Page 93 of Lessons in Love at the Seaside Salon
‘Thank you,’ she says.
There’s something that needs to be said here. He’s no doubt waiting for her to say how much she likes him – that’s usual in these situations, she supposes. A sentiment is offered and the person who offers it tends to want it returned. But she’s old enough now to want to be true to herself. She has to be: there’s no one else to do it for her.
She clears her throat. ‘I feel you may want more from me than I’m able to give,’ she says.
They’re still looking into each other’s eyes and she doesn’t see a shift in his. No disappointment appears. No dislike, either. Not a flash of anything different.
‘Well, I’m glad you didn’t say youfearI may want more.’ His laugh is light, then he takes a sip of his tea and puts the cup back in the saucer. ‘I have no interest in asking any more of you than you’re prepared to give,’ Sol says. ‘I’m happy to simply have you in my life.’
That sentence right there – now,thatis the biggest compliment he could have paid her. Not demanding anything. Not expecting anything.
Something unlocks inside her. Not love – no, not that. Her love is for Laurie. At least for now.
It’s realisation: her life isn’t empty and never has been. Laurie is gone but she has her salon, her friends, her clients, her staff; she has this beach and this area and these familiar streets and cherished places; she has books and music and bright mornings and beautiful dusks.
There is also a feeling of release. She’s been holding on to something and she doesn’t even know what it is, but it’s gone now. Her chest feels loose where it was tight. Her shoulders relax. Why doesn’t she know herself well enough to be able to identify what’s going on? Why is she still such a mystery to herself even at this age?
These aren’t questions she can answer now but she quite likes the idea that there’s more to discover.
Ah, there it is: she feels differently about the future now. Before it was heavy and relentless. Now it appears to her as lighter. Maybe even carefree.
Has Sol given that to her? Perhaps. Or she may have created it for herself. By being here. Showing up each day – for life. Even on – especially on – the days when she hasn’t felt like it. That’sthe best she can do for Laurie. For herself. For those she loves. Keep being here. Keep showing up each day.
There’s a commotion by the water and they both turn to look to see the pelicans flapping their wings and taking off.
‘I imagine that’s it for today,’ Sol says.
‘Yes.’ She smiles and their eyes meet. ‘But there’s always tomorrow.’
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Anna was surprised when Gary called and asked her out to dinner. She also had to restrain herself from asking why he wasn’t asking the blonde instead. In the days since she saw them together she’s been mulling over the sighting, then it turned to agitating, then it turned to boiling it up and letting it simmer unattended. Totally her fault, of course, because she chose to keep going back to the memory when she could have trained herself away from it. She’s never been one to mull. Or hold a grudge. Witnessing her father’s long decline meant she tended to keep things in context, which was partly why she asked Gary to leave in the first place: life is, she knows, too short to live badly if it can be avoided.
For some reason, though, the idea of Gary with a new woman really irked her. She’s had trouble sleeping. There have been times when she’s caught herself daydreaming about it at traffic lights. Luckily only one driver has had to honk a horn to wake her up.
What irritated her the most was how upset she felt when she saw him with that woman. It caused a schism within her, between the Anna she thought she was, completely over her husband and willing to move on, and the Anna who appeared to be lurking underneath that one, with different opinions and needs, and still, quite clearly, attached to Gary.
So after that night she stopped trusting herself and her responses to things. Did she really think that new school mum was a bitch or was it some insecure version of herself that waspopping up and saying hello? Does she really want to be on her own, footloose and fancy-free, or is she merely telling herself a story to cope with the fact that her husband didn’t want to spend time with her and their children to the tune of staying at work late every night?
It’s really set her at odds with herself, all of this.
And then Gary called her. Wanting to take her somewhere nice.
A month ago she would have rolled her eyes and said, ‘I suppose so.’ This time she had to count to three so she didn’t say ‘yes’ too quickly.
Curiosity. That’s what it is. She just wants to know what he wants. Then she can go back to rolling her eyes.
Sure, sure, the other, subterranean version of her is saying.Tell yourself the story that it’s just curiosity. Ignore the jealousy you felt. Ignore the way you’ve been thinking about him since: as a man, not as an irritant.
He is picking her up tonight. Her mother is staying with the children.
It’s difficult to know whether or not Ingrid wants her back together with Gary. Indeed, it has always been difficult for Anna to know if her mother has ever liked Gary. Ingrid may be a woman of strong opinions but when it comes to her children’s spouses, she keeps her own counsel.
‘You look lovely,’ Gary says after Anna opens the door wearing a new pink V-neck jumper with shoulder pads, made of a fluffy thread she started regretting once she put it on because it may shed all over her woollen camel-coloured skirt.
‘Thank you,’ she says, a little startled at the compliment.
He brightens. ‘You’ve changed your hair.’
