St Kilda

One week of domestic bliss and night-time wrestling, and Laura had to go. They lay in bed, in the darkness, cuddling.

“God, Egypt?” Robert murmured.

“Yeah, I might even get to see the pyramids – from the plane…” said Laura drowsily.

“Nice.”

****

“Honey, I’m home!”

“Kara, sweetie! You’re back! God, just lemme get all the women out of the pool and spa, OK? I wish you’d call so I could do this before you get home, love!”

Laura laughed.

“You’re terrible, David!” she yelled, and dumped her bags in the hall. Come to think of it, a dip sounded like a great idea.

****

They sat entwined in the spa, kissing and re-exploring with hands.

Laura licked a salty cheek, and nibbled on his ear.

“You taste good… all chloriney!”

He bit her shoulder.

“Beast!”

He bit the other one.

“If we keep this up, this spa’s gonna need a lot of cleaning…”

“Right!”

He picked her up and carried her, still dripping, into the bedroom.

****

They lay together, damp and sticky, but drowsy and unwilling to move as far as the ensuite.

“Did you miss me?”

“Don’t I always, love?”

“Well…”

“We’re not going to argue about my job, are we?”

“Nope, kids.”

“God, David, you know I don’t want them, you knew when we got together… no kids. I’d be a crap mum. Buy a puppy!”

“You’d be a great mum!”

“Don’t care, don’t want to.”

“So what I want doesn’t matter?”

“Not unless you can carry and birth them yourself, no.”

David sighed and sat up.

“I’m having a shower.”

****

“Kara! You’re home! I have the weirdest story to tell you, girl. So, coffee?” Kylie yelled through the phone.

“Coffee sounds great. Pete’s?”

“Grouse.”

Laura winced. Everything about Melbourne she loved – except the word grouse. Same with Kylie.

****

Pete’s was a cafe in St Kilda, near ‘Kara’ and David’s place. It was also – in Laura’s opinion – the best provider of coffee in the southern hemisphere. Organic coffee, expert baristas, and a little elderly Columbian couple who owned and oversaw the place with eagle eyes.

“So I was walking down the main drag in Newtown, and who should I spot but you! You were with this absolute dish…”

Laura raised an eyebrow.

“… and so I raced over to say hello and find out what the hell you were doing in Sydney when you were supposed to be in Perth or somewhere dull, and you weren’t you!”

“I’d guessed that bit,” said Laura drily.

“But she looked exactly like you! Eyes, hair done differently but same colour, even the voice was yours!”

“God, I wonder if I have a twin out there somewhere? I suppose it’s possible, although they wouldn’t usually split twins, would they?”

Kylie shrugged.

“She had to be a twin or something, it was freaky!”

She frowned suddenly.

“Rude bitch, though, she pretty much told me to get out of her face…”

“Huh… strange woman comes running up and starts nattering? I can’t imagine why!” Laura said, grinning.

“God, don’t remind me, it was so embarrassing!” Kylie cried, and dropped her head to the table. “If I ever see you in an exotic location by surprise again, remind me never to say hello…”

Laura laughed and bit her lip. That had been a stupidly close call.

Laura

“Nanna…”

“Yes, sweetie?”

“Why do women cry at weddings? We went to George’s wedding yesterday, and some of the women were crying. Mummy says it’s because they’re so happy for the bride.”

“Mummy’s full of shit, Laura. Women cry at weddings because they hate seeing another woman make the same stupid mistake they did and sell herself into slavery. Men are arseholes, Laura.”

That was Laura’s introduction to feminism, Nanna-style.

Later in life, she discovered that Nanna had been one of the feminists of the bra-burning 60s, full of righteous anger about the oppression of the 50s and the rigid walls trying to keep them out of life as they wanted to live it. Regardless, Laura never forgot her nanna’s words, because they struck a chord that her mother’s flowery sentiments missed – women cried because men were arseholes. That sounded right, especially when she looked at her father. Arsehole incarnate.

Stuff being a crying woman. When she grew up, Laura wanted to be an arsehole like her daddy.

****

“Hi, Honey, I’m home!” Laura yelled.

“Laura! Sweetie! Why didn’t you call? I would’ve picked you up!”

Laura shrugged.

“You know I don’t like fuss, Robert.”

She dropped her bags in the bedroom and walked back out to the hall to hug him close.

“I did miss you, though.”

Robert chuckled and drew back a little.

“You know you’re too independent for your own good?”

She nodded, pretending contriteness.

“Huh!” he said gruffly, and kissed her.

Laura slid a hand up his neck, pulling his head closer for a deeper kiss. Without breaking apart, they stumbled back into the bedroom.

****

“Kara! Darling! What are you doing in Sydney, I thought you hated this place!”

Laura kept walking.

“Laura! I think that woman’s talking to you.” Robert whispered.

“Kara!” the woman yelled, and grabbed her arm.

Laura turned around, careful not to show an ounce of recognition.

“I’m sorry, have you mistaken me for someone else?” she asked her best friend, icily.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I thought you were a friend of mine – God, you two could be identical twins, though, you look so alike!”

Laura smiled briefly.

“Wow, that is amazing! We have to go, though…”

“Oh, right… umm, sorry again!”

“No worries.”

The woman left, casting glances behind her, and Laura and Robert continued to the cafe.

“God, that was freaky!” said Robert, shaking his head, “a long-lost twin? That woman still thought she knew you when she was looking you straight in the face.”

“Mmmm… genetic convergence.” Laura said, and sipped her coffee, “They say we’re all blending toward one basic genome, because of the global economy.”

Robert chuckled.

“Well, you’re the gadabout, I’m the homebody,” he said, “You’d know. Now… did I tell you I fixed the shower in the ensuite?”

“You did? I love you!”

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