Page 25 of If I Could Say Goodbye
I turn to him. ‘Look, it only takes a couple of hours,’ I say, ignoring the doubt pulling at the corner of his mouth.
He puts his forehead against mine; unspoken words hang between us, lingering with our breath. ‘Do you know where my swimming shorts are?’ he asks defeatedly, and I grin.
‘In the swimwear drawer,’ I say, standing up and grabbing his hands.
‘We have a swimwear drawer?’
‘Who doesn’t have a swimwear drawer?’
‘I love you.’
‘I know.’
Chapter Sixteen
Jennifer
I’m happy. This is the thought that mixes with trees, the hills, the breeze coming into the car through the open window that my arm is leaning out of. My reflection in the wing mirror is that of a young woman who is happy. Everything about her tells me this, like the laughter in her eyes as her handsome husband tells her a joke; it radiates from them as she watches in awe the hills that rise and fall around the road that is leading them to their destination. The car in front slows our progress; a small grey head only just visible through the back window suggests the driver is nearing a century old.
Ed swears under his breath; he hits the brakes again as we meander around a bend in the road. We clear the turn and Ed changes gear, the growl of the engine shouting its frustration as we pass. My reflection is laughing and shifting position until the reflection is no longer smiling back at me; instead, my head is leaning out of the window, the air pushing my hair back with the speed of the car, catching my breath as I ‘woo-hooo!’ out of the window. The elderly driver looks at me with a mixture of surprise and annoyance. Before I know it, my hand is erecting my middle finger up at her. I don’t know who is more surprised, the elderly lady or me.
‘Jen!’ Ed’s hand has grabbed my other arm as we pass the bonnet of the car and slide into pole position. I’m breathless, my reflection confirming this with a flush to my cheeks, with the rapid rise and fall to my chest. Laughter rumbles from within my stomach, the wind snatches it, my laughter cascading over the hills along the doors of the car, laughter filling the gaps of the trees and rising into the sky. I take a sideways glance at Ed, his anger dissipating with the snorts and gasps that have taken control of me. ‘It’s not funny,’ he snaps, although I can see the beginnings of a smile in the way he is tugging at his bottom lip with his teeth. His eyes dart towards me as I wipe a tear away from my face. The muscles in my stomach are hurting, and the sounds from my earlier laughter are now just gasps and grunts. Ed’s eyes are trying to remain stern, but his mouth – his beautiful mouth – is curving, his hand rubbing the beginnings of stubble until finally he begins to laugh too. ‘You’re outrageous . . . do you know that? You could have given the poor woman a heart attack.’
We continue travelling, both of us singing badly to the radio, until the signal begins to break up. The car slows as we approach a roundabout. I reach over as Ed turns the wheel, resting my hand on his thigh while he looks at the screen of the sat nav.
When we were first together, we always used to travel in this position. My hand behind the gear stick, resting on his leg. I look down at my hand: it looks comfortable, there is no tension in the muscles, their weight is leaving an indentation in Ed’s beige shorts, beneath the fabric the soft hairs along his thigh are bending in submission. The indicator tocks and clicks back into place. Ed’s now free hand covers mine, his thumb running over my skin. I stare at our hands. They fit. Would my hand fit inside another man’s in the same way? Would his hold another woman’s with the same ease, each digit perfectly sliding into place?
If something happened to me, if I got hit by a car when I was crossing the road, would he ever find another woman’s hand to fit? I stare at his fingers, the creases of skin that cover the blood pulsing in his veins. I pull his hand towards my mouth. I begin to kiss it, as a need to taste his skin – to devour this part of him – takes over me. His attention is taken from the road ahead and he glances in my direction, his eyebrow raised as I open my mouth and run my tongue along the length of his index finger.
‘Pull over,’ I instruct.
‘But we’re not far away—’ He meets my eyes, the hunger in them unmistakable. ‘Jen, we can’t just—’
‘Ed.’ Tears have formed in my eyes and as I blink one falls along the curve of my cheek. I guide his left hand downwards towards the hem of my dress. His knuckles are gripping the steering wheel and he’s caught between checking the mirrors and taking furtive glances to where I’m guiding his free hand. ‘Please, Ed, pull over.’
He checks his mirrors again, indicates and takes us up a narrow side road and manoeuvres the car so it is parked behind an old tractor. I have unbuckled my seat belt before the engine has stopped, my mouth finding his, as his hand finds its place. He leans towards me, stroking my face with his other hand.
My climax is insistent and urgent, my eyes flashing open. Ed’s eyes are scanning my face, an expression somewhere between understanding and concern. He takes my hand and brings it to his lips; his kisses are firm against my knuckles, as though he is trying to leave a mark. Then he grins. A great big face-splitting grin that splinters his skin into amusement and life. He kisses the end of my nose, slides back into his seat and starts the engine.
The car eases towards the main road, but our progress comes to an abrupt halt as the car we had unashamedly overtaken flies past, the grey-haired driver flicking a triumphant V in our direction.
Chapter Seventeen
Jennifer
I lean my back against Ed’s chest, resting my arms on his knees as we watch the bunch of teenagers jumping off the rocks. Cliffs peer over the pool like toddlers fishing for tadpoles, each one pushing ahead, eager to get the best view. The water is an azure blue; the result of the minerals left from the mine. The mine that now fills the lives of the people who live here with joy, rather than the pain that would have beset the workers.
The beach towel beneath me ruffles as I reach forward and grab a strawberry, take a bite and then pass it over my shoulder for Ed to eat the rest. He’s been quiet since we arrived. If Kerry were here, she would have been standing next to us, her hand – flat and steady – shielding her eyes from the sun as they track the descent of one of the cliff divers.
Lovers’ Leap is a ledge that juts out just that bit more eagerly than the rest. It seems to be that ‘the lovers’ kiss each other before jumping off either side of the shelf that overhangs the blue depths below. The drop is only that of a few metres, about five I’d say, but then again, Ed is always telling me that my spatial awareness is a constant source of confusion to him.
‘You should totally do that,’ Kerry says, turning her face towards me.
‘Do what?’ Ed asks, jolting me, tethering me back into a world where Kerry isn’t standing in front of me but is six feet below the ground. I must have been thinking out loud. ‘That?’ His arm points as a couple are enthusiastically enjoying the lovers’ kiss before the leap. I link my fingers through his hand and pull his arm back towards me, enveloping myself into his embrace, as he kisses the top of my head. My heart hammers in my chest as I try to ignore the fact that once again, Kerry’s words have escaped from my mouth. I swallow hard, the taste of strawberries burning the back of my throat. The lovers have taken their respective positions, facing away from each other as they count down from five, then leap, both descending quickly – the boy with his legs apart and frog-like, the girl holding her nose while her legs run beneath her. The splash of water swallows their squeals, then expels them through the surface. They swim towards each other, blinking the water from their eyelashes and smoothing back hair until they are once again in each other’s arms.
‘Let’s do it,’ I say, bringing myself onto my knees and facing Ed.
‘Yeah, right.’ He rolls his eyes and leans back, tucking his hands behind his head.
