Page 33 of Lessons in Love at the Seaside Salon
‘Great!’ he says still grinning. ‘Now.’
Her eyes widen as she takes in what he’s said.
‘Where’s your car?’ he says.
‘Grosvenor Road,’ she says, nodding in the direction away from the water.
‘May I walk you?’ He dips his head a little, as if he’s shy, except she doesn’t believe he’s shy becauseheapproachedher, but she also loves thinking that he’s shy and he’s talking to her anyway because he likes her so much, and …
And what if it’s true? What if that is exactly what he’s doing? Just like she’s doing? Becauseshe’sshy. Too shy to be talking to a boy this handsome. The real Josie – the one who no boy looksat, the one who listens to her love songs and dreams about loving someone that much and being loved in return – could never be this bold. So the version of Josie that’s here, talking to Brett, is the Seaside Salon Josie. That’s the version of her who can chat to the customers and be outgoing and friendly all day. The version Trudy, Evie and Sam see, and the one they seem to like. She will keep that version going even outside of the salon if it means that Brett continues talking to her. That he will walk her to her car. And who knows? Maybe that version will become the real version if she keeps it up long enough. Which wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.
Every morning she puts on her Salon Josie persona in the car: shoulders back, head up, big smile. She’s only been there a few weeks and she doesn’t even need to do it consciously. As soon as she’s out of the car she feels her body already in the shape of Salon Josie.
Now, walking next to Brett, she’s not Salon Josie exactly but she’s not far off her. Her shoulders are still back and she’s still smiling. Because she wants to around him. That’s part of it too: if youwantto do something,wantto be good at something, you figure it out because it’s important to you. Being around Brett in a way that doesn’t make him run for the hills is important to her.
‘Here,’ he says, holding out his hand, and for a second she wonders if she’s meant to take it. ‘Let me carry your bag.’
She blushes then hands it over, thinking for a second that he might be about to run off with it – that’s what her mother would say he’d do – then feeling bad for having the thought. Besides, the bag is heavy: it holds her make-up bag, her wallet, two magazines, a can of hairspray, a brush, two apples she didn’t get to eat, deodorant and her keys.
‘Thank you,’ she says. ‘So did you surf today?’
‘Nuh,’ Brett says, glancing in the direction of the beach to his right. ‘There wasn’t much swell. Wouldn’t have been worth getting wet.’
They chat about his day, working on cars, until they reach her Mini.
‘Cool car,’ Brett says approvingly.
‘Really?’ She isn’t sure if he’s being serious – the car is poo-brown, after all.
‘The colour’s great. You don’t see it on the Minis that often. And these cars …’ He grins, his eyes sweeping over the car from front to back. ‘They just keep going. As long as you don’t thrash them too much.’
He looks at her questioningly and she giggles.
‘It’s only going from home to here and back again most of the time,’ she says.
‘Where’s home?’
He’s standing a respectful distance from her but she feels something between them – like a magnetic pull coming from the core of her, connecting to his. It’s odd and comforting all at the same time, as if it’s inevitable they’ll wind up stuck together even if she doesn’t know how or why or when that might happen.
‘Gosford. You?’
‘Wamberal.’
It’s the next beach up, to the north.
‘Not too far, then.’ She smiles.
‘Not from here, no.’ He shrugs. ‘Too far from Sydney for my liking, though.’
‘Oh. You want to live in Sydney?’
Josie knows people who can’t wait to leave the Coast, to move to Sydney, where they imagine everything will be more exciting. The Coast has always been enough for her. Sydney is fast-paced and big and she doesn’t even have the guts to drive the freeway to get there – yet.
‘I’m not sure about living there,’ he says. ‘But I like to visit. And who knows? Maybe I’ll live there one day. If I can find a beach I like as much as this one.’
‘I, um …’ She hesitates to admit the limited scope of her experiences to him, because what if he thinks that makes her boring? ‘I don’t go that often.’
He stares into her eyes and she wants desperately to know what he’s thinking, because it feels like this is some kind of moment that determines whether he ever speaks to her again. She’s the boring coastal girl; he’s the coastal boy looking for adventure and realising he’s not going to find it with her. If this were a movie, at least, that’s what would happen here. She’s not the main character, she’s the girl the lead actor meets on the way to his sweetheart.
