The Boy Who Hugs Trees

by Dougie McHale

  ‘For how long?

  ‘The end of the summer, September maybe, it’s just a thought at the moment. Dylan needs the stability and structure you have given him. It’s good for him and I’d like that to continue.’

  ‘I don’t need to rush back to the university,’ Adam says reflectively.

  ‘I’m not expecting you to commit yourself just now, but it would give me some peace of mind to know you could be flexible. Actually, Adam, we don’t need to be formal anymore. Your word’s as good as any contract, let’s forget the whole contract thing. It doesn’t feel right anymore. Unless you still want one, of course?’

  ‘Are you sure you’d like me to stay?’

  ‘I’ve never been surer of anything in my life. Do you need time to think about it?’

  ‘No, I’d love to, that would be great,’ he says, feeling a spasm of happiness.

  ‘Then let’s seal it with a drink.’

  They clink their glasses. ‘It’s a deal.’ He can’t stop smiling.

  ‘That’s a relief. You’ve made me very happy Adam. Thank you,’ Georgia says cheerfully.

  ‘That makes the two of us then.’

  A satisfying exhilaration courses through him. Adam indulges in the feeling, as around him the tempo of music quickens its pace in a flurry of notes and, as the melody fills the square, it urges many to dance.

  ‘Let’s dance.’ Georgia pulls his arm.

  ‘I’ve got two left feet.’

  Dylan looks confused and stares at Adam’s feet. ‘That’s a weird expression.’

  ‘It’s an idiom,’ Adam says. ‘It means, I can’t dance.’

  ‘Oh, then why didn’t you just say that?’ Dylan shakes his head, perplexed.

  ‘It doesn’t matter if you can’t dance, just copy the others.’ Georgia is already standing and pulling Adam to his feet. She is smiling broadly.

  Adam feels clumsy and disjointed. He notices the young man he met at the buffet and tries to mimic the movement of his arms and legs, but feels his body has a mind of its own. He thinks he probably looks ridiculous, but Georgia is still smiling at him encouragingly. He must be doing something right, after all, and he concentrates on his feet.

  ‘You’re doing fine,’ She raises her voice above the music.

  ‘I don’t feel it.’ He looks down towards his feet and grins.

  ‘Is anyone laughing?’

  He smiles and looks around the square. ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Well then, enjoy the music. You’re in Greece.’

  Adam is relieved to return to his seat.

  ‘You were right, you can’t dance,’ Dylan says as he fiddles with his I-Pad.

  Adam takes a drink of beer. ‘See, Dylan noticed, and he was listening to Mozart. That’s how obvious it was.’

  Georgia leans forward and touches his forearm. ‘Thank you anyway, that took courage, looking like a fool in front of the whole village.’

  ‘I thought you were on my side.’

  ‘I am. It was courageous of you.’

  ‘I’m learning about myself every day.’ Adam grins. For a moment, he wonders what it would be like to touch her lips with his; he hesitates and settles for her smile.

  ‘Are you glad you came to Corfu Adam? It was a gamble not knowing if it was going to work out. I know Stephen has been intolerable at times, but apart from that, is it how you thought it would be?’

  ‘To be honest, I thought coming here would challenge me.’

  ‘And has it?’

  ‘Yes, but not in the way I expected.’ He averts his eyes and takes a deep breath.

  Georgia raises her eyebrows. ‘And what does that mean?’ Her face is rueful, sympathetic almost.

  Earlier in the day, Adam had been listening to David Gray on his I-phone, and a line in a song resonated in his head, repeating itself and walking with him most of the day. Now it returned, “Feels like lightning running through my veins, every time I look at you.”

  He wants to respond by telling her how he truly feels. He aches to see her face each morning; just to be near her and share the rituals of the life they share in this house which holds him in a dreamlike state. It is enough just to be able to smell her perfume, ravage each detail of her face, each expression, gesture, the subtle movements of her lips, the shine of her eyes. He is witness to all of these things, his heart swells and it could burst.

  Adam feels a hand on his shoulder, it is Giannis. ‘You dance like a demented goat, it’s almost as a bad as your chess. Come and have a drink with us.’

  ‘You go.’ Georgia smiles rather sadly. ‘I need to speak to Theresa, I’ve not seen her all night, and it’s almost time for Dylan’s bed.’

  Chapter 36

  Enough for Now

  When Adam returns to the house, Dylan is already in bed. In the kitchen, he meets Georgia.

  ‘I’m just having a coffee, would you like some?’

  He sits at the table and observes Georgia pour the hot coffee.

  ‘Did you see Theresa?’ he asks, accepting a cup of her.

  ‘Yes, I did.’ Georgia sits next to him.

  ‘Did she enjoy the wedding?’

  ‘I think she did until I spoke with her.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It’s been troubling me for some time now. Theresa hasn’t asked about mum’s diary. I thought she would be interested in it; even just to ask if she’s in it.’

  ‘I suppose, so what did you say?’

  ‘Well, I just came right out with it. She seemed to be quite elusive about it and said it was a private thing between Mum and me. She looked uneasy as if something was troubling her, I think, I don’t know, it was hard to tell. But I wasn’t convinced.’

  ‘It must feel strange, reading your mum’s thoughts after all of this time.’

  ‘It is. I wasn’t prepared for how I’d feel. The moment I opened the first page, she was alive again, but it’s bittersweet. Reading her words, I feel her presence around me, and I’m learning things about her I never knew or was never meant to know. It’s like she had another life. She’s still the mother I know; only now, I’m beginning to think of her differently, and I don’t know where that’s taking me.’

  Georgia tells Adam that it has brought back feelings of guilt and loss. She explains that her mother was diagnosed with Myeloma, a blood cancer. At the time, neither of them had heard of it. Emily eventually became worn out by the heavy doses of chemotherapy and Steroids, complaining of having to take a pharmacist's shelf load of tablets every day. Once the cancer spread to her brain, it really took its toll on her. She started to slur her words, like she had a stroke. Until that point, they had lived with the threat hanging over them and by all accounts, she lived a normal life. Now, this was the start of the end. She was articulate, her mind was alert; she did the crossword every day, spent hours in the garden, digging and planting, and if she could, she would walk everywhere, rather than take the car or get the bus. She transformed from a spritely, active woman, fit for her age, into a withered, shrunken flower, who couldn’t take more than a few steps, before crumpling into a wheelchair.

  ‘We never really got the chance to share the gift of motherhood. She died soon after Dylan was born. Apart from her death, that was the absolute heartache.’

  Adam leans towards Georgia, he wants to reach out and take her by the hand.

  ‘Stephen is staying on in Athens, just a little longer, he phoned just as I got back.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘I’ve noticed that when he is here, we don’t see much of you.’

  ‘It’s better that way, for everyone.’

  ‘It’s difficult for me Adam.’ Georgia looks away, she seems almost frightened.

  ‘Stephen’s going to be pretty pissed off when he finds out I will be staying longer. I feel guilty about that, it’s the last thing I want. Maybe it would be best if I finished as we planned.’

  ‘No, I won’t have that. I need you to stay and to teach Dylan. You’re a good teacher Adam. You’re
gently insistent and Dylan has benefited so much from you. He’s almost a different boy… and… I need you.’

  They sit in a silence that permeates their pores. He feels an exhilaration rush through him, as he gazes into eyes that are inscrutable green and in return, she holds his stare. Instinctively, Adam lifts his hand to her face and gently slides his fingers across her skin.

  ‘Nothing makes sense without you,’ he whispers unashamed.

  She touches his fingers, a light fleeting graze.

  ‘When did you know?’

  ‘The night Dylan ran away,’ she answers. ‘I thought about it all night. Stephen was reckless, but there was something about you, your reaction. Stephen was just clutching at straws, he was drunk. You were a threat to him; you reminded him, he is hardly ever with us. You saw Dylan more than he did; you spent more time with me than he had in months. Stephen was using you to deflect from the truth, his failure as a father and husband. But there was something in your eyes, I saw it.’

  ‘It’s a relief.’ Adam sighs. They have moved on to the next step. ‘I had no idea how you would react. I’ve wanted to tell you for so long and I nearly did several times, but the thought of driving you away, or of having to leave, was a gamble I wasn’t prepared to take.’

  ‘Oh Adam.’ Georgia squeezes his hand. ‘I need time. I need to think this through.’

  ‘It’s enough for now. You know how I feel, I’ll settle for that.’

  Chapter 37

  An Offer is made

  1972

  Wednesday, 21st June 1972.

  I have woken to the sun spreading its light into every nook and cranny, every corner of the house. How can I feel lonely when I have as companions, imposing hills all around me, clothed in the fabric of luscious trees, like a sea of emerald embroidery, undulating against a halo of transparent light that kindles the birth of each new sky.

  I embrace the harmonious evolution that reinterprets each morning. I find the process intriguing; it is profound as much as it is unpredictable. It is extraordinary, altering brightness and contrast, colour and light.

  The bougainvillaea has claimed the garden as its own; colonising great sways of it in rich purple, orange and reds; words can’t describe the intense richness of it all. The family of swallows, above me, in the eaves, dash in and out of their nest all day long. I wonder if their young have hatched already.

  I often catch myself wondering how I will feel once Paul returns. I have thought about this intensely for the last few days. I have peeled the shell of who I am and exposed the membrane of possibility. I like this new me, I am in a state of contentment.

  This morning, I sat drinking my usual cup of coffee on the terrace. Even by its standards, the sun was already hot, pressing its heat into the garden. As always, I was immersed in the scents of herbs and flowers. I felt enormously invigorated, but at the same time, such joy brings with it a reminder it is not a permanent state. It elicits an uncomfortable self-evaluation of my marriage. I will not leave Paul, that would be inexcusable, but the door has been closed on salvaging anything of value, it is too late for that. We are both responsible for eroding what little is left between us.

  I never gave it a thought really, the prospect that I could be attracted to another man, after all these faithful years with Paul. There was no conscious deliberation. I didn’t wake up one morning and decide today is going to be the day. It just happened. The gradual disintegration of any real attempt to salvage what was left of our marriage, the lack of reciprocal communication between us, made it easier, I suppose...

  The wooded hill gently unfolds beyond the garden. Her senses tingle, as she watches the oranges hang heavy in the branches, circular little moons in a canopy of green leaves. When she thinks of meeting Stelios again, Emily feels a pleasant shifting in her stomach, a pleasing contracting of her sphincter. What surprises her is she does not feel a sense of guilt and, even if that was so, her enthusiasm for the day ahead is so profound, she would probably suppress it. Her curiosity is palpable.

  The distance between Paul and Emily has grown as each week and month has passed. Coming back to Corfu and staying at the house is, in a way, a test; could they be reconciled as a couple? Could they save their marriage? Was it salvageable?

  There are days when the house feels cut off from the rest of the world. Tucked away from the village, days can pass without seeing another living being, apart from the birds and butterflies of the garden.

  Over many visits, the house has become her home. It is a place to relax, to take stock, become refreshed and absorb the natural properties of the Corfu climate. It is an enchantment she craves.

  It is not that they bicker or niggle at each other; they have passed that stage. They have grown into a bubble of acceptance that, at some point, became the norm. It can still be painful, this detachment from Paul, and that can be bruising, for their marriage had been fulfilling; they had been in love, once. She accepted long ago that their relationship is disfigured by a natural decline that has been exacerbated and accelerated by motivating forces. They are almost separated in every regard. Emily makes a resigned face and checks her watch.

  He had lustrousness eyes that lit up when he smiled, that was the first pull of attraction, and it encouraged her to stay in his company longer than she would normally have and accept his invitation to lunch. He exuded an old fashioned courteousness that amused her but, most of all, she enjoyed his company and, being honest, she liked the attention he afforded her.

  It brought home how barren her relationship with Paul had been for all these months. Expressions of intimacy, both cognitive and physical are no longer shared with warmth and affection; they have become mechanical processes, which fulfill some primaeval instinct, that is now expressed less frequently and is harder to capture as time moves on. When they are together, more often than not, they retreat into their own islands of solitude.

  Emily contemplates these thoughts, as she ambles along the streets of the capital. She takes in the many influences that define the architecture of the facades, grand buildings and walkways that flourish in the town. She could be in Venice, Naples, even France.

  Emily once got lost in the maze of narrow streets, and her instinctive panic subsided with each new discovery; an old chapel, a square riotous with flowers, Roman and Greek influenced archways and old mansion houses, peeling paint.

  Above her, the sun is a blazing yellow orb. Summer has truly arrived and the town’s cobbled streets are thronging with tourists and visitors from the island’s many resorts and visiting cruise ships.

  She stands outside the restaurant, ‘Ionian Skies’ and it is familiar to her. She thinks she has eaten here before, with Paul and some friends from Edinburgh, who were staying with them for part of the summer, several years ago.

  Stelios is sitting at a table in the open air; he is smoking and extinguishes his cigarette in an ashtray when he sees Emily. He waves to her and smiles.

  ‘I’m glad you came.’ Stelios is still smiling as he pulls out a chair gesturing for her to sit. ‘When you insisted on making your own way here, I must admit, I thought you wouldn’t come.’

  ‘To be perfectly honest, I did deliberate whether I should come or not. I’m not in the habit of accepting invitations from strangers.’

  ‘I hope we can change that… me being a stranger that is. I would really like to get to know you better Emily.’

  She bows her head. Were her cheeks reddening?

  ‘This place looks familiar. I think I’ve eaten here before.’

  ‘Was it good?’

  ‘I can’t remember.’

  ‘I told the chef I was bringing a food critic from the UK to help me make a judgement on his cooking.’

  ‘You never did.’

  ‘I did, I think he is feeling ill. I might have put him off the whole idea of working for me.’ He laughs rapturously.

  ‘That wasn’t kind, poor man.’

  ‘I want to see what his cooking is like when under pressure.
’

  ‘Surely just cooking for you must be an ordeal in itself?’

  ‘Maybe, but I want to know he can attain certain standards. I have a reputation to think of. After all, my success as a businessman will, in part, depend on his skills in the kitchen.’

  ‘I see your point, but me, a food critic?’

  ‘You work for The Times, by the way. I thought it would give the afternoon an air of authority.’

  She looks at him, aghast.

  ‘I’m kidding.’ He smiles, raising his palms in front of him.

  Emily laughs, feeling more comfortable now.

  Lunch is a success. Stelios declares his intention to offer the chef a position as head chef and, during coffee, he asks Emily if she would like to see the shop that is being refurbished for Gabriella.

  ‘There is still work to be done, but it’s almost finished. I would value your opinion on a few matters… around the retail side of things.’

  ‘It’s been a long time since I worked in that business. I’m not sure if my opinions would be valid anymore.’

  ‘They would be valid to me and that’s all that matters.’

  The shop is in an upmarket quarter of the town, sandwiched between a jewellers and a trendy bar. When they arrive, the electricians are completing the wiring and the interior is almost complete, apart from some cosmetic fixtures. Several floor to ceiling mirrors give the illusion of a vast space, complemented with leather sofas and marble counters.

  ‘What is your first impression Emily?’

  ‘I like it, it’s very chic, some shops over glamorise their image with their brand but this is very subtle and at the same time, it gives the impression of a certain confidence, so the customer immediately will get the impression of who we are and what we sell.’

  ‘I couldn’t have put it better myself. That’s exactly the ambience Gabriella was looking for and what she wanted to create. She’ll be thrilled to know that’s what you thought.’

  ‘Yes it certainly works,’ Emily says, taking in her surroundings.