Page 92 of Thursdays at Orange Blossom House
‘Yeah. My mum’s always going on about it. She went for a trip when I was little – she, uh, kind of took off for a while.’ He makes a goofy face. ‘I can’t remember it. She left me with her parents because Dad was a bit hopeless. I just thought I was on a holiday for a few months.’
‘So you didn’t see your father either?’
‘No. My grandparents are on the Sunshine Coast. Dad stayed on the Gold Coast. They got back together when Mum returned.’
‘And how did that turn out?’
Dennis laughs. ‘She told him he had to learn how to cook and clean or she’d be off again. Whaddya know? Turned out he could use the oven after all.’ His face changes. ‘He liked to cook. I miss his spag bol.’
He makes more sense to Patricia now: this masculine man who – unlike many of the men she’s encountered over the years – has no problem with women who assert themselves. Or girls who do, for that matter – she’s seen him push the girls as hard as the boys in PE classes. Unlike previous teachers, who took the line that girls are too delicate to do anything strenuous.
‘India was good for your mum, then?’ she asks, wanting to know more about this woman who has clearly had such an influence on him.
He smiles in a dreamy way. ‘She said it was life-changing.’
‘Do you want to change your life?’
He leans against the door again. ‘I reckon I do,’ he says softly.
‘What’s there that you can’t do here?’
‘It’sthere– I think that’s the main thing. I’ve never travelled, y’know.’ He waves a hand. ‘Didn’t go to London – none of that usual Aussie stuff. I’ve got some money saved and I figure it’ll last me a while in India.’
She can now identify what she’s feeling: sadness.
‘How long will you go for?’ she asks.
‘A year. That’s the plan.’ He stares at her. ‘Will you miss me?’
The question is so direct, so intimate, that she has no idea what to say. Because he’s not laughing, joking Dennis now – he’s being serious; and she needs to take him seriously.
She needs to take herself seriously too. And that means giving him an honest answer.
‘Yes,’ she says, then she inhales and holds it as she waits for his response.
He nods. ‘I’ll miss you too.’ Then he pushes off the door and walks away.
Patricia’s heart is thudding as she watches the empty doorway, wishing he would return. That conversation isn’t over – it can’t be. There is more to say, if only she knew what it was. Inside her head is a swarm of competing thoughts and ideas; and her body is overrun by what she wants.
None of this is what she thought would happen when she sat down at her desk in the empty school and diligently tried to go about her work. Except if she has learnt anything since she moved home, it’s that she can never expect things to turn out as planned.
She didn’t think her mother would deteriorate the way she has, or that she would be prevented from seeking assistance for her mother when it was needed. She didn’t think she would enjoy yoga so much to the point that she willingly puts herself on that mat every week and lets Sandrine tell her what to do. She didn’t think she would make new friends – especially not one who is around the age of her parents.
And she thought Dennis would always be around, so they could … what? Keep admiring each other from a distance? But now he’s said he’s leaving, she’s very, very clear on one thing: she doesn’t want him to go. She’s feeling something about it, even if she can’t yet name it. And she certainly didn’t think she would feel anything for a man again. She’s meant to be past all of that, isn’t she?
Yet as she sits at her desk, clutchingThe Catcher in the Rye, wishing Dennis would return, wishing their conversation would continue not just now but for a long time, she realises – with the startling clarity she has come to recognise from moments when she is holding postures that once seemed beyond her, or opening herself up to the idea that the universe is limitless and so is her consciousness – that some feeling for him has come upon her without her deciding or willing it. It’s not just that she finds him attractive – that doesn’t take much effort at all. It’s that she wants to be around him; wants to know what he’s thinking, what he’s doing.
Except she knows what he’s doing: he’s leaving. And that feels almost intolerable. Which suggests to her that whatever this feeling she has is, it’s not just mild affection.
Sandrine has told them to listen to their bodies, because the body will give them information the rational mind doesn’t yet know, or may never know. So Patricia sits, and breathes, and listens, and she hears this: what she feels is real, and not a mistake.
The question she doesn’t ask – because she’s not sure if she wants the answer – is whether this is love. Because that would be something she’s never experienced before. Not with her high-school boyfriend. Not with anyone who tried to make a connection with her when she lived in Sydney. Falling in love hasn’t been in her repertoire. Perhaps it will never be. Whatever she’s feeling now may well fade once Dennis leaves.
There is something else her body is telling her, though, and she can’t push it aside. It’s a sensation in her heart centre. A lightness. Joy, even.
This is something else that Sandrine promised – or threatened – would happen if they stayed on the mat long enough: their hearts would open.
So she does what Sandrine would want her to do. She sits with the feeling, she breathes, she observes, and is thankful that she’s learnt enough to not dismiss what’s going on.
