STEPH
It’s been a week since Callum left. Justin and I still haven’t spoken. I avoid him at all costs. I need to look for a place to live, but I’m so exhausted lately. All I do is work and sleep. I picked up some sort of bug too, as I keep feeling sick. Mainly every time I look at Justin.Nothing new there then. He sleeps in the spare room, but we put a front on when the kids are around.
After reading Cairen a story, I curl up in bed. My book of Botticelli is in my bedside cabinet, and once settled under the duvet, I read.
At the beginning of the book, Cal’s scribed a note.
I read this, curious to know what you love about it.
Now I know.
Cal highlighted some things in the book and made notes about Venus.
Venus is the Roman goddess of love, beauty, sex, fertility, prosperity, and desire.
In Latin, the noun Venus means ‘sexual desire’.
Botticelli was in love with Simonetta Vespucci, who was already married to someone else. Simonetta was known as the greatest beauty of her time.
As a result, Botticelli never married.
According to his wish, Botticelli was buried at the feet of Simonetta Vespucci.
As I turn the page, a postcard falls out. An image of the painting Venus and Mars. On the back, Cal has written, ‘You are my Venus.’
Goosebumps coat my flesh, and tears prickle at the back of my throat. I hold the card close to my chest and close my eyes, imagining he’s with me now, holding me against his warm body.
I grab my phone from the nightstand and scroll for his number.
I strain my ear, listening for anyone outside the bedroom door, but if Justin hears me, so be it. Excitement ripples through me at the thought of talking to him. I should have called him before, but I thought, what’s the point in torturing ourselves? I have to hear his voice and tell him how much I love this gift.
The dial tone is flat. I cancel the call and try again, but nothing.
I Google the guidelines for calling Australia and try again adding the correct prefix, but all I get is a flat dial tone.
* * *
Parking at the Nook& Cranny for our usual catch up and coffee, I bounce out of the car, excited to spend some time with Claire. I haven’t seen her in like forever.
As I walk into our favourite jaunt, scanning the room, her hand waves me over to our usual window seat. Her hair glows under the basking of the sunlight pouring through and her skin radiates life. Unlike mine, I had to apply several layers of makeup this morning so I wouldn’t look half dead.
She stands as I approach and gives me a tight squeeze. “Happy Birthday.”
“It’s not my birthday yet,” I remind her, not wanting to turn another year older before I have to.
“Not long, a few more days,” she sings.
“Thanks for reminding me.”
“Here.” She thrusts a gift bag under my nose. “No peeking.”
“Thank you.” I can’t stop the smile from spreading across my face. Even if I don’t want to turn another year older, who doesn’t love a gift?
I slip into the comfy chair and the waiter comes over to take our usual order of cream scones and large cappuccinos.
Claire’s smile pushes her glowing cheeks up. “What have you been up to? It’s been so long. Did you have a good Easter? Greece wasn’t it?”
I sigh and lean back in my chair as I take in the scene out the window of two students holding hands, reminding me of Cal and I. “Not a lot. The holiday was okay. What about you? Are you still seeing what’s-his-face?”