Lessons in Love

by Belinda Missen

  ‘Well, you should care.’

  ‘You think this doesn’t scare the absolute hell out of me, too?’ he asked. ‘And can you please look at me?’

  I lifted my eyes to meet his. Recently, he’d brought about entirely new feelings. It was the laughter of Friday, combined with the relaxation of Sunday, quiet hours spent on his couch, and all the thoughts I was having trouble reining in. This feeling? This was new. This was wanted. So why couldn’t I just leap off the edge and let it be?

  ‘For all the things we’ve talked about, you could still walk through the door in five or ten years’ time and decide, you know what, Alice was right. You’re a complete bore, and I’m done.’

  ‘That’s not true,’ I argued. ‘Because if you’re a bore, what does that make me?’

  ‘But it is true.’ He folded his arms across his chest. ‘I could still be teaching, or I could be vice principal, and I could be buried under marking or paperwork, but I still want to try. We at least owe ourselves that much.’

  ‘Marcus, this is such a huge thing. We both know that this won’t be little, we’ve all but set the course for the SS Commitment.’ I shrugged. ‘I just … I don’t even know.’

  ‘So, let’s stop skirting around the edges, stop talking about it in parables and what-ifs, and start … I don’t know, something.’

  ‘Please don’t push me into an answer.’

  ‘No, no, no, I’m not pushing.’ His hand moved from where he’d been holding the edge of my desk, landing on my hip. He squeezed gently, thumb brushing softly against the fabric of my dress. ‘I’m not going to force you into a decision. I won’t ask again. Instead, I’ll wait for you to come to me.’

  ‘What if it goes horribly wrong?’ I watched as he slipped off the desk and walked towards the door.

  Marcus doubled back and tapped at the window near the door. ‘And what if it goes spectacularly right, Eleanor?’

  I watched as he walked away, joining the flow of foot traffic that was moving through the library, as if we hadn’t just had a conversation that took an altogether awkward turn. The answer to all of this was simple. I knew what I wanted to do, but I felt like a bungee jumper in those last precious seconds before leaping into freefall. While my stomach churned with horrific nervousness, my heart danced a jig at the excitement to come.

  * * *

  Late spring rain lashed at the windows, turning the outside world and its swaying gum trees into a Turner watercolour. I sipped slowly from a piping hot tea, strong and sweet with only a hint of milk, and listened as Penny regaled me with stories from her latest dating disasters. Rufus from the football team had turned into a dud, Elliot from who knows where was allergic to her perfume, and Chelsea, well, she had more issues than a Cosmopolitan magazine. Penny had been desperately unattached ever since.

  ‘As if that’s not bad enough, Danny has just sent a thanks, but no thanks, text.’ If her bottom lip fell any further, she was going to give herself pash rash. ‘I think I’m having a crisis of confidence, Ellie.’

  Wrapped in an oversized, doughnut embroidered bathrobe, she curled in on herself again and tried to wrap a fraying crocheted blanket tighter around her shoulders. It was a rainbow of fruit colours and, usually, it matched her personality to a T. Today, her heart was washing away with the outside downpour.

  Judging by the bowls that surrounded her, she’d not only eaten her way through all the food groups today, but also the entire contents of the pantry. Right now, she was shovelling handfuls of popcorn into her face like an excavator in a sandpit. This was Penny’s upset look.

  ‘It’s okay to be single though,’ I tested. ‘I’m single.’

  ‘Oh, no, of course. I mean, no offence to you.’

  ‘None taken.’ I took another warming sip and tightened my grip on my mug.

  Of all the seasons, and of all the weather, this was my favourite. Give me a heavy downpour, a bit of thunder and lightning for good measure, a quality book and a hot drink, and I could happily while away the hours. Penny was more the happy, chirpy, summer sun and sea breeze type of girl. As it was, she’d thrown herself headfirst into a box set of The OC with a side order of Oreos and Doritos, and I was sure she was about to snort a few lines of Cadbury.

  ‘Maybe I need to settle down,’ she said. ‘Find that one person, you know?’

  Placing my mug on the side table, I folded myself up in an armchair. I felt my way around my knitting stash and pulled up what was still the beginnings of Penny’s jacket. I hadn’t yet made it past the end of the seed stitch border, but I was already in love with it. I dropped the bundle in my lap, wound the yarn around my fingers and looked up at her.

  ‘Do you still believe in a happily ever after?’ she asked. ‘After everything, and please be honest.’

  ‘Yes.’ It might have sounded simple, but it was an honest answer. If I didn’t believe in that, what hope did I have? I certainly didn’t want to live out my life a single woman with no family of my own. Sure, spinsters made nice coin back in the day, and I probably could now, but I didn’t want that to be it.

  ‘Really?’

  Wind howled around the eaves and corners and, somewhere in the distance, a branch cracked.

  I shrugged, slipped a needle through a loop and wound the wool around. ‘Sure. Honestly, I think I was blinded by some inflated idea of success and wealth and living this high adventure life with the cars and big houses and all the trimmings. But that’s not real life. This here is real life, the small friendship groups, the families, smiling as you see each other cross the road to the beach, and meeting each other’s kids. I made a wrong decision and, you know, I look back on him now not so much with regret but knowing that things could have been a lot different had I used better judgement.’

  ‘You don’t regret him?’ she asked. ‘Even after everything?’

  I winced. ‘Not really. Because everything I’ve learned has brought me here, hasn’t it? I mean, I could regret it and wish I’d done things sooner, but life has a way of sorting things out.’

  She reached out and grabbed a bowl of sour jellies. ‘So, you’re saying I should just ride it out?’

  ‘You know, I think I remember someone saying the same thing to me recently,’ I teased. ‘If you are serious about settling down, maybe you need to be a bit pickier about who you spend time with. Sure, kiss the frogs, but not the entire pond. All you end up doing is swallowing a heap of rank water.’

  She smiled. ‘Pond water. Yuck.’

  ‘You do realise that these types of thoughts were all the basis of your cue card game?’

  She blinked at me.

  ‘Think about what and who you’re looking for in life. Do you want a family, or just the two of you? What qualities would he have? And are his ideas compatible with yours? In the end, it’ll work out. I mean, if I had moved down here to teach years ago instead of getting married, I probably wouldn’t have the life, the fun, and the friends I have now.’

  ‘You have friends?’ she teased.

  ‘Please,’ I scoffed. ‘Millions of friends.’

  ‘Who?’ She folded her arms over, chin tipped towards the ceiling. It was all very Gary Coleman. ‘Come on, spill?’

  ‘Everyone at school,’ I lied.

  ‘Marcus,’ she teased.

  I rolled over the arm of the couch and reached for the teapot. ‘Don’t.’

  ‘Why are you not with him?’

  ‘I’m not done talking about you.’ I pushed my knitting back up the needle and placed it carefully in my lap. ‘Are you open to going on a blind date? Seeing as you so graciously sent me on one.’

  Penny scrunched her nose. ‘I can’t really say no, can I?’

  ‘You can always say no,’ I said.

  ‘You know what else I’m pissy about?’ she asked.

  ‘What else are you pissy about?’ I crossed my legs at the knees, now prepared to be here for the long run.

  ‘I’m so sick of that school. I’m sick of the whiny teachers, I’m sick of th
e Graces, I’m sick of the gossip. Most of all, I’m just sick of being the dummy on the phone. I need more.’

  ‘Could you talk to Phil about taking on another role within the school?’ I asked.

  ‘Eleanor, I’d need to be qualified for anything other than that. Even the school nurse needs a certificate now. It’s not like back in our day when mums would take turns administering Betadine and Band-Aids.’

  ‘So, get qualified?’ I said. ‘Grab life, go get yourself a qualification. Live in Melbourne for twelve months. Hell, take my car. I’ve barely used it since I arrived.’

  ‘I’m not like you,’ she sulked. ‘I can’t just up and leave. I have neither the brains, the car, nor the licence.’

  ‘Hold up a second. Firstly, you are wonderfully bright. You have a brain in your head. Secondly, you don’t drive?’ I asked, shocked.

  ‘Ah, no.’ She shook her head, eyes wide.

  ‘In that case.’ I tossed my knitting back in the basket next to my chair. ‘Here’s what we’re going to do.’

  Penny rolled her eyes and threw herself down onto the couch.

  ‘No, listen to me.’ I leaned forward and pointed a matriarchal finger at her. ‘Over the summer, you’re going to learn to drive. We’re going to wind on up the Great Ocean Road until you can do handbrake turns past the caravans and slow folk. We’re going to book a cockroach-infested hotel and spend nights in Melbourne to get your driving hours up, and then you’re going to get your licence. You’re going to spend the Christmas holidays thinking about what it is you really want from this life. As much as I love working with you, if you aren’t happy at that school, there’s no point in you being there. Of everyone you know, I can tell you exactly what it’s like to rot your brain in a job where your talent is lost. And, you know what, if you decide to pack up and leave town at the end of summer, then so be it.’

  ‘God, you sound like some internet motivational speaker with pretty pictures and oversized quotes.’

  ‘Well, if the teaching gig ever dries up.’ I gave a half-hearted shrug.

  Penny looked at me. ‘It’s just … well, you seem to have everything so together.’

  ‘I really don’t.’

  ‘But you do, Ellie. You’ve turned up at this school and you have owned that job from the minute you stepped into that library. You’ve created this little world where girls are looking at you like you’re this beacon of brain power, and there’s talk about a book club next year. You’ve got parents thanking you because you’ve made a difference in their child’s life. You had all this shit thrown at you last year, and you’ve just dug yourself out and bloomed. It’s wonderful, but I am a little jealous.’

  ‘Don’t be jealous,’ I said. ‘Honestly, my life feels like a shambles. My dad is about to return from his holiday, which I’m worried is going to be a bit of a mess. It’s almost as if he’s reverted back to being a teenager and I’m the one looking after him. Meanwhile, I’m stuck in a cycle of will she or won’t she turn up with my mother. And, while I’m very comfortable with my choice to return here, and the work I’ve done since, I still can’t bring myself to go on a date with Marcus, who was just about begging me for one this morning.’

  ‘Why, Ellie?’ she complained. ‘Everyone can see how well it’ll work. Why do you think Patrick and I did what we did? We could see it a mile off, all the little touches, the looks, the snuggling into each other and murmured conversations. Even when all you were doing was work, there was still something there. Normally, Patrick would walk away from trying to set people up, but even he saw it.’

  I groaned. ‘I just don’t know if I’m ready to go through all of that again. There’s meeting family and friends and being trotted out as the new girlfriend. And let’s not forget that it’ll all be happening with the extra bonus of being in the spotlight of the school community.’

  ‘There are women in that school who’ve been trying to pin him down since the minute he arrived, and he has not once taken the bait. You? You walk in, and you’ve got him wrapped around all your fingers, not just the little one.’

  ‘I like him,’ I admitted. ‘I do, I do … but, argh, I don’t know.’

  ‘I know you do,’ she said. ‘But, and I say this with the loveliest of hearts and best of intentions, you are treating this place like it’s some sort of punishment.’

  I baulked. ‘You just told me how good I was doing.’

  ‘At work, sure, because you’re as bad as he is when it comes to being focused on work. But, most of the time, you just come home at night and you read books, or you watch telly, or you’re busy with something for school, or you go to bed and do God knows what.’

  ‘Sleep,’ I deadpanned. ‘I sleep. I rest. And you know I’m a homebody.’

  ‘What do you dream about at night, Ellie?’ she asked.

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘It’s a question. What do you dream about at night?’

  ‘Why?’ I asked. ‘This has nothing to do with what we’re talking about.’

  ‘Just answer me.’ She thrust a packet of biscuits at me.

  I took a small handful and picked a raisin from the back of a Venetian. ‘I had a dream the other night about Chris Pratt.’

  ‘Me, too,’ she gasped. ‘What happened in yours?’

  ‘We were digging up dinosaur bones,’ I said. ‘We were in the desert with all those little brushes they use. It was dusty, dry, and warm, and he was all, “What a good job,” and I said, “We’re so good at this.” It wasn’t particularly sexy, but it kind of was, if you know what I mean?’

  A disbelieving look turned into a burbling laugh, which turned into roaring laughter. Eventually, she calmed down, flicked some crumbs from her blanket and turned to me again.

  ‘Well, mine involved Chris Pratt and bones … in a roundabout way.’ She smiled wickedly. ‘Same, same, but different.’

  ‘Christ, I do need to get out more,’ I grumbled. ‘The height of my erotic night was finding a T. Rex fibular.’

  ‘Yes, you do.’ The packet of biscuits landed on the table with a cellophane crunch, and she turned back to me with wide eyes. ‘Look, I love that you’re getting back to Ellie. Helping Jack with the piano is lovely, and I love the knitting. It’s a wondrous thing to be able to create something with your bare hands. But it’s not going to nourish you in the way that other humans will. Men, in particular. And I’m not talking specifically about penis, either. Men and women are different. We are equal, but we are different, and their thoughts and perspectives, while sometimes baffling, do enrich us.’

  I blinked at her. What a little nugget of wisdom she was turning out to be.

  ‘God, you’re using bottom shelf psychology on me,’ I grumbled.

  ‘Well, I’m short. I can only reach the bottom shelf.’ She offered a playful wink and a smile. ‘And, I mean, I feel like that blind date kind of changed your mind about him?’

  ‘It was a great, great night.’

  ‘And?’ she pressed.

  ‘And nothing.’ I shrugged. ‘It was a lot of fun. We laughed, we talked, we ate dinner. The cue cards were a riot. We haven’t finished them, actually.’

  ‘See, you have to go finish the cards. You like him, he adores you. You’ve just said you’re keen, so why not go out with him? I don’t say this because you owe him anything, but you owe yourself something. You owe it to yourself to be happy, so why deny that?’

  ‘You’re right,’ I said.

  ‘You know it.’ She bounced, suddenly perking up. ‘And what is it that you want from life? If I’m being asked to think about that, then so should you.’

  ‘It’s totally syrupy, but I want the white picket fence, two-point-four kids, and the tall, dark and handsome husband who comes home each night to spend time with all of us.’ As I threw that idea into the universe, I could picture only one person in that fantasy. It hit me like a sucker punch, and I took a deep, gasping breath.

  ‘It’s him, isn’t it?’ Penny clutched her hands to her heart. ‘That’s y
our tall, dark, and handsome.’

  ‘Okay, all right. It is,’ I admitted. ‘Just once. Once can’t hurt.’

  ‘That’s my girl.’ She smiled. ‘Where do you think you’ll go?’

  ‘He said it was up to me. He’d wait for me to decide, and we’d go from there.’

  ‘Off you go and pick something, then. Just don’t go getting married until I’ve learned to drive; I’m going to hold you to that promise.’

  ‘Pinky swear, cross my heart.’ I drew my fingers across my chest. ‘You’re going to get some wings.’

  Chapter 22

  No matter how much I gnashed my teeth and pulled out excuses as to why I shouldn’t, couldn’t, wouldn’t go on a date with Marcus, Penny’s reasoning returned serve and kicked my doubts to the kerb. The inescapable truth was she was right.

  I had always been that girl. The one who excelled at school, who did the extra assignments for bonus credit, who spent her nights reading and afternoons memorising musical scales. I moved into an all-girl share house for university because boys were only a distraction to education, instead preferring to keep to myself and wads of lecture notes in the library.

  Rehearsals for the symphony orchestra were as wild as I got, and I married the first idiot who seemed to have his shit together. Newsflash: he did not. When I grabbed at life’s calculator and added it all up, playing it safe had resulted in nothing more than a sobbing afternoon in a lawyer’s office and a stick jammed so far up my own arse I could have beaten the Paddle Pop Lion at his own game.

  As I wandered about the school yard at lunchtime, narrowly avoiding a football to the back of my head, I drank the last pulpy dregs of an orange juice and considered my options. I didn’t especially think of myself as a hermit. I’d been social since the end of Dean. I’d shifted house twice and been on dates my housemates had insisted on organising, even if they had been sorely misguided.

  Regan from finance was a fiscal bore, Sam from advertising had nothing to offer, and Eddie from legal was so tied up in his own red tape that he couldn’t see sunlight. I’d partied through late nights in a high-rise apartment and raced down aisles of supermarkets when I thought I’d seen my mother-in-law. I’d watched the sun come up over St Kilda Pier, and had made up for all the weekends when, as a university student, I didn’t go anywhere near the iconic Corner Hotel. I was fun.