The Waitress

Bubble O'love

When do you tell someone you love them?

Was it when you first arrived?

Because he hadn't.

Was it while you washed up and clowned around with the soap suds after the most delicious warming home-made stew that you'd had in years?

Because that was a missed opportunity too.

Or was it the moment her aunt left and you were alone in the house together?

The truth was, Tom wasn't sure. And he didn't want to fuck things up. He'd done too much of that recently and he couldn't do it this time. He had rushed here to be with her but now the self-doubt was back and this was too important to get wrong. Yeah sure the other events had seemed important at the time but life had taught him that they weren't, life had taught him that he put too much emphasis on the wrong parts of his life.

But still......

That didn't help now.

He wondered if he should tell her at all? She was going to need someone at her side when and if it was revealed that the gang of three had located (and probably by now) talked to her mother. But she had that whether he professed his undying love for her or not. No matter what, no matter where she was, Mels had a friend, a best friend, he knew that.

But did he tell her that he saw her as more? Much more?

She didn't live here. And he didn't live there in Australia and he didn't want to tear her apart, didn't want to drag her away from Australia, the Gold Coast, Tweed just for him. Did want to make her choose. Part of him wasn't sure she actually choose him and part of him was terrified she would.

He wondered what her mother would do? Maybe Mels would want to stay for her? To build a relationship? But what if she didn't want Mels? Then this country would be a painful reminder and it wouldn't be fair to trap her here just for him.

His mind was swimming with thoughts and he was no closer to a solution. No closer at all. And he felt himself start to spiral, he felt the anxiety rise. He felt his control lessen.

"Penny for them?" a soft voice said somewhere out in the ether, soft fingers touch the hand that held the mulled wine Morag had made to accompany her food and Tom pulled himself slowly out of his head, away from the shadowland of that he was heading to and back to the here and now. Here and now was a good thing, here and now might be all they get, he had to live in this moment, not in his head or it might just pass him by.

They were sitting on the big, fat overstuffed lounge in her room in sweats and t-shirts or trackie dacks and tees in Mel's language. They had their socked feet up on the small coffee table in front of them, mulled wine in their hands, a quilt made by Mels and Morag in the distant past on their laps and Game of Thrones on the TV in front of them.

They chilling out.

Relaxed.

When he let himself go and just lived in the moment with her, he was more relaxed than he'd been in forever. Maybe since the last time, they sat together and just were -back at Taika's place at Hope Island. She had a way of bringing him peace even in the midst of chaos and internal indecision.

"What am I thinking?" he said trying to give her the truth but not the whole truth.

"Just how nice it is to be here with you, away from the world and all the crap that comes with it," he answered taking a sip of wine. The spicey flavour tickled his taste buds and filled his olfactory system with warmth and comfort, as much as the blanket over his knees and the woman sitting next to him. The wine embodied all the tastes of the season. It was Christmas in a glass – the clementines, the cinnamon and cloves took him back to a hundred family Christmases (well 36). It made him warm and even more, content, settling his inner "should I, shouldn't I" conundrum for just a while.