Page 63 of Lessons in Love at the Seaside Salon
Another half-smile, then Evie looks at the water again. ‘Yes,’ she concedes.
‘Did you get dumped?’ It seems the logical cause.
‘Not really.’
‘Did you dump someone and you regret it?’
Another shake of the head. ‘Nothing like that.’
Anna stops to think about all the pathways love can take and how many of them can end in distress. Maybe someone died. Although she thinks Evie would have said that already. Sure, it’s a bit like pulling teeth getting an answer out of her but Anna is the intruder here, and Evie possibly doesn’t want to tell her. But a problem shared is indeed a problem halved.
‘Tell me,’ she says, because the guessing game could go on for a while otherwise.
Evie’s face travels through about five expressions in one second – a smile, a crumple, a silent howl, a concertina’d forehead, lips pressed together. ‘I love someone who doesn’t love me,’ she says.
‘Oh.’ Now Anna looks at the water, working out what to say next. She’s actually never been in this situation, because the boys she liked in high school tended to like her back, so she doesn’t have lived experience to offer. ‘Has he said that he doesn’t?’ she asks.
‘No, but I know he doesn’t.’
‘How could you know for sure if you haven’t talked about it?’
Evie drops her head onto her bent knees and her hands knead the sand. ‘I just know.’
Anna leans over and puts a hand between Evie’s shoulder blades. It’s the spot she uses when her children need to be reassured. That’s because it’s the spot Ingrid used with her. Still does sometimes. A steady hand, well placed, can make all the difference.
‘Do you think he cares about you at all?’ she asks.
Evie shrugs. ‘As a friend.’
‘Would he want his friend to be this upset?’
‘I guess not.’
Seagulls are squawking around them, no doubt hoping for food, which neither of them has. The tourists have trained them into eating hot chips – not ideal seagull food – so they’re a constant nuisance now.
‘Will you regret not telling him? One day, I mean. One day when you’re older, thinking about life. Will you regret it?’
Evie turns her head, her right ear resting on her knees, her forehead puckered. ‘I think so.’
‘He may not feel the same,’ Anna says, because she has no idea, ‘but if he really cares about you, I can’t imagine he’d be upset to find out how you feel. If it were me, I wouldn’t be.’
They hold each other’s gaze and Anna thinks it’s nice to be here, with the waves rolling into shore, the breeze cool but not cold, the sun just bright enough.
She pulls her hand back and sits up straight. ‘You need to do what’s best for you, of course,’ she says. ‘But that’s my two cents.’
Evie smiles gratefully. ‘Thanks,’ she says. ‘I feel like an idiot getting this upset.’
‘Loving someone will never make you an idiot,’ Anna says. ‘It can feel like it sometimes because we get so swept up in it. But how can it ever be bad to care about someone so much? It’s a compliment. It’s a kindness. It’s really beautiful, actually.’ She smiles with what she hopes is reassurance. ‘That’s what I think, anyway.’
Evie inhales deeply and sighs loudly. ‘Thanks,’ she says.
Anna nods, then decides she can’t stay here. Evie may not need to be alone in her distress but perhaps she does in her contemplation of it. So Anna stands and pulls up the mat.
‘I’m going to leave you to it. Go and read my book.’ She nods toward the surf club. ‘Up there. I’ll see you next week at the salon.’
‘Thanks,’ Evie says again.
Anna smiles as she turns to go, feeling slightly wistful about the fact that she can counsel Evie about her love life but be so disconnected from her own. It’s not her time, this month, this season, this year, to be in love with Gary or anyone. Maybe it will be again. For now she’ll just enjoy this beach and her book then rejoin her normal life later today.
