasing those two kids of yours around, though this bump might slow you down a bit. I miss your girls. Give them both a big hug from Auntie Macie.”

“Of course, I will.”

Emily continued chatting, filling me in on all the gossip. I got the occasional word in, but I was content to listen.

Forty-five minutes later, one of Emily’s kids woke up from a bad dream and started crying. “Gotta go, sis. Only Mummy’s hugs work at this time of night. Talk again soon.”

I hung up the phone and Googled “Meetup Darwin”. I scrolled through the different group options.

Meditation? Nope.

Fit club? Maybe, but I could work out at the RAAF gym for free whenever I want. Next.

Wine and Wit Book Club? Maybe.

Swing Dance NT? Hmm, dancing? Jump in and learn to swing dance, beginner and singles friendly. The blurb also described the group as a great way to get fit, meet new people, have fun, and gain confidence.

My finger hovered over the “add me” button for a couple of seconds. What the hell. I signed up.

After double-checking my alarm, I flicked on my e-reader. Just one chapter before I went to sleep. Or maybe two. I snuggled into my favourite pillow to find out if Mel would actually risk her marriage for another man.

The next evening, my phone buzzed with a message from Meetup. There was a swing dance class on Sunday. Did I want to RSVP?

What if they’re all a bunch of weirdos? What if there is compulsory fun and they make me do something embarrassing? There’s nothing worse than being singled out in front of a large group of people. I never bought front row seats for shows. The idea of being dragged up on stage was horrifying.

I didn’t reply. Sunday was a handover shift, so I should finish by lunchtime. I’d scope it out and decide from there.

***