Page 56 of Lessons in Love at the Seaside Salon
‘Bit of a waste that he doesn’t like the ladies. Such a good-looking fellow.’ Another sigh. ‘Oh well. I’m too old for him anyway so it’s just as well!’ She titters.
Evie’s hand stops brushing and she feels her throat tighten. It’s funny how quickly someone’s words can have an impact but perhaps that’s because she registers them as true in a way they could never be true if she said them to herself.
‘What do you mean?’ she forces herself to say because she wants to hear it –it,it,it, the truth of the matter, the end of her dreams – out loud.
Mrs Behar’s eyes meet hers in the mirror. ‘You don’t know?’
‘Um …’ Doesn’t she, though? Doesn’t she, in the core of herself, know this?
How she could not know is because she didn’t want to. She’s in love with him. Hecan’tbe gay. There is nothing about her that would indicate she’d fall for a gay guy and, yes, she knows, you can’t help who you fall in love with, but how stupid could she be to not really know this from the start? To fall for his attentions thinking they were romantic when they were just friendly? Or maybe they have been romantic, but in a Victorian way – all looking, no touching. It’s the no touching, though, that has thrown her. Except it makes sense now, if Mrs Behar is to be believed.
‘Oh, I apologise,’ Mrs Behar says. ‘Perhaps he hasn’t said anything. But it seems obvious to me.’
Evie resumes brushing. ‘We, um … We haven’t discussed it.’ She can feel Mrs Behar watching her reflection closely.
‘Ah, I see,’ Mrs Behar says.
Evie bites her lip to stop herself crying. Are her feelings that obvious, in all their pathetic, desperate glory?
They’re both silent for a while as Evie continues to brush.
‘You wouldn’t be the first,’ Mrs Behar says softly, her eyes flitting over to Sam then back. ‘You won’t be the last. It is part of life, isn’t it, to want what we can’t have.’
Evie sucks in a breath and keeps biting that lip until it feels as if she’ll draw blood, because if she lets it go she may howl.
‘Perhaps,’ she squeaks out, and she meets Mrs Behar’s eyes because to do otherwise would be to give in to the shame entirely, and she sees understanding there, and sympathy, not pity, and for a second she feels better, then she doesn’t.
‘Let’s get you sorted,’ she almost whispers, still brushing, wishing she could be like the Wicked Witch of the West and melt into the floor, leaving only a hat behind, but instead she’ll focus on doing her job and giving Mrs Behar the best haircut on the Central Coast.
‘Indeed,’ Mrs Behar says.
For the remainder of the appointment they talk about nothing much, and Evie remembers none of it as she spends the rest of the day trying to avoid Sam, who would no doubt be confused but she can’t worry about him. She needs to get out of here and spend a goodly amount of time going over every interaction she’s ever had to see if she’s missed signs that are so obvious that even Mrs Behar could see them.
But once she is home, with Billy tucked in bed, she turns the television on, turns it up loud and sobs into her couch.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Right, this is it.
Anna blows air out of her open mouth as she stares at herself in the mirror at the Seaside Salon and thinks that she looks like a fish trapped in a bowl, with no other direction to take. She closes her mouth as she inhales and opens as she exhales. Not even consciously. As if she’snervousor something. Which is ridiculous, because this is a hairdressing salon and all she’s doing is having a haircut. Maybe even a hairstyle.
It was a spur-of-the moment thing. When she walked into the Seaside Salon this morning with Ingrid she found herself asking Trudy if she had any free time.
‘For …?’ Trudy arched an eyebrow.
‘Me.’
Anna wondered what on earth she was doing. She’d had thoughts about changing her hair. Now she’s not with Gary any more it makes sense to change other things, to take some positive steps to take care of herself in other ways. Or maybe just to do something different. Changing hair seems easy – the hairdresser does it for you.
‘You,’ Trudy had said. ‘Well, well.’
Trudy glanced at Ingrid in the mirror, then Anna saw her catch the eye of Evie, who was in the middle of painting on a colour.
‘I want a change.’ Anna kept staring at her reflection. She was sick of that reflection. Going through the motions of brushingher hair and putting on some lippy and mascara doesn’t amount to anything other than habit. She wants something different.
Trudy’s eyes twinkled. ‘How much of a change?’
Anna took a deep breath. ‘Whatever you think.’
