Sarah and I had been friends since Grade Four. We spent heaps of time together, even after I went off to a different school, and often slept over at each other’s houses. We were close to each other’s parents. Hers were a bit old-fashioned and mine were “modern”. We called both sets “Mum and Dad” and were proud of our “traditional” and “trendy” parents. I loved doing the gardening and feeding the chooks with her Dad and helping make a traditional Sunday roast with her Mum when I visited there. They used to say when I was there that they had two kids — not just Sarah. It was great. And Sarah loved coming on trips to the “odd” places my Dad found and the outrageous fancy dress parties my Mum threw.
Our friendship lasted all through our teenage years; my parents’ divorce; our marriages and our own children; my divorce and then the death of her mother.
When Sarah’s mother died we were both devastated. The funeral was so sad. Sarah cried on the shoulder of her husband Darren but I felt so sad for her father, Michael, sitting there all alone. I went and sat next to him in the church and held his hand. Sarah thanked me after the funeral for looking out for her Dad. She had felt a little guilty that she was so caught up in her own grief but I told her not to worry, that it was natural and I was happy to help.
Her Dad lived close to me so I kept “an eye” on him. I would go over once a week for coffee or take him a meal and we would talk about when Sarah and I were young and Sarah’s Mum. Sarah was very happy with this as she lived a fair distance away. One day I decided that he had been cooped up in the house for too long and managed to convince him he had to get out. We had a bite in a nice cafĠ first and then saw a movie. I dropped him back to his place and he invited me in for coffee. When it was time for me to leave he kissed me innocently and thanked me for helping him. I was surprised when I realised I had other than “daughterly” feelings for him.
A few days later I received a phone call from him saying he realised I was right and he had to get out — he invited me on a picnic. My kids were with their Dad that weekend so we arranged to go on the picnic on Saturday. He picked me up and took me up to one of the national forests. It was a lovely secluded spot and he had thought of everything — a traditional basket packed with all sorts of treats, a rug on the ground and a great bottle of wine. We ate our fill and lay down on the rug sipping the wine. Gazing up at the sky I realised he was laying next to me on one elbow looking at me. I looked at him and he leaned over and gently kissed me, I returned his kiss with a passion. We made love for the first time there in the bush.
It was a little embarrassing after but we both decided we wanted to keep the relationship going at this level. However, we decided to keep it secret for fear of hurting Sarah. Things went on like this for a couple of years, it felt so clandestine but was great for us both — then I found out I was pregnant.
I told Michael, he was thrilled and asked me to marry him. He said we now would have to make our relationship known to the world — he was sure Sarah would be okay with it now that so much time had passed. His 65th birthday was coming up in six weeks so we decided that we would arrange a party and announce our love there. I told Sarah about the party but not the whole reason for it. We all had a great time planning for it, then tragedy struck.
A week before the party Michael was diagnosed with a huge aneurysm in his aorta. The doctor said it was lucky it was found when it was and arranged immediate surgery. We cancelled the party and decided we would quietly break the news of our marriage and baby to Sarah after the worry of the surgery was over. It wasn’t to be. Michael died in surgery from complications. Sarah and I were devastated.
We held each other in the special room where the doctor had told us of Michael’s death. Sarah talked about what a wonderful person her Dad was, how he was so kind and how he would now be happy in heaven with her Mum. I just could not bring myself to tell her that he had found a new love in me.
My pregnancy eventually showed and I told people that it was from a silly one-night stand. They could not understand why I chose to keep the baby. Eventually our son was born; I called him Michael. I told Sarah it was in honour of her father. Little Michael is now five and Sarah and I are still friends. She laughs that my Michael must be her Dad reincarnated because he looks like her Dad — little does she know the real reason for this.
Picture posed by models.
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