Page 41 of The Longest Speed Date

What was I doing? This wasn’t a relationship.

Was it?

No, of course not. It was a friendship. Abit of fun.He’s drunk. He won’t even remember in the morning.

Why the hell do I feel sad? I pushed the question from my mind, discarded my noodles in a bin and returned to Bessie, restless.

The next day after eleven,my phone buzzed with a rapid flood of texts.

Jet: oh man. I feel like shit

Jet: I noticed I called you last night. fuck, did I say anything embarrassing?

Jet: got texts here from Tom saying I made a fool of myself

Jet: We’ve been called in for a fire, looks bad.

Me: oh hey birthday boy

Jet: haha yeah.

Jet: I’m sorry I didn’t tell you

Jet: don’t do birthdays. Don’t want anyone to feel obligated to do anything

Me: too late. I’ve already been to the post office and sent your present

Jet: I remember something strange about you sending me the ocean?

Me: yes! Remember anything else?

Jet: Also have a hazy memory of apologising to your boobs *facepalm emoji*

Me: LOL you did

Me: my boobs accepted the apology

Jet: what else did I do?

I paused. I wanted to tell him what he’d said about his feelings for me and calling me his girlfriend, but I wasn’t sure what kind of reaction I wanted. Laugh it off or own up to it?

It felt like I was holding onto a secret that everyone but Jet knew. Was he faking his memory loss? Did he really remember what he had said?

Me:you were having a very good time. Promise me you’ll stay safe with the fire

Dots appeared and disappeared for over a minute: an eternity in texting time.

Jet:thank fuck

Jet:I’m sorry for anything I did, just in case you’re being polite

Me:hey I have to go. All good

I threw my phone on the coach seat beside me. We were about to arrive at Kakadu in less than an hour. As much as I love Bessie, it was a pleasure to be driven somewhere and pay for the luxury of dozing in my seat.

Three days of sightseeing, sleeping with air-conditioning and an inner-spring mattress, and an ensuite. A pre-Christmas treat for myself. Off the grid, me and nature, and a tour group of thirty other people, mostly retirees, with at least seven other languages spoken.

Was I a coward for not telling him what he’d said?

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