Page 5 of Lessons in Love at the Seaside Salon
‘Well, I’m busy too. Withour children.’
He laughs lightly. Too lightly. Because he has no idea what’s coming.
‘I’m bringing home the bacon,’ he says, like it’s funny. Like it’s the best reason for never being here. Except it’s never been a reason for her. It certainly wasn’t the reason she married him. Laughter, lust, companionship, shared values – or so she thought: these were why she married him. Oh, and love. She loved him. Loved how he made her feel protected and safe. Instinctual things she’d never known she wanted but when she felt them around him – when she felt he would take away her worries, make her feel she could justbe her– it was so strong she wanted to preserve it forever.
That’s what has disappeared: the feeling of being protected. Of being safe. Without him here – when he’s at the office mosthours of the week – she has felt exposed. Vulnerable. And stressed. If she is going to feel vulnerable she can do without the extra stress. She’s making a decision to put her wellbeing first, for once, knowing that what’s good for her is good for the children, because if she’s not functioning properly she can’t look after them properly either.
‘I think it’s best if you move out,’ she says.
‘What?’ He says it so softly it’s as if he has no air left.
‘Move out. You clearly don’t want to be here. And I don’t want to just be your maid.’ She’s tacked this on because it sounds like a rational argument, whereasyou’re having an affairdoes not.
‘You’re not –’
‘Gary, I am.’ She feels calm as she says it. Strong. Maybe she doesn’t need him after all. Maybe all this time she hasn’t needed his protection.
She can be her own protector. Although she wavers a little at that, because she doesn’twantto be. Except he hasn’t been looking after her for years anyway, she realises, and this makes her feel so sad it’s as if a deep cavern has opened inside her and sucked into it all the good things about him – the things she fell in love with.
‘We’re done,’ she says simply.
His mouth opens and she thinks she sees tears in his eyes, but he says nothing further.
She leaves the room and goes to the garden, where Renee and Troy are running in circles, laughing. Simple things can mean so much to children. To adults too. Love is simple. Or it can be. It should never be more complicated thanI love youandI love you toobecause everything else should flow from that. But it becomes complicated as life goes on. As layers are added to it. Conditions too.
She added conditions for Gary without even realising it, and those conditions included actually being present in theirmarriage and in their home. That should be one of the marriage vows:Do you promise to love, honour and actually show up for your wife instead of spending as much time as possible away from the marital home thereby rendering the marriage effectively dead even though you’re too cowardly to say it?
‘Dad’s going away,’ she tells her children as they continue running and laughing.
‘Where to?’ Renee says hoarsely, giggling.
‘I don’t know.’
‘Okay!’
Troy doesn’t even seem to react to what she’s said. Although why would he? He’s eight. His world consists of what’s happening right now. The past and the future haven’t started to take root in him as they will later on, pushing and tugging at his psyche, offering up stories and interpretations of events and blurry memories that may be fantasies but he won’t be able to tell the difference. These are the layers that complicate love. The layers that can be kept from turning into sediment, then stone, with careful attention and commitment. Mothers do that for their children: they offer them love which manifests as that attention, reminding their children that they see them, cherish them, that the past does not have to define them and the future is whatever they wish to make of it.
Someone has to do that for mothers too, though, and sometimes their own mothers aren’t enough. Or even capable. If that attention doesn’t come from anywhere, those foundations may turn to dust. Unless a mother determines to keep building them for herself.
‘What shall we have for lunch?’ she asks the children.
‘Carrots!’ Renee yells. Since she turned seven she has been obsessed with carrots for some reason.
‘You’ll turn orange if you eat any more of those,’ Anna says with a laugh. ‘Let’s have a salad sandwich instead.’
The children murmur their agreement and set a course for the back door.
As they all walk inside the house is quiet. Anna doesn’t know if Gary has packed a bag or simply walked out. It causes her immense sadness, for a moment or two, to realise that it won’t make a difference to their lives either way. Then she turns her mind to sandwiches, knowing that once they’re done she’ll have a long list of other things to worry about and it will no longer include Gary.
CHAPTER THREE
Evie walks as fast as her short legs can take her, just shy of breaking into a trot, as she hurries from the Seaside Salon to the primary school, which is also in Terrigal, as is Evie’s house.
She’s late picking up her son, Billy. Why did she book in that last client?Who books in a cut and colour at two o’clock and expects to get away at three?Sure, some days she might be able to risk it but they’re down a hairdresser so that means she’s doing her own washes, which means everything’s slower and they’re getting backed up, which means it’s three thirty-five now and Billy will be at the school gate with no one to meet him.
Trudy didn’t say anything to her, either. Usually if Evie’s cutting things fine with school times Trudy will send a ‘Pet?’ across the salon with a slightly warning tone and Evie doesn’t need anything more than that to hurry up and get out the door.
Not today, though. Trudy’s slipping.
