Page 101 of Thursdays at Orange Blossom House
We tell ourselves neat stories: that’s something else she’s come to recognise thanks to Sandrine. We tell ourselves that our bodies won’t do this, that and the other, then one posture can explode that belief. It’s happened to her several times and each time it’s confronting, because she has realised how much she’s grasped onto those beliefs. If she’s stuck in this life, she can say that it’s circumstance holding her – that she has to take care of her parents, that it’s too late for her to change careers – yet, truly, she’s the one holding herself here. Holding herself back.
When she was young – Rachel’s age – she imagined a much different life. She wanted classical music playing in her house on Sunday mornings; she wanted interesting, artistic acquaintances who told fabulous stories; she wanted nights at the cinema with a companion to whom she could talk for hours afterwards over a bottle of wine. She wanted croissants and flowers and books and paintings. Instead she has this suburb. This beach. This life. It’s impossible to guess when she deviated from those dreams and arrived back where she started, yet it happened. She either omitted to do something, or didn’t take chances as they came up.
That’s how she finds herself on this beach again, walking before work. It’s not a part of her routine that she resents, but it is another sign that her life never changes. She has been walking on this beach for … How long? She can’t remember.
This time she’s going to do something different, though: she’s going to walk with her feet in the water. Usually she stays on the sand, not wanting to get her feet wet because that means sand will stick to them and – perversely for someone who loves the beach – she’s no fan of sand lingering on her skin. Or so she’s always thought because that’s how she felt as a child. She’s never actually attempted to discover if she’s changed her mind.
The water is warm. Of course. It’s always warm. In summer it’s verging on hot, although she wouldn’t put her feet in then. Stingers may not come that close to shore, but it isn’t worth the risk.
She kicks her feet a little through the foam. How adventurous! First she gets her feet wet and now she’s being playful.
‘Patricia?’
She stops, suddenly feeling guilty, as if walking in the water is bad and she’s been caught.
As she turns towards the voice, she feels something else: embarrassed. Because it’s Dennis standing in front of her; Dennis who’s seen her behaving like a child. Dennis, whose muscles are bulging out of his T-shirt. She really shouldn’t notice these things.
‘Dennis – hi.’ She tucks her hair behind her ears in a pointless stalling gesture. ‘What are you doing here? The surf’s round the other side.’
He glances towards the knob that separates this beach from the surf beach. ‘I’m not here to surf. I came to find you.’
‘How did you know I’d be here?’
He smiles faintly. ‘You told me you always walk on the beach before work.’
She can only barely remember telling him that. ‘Right,’ she says, stepping up the sand as the waves come in a little higher on her legs.
‘I wanted to talk to you – outside of work.’
‘Oh? That sounds …’ She frowns and smiles at the same time. ‘Serious. And a bit … strange?’
‘Yeah. Maybe.’ He shoves his hands in the pockets of his shorts and bites his bottom lip. ‘This probably is going to sound strange but I’m going to say it anyway.’
Patricia’s mind is packed with thoughts about what he could be about to tell her that required him finding her on the beach. Has she been mooning over him without realising it and he’s going to ask her to stop? Has someone finally reported Gordon for being a creep and Dennis is going to take over as headmaster, right before he leaves?
‘Okay,’ she squeaks.
‘You know how I said I’m going to India?’
‘Yes.’ Her brain starts to recalculate the possibilities, but doesn’t come up with anything convincing.
He clears his throat then lifts his chin a little. ‘I want you to come with me.’
This is an option that hadn’t occurred to her – and threatens to turn her brain inside out.
‘Um,’ is all she can manage, and his expression falters.
‘I’ve never stopped liking you. Only …’ He looks down, then up at her again. ‘It’s a little bit more than like.’ His face relaxes into a smile. ‘I’m really going to put my foot in it, but I’m leaving anyway. So I’m going to say it. When I met you I thought you were gorgeous – I’d have to have been blind not to see that. Everyone can see that!’
He laughs as if he’s been set free. ‘Then I got to know you and you’re really … wonderful. I think I’m going to have an incredible experience over there and I want to share it with you. I think you’d love it. And I’d love you to be there.’ He stops and breathes. ‘I could go on. But I’ve probably said enough for now. Anyway, I don’t want to go without you. And I reckon … I reckon you may consider coming with me. Just a hunch.’ Patricia has heard the expression ‘time stands still’ and always thought it fanciful. Yet she understands it now. Or perhaps time isn’t exactly standing still – it feels like it’s reversing and forwarding all at once. She’s inside this moment; the one just after she heard words she never thought she’d hear. Words that are said to other women who aren’t her.
And yet … Just because he’s said them doesn’t mean anything in the world she lives in. Which isn’t the same world Dennis lives in, because he has more options. He could marry someone when he’s sixty and have children, like Cary Grant. For him this could be a fling. For her it could be everything.
It’s not that she doesn’t believe him – she can see that he’s sincere – nor that what he’s said is something she didn’t even dream about. It’s that this moment in time is reversing and forwarding because it’s the only moment they’ll have.
‘I’m too old for you,’ she says, knowing it’s true.
‘Patricia, I’m not as young as you think.’ He looks amused. ‘I’m thirty-nine. People just think I’m younger because I walk around in shorts all day.’
