Page 61 of Lessons in Love at the Seaside Salon
He drives her into Gosford, chatting the whole way, which puts her at ease – not that she should feel ill at ease, given they work together and chat all the time, but going out socially is different. Or she wants it to be different, not just chatting about clients and their hair.
Sam finds a parking spot near the cinema and offers her his arm as they walk. It’s almost enough to make her swoon, and she’s about to be brave and tell him so – because she really needs to say something, to make sure she acknowledges that this is more than them being work buddies – when she realises she can’t. And the reason she can’t is Sam’s brother, Oliver, who is standing outside the cinema.
What are the chances, she wonders, of him happening to come to the same movie they’re going to? Not good, she knows. Which means Sam and Oliver have arranged this. Which means … this is not a date. No, that can’t be right. It’s definitely a date! It has to be! Except the fact of Oliver standing in front of her, looking really pleased to see her, suggests that, yet again, she and Sam aren’t seeing eye to eye on the direction of their connection.
Evie knows what she has to do: not let either man see she is disappointed – in fact, profoundly upset. Because they didn’t know what she was expecting. They didn’t know she had hopes and dreams and desires that she’d loaded onto a moment or a minute or an hour, or a movie. And they shouldn’t know, because those hopes and dreams and desires are hers. They’re tender. They’re delicate. So delicate they can be destroyed in the milliseconds it will take to wrangle with that truth and work outhow to re arrange her face and feelings so she doesn’t reveal them.
Because those hopes and dreams are too precious. It’s impossible to reveal to the object of her crush – okay, it’s a little more intense than that but she doesn’t know what else to call it – that by inviting his brother along to the same movie he’s indicating, as powerfully as anything could, that he doesn’t feel the same way about her. What if Sam thinks her crush on him is funny? That is the most mortifying thing she can contemplate at this moment in time. It’s worse than being in Year 11 and thinking that Damo on the cricket team is a spunk then having one of the girls tell him, and him sniggering with his mates and calling out, ‘As if!’ as she walked past.
So much worse because it isn’t a crush she has on Sam. It is much more developed than that. It’s layered. It’s considered. And it’s nothing she can control. She would if she could because no one wants to feel as wretched as she does right then. As silly, as inadequate, asashamed. Yes, she’s ashamed. And he can’t know. Nor can Oliver, because god knows what Oliver would think. He’d probably laugh at her too becauseas ifbeautiful Sam would be interested in her. As if. Yes, that’s what her life feels like it’s amounting to: aggregations of as-ifs.
All this contemplation takes milliseconds and in that flash of time Evie has to come up with a smile that suggests she is pleased to see Oliver but not overly pleased; a smile that indicates that she is not confused about him being there, not upset – even though these are both true – because to offer otherwise would be to make things uncomfortable for him and for Sam and, of course, she can’t do that. She has to make sure that everyone feels fine, except her. That’s her job as a woman, isn’t it? As a mother, especially. Don’t let on you’re upset, ever. Don’t make life uncomfortable for other people. Don’t ask for what you want and don’t ever, ever,everget what you want.That’s for women who a man like Sam would fall in love with, and she is not one of them.
‘Hi – hi, Oliver,’ she says, her voice catching despite her resolve.
Oliver’s face lights up. At least he’s happy to see her. And she knows she likes his company. It won’t be enough, though, to get her through however many hours ofGiantthere are. What she would really like to do is go home and cry, but she’ll have to keep the tears packed in her throat until Sam drops her off. Then she’ll have to think about how to behave around him in the salon on Monday.
Maybe she should quit her job. That’s an option. It would save her some discomfort. Of course, Trudy would want to know why she’s going and she won’t be able to tell her, plus she won’t find another salon as conveniently located because while there’s another salon in Terrigal, she couldn’t work there – Trudy would find out and that would make life uncomfortable.
So, all round, she’s not in a good spot and that makes her feel even more like crying. Ohgod, why doesn’t life get easier when you get older? When she was a kid she thought all mums and dads had things sorted out, yet here she is, a mother, and she is so far from being sorted out it’s ridiculous.
‘Evie!’ Oliver moves as if to hug her but she stays still so he stops. ‘Sam didn’t tell me you were coming.’
Sam looks pleased about this, and that’s when it occurs to Evie that he may be trying to get her and Oliver together. Doesn’t he know their history? What has Oliver told – or not told – him? Worse than that, has he been thinking about bringing them together the whole time? That means he’s never going to feel anything for her. She’s never going to be able to convince him to love her, no matter how hard she tries. And there was a skerrick of hope in her, until about a minute ago, that she could indeed try.
‘Right, let’s get tickets,’ Sam says, grinning at her, then at Oliver. ‘My treat.’
Evie moves to stand on the other side of Sam so she doesn’t walk in next to Oliver. This may be a set-up but that doesn’t mean she has to go along with it.
‘I’ll get choc tops,’ Oliver says once the tickets are bought, then Evie and Sam are alone again.
‘Hope you don’t mind,’ Sam says, screwing up his face and half-giggling. ‘I know you haven’t seen each other for a while and he’sreallyfond of you.’
As his eyebrows go up, Evie’s spirits go down.
‘Not at all,’ she lies, but when she follows him into the cinema it feels like a trip to the gallows, and it’s no comfort, as she sits in the dark with Oliver somehow on one side of her and Sam on the other, to know that she put the noose around her own neck.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
‘So Troy has to go to Kariong,’ Anna says as she hands over her son’s sports bag to his father, ‘and Renee has a party at The Entrance.’
‘Kariong to The Entrance?’ Gary is frowning and Anna knows why: he’s calculating how much driving he has to do.Too bad, she thinks: it’s the sort of driving she’s been doing for years, making sure their children go where they need to, so they can participate in activities and have friends. He thinks he has it so hard working in an office? Well, he can find out just what it’s like driving around the Central Coast on a Saturday when all the day-trippers come up from Sydney and down from Newcastle and the traffic turns into more of a snarl than it does on weekdays.
‘Yep,’ she says, beaming at him as if going from Kariong to The Entrance is the best thing that will ever happen to him. He offered to take the kids more on weekends, and this is what it entails, so he’ll just have to get used to it.
‘Um, well …’ His frown deepens. ‘Do you have the addresses?’
She hands him a piece of paper and his mouth hangs open.
‘I, uh …’
Poor Gary – the day is turning out to be more complex than he likely envisioned, but that’s what happens when you have to remember a lot of things and make sure they happen almost simultaneously.
She sighs. ‘The kids know where to go.’ He probably only ever drives from home – whether it’s here or the place he’s staying now – to the office and maybe, once in a blue moon, to the shops,although she wouldn’t mind betting he’s hired someone to do his shopping and cleaning.
‘What are … what are you going to do?’ He puts the bag in his boot.
‘Whatever I like!’ It’s such a strange concept she’s still figuring out whether she should do practical things with the time or just relax. Does she even know how to relax? Possibly not.
