A Change of Texture
Page 23
‘Absolutely,’ agreed Geraldine and raised her mug in a toast. ‘We don’t need to convince anyone. It’s ours, and we know what it is and who it is.’
CHAPTER 50
I knew it couldn’t be. I knew that what I was looking at was not possible but I also knew that my senses had lied to me before. I was aware of the gulf that could exist between what I thought I saw and what was real.
I smiled. It was not a smile that moved my lips or warmed my heart, but one that gave permission and told me it was all right. I took some solace in being allowed to suspend logic.
I now understood something that will affect the rest of my life. I knew that the least possible thing is just that, possible, and that even if it again turned out I misunderstood my perceptions, I at least permitted myself to have the moment. The last time this happened, it was me, or, rather, it wasn’t, it was Warwick. But at that time, I was sure it was me and even now, in fact, more, I believe it was me, because what we perceive becomes ours. We may learn otherwise, things may come to light that suggest we were wrong, but at that moment we are a victim of our own reality. I know things now that I didn’t know before; I know that we are all alike, we do not want to be afraid, we do not want to be lonely. Ultimately, losing something and finding something are the same, it simply depends on where you are when it happens.
I’d left Gloria’s ten minutes earlier, with an overwhelming feeling it was time for me to leave the women alone, I had done my day’s work. It had been a long and momentous meeting of four souls who were now forever familiar to each other.
Then, as I drove, satisfied and tired, and trying to avoid any more dissection of the day, I had an urge for caffeine. At that moment, I remembered where I was; Of course, just over there is good coffee. I pulled over, it was too easy, there was a good parking spot right out the front and …I saw her.
I was frozen, pushed into the seat as if by force, like a passenger in a jet plane that has just left the ground.
I made my hand turn off the motor. I hadn’t realised I’d stopped breathing until my lungs asked for air. The process of breathing in was hard but necessary, just like everything else I was doing.
I knew the clothes she was wearing. I was sure I was with her when she bought that pale blue cardigan. And jeans, she had several pairs. Her hair had grown.
I reached the obvious conclusion: the collision had caused her head to hit the driver’s side window and had probably just concussed her.
So, it was that simple. I would hug her, tell her how much I missed her and then ask her where she had been. The noise of my car door surprised me, I hadn’t meant to slam it; a young guy on a mobile phone who was walking past gave me a disapproving look.
I was moving now, following her, she was walking slowly. I liked the way she walked. It was deliberate, she always knew where she was going.
Now I was near, all other noise vanished and I could only hear her footsteps, in sync with my heart.
I reached out my right hand, saw it move away from me as if in slow motion, like in a movie where the director allows all images in the frame to move at a normal pace except for the subject of the scene, wanting to extend the moment. Eventually, my hand found its target, the shoulder, the soft feel of the blue cardigan.
She slowed to a stop and started to turn, still in slow motion. Then I saw a profile, then a lovely face in full view. It showed surprise. Then it changed, curious, then cautious.
In that instant, time returned to normal speed, the planet recommenced spinning, sounds were heard, colours reappeared, life was back in focus.
‘Hello, Carter.’
Now I knew.
‘Hello, Shelagh. Have you got time for a coffee?’
She hesitated and looked away, she was asking herself why, I couldn’t blame her
Then she looked back at me; she didn’t smile but she nodded. We moved towards Sublime Café. The coffee there was good. I used to go there with someone else.
It had never occurred to me they looked alike.
THE END