The Long Weekend

The Long Weekend

The long weekend was Melanie’s idea. Not the long weekend itself, of course, but the way they should spend it.

‘No mobile phones, no social media, no computers or devices of any sort,’ she said, ‘just the five of us alone in the wilderness, living the way people did forty years ago.’

‘Sixty, more like,’ Tracy remarked drily.

Mel ignored the comment. Trace was always the cynic among them. ‘Three days in a remote mountain cabin – communing with nature, hiking along bush tracks, gathering around log fires . . .’

‘Burning fossil fuel –’

‘Wood’s not a fossil fuel,’ Eve interjected.

‘Polluting the atmosphere anyway –’

‘Oh shut up, Trace,’ Danny said good-naturedly; she was all for Melanie’s idea. ‘Go on, Mel,’ she encouraged.

‘If we leave straight after work on the Friday, we could be up there by seven – it’s only a couple hours’ drive.’

‘A long-weekend Friday?’ Tracy again. ‘The traffic’ll be hell.’

‘Then if we’re prepared to get up at sparrow’s on the Tuesday and come directly into work, we’ll have three full days,’ Mel rattled on. ‘And I tell you what, a full three days up there feels like a week. Even more.’

Tracy’s sceptical glance said, I’ll just bet it does, but in her droll way she was only being amusing. A sophisticated thirty-two, she found twenty-five-year-old Mel’s childlike enthusiasm quite endearing.

‘At least it did when I was a kid,’ Mel concluded.

They all took a swig of their drinks and gazed out at the view from the yacht club’s balcony as they gave the matter a moment’s thought.

‘Do we dare?’ Jet was the only one not looking at the view. Glancing up from the Facebook posts she’d been idly scrolling through, she voiced the uncertainty that now prevailed among them – with the apparent exception of Mel. ‘I mean, do we really dare? I mean, like, you know . . . no phones?’

‘There’s a landline at the cabin.’

‘She means no iPhones, Mel.’ Tracy exchanged a look with the others. Jet and Eve nodded, and Danny, who had so embraced the idea, now dubiously eyed the phone that sat on the table beside her.

‘Definitely no iPhones,’ Melanie replied firmly. ‘That’s the whole point.’ There was an element of accusation in her tone as she continued. ‘That’s what we agreed, isn’t it? We’re all “Zoomed out” – that’s what we said. We’ve had enough of virtual team meetings and events and staring at each other on screens. “Whatever happened to human connection?” That’s what you said yesterday, Trace. In fact, if I recall, those were your exact words.’

Tracy gave a careless shrug – yes, she’d said that.

‘And you,’ Mel turned to Danielle. ‘You said, “Now that the Covid rules are relaxed, we should get away from it all – just the five of us.” Don’t you remember?’

‘Yep, I remember.’ Danny’s acknowledgement, unlike Tracy’s, was tinged with a touch of guilt.

‘So what’s suddenly wrong with Nonna and Pops’ cabin in the mountains?’ Mel demanded. ‘When I came up with the idea yesterday you were all for it. What’s happened? What’s different all of a sudden?’

‘No iPhones! I mean, like . . . Are you for real?’ The query in Jet’s eyes spoke for them all. A second-generation Vietnamese Australian and the granddaughter of boat people who’d arrived in the country following the Vietnam War, Jet was an interesting mix of contradictions. She was extremely attractive yet surprisingly ‘ocker’ (as was her brother, who played AFL). She happened also to be fiercely intelligent – at twenty-six years of age Jet was already one of the most highly regarded editors at Albatross Books Australia, which made her turn of phrase at times odd. She didn’t talk like someone who worked with words on a sophisticated level. But Jet was Jet, a true original who never conformed to anyone’s expectations of her. Except, as it now appeared, when it came to iPhones.

‘I dunno if I could live without my phone,’ she admitted, meeting the eyes of the others unashamedly. ‘I mean, like . . . it’s a lifeline, isn’t it? You’d be severing your connections, wouldn’t you? Pretty brutal. And for a whole three days!’

‘Brutal is what we agreed yesterday,’ Melanie insisted, ‘and severing our connections is just what we need.’