New Australian Stories 2 Read Free Page A

search of a park, the faint sound of music coming from the record shop two doors down. Across the road from us, a couple argued, her in the car, him still on the road. She slammed the door on him and he kicked at the bumper bar. Moments later, Robert asked me if I wanted to come home with him, the directness of his request throwing me off balance.
    So, it has come to this, I thought, both surprised that he could think it was possible I would agree and yet also aware that this was, of course, the inevitable conclusion of our evening out. He wanted to have sex with me.
    I’m not so sure, I tried to say, but my protest was feeble. If this was the place to which we had been headed, I might as well just give in and go there. Perhaps sex would finally bring the transformation I seemed to want to continue believing was possible, despite all evidence to the contrary.
    He had parked his car, a dented old Toyota, in a side street. He cleared papers and cigarette packs and a jumper off the front seat before opening the passenger door for me, his body still stretched across the driver’s seat as I sat down, his hand touching my leg. And then he opened his window to the night air as we drove, in silence, towards the apartment blocks that line what has now become a tangle of roads.
    A few weeks ago, as I sat on the plane next to the man who I thought was Robert, I wondered at the loneliness of the person I had once been. I found it hard to recall the feeling. Even in the last few months, as it became clear to me that Jason needed to go back to his wife and that I was going to have to let him go with grace, I never felt the complete cold emptiness I had experienced in those early days of living in Sydney.
    Robert was still staring out of the curved window, arms crossed, and I shook my head as though trying to dispel the shame of remembering the girl I used to be. It was then that the plane shuddered, suddenly losing altitude. In the aisle, the flight attendant tried to steady the drinks trolley. Her face was turned away from me, but there seemed to be no visible change in her posture, no reason to feel panic, and I leaned back in my seat. Moments later, the plane dropped again and the captain asked all passengers and crew to return to their seats as further turbulence was expected.
    Robert was staring directly at me.
    In the dim light of the cabin it was, at first, difficult to tell if there was panic in his eyes. But when the captain announced that the plane would need to return to Canberra, his anxiety was unmistakable.
    â€˜I’m terrified of flying.’ He grimaced in an attempt to smile.
    â€˜Ladies and gentlemen’ — the flight attendant’s voice was calm — ‘the captain informs me that there is a minor technical fault, which unfortunately means we need to land at the closest airport. As we will be flying into some weather we ask that you all remain seated until the plane has safely landed. We do apologise for any inconvenience.’
    â€˜It will be all right,’ I told him.
    But he wasn’t listening. His pupils were glassy and his voice tight. He said he’d had a bad feeling from the moment he got on the plane. ‘Did you hear that?’
    I hadn’t.
    â€˜The strain in the engine.’
    I tried to ignore the panic that surged as we dropped altitude once more. Was this the end? It was impossible. In the back a woman’s scream was followed by a man’s nervous laughter.
    The captain spoke now. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, I do want to assure you that there’s no reason for anxiety. As Damien mentioned to you earlier, we are simply experiencing some bad weather. Unfortunately, we’re having to fly directly into it in order to return to Canberra to rectify what is really a very minor fault with the backup navigation system. It has no impact on our safety but it is something we are obliged to fix under aircraft laws and regulations. If I could just urge you all to