The Tiny Home

A small, cube-shaped wooden house sat at the end of a gravel driveway. Tall gum and paperbark trees surrounded the sides and back as if shielding it from the outside world.

“Arrived,” my phone announced in a flat voice. As if that wasn’t obvious, there wasn’t another home, or clearing, in sight. I opened the car door and used my hands to push myself onto my legs. After a four-hour drive from the city, they were stiff as boards.

It was past 5 in the afternoon and the heat was still stifling. I hoped there was air conditioning.

I closed Google Maps and checked if Jay had messaged me, but there was nothing. I was first to arrive. I was somewhat relieved; I needed a moment to freshen up. I opened the email with the check-in instructions.

Dear Jay and Maria,

A warm welcome to our Tiny Home.

Please sign in using the code: 5334. The door will lock behind you automatically.

Relax and enjoy 50 acres of bushland, all to yourself. We have left a breakfast hamper in the kitchen and please help yourself to the milk, cheese and eggs in the fridge.

As you mentioned you will be celebrating your anniversary, we have selected a few complimentary natural wines from our winery and left them for you to enjoy.

Please remember, we are completely off-the-grid so do not offer any Wi-Fi services.

Regards,

The Tiny Home Team.

It wasn’t really our anniversary. Jay insisted I include it in the booking notes, claiming it always led to free add-ons. As it turned out, he was right. I hoped he wouldn’t be too mad at me about the lack of Wi-Fi. We’d made a deal: he would pay for the entire weekend providing I found and booked the accommodation. His only request? Find a place with Wi-Fi.

But I wanted his undivided attention this weekend. Checking an email would turn into making a quick phone call which would lead to a quick Zoom meeting and we’d be transported to our Sydney CBD office, no longer alone in the great Australian outback.

We spent Monday to Friday working together; this weekend would be different. That reminded me, he hadn’t transferred me for the cost of the accommodation. The home might be tiny in size, but it wasn’t tiny in price. It was setting Jay back a hefty one thousand dollars for two nights.

I walked up the gravel driveway towards the home. It was hardly bigger than a doll's house, and I wondered if I’d made a grave error when packing two suitcases full of clothes. Where would everything fit? I’d packed in a state of near hysteria. This was the first time Jay and I had gone away. Technically, we had never even been on a date.

I opened the door to the house. It was like stepping inside Mary Poppins’s bag. Floor to ceiling windows overlooking the bush. A set of wooden stairs led to a cosy loft which had a cushion covered bed tucked inside and was framed by strings of fairy lights. Underneath the loft and behind the stairs, was the kitchenette. On the other side of the room was a bookshelf and a reading nook. And yet, it didn’t feel cramped. Thankfully, the bathroom was a separate room. I still desired some secrecy with Jay.

At the back of the house was a wooden deck with a thin railing and an outdoor copper bathtub. The thought of cold water against my skin was tempting, but I didn’t take to the idea of stripping off outdoors. Although I knew the land was completely secluded, something about being naked in the wild made me uneasy.

Instead I unpacked my suitcases, utilising various hidden storage spaces I discovered (each stair also doubled as a drawer which was remarkably handy). Then I went into the bathroom to freshen up. First, I plucked a stubborn white hair from my chin. Then, I wiped off my sticky lip balm with the back of my hand and layered on thick red lipstick.. I unpeeled my pants and shirt and slipped into his favourite dress. A white sundress covered in baby blue flowers. I’d worn it once to casual Fridays at work and before 10am, I’d received a text from Jay asking if the flowers on the dress were ‘forget me nots, because he would never forget how stunning I looked in it’. A terrible pick up line, but it made me laugh. I spun around in front of the mirror. I looked quite nice.

I checked my phone again, I could’ve sworn we’d left the office at the same time. Unless he’d stayed back for Friday afternoon drinks. But my phone had no service. I waved it in the air as I moved around the tiny home, but nothing. I walked out the front door and stood at the top of the driveway, the scorching gravel burning the soles of my bare feet. Still no service.

My stomach churned. I planned to avoid working this weekend but I needed phone service. I needed to be contactable in case anything happened and I promised Lucy I would ring her.

I walked back inside, patting my forehead with the back of my hand. It felt like I’d dipped my head into maple syrup, I was so sticky with sweat. I searched for an air conditioning unit, but there wasn’t one. I opened the fridge and angled myself into it. I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly through puckered lips. Soon, Jay would arrive and he might have service. I’d been meaning to change from my lousy phone provider, and this was my reminder.

On the second shelf of the fridge were four bottles of wine, which had been assorted by colour from palest to darkest. Varieties of white, orange and rose wines. I reached for the palest one. Tied around the neck was a little card that said, “Happy Anniversary!” I poured myself a large glass. Jay would understand; he was running late after all. I opened the freezer and plopped several ice cubes into the wine glass. Then ran another cube across my face, chest and lips.

I walked back into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. I didn’t have a red face. My cheeks weren’t even pink. I looked normal. So why did I feel like I was on fire? I grabbed the opened bottle of wine in one hand and the glass in the other, opened the back door and walked onto the deck. I sat on the wooden steps, stared out at the sprawling bushland and took a long sip from my glass.

*

7pm came, and with it, darkness. Not the darkness of the city at night. In the city there were street lights, lit up buildings, flashing billboards and screens. Here, if I turned off the light inside the tiny home, I wouldn’t be able to see a thing. At least the departure of the sun took with it a little heat, but I was still somehow drenched in sweat. Still no sign of Jay. My buttocks stayed glued to the stairs on the back deck. I’d convinced myself that if he found me, with my back to him sitting outside alone, he’d feel terribly sorry for being late and spend all night making it up to me.

I picked up the wine bottle to refill my glass. Beads of condensation ran down the empty bottle and onto my hands. I had finished the bottle without noticing. Time to open another one. I went back inside and picked a peach coloured wine this time, because the colour was pretty. Jay was a self proclaimed wine aficionado, he’d want to discuss the flavours, scents and history of the bottle. But to me, wine just tasted like wine.

I walked into the bathroom to check myself in the mirror. Somehow my red lipstick had smeared itself into the dimple on my chin and there was a large coffee coloured stain on the top of my dress. How had I not noticed that before? I hadn’t even drunk coffee today so it must have been from the last time I wore it. I tried to scrub it off using toilet paper and water, but the toilet paper crumbled in my hands and left tiny flecks on the dress so I gave up.

I returned to the back door and gasped. Sitting on the edge of the fence was a small owl. We stared at one another, neither of us moving. It was mostly white with a heart shaped ring framing its face and round black eyes that looked like they were sewn on buttons. It tilted its head, as if sizing me up, let out an ungodly shrieking sound and then lifted its wings above its head and flew off, vanishing into the darkness of the night.

I remained standing with one leg inside the house, and one on the deck, unmoving. My eyes darted around the sky, in case the owl was about to swoop me. Did owls swoop humans? I slowly walked over to the step and crouched down, pouring another large glass of wine. My cheeks flushed. I wasn’t sure if it was the heat this time, or embarrassment. Why would I feel embarrassed by an owl discovering me here? Owls don’t have the capacity to judge and even if they could, it wasn’t like they could tell anyone what they’d witnessed. I laughed at the prospostuousness of the idea. I’d been without my phone only a handful of hours and was already losing the plot.

I’d always disliked birds. I wondered if Jay had a strong opinion on them. I didn’t know if he liked or disliked them. It had never come up. Come to think of it, I didn’t even know if he liked the outdoors. I took another swig of wine. If I could just ring Jay, and hear his voice reassuring me he was close and how sorry he was for running late, perhaps I wouldn’t be sitting in the middle of nowhere thinking an owl was going to rat me out.

I was certain he’d have a great excuse for being late. I imagined what he’d say to me in his unusually posh accent, (everyone accused him of being a private school boy because he spoke so well, even though he’d gone through the public school system). He’d apologise, then explain that he’d taken a wrong turn, or Sharon from HR simply insisted he stay for an extra drink so she could chew his ear off, or he’d remembered an urgent deadline at the last minute … then he’d crack a joke and all would be forgiven in a heartbeat. I just needed to hear his voice.

I remembered I had phone service in the car because I’d been using it as a GPS. If I went back to the car, perhaps it would return and there would be floods of messages from Jay explaining everything.

I opened the front door and began to walk down the gravel path towards where I’d parked my car. Gravel crunched under my feet and cicadas hummed steadily, but otherwise the air was still.

I could hardly see so I used my phone’s flashlight to illuminate the path in front of me. When I reached the car, I stared at my phone as if I could generate service through sheer will. My heart was beating as if it was trying to break free through my rib cage, like when cartoon characters experience love at first sight in those old-school animations. Except this wasn’t caused by love… was it?

Still nothing.

I needed to go further. Towards the main road. I couldn’t drive, I was far too inebriated. I’d have to walk instead. I considered for a moment running back to retrieve my shoes but I decided I didn’t have the time to spare. I passed my car and into the bush where I broke into a light jog. Even with the flashlight, I couldn’t tell what direction I was heading in.

Trees kept appearing out of nowhere and I could no longer see the light from the tiny home. But I couldn’t give up now. A sharp, shrieking sound erupted from above and I glanced at the sky but it was too dark to spot anything, it was that darn owl again, I knew it!

I continued running, weaving throughout the trees and ducking from branches until I was struggling to breathe and the sides of my stomach hurt. I bent over, placed my hands on my knees and tried to catch my breath.

Then my phone made a sound.

Bing! Bing! Bing! Bing!

The glorious sound of incoming text messages! I had service, finally!

I crouched and stared into my phone as my heart rate began to steady.

Two missed call notifications and two text messages. The first text was notifying me of a missed call … But it wasn’t from Jay. In fact, he hadn’t tried to contact me at all. It was from David, all my notifications were.

Hi Darling, tried to Ring but couldn’t get a hold of U. Will try again later. Guess the work retreat is busy? Lucy is knackered so she won’t be able to stay up but we’re sending you a quick video saying night night.

I pressed play.

David’s voice said, “Say goodnight mummy,”

“Goodnight mummy!” Lucy’s voice sang out.

The video started with a view of the bathroom tiles then panned to her cleaning her teeth. She was standing on a stool, leaning over the sink and holding a plastic cup in one hand and the toothbrush in her mouth with the other.

The camera flipped to a close up of David’s face and he spoke in a whisper.

“She hasn’t quite realised that you aren’t meant to just suck the toothpaste off the brush, but you are meant to, you know, use circular motions to properly clean them,” he shot the camera an exasperated look. “Tell her what happened today,” David said again, flipping the camera back to Lucy.

“I lost a toof,” she said, grinning and pointing to a missing front tooth. Her mouth was covered in toothpaste suds and a little bit drooled down her chin, making her giggle.

“The tooth fairy will be visiting for the very first time tonight,” David said, sounding amused.

Suddenly, Lucy spilt the glass of water down the front of her pyjamas.

“Uh oh, better go. Love you lots,” David's voice said before the video ended abruptly.

I sank down onto the ground as a tear trickled down my face. I chuckled to myself, picturing Lucy’s silly little gap in her teeth.

It would be a lie to pretend things were perfect in my home. My real home, not the tiny home. They weren’t. But that video had been.

I remained there, sitting alone in the bush with the owl somewhere keeping an eye on me, playing the video over and over and over.

Please note: This story uses Australian English spelling.