#melbournewriter

You touched me

and I couldn’t tell

if it was that kind of touch

or just

girls being girls.

You spoke to me

differently

and I don’t know

if that was just you

or if I’m scared

of believing

I was lucky enough to be asked by small fires to write a story for their campfire stories collection <3 

Available to read online in English and Ukrainian, and a limited print edition is available to buy- 

https://www.smallfires.com.au/collections/mini-stories/products/campfire-stories-very-blue?variant=42610624331966

By Rose Grahame

“How much longer are you going to be?”      Lizi hooked an earring into place and reached out for the bottle of perfume that sat on the bathroom windowsill.

     “Just give me five more minutes,” she called out.

     She smeared some toothpaste onto her brush and, jamming it into her mouth, bustled around the bedroom looking for her favourite black ankle boots, her hand manoeuvring the bristles around her mouth automatically.

     “I’m pretty sure five minutes was up seven minutes ago.”

     She responded with incoherent babbling, white spittle shooting out from between her lips.

     “I’ve finished my third beer! If you’re not out in two minutes then I’ll open another one. And it will be your own fault if I’m drunk before we even get to dinner.”

     Spitting into the sink, she ran the head of the toothbrush under the tap before squeezing her own head beneath it and letting the water slip into her open mouth. With her cheeks full and puffy, she tossed her toothbrush into her bag before sliding her forearm across the windowsill, scooping her moisturiser, a half finished tube of eye cream, her favourite nail polish in ‘Ladylike’ shade, rogue lipsticks – that she purchased but never wore – and the perfume that she’d just sprayed into its waiting, eager mouth.

     “Okay, I’m ready.”

     She moved her way through the familiar room and down the long hallway, flicking off light switches as she passed, plunging the area behind her into darkness, one section at a time. Oliver was sitting on the couch with a coffee coloured beer in one hand and a bottle opener in the other, poised just above the bronze cap. A grin spread across his face; easy and cheeky.

     “Right on time,” he said.

     “Always.”

     Oliver got up and took his beer back to the kitchen.

     “Have you fed Bob?” she asked.

     Oliver appeared back in the doorway, “Nope.”

     She rolled her eyes and his smile stretched even broader. He disappeared back into the kitchen and the clanging of dry kibble being dumped into a metal bowl drifted out to her as she stood by the front door, rummaging around in her too-large and too-cluttered handbag.

     At the tell-tale sound of food, Bob’s shiny, wet nose appeared from under the couch.

     “C’mon, Bob! Time for noms!”

     Bob, the silky haired Golden Retriever, dragged himself out, scooting along on his belly until the base of his tale was clear and he could stand up. Stretched to his full height, he shook – his name and council registration tags clinking together like pendants on a necklace – and padded across to his bowl, one leg sliding out from beneath him in clumsy excitement. Oliver gave the top of his head a casual pat and headed towards the door.

     “We ready to go?” he asked.

     Finally fishing her keys out of the bottom of her bag, she nodded and dumped them on the small table by the door. She wouldn’t be needing them. She nodded at him and Oliver pulled the door open to step out in front of her. Chivalry was a long forgotten memory when you had been in a relationship that spanned for as long as theirs had. She crossed the threshold into the corridor and, as she reached back to pull the door closed behind her, she felt it…a wet dab on the back of her knee. Bob gazed up at her. His eyes were eager and crumbs of chewed kibble clung to the short whiskers on his muzzle. Before Lizi could say anything, Bob sat in the doorway, neatly tucking his bottom under and curling his tail around his thigh. The wisps of his feathery tail fanned out on the carpet. Lizi knelt down in front of him and cupped the dogs sweet face between her hands, feeling the trusting weight behind it in her palms.

     “You be a good boy,” she said, planting a kiss on her favourite spot between Bob’s ears. “No barking.” Kiss. “No chewing the table legs.” Kiss. “And no humping the cushions on the couch.” Kiss

     Bob sighed as though his plans for his evening alone had been destroyed entirely. Bob stretched out his neck and gave Lizi’s cheek a lap.

     “Bye, sweetie.” She kissed him again before standing up and slowly pulling the door closed, edging it closer to Bob until he backed away, his gentle features looking defeated.

     “Say ‘goodbye’ to daddy,” she said, right before Bob disappeared from view.

     “Goodbye to daddy,” Oliver responded.

     Click.

     Lizi rolled her eyes. He smiled, catching her neck in the crook of his elbow and drawing her into his chest. He buried his lips into her hair.