It was the heat, they said. The heat and the exertion. The shock of the sea. Painkillers, fatigue, dehydration—every remotely plausible excuse was offered up for why it had taken me a few minutes to recognize Annie and Edie, every explanation save the obvious one.
I had stumbled toward them in a state of near ecstasy after my reunion with the ocean. They looked friendly, but beyond that I knew nothing of them. I introduced myself, and a great deal of chaos ensued. The girl looked terrified and the woman vexed. They said their names over and over, asked me to say mine as well as the name of the town. They led me to a chair, wrapped me in a towel, rubbed my shoulders, and gave me water to drink. At no point had I shared their concern, at least not that I recall. It was while they were hovering that it all came back to me. Annie and Edie. All was well, although you would never have known it judging by the state of those two. At the time, despite their opinions and some pretty compelling evidence to the contrary, I thought my mind was clearer than it had ever been, unfettered by worry, all my nervous energy dissolved and dispelled. True, I was worked up—breathless, heart racing, flushed and distracted—though to me it was nothing more than joy run amok.
The car ride home was a silent affair. I sat in the back seat, not perturbed in the slightest. In fact, quite the opposite. The squid would have to hiccup harder than that to knock loose what I’d found. Even the sight of the church did nothing to dent my mood. It occurred to me that other people felt like this all the time. They spent days, months, even years awash with contentment. I’m not sure I would have known what to do with myself had it come before now. All I knew for sure was the sun on my face, the voices of my friends in the car, the comforts waiting for me at Annie’s house, and a whole ocean with nothing to say to me but “Welcome home.”
Edie headed off to the shower, and I’d started down the hall to do the same when Annie laid her hand on my forearm.
“We need to talk about what happened.”
“I told you, I’m fine.”
“Frances, you didn’t know who we were.”
“For five minutes. Look, I had just had a big moment out there in the water. Some sort of healing experience or whatever.”
She gave me a quizzical look and pointed two fingers at her head. “As in healing your cancer?”
“No, not that. Like a healing of the soul. Oh, I don’t know how to describe it.” I raised my hands in the air, closed my eyes, and swayed. “I saw the face of God.”
“You need to see the face of the doctor.”
I dropped my arms and took her hands in mine. “Annie, I’m joking.”
“You’re calling the doctor.”
“To say what exactly? That I’m forgetful? To which she will say, ‘Well, that’s what you get for growing a big tumour in your head.’”
“Maybe there’s another pill or something. What do I know?” She leaned in and lowered her voice. “Frances, she was scared to death.”
“All right, I’ll talk to her later.”
“And maybe you need to lie down for a bit, hey?”
“That’s what I don’t need. I couldn’t sleep if you paid me. I feel too good. Honestly, I do.” I grabbed her by the shoulders. “Did you see me in that water today? I’m telling you, I can’t remember when I ever felt this good.”
“Okay, okay,” she laughed. “Far be it from me to go up against that. But you’ll talk to Edie, right?”
“Yes, as I said only seconds ago. Now may I go shower?”
She tossed her head toward my bedroom door and wagged a finger in my face. “But no whisky tonight.”
I turned away from her and walked down the hall smiling. Good luck with that one, Mother Malone.
BY SUPPERTIME, THE TWO of them appeared to have fretted it out. Edie was her usual chatty self as we sat at the outside table, me with a whisky in one hand, a smoke in the other, Annie with her hands in the air, resigned to letting me be as she went inside to tackle the dishes.
“Edie, about today,” I said.
“Yeah, that was pretty weird, right?” She smiled weakly and twisted at the waist slightly, as if she were trying to lean out of an unwanted touch.
“I know you were scared. I know I forgot your name, but I remember the look on your face.”
“I was just worried, that’s all.”
“What were you worried about?”
She didn’t answer.
“There’s no way around this. You know that.”
“It’s just that you seem fine. You don’t even look sick.”
A thick tear slid down her face and dripped from her jaw onto the table. I reached over and swept my fingertips across her cheek.
“Well, I take a lot of drugs. A lot.”
“And maybe that’s what happened. Maybe you took too many.”
“You’re right, it could have been the drugs or the heat—all those things you and Annie said may very well have played a role in it. But the most likely cause is this thing in my head.” I knocked against my skull. “Edie, love, my eyesight is failing, my legs are weak, my balance comes and goes. I’m exhausted all the time, plus the seizures, and now my memory. This is the evolution of it. The natural course of things.”
“I don’t like it.”
“You and me both. But if I put all the problems aside, I can tell you this: I have never felt better than I did today. Being out in that water—my God, it was something. And you gave me that. You took my hand and led me to it. That’s quite a gift. I’ll never forget it. And you shouldn’t either.”
“Frances, trust me, I won’t forget any of this.”
She passed me a cigarette and lit it for me, then stepped out into the grass. She did three perfect cartwheels, then stood grinning with the setting sun aglow behind her. I’d never seen her look so lovely, this half-child, half-woman living in harmony in one body. Surely she’d been blessed with the stuff that money could and couldn’t buy, her destiny laid out long before I came around, but I indulged myself with the knowledge that, however small and insignificant, I’d had a hand in moulding this magnificent creature, and going to the great beyond with that in my heart was what I’d been blessed with.
Edie’s phone rang. She raced back to the table to answer her call. She mouthed “Tareq” at me and strolled back out to the centre of the lawn.
Annie plopped down into the chair across from me. “My Jesus, I’m worn out. Pour me one too. A big one.” She downed a glug and smacked her lips. “Oh, that’s the stuff. Look at herself, will you? I assume by the riot of giggling and hair flipping that she’s talking to the boyfriend. Christ, she’s all in, poor trout. No idea that the takeoff won’t be worth the crash landing. Ah well, so it goes. You know, people always say, ‘If I knew then,’ and all that, but I bet I still would’ve leapt off all the cliffs I did.”
“You can’t fight your nature,” I said. “But do you really regret leaping at Anthony?”
“Ah, I don’t know. Regrets like that are hard once children are in the mix.”
“I was thinking about that day by the car when you said you thought you got married to rub the stain of me off you.”
She winced and swirled her whisky before raising the glass to her lips for another large, loud swallow. “That was a stupid, cruel thing to say, and a bloody lie. The truth of it is, I think you were some sort of compass for me, someone who would always stop me from straying too far off course. I never knew how much I relied on you until you were gone, although I expect not even you could’ve talked me out of that wedding dress. Maybe my life would have been wildly different or maybe it would’ve played out exactly the same. At any rate, I’ve come to see it was nobody’s doing but my own.” She reached for a cigarette, took a deep drag, and watched Edie pace around the grass for a few moments. “What’s that saying? The heart wants what it wants or something like that.”
“Think you’ll get married again?”
She scoffed. “Married? Good God, Frances, I’m not sure I’ll even get laid again.”
“What are you getting on with? Sure look at you. You’re prettier than half the women on television.”
She tossed her hair and smiled. “You’ll find no argument from me on that one, but there’s no one around here worth my time, that’s for damn sure. Truthfully, I just can’t be bothered. The whole song and dance of it, you know?”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, it’s all a big show, isn’t it? All the primping and posing. Look at Angela. Fake suntan, fake eyelashes. All her friends are the same. Walking around Safe Harbour with bald pussies, the lot of them. If you ask any one of them, they’ll say they do it for themselves. But who in God’s name gets scalding wax spread over their hoo-ha just for themselves?”
“Do you?”
“Do I what?’
“Wax your hoo-ha?”
“Frances, you couldn’t pay me enough. But I’ve done my share of foolishness. I’ve got more lingerie than I know what to do with. God knows how much money I’ve spent on hair dye and makeup over the years. And how many times I opened my legs just to try to keep Anthony from straying. I’d be run ragged with the kids and he’d come home half in the bag looking for a bit, and I’d let him have it and fake my way through it. He’d lie back like he’d just given me the world, and I’d lie and tell him he was marvellous. I’m making it sound like the problem with us was all about the sex, but that was the least of it. I just don’t think he was ever interested in me. As a person, I mean.”
I had no idea what to say to her, no point of reference to speak about the nuances of marriage. All I could think to say was one thing I knew for sure. “Well, he’s an idiot.”
“Yeah, but it’s not just him, though, is it? Remember Sharon Gulliver? She was two years behind us in school. She and I were great friends for years and then she moved to Toronto. Her husband died a while back, and last year I went up to see her. She’d just started seeing this man, and wasn’t she doing all the same shit, including the waxing. Fifty-odd years old and talking about getting breast implants. And I thought, At what age does all that end? I asked her what they talked about, and she couldn’t come up with a single worthwhile conversation they’d ever had. Anyway, she decided to set me up with her boyfriend’s buddy. Nice enough guy, good-looking, successful, and I think, What the hell, right? We have a lovely dinner, he seems keen on getting to know me, asking me all about my past, what I want in life now, and so on. We go back to his place, have a few drinks, fall into bed. And then doesn’t he tell me that he needs a porn flick on to get off. Not before, mind you—during. And what do I do? I smile and say fine. He finishes in three minutes flat, and before his dick is dry, he starts talking about an early meeting and next thing I’m in a cab. Never heard from him after. I mean, if that’s what’s next for me, I’d rather go to bed with a cheese-and-bacon sandwich and a bottle of wine.”
I laughed. “I’m sorry, it’s not funny. You just haven’t found the right person yet. Someone you can just be yourself with.”
“Nah, I’m done with it. I like me better without a man around. Although I am thinking of getting a new vibrator. One that loves me for me. Anyway, I feel like I’m always talking about myself. How are you doing?”
“Dizzy, weak, tired, constant headache. All in all, not too bad for being half-dead.”
“Did you talk to Edie?”
“Yeah, she’s okay.” I looked in Edie’s direction. She was still on the phone. “Tareq heals all wounds, as you can see.”
“What say we go out tomorrow night? Edie leaves in the morning, right? We’ll have a lazy day, get you rested up, then we’ll head down to the pub for a drink. There’ll be a bit of music on the go.”
“Tear up the town?”
“Exactly. Come on, it’ll do you good.”
“All right. But I want to do up a bit. Not for anyone else, just for me. But no waxing. I’ll let the old hoo-ha run free.”
“That’s the spirit.”
EDIE DECIDED WHAT I would wear for my night out, then she read me to sleep again. She was still next to me in the bed in the morning, her clothes rumpled, her hair matted to the side of her head. I watched her sleep, marvelling at her kindness in choosing me over Tareq for a weekend—an eternity for two kids just discovering each other. A few hours later, we stood hugging in the driveway and again I let Edie pull away first.
“So you’re sure you’ve got the FaceTime down, right?” she asked.
“Yes. We’ll try it out tomorrow night. Don’t forget to send me a picture of you and Tareq together. And be careful. You know what I mean.”
“Don’t worry about me. Just look after yourself. I’ll be back in a few weeks, okay?”
I managed not to cry when she left, but I almost bit clear through the side of my cheek holding it in. I figured it might be her last sight of me, so I smiled and waved and stood up straight, doing my best to look serene and elegant. I spent the rest of the day in bed, where in between naps the tears flowed.
By early evening, the heat and humidity had broken, the air cleansed and cool and fresh once again. Annie made us a light supper, then disappeared into her bedroom to get ready. She strutted into my room, a ghost from my youth in her tight jeans and a fitted pink T-shirt, lip gloss and shiny hair.
“Annie Malone, the gods have smiled upon you.”
She was holding a small red makeup bag. She cupped my chin in her hand, swept soft brushes over my cheeks and eyelids, coated my eyelashes with mascara, and dabbed fruity balm on my lips with her fingertips.
“There. That’s better,” she said and led me toward the mirror.
From what I could see, she was right. It was better, but still only a thin veneer over a truth that no amount of makeup could conceal. The hollowed cheeks and the sallow skin fighting against the vibrant powders. I briefly wondered if I was grotesque. Then realized I didn’t care.
The Seahorse Tavern was an old whitewashed house near the shore. In my youth it was someone’s home, but it had been made over into the local watering hole. There was a painted wooden sign that swung in the wind and a door the colour of candy apples. Inside, the hanging glass globes cast a warm yellow glow over the distressed wooden floors and panelled walls. High stools with cognac-coloured leather stretched over the seats were lined up in front of a dark wooden bar lacquered to a mirror shine. I suspected all of it was a calling card of some city slicker. If not for the southern shore accents I heard all around me and the smell of ale and battered fish, I never would have known I was home.
As we passed, Annie waved and nodded to folks, a few of whom looked familiar to me, but she didn’t stop until we reached the bar. I could feel the eyes of the patrons on me, and for a fleeting moment my nerves started to spark, a brief jolt that flickered and extinguished before it could catch and do any damage. A young man with gingery hair and freckled forearms was pulling drafts.
“Hiya, Mrs. Rideout. What’s your pleasure tonight?”
“Christopher, I’m not Mrs. Rideout anymore, and you’re old enough to be calling me Annie now. Two whisky sours, please. This is my friend Frances. She grew up here once upon a time.”
“Ah, welcome back,” he said and extended a meaty hand for me to shake.
Behind us, two men sat by a stone fireplace, one on the fiddle, the other on the accordion, pumping out the old standards. I turned around so I could see them. No one was paying much attention, but I couldn’t take my eyes off them. They weren’t the best I’d ever heard, but it didn’t matter. Their songs were memory; my mother and father were alive and breathing in every note they played. I closed my eyes and the music flowed through me like a lovely cool breeze.
Annie elbowed me in the ribs, handed me another drink, and nodded at a short, paunchy man coming toward us. His hair hung in dry thin wisps that brushed the collar of his shirt. He teetered slightly as he walked, clearly a few drinks ahead of us. His skin was ruddy and thickened, and he smiled, showing his sharp yellowed teeth.
Annie dropped her head and muttered, “Oh, Jesus, here he comes. Safe Harbour’s most eligible bachelor.”
“Annie, Annie, Annie,” he said. “Gorgeous as always, I see.”
“Half-cut already, I see,” Annie said.
“Ah, go on, I’m only having a bit of fun. Who’s this with you now?”
Annie turned away from him and kept her eyes on me. “Frances, this is Donny Doyle.”
I gave him a nod and turned back toward the players. Donny called out for the bartender to bring us two drinks on him, but Annie said we were all right. I got up and asked Christopher to point me toward the bathroom, then I walked to the back of the tavern. I lingered in the stall, wondering if I’d been gone long enough for Donny to take his leave. When I got back to the bar, he’d taken my stool.
“Up you get now, Donny,” Annie said. “Give the lady her seat back.”
He stood but didn’t move far enough away that I could sit down without brushing against him. Annie handed me a fresh drink, and I turned my back to Donny.
“Where’s she from?” he asked Annie.
“That’s Frances Delaney, you old fart. From school. The smart one.”
“Ah, right. Turn around so I has a better look at you.”
I gave him a brief glance over my shoulder, and he nodded.
“Right on. I got you now,” he said.
I jumped when he put his hand on my arm.
“Weren’t you the one that went with my cousin Michael that time? That night out at the old shed?”
“All right, Donny,” Annie said. “Frances and I got some lady business to chat about, so best move on now, hey?”
“Oh, Annie, remember that night? Now that was a good time.”
He clamped his hands down on Annie’s thighs, made a thrusting motion with his pelvis, and leaned in to kiss her. Annie raised her hand to push him away, and before I knew what was happening, I’d thrown my drink in his face, cherry and all.
“Jesus, woman,” he shouted and staggered back. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Annie stared at me, mouth agape, as Donny stomped toward the bathroom. Then she burst out laughing and slung her arm around my shoulder. I reached for some napkins to wipe down the bar and stammered an apology to Christopher for the mess I’d made.
“Proper thing, missus. The man’s a bloody menace,” he said and mixed me another drink. “This one’s on the house.”
WE GOT HOME JUST after eleven. Annie was right about the night out doing me good. My body was done in, but my spirits were high. I had just climbed into bed when she appeared in the doorway with a tub of chocolate ice cream and two spoons. We lay in silence, watching an old black-and-white movie that we both loved but couldn’t remember the name of, and I knew that everything wrong between us had finally loosened and separated, the last of the clogging silt and sticky muck of the past washed away. We’re clean, I thought, as my eyelids grew heavy. I had just begun to slip under when she rolled me onto my side. She slowly brought her face toward mine and kissed me. Her lips were soft and cold, and she tasted of whisky and chocolate. She drew back and scanned my face carefully, then moved toward me again. She brought her lips to mine and opened her mouth, then parted my lips with her tongue and moved it slowly into my mouth. She made a small sound, a breathy sigh, and suddenly I was wide awake, every cell in my body flipping and turning. My heart raced as I was engulfed by a wave of heat.
I laid my hand against the centre of her chest. “Annie, wait. What are you doing?”
She pulled off her nightgown and tossed it on the floor. “Leaping off a cliff.”
I closed my eyes and tumbled after her.