Belinda Missen - A Recipe for Disaster

I gathered my handbag and phone, locked the doors, and started the long walk home. One car zipped past, and then another. Did no one stop to help the lost and deserted any more? What was with that? It was late, almost eleven o’clock, and I was a lone female walking along the highway. I made a mental note that, barring a creepy clown suit or a sign that said ‘Free Sweets’, I would endeavour to help people on the side of the road in the future.

Eventually a car slowed to a crawl beside me. The passenger’s window wound down with an electric hum.

‘Lucy?’

Who else could it possibly be while I was schlepping my way along the highway? Bloody Oliver. I held my head high and kept walking. The car kept rolling alongside me.

‘What’ve you done?’ he asked, laughing.

‘I haven’t done anything. It broke down. Your stupid bloody car died.’

‘Get in – I’ll drive you home.’

I refused to look at him. If I couldn’t see him, he wasn’t there.

‘Lucy, for God’s sake,’ he called. ‘Get in the car. It’s late. I’ll drive you home.’

My heel snapped as I turned to lean in through the open window. Because why would anything go right tonight? Oliver regarded me with smug pleasure, quite like he’d expected his night to end like this.

‘Why?’ I asked.

‘Because it’s late.’ He tugged at his tie and shifted in his seat. ‘I will drop you home and you can pick up your car tomorrow.’

‘It’s your car, if you remember,’ I said. ‘You can fix it.’

‘Whatever, just get in.’

I considered his offer for the briefest moment, and hobbled away. I was still flame-throwingly angry with him. In the back of my mind, I willed my ankle to roll, just to round off a perfect night of entertainment for the masses. The horn sounded as the car pulled up with a click of the handbrake. Oliver climbed out and walked after me.

‘Lucy, I could do this all night,’ he called, arm pointing at his car like he was a game show model.

‘I don’t care!’ I replied over my shoulder, hobbling away at slow speed.

‘What’s so wrong with a lift home?’

I turned to him. ‘Are you kidding me right now?’

A truck blared its horn as it rumbled past, spraying us with pine splinters and burrs that flew from a trailer of fresh-cut logs. I watched its taillights disappear into the night. Yeah, that was a long walk.

‘It’s a genuine offer,’ Oliver continued. ‘You are in trouble; let me help. I want to help.’

‘I want you to leave me alone,’ I returned. ‘Get out of my life and leave me alone.’

‘Is that what this is about?’ he asked. ‘Really? Is that really the problem? Because, as far as I can tell, getting out of your life is what started this, so doing it again will only cause more problems.’

‘Please enlighten me then, Oliver, because I have no idea what else it might be.’ I shoved both my shoes in my handbag and kept walking. ‘Oh, wait, maybe it’s that you’ve been here long enough to organise wedding catering. What’s that? Two? Three weeks?’

‘I’ve been here three weeks. I doubt you would’ve wanted me on your doorstep while you were busy with him .’ He got back in his car, slamming the door. It began rolling again. ‘Are you sure you want to walk the whole way home? We’ve done this once before, remember?’

As if I could forget. We’d had the same car an entire week before it first broke down. It lulled us into a false sense of security, then threw in a faulty fuel gauge for a Stephen King-esque three a.m. breakdown, complete with pouring rain and rogue lightning. The only saviour of the night was a hot shower together when we got home, though I think we broke the shower curtain, so it wasn’t a complete loss.

I’d like to challenge anyone complaining about stepping on Lego to walk one hundred metres down the Hamilton Highway barefoot in the dark. Not only were there rocks, but also twigs, broken bottles, and random litter thrown from cars, because bins are so last century. I stopped on the spot. Oliver yanked on the handbrake again.

‘Come on, Luce, I’m not trying to upset you. I just want to see you home safely. I do care.’

I threw my head back, dropped my shoulders, and looked at the stars. Of all my friends, I knew how to get myself into stupid situations more than anyone else. Climbing fences when lost on holiday? Check. Falling over and getting disoriented in a forest? Check. Oliver leant over the front seat and pushed the door open. When I hesitated, he pouted.

‘Cock.’ I tossed my bag into the foot well and got in.

A Mercedes Benz was certainly a step up from the busted Volkswagen that now sat impotent on the side of the road. He pulled back onto the road, but the further we travelled, in dead silence, the more I felt like a trapped cat. Struggling for breath, for independence, and needing to get away, far away from what was making my hair stand on end.

‘Lucy, can I ask you something?’

I harrumphed. Arms folded, face scowling. ‘No.’

‘Did you really google me?’

I glanced at him briefly. He was laughing. Lord help me, he was laughing. I could have punched that smirk off his face.

‘Oh, for God’s sake, Oliver. Is that all you’re worried about?’ I shrieked, a little more wild banshee than I expected.

‘What? No! But you said you had, and I was just curious. I mean, you could’ve called.’

‘You could’ve not been a complete jerk.’

Silence.

Farm fences gave way to streetlights, the pub, the general store, and then our street. My street. I was opening the car door before we’d come to a standstill. Stepping up onto the veranda, careful to bypass a broken plank, I’d planned to make a silent getaway until my phone rang. An unknown number. Without a second thought, I answered it.

‘Hello?’ I said.

‘Will you look at me?’ Oliver asked. ‘Please?’

If my head whipped around any quicker, it might have snapped off, leaving me forever looking like a Pez dispenser.

‘Please don’t hang up.’ He held a finger up. ‘Can I have five minutes of your time to have a reasonably adult discussion?’

‘This better not involve phone sex.’

‘I’m game if you are.’ He laughed at his own joke until he realised I wasn’t. ‘No, no phone sex. Just talk.’

‘Okay,’ I answered quietly.

‘My name is Oliver,’ he said, palm pressed into his chest. ‘What’s yours?’

I took a shaky breath in. ‘I’m Lucy.’

For the first time tonight, I looked at him. Not just a passing glance while trying to ignore him, but a proper look. It had been so long since I’d seen him in a suit and tie that I’d forgotten just how good he looked. He wore classic black and white with perfectly styled hair like he was born for it. He was always going to be someone special in this world.

His whole body relaxed. ‘I like that name. You look lovely tonight. Have you been out somewhere?’

‘Family dinner.’

‘Lucky family.’

‘Maybe not so much,’ I joked. ‘Where have you been?’

‘Just catching up with friends I’ve missed. It was nice to see them again.’

‘I’m glad you got to see them.’

‘Me, too.’ He smiled gently. ‘What’s the stain on your dress?’

I looked down at the still-blotchy mark. ‘That’s coffee. My nephew spilt coffee on me.’

‘Sounds interesting.’

‘It was awful,’ I said. ‘So, what brings you to a small town like this?’

‘Well, it’s a long story,’ he started. ‘But, basically, it’s about a girl.’

‘Oh, one of them,’ I played, feeling a lump tickle at my throat. ‘I get it.’

‘I knew her a long time ago, and I think I ruined something precious.’