Arriving back home in Pindari, it was almost strange to walk anywhere without feeling the comfort of Mike’s hand in mine, even though we have only been joined at the hip for a couple of days. How quickly I had gone from the independent woman I thought I was to the gushing school girl I was hoping I wasn’t. I had been vaguely worried the intense feelings of love and lust would dissipate once we returned to normality and got on with our everyday lives, but it wasn’t an issue. Love made in Myanmar translates back to Australian soil, in case you were wondering.
Now, the knot in my stomach, in my soul, was gone. I was thankful for Mike, proud of myself that I took a chance on him, on life. And I won. I’m even grateful for True Blue FM. I was exactly where I was supposed to be. If I had gotten a job as a print journalist, chances were I would be working behind a desk, getting even fatter on cupcakes and wishing I had a man in my life exactly like Mike. I would have lived each day the same as the last, too busy tracing the letters of my name on the front page of the paper, never noticing the fractured life I was leading.
People say I had changed, that my walk had a bounce in it, that my hair was glossier, my skin was glowing, my attitude was…wait for it…positive. I know. Well, some of the time, anyway. Kellie even made an informal complaint to the station. She missed my sarcasm, according to the email. She missed the pessimistic humour. I didn’t care, I liked the new me. People were free to live their lives as they saw fit, but the key was, you needed to make sacrifices and strides towards personal growth in order to live a really happy life.
My clothes were still a little tight, but it was something I was still working on. I’d just achieved an active and conscious major internal shake-up, the external wasn’t as important, said I, who still had a mini heart attack every time I thought about life without cupcakes. But I had switched to eating carrot cupcakes, I think they have more fibre in them. I didn’t think I could ever give up sugar completely, but I had been limiting myself and I’m starting to feel fantastic.
The size 14 parts of my wardrobe had become loose, even my gardening gloves no longer strained at the seams. And if my gardening gloves were loose, I must have been losing weight like crazy. Mike, just like Snip, couldn’t care less about my tummy or the fact that my thighs in no way, shape or form, resembled those of Cameron Diaz, but I think hers had something to do with height more than anything else.
Not many people can see the ugly side of themselves and own up to it, and even fewer people can make changes to eradicate their flaws. I did, with the help of a special man, and even more help from Frank, but the changes had been made. In helping Mike through his pain, I found the real me. Mike may have been the Rambo of Myanmar, but I was like a good version of Hannibal Lecter; a psychological genius.
I was proud of myself and I got the man of my dreams as a reward. There’s a reason love has always been the greatest motivator; it has made people climb mountains and speak directly to God. I sang “My Way” to myself and although it’s not the same, I felt great.
At work, for our first day after the Myanmar confrontation, I listened to Mike’s show as he talked about finding love through the haze of being held at gunpoint. I was a little bit peeved he got to break the story first on the station, but the new me didn’t let things like that bother her.
“Rosie! Holy shit, what happened? Everyone is talking about you two. Couldn’t you just go to the conference like you were supposed to and learn?’
“Hi Jan, I’m fine, thanks for asking.” I relished in telling Jan the gruesome details of our face-to-face encounter with armed men in Myanmar. I glossed over the fact there had only been two and I exaggerated the punch to my head, but it was worth it. Jan was going to dine off this story for years, and I was going to come off looking way more brave and heroic than I really was. “And the best part is, they have reimbursed the station for everything.” Jan’s inappropriate smile got even bigger.
“Do you want to come around for dinner tonight and pick up Snip whilst you’re there?” Jan asked. I knew she wanted to make sure she was the first in town to get the full story so she could create her own version and relay it to the rest of the population. It didn’t bother me. Whatever Jan came up with, whatever rumours I was to hear about us down the track would all be wiped away be the promise of tonight’s delicious meal. Jan’s cooking was the absolute best in town. She used full fat cream and real butter and all the delicious carbs that had long gone out of fashion.
“Sure. Can I bring Mike?” Jan didn’t seem surprised by the question.
“I’ve already made a lasagne big enough for all of us. Extra cheese sauce.” She looked at my tummy and winked. We made arrangements and I waited to catch Mike after his show to make sure he wanted to go.
“Jan, I have to ask you something?” I asked as she gathered her keys and wallet.
“Okay.”
“Did you send Mike and me to Myanmar together for…um…any reason other than True Blue FM? I mean, we have a few presenters here, there wasn’t really much of a reason I should have gone. Mike has the breakfast show, so that makes sense, but why me, other than the fact I have been here the longest?” We both knew time spent in a job doesn’t necessarily make people better.
“What are you talking about, Rosie?” Jan was pretending she was irritated, but I could hear a smile in her voice.
“Well, for starters, I thought it was weird that you booked us a room with only a double bed. I was just wondering.”
Jan turned to face me squarely, feeling tough within the confines of the station she managed. “Did you use this bed?” she demanded.
My crimson face answered for me. “You can thank me later,” Jan whispered. Leaning back, she continued. “You were a cranky bitch. It was becoming unbearable. I figured at the very least, getting “some” might bonk it out of you. And looking at you, I would say I was right. I watch nothing but chick flicks, Rosie, and according to every one of these movies ever made, a cranky woman always improves with the love of a good man. And Mike is a good man.”
“Just like I keep telling you, Rosie, I am a good man,” Mike said as he entered studio two. “Now what are we talking about?’
“Nothing,” Jan and I said in unison, sharing a smile.
I never ever, in my wildest dreams thought I could be happy pretty much all of the time. It may even have been an anomaly of the universe to be as happy as I was. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not all because of Mike. The new me, the better version of me opened the floodgates for happiness to get in. Before, the floodgates were sealed shut with misery and isolation, I thought this was the way. And I would like to make it clear that I didn’t change for a man, I changed because of a man. It’s this whole other thing.
I would say I was happy all of the time, but there was the whole exercise nightmare that went on at five a.m. These moments, I was not happy, neither were my lungs or chafed thighs. And I never ever thought a man could make me happy. I was raised by a feminist mother who drilled it into my sister and I that we do not need a man to complete us, despite what Renee Zellweger said in Jerry Maguire. I had experienced short bursts of happiness when eating cupcakes, but these bursts were usually followed by regret and a sugar comedown.
Mike had always come across as a simple, uncomplicated man, and he was. The new me was also simple and uncomplicated. Our lives, especially since Mike moved into my weatherboard cottage with the overgrown rosebush, were simple and uncomplicated. We made each other better people. I had made him a better person by forcing him to watch and fall in love with Buffy the Vampire Slayer and The Walking Dead. Here was another example of being just like Mother Teresa.
***
This coming winter we are off to Tuscany together and it will mark our two-year anniversary together. Two years. It took one year to re-wire myself into a woman of empathy and kindness and I have maintained this new identity for two years. And I love it.
Louie Armstrong’s “What a Wonderful World” courses through my soul now, and I agreed with the crooner.
It is a wonderful world once you find the courage to live in it whole heartedly.
I had been with my husband when he laid next to me. When he laid next to my body, still and lifeless. I whispered in his ear that it was going to be okay, but he didn’t hear me. Couldn’t hear me. I tried to tell him it didn’t hurt anymore; the pain was gone. I wanted to tell him that it is true, everything happens for a reason. Even my death.
He needed to know I wasn’t sad he missed the first plane. I was already fading away. No man-made wings could have carried him fast enough. No doctor could have undid the damage of the bullet. I knew he was going to hate himself for missing it for a very long time. I wanted to help him. I wanted to, needed to tell him it was okay. But it doesn’t work like that. When your time is up you have to leave. You have to leave your loved ones behind but you know they are going to be okay. Soon.
He loved me, I always knew that. But my time on earth was always going to be short. I was destined to die at twenty-six before I was born.
He will always love me. But this life of his, it was never meant for us. Perhaps in the next one we will get our chance again. It was always meant for Rosie. And Rosie’s life was meant for him.
Some things are set in stone and it takes the whiz of a bullet to bring the pieces together.
A temperate lightning ridge,
A staircase of velvet.
The latent smell of Earth whose beauty can enchant me.
We lie nestled amongst the green grass that feeds us our strength.
The wind brushes off any nefarious dust that tries to settle keeping our shimmering halos brilliant.
Nearby, delicate, benevolent creatures shape their magic circles.
And guided by the light of the golden tops they dance their fiery dances.
Tiny steps beat the Earth—rhythmically, hypnotically, waking any sluggish creatures of the night.
They beckon those around to join.
The dancing reaches its spellbinding peak, the Earth has spread her incandescent light,
Some souls wither and scream and die but there are those of us who reincarnate.
The light and dancing forces us to ascend and as we spiral upwards we look down upon the glimmering Earth and smile a knowing smile.