Heat

Shopping trolleys, hugs and Christmas trees

WE do battle with the angry hordes – although they seem to be keeping away in droves at the moment and for that I am eternally thankful. I’m also thankful that I have a list and that I have Tom with me.

I’m still a bit weapy and I’m glad I’m not shopping at home in the village– everyone knows me there and would ask me why I look like a red balloon on Christmas Eve.

Instead Tweed offers me a bit of anonymity. Tom has glasses on and is looking scruffy and I defy anyone to pick him for a movie star. He still looks handsome and has a kind of aura about him but he looks nothing like his “on-screen persona”.

Plus I’m not sure anyone would be expecting him to be hanging out in the produce section at Woolies in Tweed Heads South, Australia the day before Christmas. It’s Bogan and Wrinkly central at the best of times but coming up to Christmas the flannelette and thong set are out in force.  And yet neither of us look too far out of place (not sure what that says about either of us).

He is man in charge of the trolley while I throw things in from all over the place. It should probably be the other way around, he drives the trolley like a maniac and I can’t reach things on the top shelf.  I periodically stop to check my phone but there are no messages yet. Waiting is driving me crazy but it’s the only thing we can do – Tom keeps me busy trying to find him.  He wanders off with the trolley and I have to track him down – he needs a tracking device so I can keep up with him.

Working together we get through the shopping quickly and Tom insists, as we don’t have anything too perishable, that we go for a coffee – though I feel more like a double Scotch.

 So we put the groceries away and then head to the nearest coffee shop. We could go somewhere else but the car is in the cool where it is and the centre is air-conditioned. The crowds are starting to team in now like lemmings to a cliff but the coffee shops seem to be fairly abandoned – nobody seems to have time to stop and smell the beans roasting.

 I’m not a coffee girl usually but it feels right so we sit with our latte’s and a Panini and he tells me about his family and his parents.

His dad is battling cancer but is, thankfully, in remission and he’s off travelling the world and sucking the marrow out of life, leaving Tom and his siblings free to do other things and visit other relatives.

He tells me of the stress of last Christmas – thinking it would be his last with his dad. I feel sorry that he has now been squarely parachuted into our drama. For a moment I wish Scott had known – he’d never have brought him but then well he’d never have brought him. It feels nice having someone to share this with.  And it’s nice to immerse myself in someone else’s problems for a while.

I apologise to him for the drama and he jokes.

“Ah Megan it’s not Christmas without a drama and I’m happy I could be here with you, for you” he says and he takes my hand across the table.

“I kind of had no-one when my dad was sick – my sisters are both married but I’m married to my work. It was the first time I’d ever felt like I was really missing something. I haven’t really talked about it before to be honest. It’s so tough.........

I squeeze his hand and he smiles gently at me.

“Facing the thought of losing a parent,?” I say and he nods.

“I’m closer to my mum but he’s my dad – things don’t happen to your dad, dad’s are invincible,” he says slowly and it’s my turn to nod.

“You don’t expect them to tell you they’re going to die – that happens to other people’s parents.”

“He’s always been my rock,” I say quietly. “The one person in the world that gets me!