It was on the final day of the conference that I drank too much with my 'conference friend', Liesel. We were both aged in our forties, with careers in workplace health and safety, and we'd found ourselves at a three day event in a tiny beach town in North Queensland partially out of a desire to increase our professional knowledge, and largely out of a desire to get away from Brisbane. We'd quickly identified each other as a companion for the week and had attended sessions, shared notes, and eaten together.
We were both unmarried. Childless. Liesel had a cat which her mother cared for when she wasn't at home whereas I had nothing but a small tank of tropical fish that lived in the lounge room of my small brick flat.
Our work lives were so neatly organised and regimented that there was no pressing need for us to be at our desks each and every day. All our colleagues had to do in our absence was follow protocol, so while other delegates had rushed off to the airport to fly home at the conclusion of the final session, Liesel and I had both elected to fly home the day after the conference ended. Perhaps that explains why we got drunk. The organisers had paid for a fifty-guest farewell function and there were only twenty of us who'd hung around. Waiters kept offering us drinks. And Liesel and I... kept drinking them.
My companion was nearer fifty than forty and had a solid build and a helmet of dark brown hair. No-nonsense when sober, the drunker she got, the more she over-shared, joked, and flirted with the young, male wait staff in a way that was more 'terrifying' than 'cougar'.
I was forty-two, with the trim body that comes from no children and far too much participation in Zumba, Spin Classes and Pilates. My hair was whatever subtle shade my hairdresser decided on -- at the time of the conference it was dark blonde -- and I avoided killer frown lines only with the prodigious use of botox. I had the figure of a seventeen year old waif paired with skin that would be a mass of wrinkles by the time I was seventy.
Liesel was loud with a few drinks in her, while I was quiet and giggly. We'd dealt with singledom differently and with our own, regrettable, brands of bitter. Liesel had been a necessity, someone to talk to and have dinner with because I had no friends attending the conference, and no husband to call at night, and no children for whom to collect knick knacks from trade stands, but I didn't particularly like her. When I got back to Brisbane I'd delete her number from her phone and not think twice about her.
We didn't leave the function until the final farewell speech was given. Liesel and I clapped loudly. Too loudly. It was only four-thirty in the afternoon for God's sake. Who gets drunk at the time of day, and in a ninety minute period no less? But we all have moments of stupidity and this, I thought, was mine.
'Thank God that's over,' Liesel said, as we exited the function rooms and walked into the bright, sunlit street. 'One more night and we're out of this one horse town for good.'
'Don't you like it?' I asked, glancing around. There were palm trees swaying in the breeze and the mood was relaxed. 'It's very peaceful.'
'It's great if you're retired and have nothing better to do than potter about and interfere with your neighbours. I can't believe anyone thought this was a good location for the conference. I'd been expecting something more.'
I didn't argue. I liked small communities. They always seemed warm and welcoming after the cold, overcrowded streets of inner city Brisbane. The houses here were large, built to withstand cyclones, and cheap. I'd browsed the estate agent's windows yesterday and had nearly cried at what I could have bought with the proceeds of the sale of my flat. If I didn't have the sort of job that only existed in large cities and regional centres, I would have moved here in a heartbeat.
We walked down the main street towards our hotel. I'd had, God, four or five drinks in ninety minutes. Drunk? Yes. Very. I couldn't hold my alcohol.
We passed the usual suspects in these sorts of town. A takeaway. A small general store. A store that sold bathers and towels. And a newsagent. There was a chalkboard sign out the front of the newsagent. It read;
'Join our syndicate -- four tickets left in tonight's Powerball'
'Four balls,' I remarked to Liesel. 'I'd settle for two.'
'What?'
'The sign.' I pointed to it. 'Four tickets left in tonight's Powerball syndicate. Four balls.'
'There's only one Powerball per draw, Jodie.'
I shook my head at her with the impatience of a drunk. I was frustrated at her for failing to understand what I thought was an obvious joke.
'I want to buy a ticket. I want to buy
two
. Two balls. There's no other way I'm going to get anything with...' I paused and burst into giggles. 'Two balls in my life.'
She stared at me, dumbstruck. 'You need to go home.'
'No. I'm getting a ticket.
Two
tickets. Come with me. I'll buy one for you.'
I grabbed her arm, and with the impatient enthusiasm of an inebriated woman, I marched us both up to the counter.
A very young, beautiful, gay man asked if he could help us.
'Powerball,' I said simply.
'Oh, the syndicate,' he said, brightening. 'Would you like to buy a share? Normally we sell out days in advance, but we've still got four shares left and the draw's in less than five hours.'
'How much are tickets?' Liesel asked suspiciously.
The clerk told her the price. Liesel told him the amount was ridiculous and she was surprised there weren't ten tickets left, what was the world coming to? Good grief, I thought. This woman is
