Page 44 of A Midlife Gamble

‘Will they?’ Marianne said, tapping her fingertips against the rough wood of the corral. As she did, the sequin from her middle finger dropped off, falling into the dirt. 'Hassiktir!' she muttered, and squatted to pick it up. 'Now what do I do?' she wailed. 'Seventy dollars!'

‘If you lick it, it might stick again,' Kay suggested.

‘With what? My tongue?'

Kay shrugged.

Marianne shuddered. Closing her eyes, she stuck her tongue out and gave the absconding sequin the briefest, cat-like lick, before pressing it into place. ‘I knew they were impractical! I told the girl this would happen, but she insisted.’

Kay shook her head, trying not to laugh.

'So!' Marianne said, one fingertip still pressing down. ‘What is going on with them? I thought they were supposed to be friends.’

‘They are… Or they were. I told you what happened last year.’

‘You told me, yes.’

‘It was an awful evening, Marianne.' Kay sighed. 'Helen had every right to be angry.’ She turned to look away at the small rise over which the riders had disappeared. ‘But I really thought we… I thoughttheyhad managed to put it behind them.’

Marianne nodded. She released the sequin, satisfied herself that it was safe and then stood, watching the same space that Kay watched.

‘Shall we sit?’ Kay said. She felt weary. Helen and Caro’s absence was proving heavier than their presence, allowing as it did time for her to make an inventory of the tensions between them. From the stiff politeness of their exchanges, to the way Helen always positioned herself as far away as possible from Caro, to the avoidance of eye contact. The events of last year had left the terrain between them as treacherous as a minefield. Their friendship was now a place where all of them, herself included, were on guard, acutely aware of how damaging one false step could be. Experience whispered to her that, in time, it would be ok. That eventually everything softened, everything melded. It’s just that if there was one thing she had precious little reserve of, it was time. The situation saddened and deflated her. She had no answers and expected no resolutions.

‘Sitting is a good idea,’ Marianne said quietly. ‘The porch?’

‘The porch, yes.’

They walked across the yard, the warm earthy smell of horse lingering in the air. Kay breathed it in greedily. It felt real, exactly what she needed. She climbed the rough-hewn steps to the porch and sat down on a swing seat covered in a fabric that was worn and sun-faded, but still intact. Marianne sat beside her, and in silent harmony, they pushed back on their heels. The seat swung forward and then back, forward and back, forward and back.

A wagon wheel hanging from the far end of the roof caught the sun, splintering it into golden segments that had Kay squinting as she shielded her eyes. Rusty nails held rusty horseshoes to an upright post, and a butterfly, wings tipped the yellow of Inca gold, settled itself on the porch rail. Kay watched as it stretched out paper-thin wings, its clubbed antennae so fragile and so alert. She lifted her chin to the sun. Miles away on the horizon a lone cloud sailed across the sky, a breeze as warm as blood passed across her face and an irresistible surrender overwhelmed her soul. Her body responded accordingly; tears spilling down her cheeks. ‘What am I going to do,’ she whispered and felt the warmth of Marianne’s hand cover her own. ‘What am I going to do?’

‘You’re going to sit,’ Marianne answered.

‘They’re both godmothers to Alex,’ Kay whispered. ‘How can I rely on them when… when the time comes.’

Staring out at the desert, Marianne was silent.

‘Alex’s father, Martin, he’s around but…’ Kay sighed. ‘He has this new partner, and a new family. He’s not good at multi-tasking. Let alone multi-relationship-ing.’

‘Of course.’

‘And I always thought… I thought, if anything happened to me, at least Alex would have his godmothers. I didn’t have sisters. Or brothers. But if they’re not even talking to each other, how is that going to work?’

Marianne’s silent nodding of the head turned into a silent shaking.

‘I know,’ Kay continued, ‘they’re only doing it because of me. This trip. The whole trying to get along.’ She glanced sideways at Marianne, and then fell back, her head tipped to the sky.

‘You know what I’m going to do?’ Marianne said after a long silence.

Kay looked at her.

‘I’m going to get us some coffee. Tony said to ask the housekeeper if there was anything we needed, and I think we need a cup of coffee.’ She stood up and as she did, she gave Kay’s hand a firm pat. ‘Also, I’ve never had a housekeeper to ask before. Do you want coffee?’

‘I do,’ Kay smiled. ‘Yes. I do.’ She turned her head to the desert, then just as Marianne had opened the ranch door, said, ‘He’s very nice, isn’t he? Tony?’

Marianne smiled. ‘He is.’

‘Do you…’ Kay paused. ‘Do you ever wonder what might have happened if—’

---