Page 10 of The Shape of Your Heart
Even the thought of meeting someone else is somewhere I can’t go. But I can’t help thinking she’s right. Maybe, now, I do need this roadblock. I’m still reeling, grieving, missing Liam. I’m not ready for anything else.
Rita tops up my glass. ‘Drink this. I’m going to put some music on.’
I look at her, startled. ‘I haven’t played any music – since…’
Sasha rolls her eyes at me. ‘Then it’s high time you did. I have a speaker with me somewhere.’ Going inside, she roots around in her bag before coming back out and scrolling down her phone to select some tracks. ‘This will do.’
In my slightly drunk state, listening to loud music and watching my sisters dance in the darkness, from somewhere the glimmer of a thought comes to me, slowly taking shape in my head.
There is nothing wrong with this.
It’s followed by another.
I know it doesn’t feel like it right now; that you can’t imagine anything changing, but it will. And you’ll be OK. You’ve got this.
* * *
Over the last year, I’ve got used to my sisters dragging me out of the house, and on Saturday morning, when they suggest we go surfing together, I know better than to try to talk them out of it. Climbing into my car, they chatter noisily as we head for our parents’ house. Gathered around the kitchen table, it’s like old times as we drink coffee and eat the poached eggs on toast cooked by our mother, before gathering up our surfing gear and heading for the beach at Polzeath.
Polzeath is the beach of my childhood days, when I used to be in awe of my older sisters paddling out and catching waves, though it wasn’t long before I plucked up my courage and went to join them. Today when we arrive, the sun is warm in a cloudless sky, the offshore wind meaning the waves are clean and glassy. After parking on the beach, we pull on our wetsuits before untying the boards from the roof of my car.
I haven’t surfed in over a year. It’s felt inappropriate, too joyful, when my aching heart has been raw with sadness. But today, when I hang back, my sisters aren’t having any of it.
‘You all ready?’ Alice’s wetsuit shows off her lithe figure. ‘Let’s go!’
Reaching the water, I push my board out past the breaking waves. As I slide on to it, it’s like being reunited with an old and trusted friend. Paddling out, it takes a while for my sisters to catch me up. By the time they do, I’ve caught a wave.
As the familiar exhilaration courses through me, I feel euphoric for a split second before guilt crashes over me. I ride the wave to the shore and wade through the shallows on to the beach, where sitting on the sand, I watch my sisters. Sasha wobbles before she bails; Rita spectacularly nose-dives. Only Alice makes it gracefully to her feet and stays there.
Reaching the shore, splashing towards me, she calls out. ‘Come on, Callie. You have to join us.’
Getting to my feet, I’m about to tell her I don’t feel like it, when something different fires up inside me. Instead of wallowing, I’m angry all of a sudden – with Liam for dying, at myself for being alive, for feeling so stuck.
There’s a melting pot of emotions churning inside me as I push my board out again, the sun dazzling my eyes as I catch Alice up.
‘You were very good,’ I tell her. ‘The others, really not so!’
‘I’d forgotten how much I love this.’ Alice’s face is radiant. Reaching the others, she calls out. ‘What happened to you two?’
‘Rookie mistake. Next one, I’m on it.’ Rita tries to sound confident.
Beyond the waves, I sit on my board, watching as this time all three of them get to their feet and make it to the shore. I start paddling after them, the surging energy of the water suddenly contagious. Getting to my feet, I catch the wave; in the moment it feels a little like chasing happiness.
* * *
Surfing is restorative and that evening as we cook, we sing and laugh and drink more wine.
‘I have a question for you,’ I say during an interlude.
Sasha looks surprised. ‘For who?’
‘All of you.’ Buoyed up by the wine, I eye their faces. ‘How come all of you are single?’ Before they can interrupt, I hold a hand up. ‘Not that there’s anything wrong with single – because it probably has a lot going for it. But are there literally no boyfriends – or girlfriends – between the three of you?’ I say pointedly.
Rita’s cheeks are pink. ‘Shall I go first?’
‘Someone has to.’ I fix her with a stern gaze.
‘OK. He’s a student, far too young, classic uni lecturer dilemma… Bit like a doctor shagging a patient.’ She glances at Alice. ‘Oops. Sorry, Al. I didn’t mean you.’ She turns back to me. ‘He’s gorgeous and the sex is good – but that’s kind of the extent of it.’
