The End is the Beginning

 

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Chapter 1

 

Bourbon and Sanskrit

 

 

                   “I refuse to speak ill or the dead,” said Gia Collier as she adjusted herself more carefully this time in the faux leather chair.  The exposed skin on the back of her thighs made a funny farting noise each time she moved.  The sound was embarrassing.  It made Sophie giggle.  Still clutching the remnants of a glass of getting warmer bourbon and coke wasn’t helping her poise right now either.

                    “Oh come on.  Her hatred for you was legendary.  Just a little something?  What about that time she gave you Reece’s favourite recipes in a binder and asked you to pay for photocopying?  That’s priceless,” said Sophie Randall, sitting cross-legged on the floor beside her.

                   Gia raised her eyebrows, turned to look at her life long best friend and smiled a slow, cheeky smile.

                        “Okay.  You’re right.  She was a complete cow and she despised me from day one.  But if it hadn’t been for her Soph, we wouldn’t even be here.”  Here was a tattoo parlour in a back street of Seminyak, Bali, Indonesia. 

It was surprising really; choosing something that would stay on her body forever took a ridiculously short amount of time. Brahma Vihar – Sanskrit for 'Dwelling in Absolute Reality.' She could surely use some of that in her life. If she lived in her absolute reality, the one she really wanted, wouldn't that be something? A life of art, lost in creativity, a loving husband, more children? How she yearned for a different life. Would Gia's version of 'absolute reality' start here in this foreign place? Long term? She doubted it. For one week? Yes.  For this week, everything was possible.  Gia raised her glass for a toast, careful not to disturb the artist at work on her other arm.

                   “To my loaded mother-in-law who hated my guts.  May she rest in peace for ever.”

            "Cheers, cheers and cheers a thousandfold to that," Sophie replied, raising her glass to Gia's.

                   The ceaseless buzzing of several pens driving ink into an array of others body parts didn’t dampen Gia’s enthusiasm for her current stupidity.  Stern, finger-waving thoughts of the permanence of what she was doing tried a variety of ways to claw their way through the alcohol and her dogged determination.  She batted them away each time.  Sometimes she swiped them away with a sip of her drink, other times with an offered observation about their where-a-bouts, but the best one was when she forced herself to watch the ink go into her arm.  She had to use that technique sparingly.  She didn’t want to be sick as well as stupidly drunk.

                   “Maybe it’s a bit like childbirth Gigi,” said Sophie getting up off the floor as the artist gave Gia’s fresh body art one last gentle wipe with an alcohol infused disposable swab.  He then covered it with a large section of sticky gauze.

                   “Thanks for your input Soph, but you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”  Gia moved off the chair making that farting noise one last time, which of course made Sophie giggle again.

                   “You know…you forget the pain and all that,” Sophie offered.

                   “Bugger off Soph,” replied Gia, shaking her head, smiling.  “It’s not like childbirth at all.”

                        The two women weaved their way back to Ku De Tah where the tattoo stupidity had begun.   

"This is some bust out you know," Sophie shouted, almost losing the hold she had on Gia's arm as yet another tourist banged into them coming from the opposite direction. She stopped Gia then and faced her in the street.   Sophie traced her finger gently over the gauze covering the tattoo and in a moment of startling lucidity, she leaned in closer and spoke loudly in Gia’s ear, “What’s Reece going to say when he sees that?”

Gia didn’t miss a beat.  Alcohol fuelled her bravado and she knew it.  “A bit late for all that now.” 

Gia pulled Sophie behind her as they headed back through the crowd. A tattoo most certainly didn't fit with her husband Reece's carefully preserved image of what a lawyer’s wife should be. Neither did Bali. Bourbon? No chance. Freedom-seeking? Nope.  No way. Sophie was right, thought Gia, it is a bust out. Less than 24 hours away from her husband’s gaze and she was someone else entirely. 

Gia yanked Sophie's hand again as she boldly stepped in front of slow moving cars to cross the street. No point in waiting politely for a break that would never come. There were few traffic lights here and not a lot of roadway for motorists. Cars and hundreds of scooters whizzed lazily past like honey drunk bees heading back to some nirvana hive. 

And the smell! Pungent and exotic.  It had hit her the moment she stepped off the plane. A mix of charred incense and overripe fruit in heat that blasted every millimetre of her skin the moment she took her first step down the stairs to the tarmac.  Music blared from stalls and shops and bars, people were laughing and cheering occasionally, horns ceaselessly beeped: but not in anger. Road rage didn't exist in Bali. Not for the Balinese anyway. It was just a polite way for drivers to say, 'watch out, I'm here’, or 'coming through', or 'please be careful, I don't want to run you over (dumb Aussie)’. They talked to each other with horns a lot.   

The Balinese – so humble and grateful for tourists and their blessed dollars, ceaselessly trying to entice, sometimes pleading to buy, buy, buy their wares, and some with no wares begged openly on the street with low-slung babies that should have been tucked into bed hours before. They were poor and yet their smiles were genuine, kind and beautiful.

In the past when she spotted new or multiple body art, Gia asked if it hurt. The answers were 'no', or, 'just a bit’. Well, they lied. It hurt. It hurt like hell. It stung and burned as the ink drove into her skin through tiny needles she prayed were clean and free of hepatitis c or a or b or whatever letter of the alphabet applied. Seminyak Ink looked tidy enough, so maybe her 'Brahma Vihar' would give her hepatitis-free-absolute-reality. That would be nice. 

The finally arrived back at the bar.  The crowd at Ku De Tah had swelled significantly Getting to the bar was almost as tricky as crossing the street. Both women were determined however, to stay up late, drink too much and have fun like they did before husbands and kids came along. Tonight was their night.    

With her new tattoo burning its way through her skin, Gia began to feel more confident and the bourbon was definitely helping her lose her inhibitions. She danced wildly on a table. The group they were with cheered as she bowed at the end of the song.  She laughed and bowed again then glanced around to find Sophie. It wasn't too hard. Gia knew that laugh anywhere. Gia brought her hand towards her mouth pretending to hold a drink, asking with body language if Sophie was ready for another. Sophie nodded most emphatically. She weaved her way to the bar.

"You came back? I'm so glad," said a smiling man about her age, leaning against the bar. 

"Of course we did," replied Gia. "Wanna see it?" She lifted her hand to peel the gauze back.

"Let me," he said with a voice as gentle and soothing as his hands were on her arm. She flinched slightly.  Despite his gentle hands, she wanted to tug her arm straight out of his. 

"Great chin," she offered instead.

"What?" he said, stopping the peel back for a second to look at her, smiling. 

"You have a great chin. I notice these things. You could be a chin model. Now that's a job title. What's your name?"

"Great tattoo. I like it. My name is Christopher. Pleased to meet you. And you are?" He took his eyes off hers as he smoothed the gauze back. 

"Well, Christopher the chin model, I really need another drink."

"I'll get you one."

"No, thank you. I'm suddenly independently wealthy. I insist on getting my own. Is smiling a part of your chin workout? Is that how it stays sooo...so...great-chin-like? Do you smile all the time?"

"No," he said, trying to cover his mouth to stop smiling which made them both laugh.  "Sometimes I actually frown." He tryed to look stern which made them both laugh. 

"I'm Gia. I'm not a chin model. I'm a sculptor. I could sculpt that chin but I don't think anyone would believe it was real. What do you actually do for work anyway...aside from chin modelling?"

"A bit of this and that. Mostly entertainment industry work. Pretty boring actually. Hey," he said, touching her arm as she moved closer to the bar. "You're lovely, just beautiful." He dropped his arm. "Will you be table dancing later? That was fun to watch."

"Thank you for the compliment on my dancing and my beauty. Can't say what might happen tonight. Table dancing seems to be working for me though."

Gia paid for her drinks and turned to seek out Sophie.  She was extremely careful walking and holding a drink in each hand with her handbag tucked under her non-tattooed arm. She felt the handbag slip and moved her arm awkwardly to catch it. It fell to the floor anyway. Gia placed both drinks on a table and reached for her bag. She carefully steeled her way through the crowd while focusing hard on the drinks in her hands, once more making sure the liquid stayed in each glass.  She felt the bag slip again. "This is nuts," she muttered. She pulled her arms in tightly to stop the bag from falling, and was looking down at the bag when she walked straight into someone, spilling the entire contents of both drinks down a shirt.

"Oh shit.  I'm so incredibly sorry," she said as her gaze rose from the chest pressed her body to the face that belonged to the shirt. "Oh it's you! Chin Model! Christopher! I'm so so sorry," she said.

"It's fine. Don't worry," he said, smiling and shaking his head as he took the now empty glasses out of her hands and retrieved her bag, which she had forgotten on the floor. With hands that moved way too fast, she tried to scrape away the bourbon and coke from his shirt.  He took both of her hands in his. He pressed them close to his chest standing right in front of her. And then he kissed her. A long, slow, sweet kiss that took her breath away.  Oh no, she thought, his kiss is the same as his touch.  Gentle and unfathomably sweet, like walking through a cloud.

"Oh," was all she could say when they pulled away. "What was that?" Her head was spinning and it was not because of the alcohol. He was utterly gorgeous. An utterly gorgeous man just kissed her and it felt like the most natural thing in the world. She shook her head. 

"Gia...please. Remorse makes you sexy as hell...I couldn't help myself. I'm sorry. It won’t happen again unless you ask me to."

"Let me buy you a drink, chin man. Please? I don't suppose you have another shirt anywhere?"

 "Nope. I'll be fine. It's warm. It'll dry."

What a night. What a place. Just getting on the plane was momentous for Gia. A couple of days of raging with Reece about going didn't stop her. She had her own money for the first time in years, thanks to her –do-the-right-thing mother-in law, God bless her soul, and a willing accomplice in Sophie. Bali. Beautiful, exotic Bali. For years she yearned to come here. It was beyond exciting that she finally made it. She hoped this place would change her. The stinging tattoo was only an inkling of what might follow. To dwell in absolute reality. That sounded so good. It would help her immeasurably to know what the hell her absolute reality was. Perhaps here she could find it. Was being kissed by a stranger with a great smile and ridiculously chiselled chin part of that too? She had no idea. Tonight it didn't matter.

 

 

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Chapter 2

 

What Did I Do Last Night?

                A sneaky little shard of light peeked through one ever so slightly drooping slat in the wall of wooden blinds across the room that was supposed to keep the morning at bay. It found Gia's eyes and lasered, red hot right through them, like two smooth coals rolling behind her eyelids. That light, that tiny bit of blazing Bali sunshine wanted to remind her of what she did the night before. Gia wanted no part of it. To hell with dwelling in absolute reality: that could wait for some other time. She carelessly opened her eyes fully to that annoying shard of light; it hurt so she rolled over. That wasn't proving to be a good idea either. Accidentally placing body weight onto her fresh wound – her tattooed arm – hurt too. Now she was fully awake.  Did she…really…do that…kissing thing?  No, surely not. She lay on her back and lightly grazed her lips with her thumb. 

She quietly wriggled further down in the bed, taking her pillow with her to get away from the slit of sunlight. She was also trying not to wake up Sophie, who was sprawled on the other side of her king size bed. 

                        It was a fact. She was a living cliché. ‘Drunk, stupid Australian tourist in Bali chasing some pathetic youthful dream gets a ridiculous tattoo’. Granted the cliché usually involved eighteen-year-old male footballers or twenty-somethings on a bender. That thought made her smile. She was right up there with Angelina Jolie now, scribbling nonsensical words on her arm. It had to be Sanskrit, didn't it? How long would Sanskrit tattoos be cool anyway? She shook her head and rolled her eyes. She was a thirty-seven-year-old wife/mother/frustrated sculptor from Kingaroy in Queensland, Australia. She was not cool. It didn't matter how long Sanskrit words etched forever on her skin would be in vogue.

Sophie was gently snoring, splayed on her back, and still dressed in last night's cool summer dress, the strap on one arm digging a little into her upper arm. Sophie would feel that later, thought Gia. Aside from a hangover, that little bit of pain in the same spot as her tattoo, gave Gia a momentary feeling of solidarity. When Gia glanced down at herself, she noticed she too was still in her pretty dress, now crumpled. She was also sure she would look a bit raccoon-like this morning. Back home, make-up removal each night, when she had worn it during a day, was a ritual. Not here, she realised. Not last night. Not again? Who knew. Right now, she needed a shower. 

The tattoo parlour didn't give her a 'How to Care for Your New Tattoo (Idiot)' brochure so she had no idea of what to do with the gauze that was a bit grubby and tattered after last night's frequent reveals to her newfound drinking buddies. That probably should come off.  But what to do in the shower? Water? Soap? Disinfectant? Tetanus? She let the water gently flow over her wound. The rest of the shower was awkward as she cleaned up as best she could with her one good arm and got out quickly. A towel wrapped around her, she made her way to her suitcase, still not wanting to wake up Sophie.

    "Well...well...well, Gia Collier...or should I call you the 'artist formerly known as Stratton?'" teased Sophie as she adjusted the strap of her dress. She had managed to struggle to an upright position against pillows on the headboard. 

    "Oh God. That's right. I told them that last night didn't I? That is so 80s," said Gia.  Gia was an artist who was formerly known as Stratton – her maiden name. Prince becoming a symbol did them all a favour.   

    "And, Ms Stratton, or Mrs Collier or whoever the hell you are this fine Seminyak morning," Sophie continued, "congratulations. I had no idea you still had it in you."

Gia wished in this moment that the floor would open up and suck her deep into the earth so she didn't have to deal with where this was going. No such luck.

    "Okay, Soph, so what? A little table dancing and singing loudly never hurt anyone."  She knew full well Sophie was going to revel in the other thing Gia had done later in the night. It was coming. Gia could feel it. She got out something cool and comfortable to wear over her bikini and dressed with her back to Sophie.

    "You know full well that's not what I'm talking about," teased Sophie. "Christopher. Chris? Dutchy? I think you even called him 'Kris Kringle' at one point last night and what was that crap about his chin? He did look a bit Santa-like with that three-day-growth thing. Suits him. I saw you, Gia. Everyone did. You snogged Christopher Holland last night and I want every detail. Leave absolutely nothing out."

    "You're making this into something much more that it was, Soph. Really," replied Gia. "There's nothing to tell.  I...just...accidentally bumped into him and our drinks ended up on his shirt."   

    Images of his shirt – his chest, that bloody chin, those arms, that smile, those blue eyes, that face, that body – flooded her mind. She remembered all right, and her face burned. It was ridiculous that a woman of her age could still blush. She hated that. 

    "Anyway, he accidentally kissed me. A kiss...accidentally...nothing more than that."

    "Look, my blushing little flower, I know there's more to it," said Sophie. "You disappeared for a while. Did you seriously have sex with him?"

    "Don't be ridiculous! No! We just went for a walk along the beach. And that's all there is to it. Now get up! Let's get some brekky. I'm starving and I want to find a doctor. I need a medical professional to give me some advice about what to do with this tattoo. And by the way...sleep in your own bed from now on, okay?"

    "Yeah, yeah, yeah," replied Sophie as she eased herself out of the bed and ambled towards her room. 

    "It’s okay, Gia. Really. Look..." she said as she turned around to face her best friend.  Gia smiled. It was hard for her to take Sophie seriously with her hair all messed up like that in her lopsided dress. Was it really tucked into her undies? How on earth did that happen?

    "A bourbon-drinking, loud, gorgeous, charming actor hardly compares to an uptight, control freak, super tidy lawyer with a broom up his arse, now does it?" Sophie smiled her most dazzling smile and turned around again. 

    Actor? Christopher was an actor? Oh my God. That's why those people kept coming up to him the way they did, taking photos and pumping his hand. Gia thought he was just a nice guy, popular with locals and tourists for being so much fun. She thought she had seen him before somewhere, and now she knew why. He wasn't just an actor, he was a very famous one and she snogged that very famous actor last night. Her face burned again. He must have thought she was a groupie enamoured by his fame, like a boring brown moth stunned and intoxicated by his bright light, then singed and fried to a crisp by a light bulb instead of the moon. She wasn't...at all. 

    Oh God, this Bali thing was ridiculous. She was ridiculous. She was a pathetic thirty-seven-year-old married woman with an oozing tattoo and a head filled with stupid memories of a spectacular, albeit drunken, kiss and a gentle walk on the beach with a charming, good looking man...who was a famous actor! If she could run away now, she would. She realised that was how she ended up in Bali in the first place. It was true - you can't run anywhere because you only take your sorry arse with you when you do. Dwelling in today's version of her absolute reality was excruciating.

    Fortunately she didn't think she would be bumping into Christopher Holland again.  Seminyak was a big, busy place and he had no way of contacting her. Or did he? She couldn't remember telling him the name of the place she was staying and she certainly didn't give him her number. 

    With years of hurriedly getting ready for fear the kids would burn the house down in her absence, Sophie was ready in no time. They locked the door to their villa and strolled towards the foyer, passing hotel cleaning staff picking up fallen frangipanis and leaves along the path. The sun was beating down. Gia was already covered in a light film of sweat.  She loved the feeling of the warmth of it on her skin. Despite her hangover, she felt pretty good. They glanced in both directions. Having dumped their bags the afternoon before, thoughts of bars and bourbon on their minds, they realised today it might be a good idea to get their bearings. With no idea of where to go, Gia suggested heading to the left. 

    "Mrs Collier. Mrs Collier. Please, thank you, Ma'am," said Kadek, the porter.  "Thank you, Mrs.  Please... to here with me?" he asked her. 

    Gia looked quizzically at Sophie, smiled politely and nodded yes to Kadek following him back inside. She didn't think things could get more stupid, but somehow they did. With a beaming smile, Kadek came back from around the reception desk with the most profuse, oversized arrangement of flowers she had ever seen. Ducking out from behind it, Kadek smiled hard and offered them to Gia. Sophie didn't even bother to hide her reaction. 

    "The look on your face, Gigi," Sophie said barely breathing between bouts of laughter released while doubling over. 

    There was no way she could carry the flowers anywhere, let alone back to her room. They were massive. Kadek very kindly offered to take them to her villa for her, to which she mumbled a thank you.

    "Wait, Kadek," said Sophie struggling for composure. "Was there a card? There simply has to be a card."

    A cheery Kadek stood holding the floral arrangement before them like some prized offering, his face just inches away from being consumed by it. Sophie and Gia approached him: Gia slowly, Sophie with great enthusiasm. The three looked for the card. Kadek found it, but obviously couldn't point to it with his hands full. It was just under his nose.  Sophie plucked out the card, thanked Kadek and took off towards the front of the hotel, laughing loudly as she went.

        "You open that and I will surely kill you, Sophie Randle," shouted Gia, laughing now too as she ran after her friend. Sophie was too hung over to make it very far down the street.  She handed the card to Gia who looked left and right before she opened it. She didn't know why. Reece was a long way away.

"Oh my God," said Gia. "No way." She handed the card to Sophie.

'Some kiss last night, Ms Collier. God really is gracious. My driver will pick up you at 11.'

    "God is gracious? You told him what your name meant? What were you thinking? That's really embarrassing. God, what else did you talk about last night?" asked Sophie, revelling in Gia's acute discomfort, laughing at her again.

        "I have no idea and I'm not going to find out either," replied Gia tucking the card into her handbag. "Food, doctor, sleep, beach. That's my day." In that moment she meant it too, but what to do about Christopher Holland? She scrawled a note. 

    'I've given you the wrong impression. I'm not available. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have kissed you. That was wrong of me. Thank you for the flowers. They're beautiful. Gia.'

    She handed the note to Kadek, hoping he understood her when she asked him to give it to Christopher's driver when he came for her. She walked slowly down the street with Sophie, ready to explore cafés first and foremost, markets, shops and a medical centre. Not necessarily in that order.

    If she had been single and free would she have said yes? Would she be excited right now as she got ready to meet him? Would she know instantly what to wear or would she try on multiple outfits hoping for the right one? Would she have fun thinking about him, his kiss, his gorgeous face or beautiful body, wondering if this could be a sexy holiday romance or the beginning of a wonderful relationship? It wasn't worth contemplating. She wasn't free. She would never be free. There was no point in thinking about it.

 

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