Page 6 of Blackout

In the twenty-five years that was my life, I had never done anything like this before. Taken off without telling anyone what I was doing or where I was going. But something had to give. I couldn’t keep living out Groundhog Day for another five years. I could no longer hide behind my crazy working hours to cover up my inability to interact with the outside world. I needed a change.

My jeans and singlet hung over the chair in front of me. They smelled of last night: smoke and alcohol. Unfortunately, they were all I had for now. My boots and socks were tucked under the chair. In my haste to get out of Melbourne, I’d dismissed meeting my sister and her challenge to have me sing. Instead, I’d thrown an overnight bag together, got in my car, chose a playlist and headed north for a chance to change my life. Three hours later after the sun had gone down, I’d driven across the border into New South Wales to Mulwala, where I’d pulled into Black’s Bar and Grill, which had shown a vacancy sign for The Diamond Hotel.

My overnight bag that held my change of clothes and toiletries was in my car, so I could go get it. But what I really wanted was to wash off some of last night’s grunge. Grabbing my clothes, boots and phone, I headed to the bathroom for a shower.

Over the past five years, phone – once I’d worked through the fanciness of it all – had become my little obsession. My phone broke up the monotony of my life. I had started to crash less on the lounge in the office above the bakery factory, deciding that with the upgrade in technology I’d installed I could take paperwork home with me and pass out on the lounge at my house instead.

I had even found a couple of apps to install, one that let me listen to music and another I could download music from and keep on my phone. I’d built a collection of old and new favourites over the last five years and slowly rekindled my love for music. This love had been passed down to me by my father but had been taken away when my grandparents became my temporary guardians.

I now had an eclectic library of music from current songs to ones that were older than my twenty-five years across all the genres of music. I fell asleep most nights with one of my chosen playlists on repeat. I just hadn’t quite found my voice to sing along out loud with the lyrics, but as I usually took advantage of my playlists to lull myself to sleep, I hadn’t allowed myself much time to burst into song.

I scrolled through my phone for a playlist I wanted to listen to and hit play. The music started, and I found myself quietly singing along as I stood in front of the mirror. My voice was rough as one song led to the next, not properly warmed up as I hadn’t sung more than one song in a row since the night everything changed.

I looked at my reflection and thought, Fuck, what a mess! You look like shit. My hair stuck out on its ends, my foundation had rubbed off, and my mascara and black eyeliner were in places they should never be. It was time I left last night behind me. I stood under the shower and let the water run over me from top to toe and rinse me clean.

I’d chosen my country playlist, and there were fifty of my favourite songs altogether. Music filled the bathroom, and I sang along to every song I’d collated. I used all the body cleansing samples this hotel had to offer to feel refreshed. I even found a toothbrush and toothpaste to scrub the fur from my feral teeth. I scrubbed my face in the hope that most of my makeup would come off and washed my hair more than once in the hope that would rid the smell from it. Lathering myself a couple of times with soap from the dispenser, I hoped that I would smell better than I did a few minutes ago.

Although nothing would make me feel like a princess more than fresh clothes and my own beauty products, for now I made do with what the hotel had to offer. As one song ended and another begun, my vocal cords loosened, and it felt good to get lost in the music I was singing. I belted out the words and my vocals echoed around me. I turned off the water, grabbed the towel and then got back into the only clothes I had.

‘You’re okay, you can do this,’ I told myself, and as I turned to leave the bathroom, I realised I wasn’t alone.

‘Wow,’ I heard as I walked out of the bathroom and into the view of the bartender, who looked a little surprised. That stopped me in my tracks as these were last night’s clothes, and I had a towel around my head. This definitely wasn’t my best look. I felt so far from my best that I almost felt ashamed, so maybe the wow was meant for my voice.

‘You don’t have to stop because of me.’ He’d enjoyed what he’d just heard a little too much, so I reached over for my phone to turn off the music.

‘I didn’t hear you come in.’ I could feel my cheeks blush and knew I must be red in the face. I was so embarrassed that this man had seen it all. First, I’d passed out, then vomited, and now he’d heard me sing. It had been a long time since anyone had heard my voice this intimately, where the words flowed freely from inside me and I didn’t have to think about anything other than the music and lyrics. My voice never sounded like this when I sang karaoke.

‘How do you feel?’

I was relieved he had changed the subject.

‘Better.’ I unwrapped the towel from my hair, squeezing it one more time over the dripping ends, then hung it up over the shower. Nothing would tame my unmanageable champagne-coloured mane without leave-in conditioner; it would go unruly curly now unless I wrapped it up in a bun. I was about to tie it back when the smell of food filled the space around me, so I left my hair down.

‘I brought you food and drink. You must be hungry after last night, so I had the kitchen make you up something. Perks of the job,’ he told me, as though he had the best job in the world.

‘Great, thank you.’ I moved closer to the table to look down at what he’d brought in. ‘You really know the way to a woman’s heart.’

He smiled at me and took a seat on the lounge, mobile phone in hand.

‘This is good. Coffee and pancakes with jam, whipped cream and ice cream. What more could a woman ask for?’ I devoured the pancakes and savoured the rich coffee.

My favourite. Pancakes. I looked over at him, but his eyes were glued to his phone. I could almost kiss you right now, I thought to myself, but there was something in the way he looked that made me hesitate. So I didn’t stand up, walk over and kiss his lips. And how would he even react if I did? I stayed in my seat and all that I could make come out of my mouth was, ‘Thanks.’

‘You’re welcome,’ he replied, but he didn’t look up this time. The beeps from his phone were the only sound in the room.

‘What made you want to save this damsel in distress?’ I asked once the pancakes were gone. My eyes didn’t stray from my coffee cup; I was too shy to ask such a question and still meet his eyes.

‘What made you want to pass out in a bar?’ he asked in return.

There was a brief silence before I met his eyes, then I said. ‘I asked you first.’

‘Okay.’ A grin toyed at the corners of his mouth, before full, upturned lips filled his handsome face. ‘But you have to come a little closer if you want me to tell you.’ He patted the lounge, so with my coffee in hand, I walked over to sit beside him.

He watched me get comfortable before he said, ‘You were lucky we were having a quiet night last night and no one harassed you. It’s not very often this bar has a problem with drinks being spiked, but it has happened. When you hadn’t puked all over the bar, I brought you here.’ He motioned with his head to the hotel room. ‘If I hadn’t brought you here, then you would be in the hospital.’

His eyes searched mine, like he knew something. But before I could ask what that was, he said, ‘There’s something about you that I can’t put my finger on, but it’s telling me that I shouldn’t let you go just yet.’

Did he just admit he was attracted to the mess that I appeared to be? The thought made my breath hitch and my head spin a little bit.

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