For a short while when I was swimming in the sea with my dad, I forgot about everything.
But now it is all back.
I have been with Mark my whole adult life. I don’t know how to function in the world without him by my side. At some point in the future, unless I want to die alone, that will have to include dating. The mere thought fills me with dread. I know nothing of Tinder or Hinge or Bumble except what I have picked up second hand. From what I can see it seems like one big smorgasbord of rejection and pain with the odd dick pic thrown in for good measure. I thought I was going to get through my whole life without being sent images of a random penis.
I stare at the couple who carried their baby’s buggy slowly across the sand, suddenly furious at their smug togetherness. I hate the way he reaches out and brushes the hair out of her face, loathe her casually pouring two cups of tea out of a thermos and handing him one.
The woman gets a jar of baby food out of the cool bag and proceeds to spoon it into the baby’s mouth. Both parents gaze adoringly as if the infant is doing something a whole lot more extraordinary than just opening its beak to receive orange mush.
I stare at the grey-green sea, my nerves and synapses remembering the searing cold: my muscles constricting, my toes and fingers starting to numb, the exhilaration as I swam myself warm.
‘Was that yummy?’ The mother’s voice carries across the briny breeze.
I wonder if I will ever have a baby now? Whether I even want one that isn’t Mark’s? I used to be so sure of what was ahead.
I shake my head. Of course I still want a baby. My life isn’t over. I can still do whatever I want to do.
Like travelling.
My brain replays the conversation I had with my father in Cici last night. I was furious when he suggested that it was Mark who had stopped me from travelling, but the truth is, it has always been Mark coming up with all the reasons why we shouldn’t go. Am I actually okay to give up the idea of seeing Sydney harbour or Uluru or the freshwater lakes of Fraser Island? My dad has a point when he says teaching is a career you can come back to. Maybe I’m not stupid or childish or reckless to want to travel, and Mark just made me feel that way? Maybe he squashed my dream?
I give myself a mental shake. Of course, Mark didn’t squash my dream. It is important to build a future here. And the two of us have always been on the same page about everything. Well, until he dumped me.
The baby has finished his meal and is now being carried towards the sea by his father. His mother follows close behind laden with inflatables and toys. She has more questions for the baby. ‘Shall we take you to see the sea? Would you like that? Maybe you can dip your little toe toes?’
I am sick with nerves about tomorrow’s meeting too. Am I going to casually drop in the Ofsted thing? And can I really lie to Clare about what happened with Tommy? Will I allow Natasha and the rest of my colleagues to believe the Cassidys are the perpetrators not the victims in all this?
Setting aside such moral questions, is a letter of complaint something that will go on my record forever? I picture myself being fired.
The headache I thought I’d got rid of with max-strength painkillers starts to pulse behind my eyes.
‘I hope you’re hungry?’ my dad says, reappearing with two large paper packages and handing me one.
‘Starving.’ I unwrap my warm parcel to the waft of vinegar.
A large seagull has positioned itself near and is eyeing me hopefully.
I spear a chip with the doll-sized wooden fork.
‘What sort of vibe are you wanting from a wedding venue?’ Dad says. ‘Bohemian? Classic? Glam?’
The piece of fish I am eating turns to sand in my throat. ‘Erm—’
‘I guess it’s good not to have too many preconceived ideas.’
‘Yeah.’ Vinegar seeps into a paper cut on my finger, making it sting. Improbably, I feel tears rise.
‘It was great the swimming, wasn’t it? So important to do things like that. Shona reckons the ocean has the ability to trigger a psychological state of calm and contentment. She says it can literally wash away pain. I’m not sure about that, but I know I love it.’
If only the sea could wash away pain. If only it had been more than a temporary distraction.
The seagull moves a little closer and Dad shoos it away. ‘One thing I do know for sure is that we should all live every day as if it’s our last.’
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake. I hate it when people say that. If we all lived every day as if it was our last, no one would ever get a smear test or do their tax return or clean out their cupboards. It would all be about instant gratification rather than working for things. So much of what’s wrong with the world today is people not caring enough about the future. We chop down rainforests, burn fossil fuels and pump raw sewage into our rivers and oceans.’
‘Riiiight,’ Dad says. ‘You know what I mean, though?’
‘No, I don’t. It’s a stupid, trite phrase that people trot out without thinking.’ I wrap up my half-eaten fish and chips and cast them aside.
Dad opens his mouth to say something but then closes it again.
I lean back against my rucksack. Why did I get so snappy over nothing? I do think the old ‘live every day as if it’s your last’ thing is BS, but that doesn’t mean I had to jump down my father’s throat like that. What the hell is wrong with me?