Life Is A Foreign Language

by Rayne E. Golay

  She held up a hand to stop the torrent of words. “I don’t know …”

  “Yes, you do. I don’t need to know the details, but at least be honest with yourself. You may not be aware of it yet, but there is somebody. If he isn’t worth it, if, for instance, he already has a relationship, forget I said anything. But don’t squander this opportunity if he’s an okay guy.”

  Before she could get in a word Barry continued. “I’ve known you for years, so this isn’t idle speculation on my part—you’re a very competent professional, you know your worth. In that department you’re strong and self-assured. But there’s Nina, the woman—in that role you’re insecure and fragile. From the little you’ve mentioned about your past, I believe it’s safe to assume your husband built on the damage your father caused to your self-esteem. But it’s not too late for you to outgrow the damage. You’ve already made a start through therapy; in fact, I think you’ve had all the therapy you can use. The right man could help, somebody who looks at you with positive eyes, so you’ll learn to see yourself as precious and special, instead of flawed.”

  A wave of heat settled on her face. She kept stirring her coffee. “Barry, don’t go shrink on me.” The spoon fell from her numb fingers and clattered to the table. “How do you …? Gee, I don’t know what to say. I feel confused.” She shrugged.

  “But I’m right, there is a man, isn’t there?”

  Despite the air-conditioning she was so hot she felt perspiration trickle between her breasts. “I suppose so. Yes. His name is Michael.” Her hand on the table trembled. “He’s been very good to me and I … I’m very fond of him. When he’s around I feel good, and I miss him when he’s gone.” She toyed with the salt shaker, thinking of the times they’d shared; the things they talked about, the way she felt when he looked at her, touched her. The shaker dropped from her hand, spilling salt on the table. “Gosh, there’s no point to this discussion, Barry. Michael is a friend, and I appreciate him. I want him to remain my friend.”

  He patted her hand. “Don’t get all worked up. Maybe something good has come into your life.”

  She studied him. “Maybe. Yeah, who knows? I’ve had these odd feelings lately. You know—jittery, yearning and excited and … and when I see him I’m so …”

  “Happy? Excited?”

  “Yes. Both.” A mere whisper, not sure she had made much sense during this exchange, but her heart beat too fast, and her cheek muscles cramped from smiling.

  She moved restlessly on the vinyl covered bench and leaned against the back. “I’d like some ice water, please Barry.”

  He caught the attention of the server, placed the order and glanced at Nina. “Tell me about Michael.”

  “I’m not sure I know that much about him.” But once she began, it poured out in a torrent of words, everything she knew about him and how they’d met. When she ran out of words, she was a little breathless. “That’s all.”

  Barry smiled one of his cherubic smiles.

  The server brought their check. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but it’s the end of my shift. I’ll take this whenever you’re ready.”

  Barry reached for his wallet, and counted out some bills, folding them inside the check.

  Nina played with a beer mat, thinking. “I’ve had a well-organized life. Now you’ve turned everything upside down.” Possibly she didn’t dare be honest enough to admit she had grown fond of Michael in such a short time.

  Barry raised both his hands in defense. “Me! I haven’t done a thing. Only made you think.” He gave her a questioning stare. “Do you trust Michael?”

  “I do.”

  Gathering her purse, she prepared to leave.

  Barry’s hand stopped her. “Are you angry with me?”

  She gave him a faint smile. “With you? Now how could I be angry with you?”

  They left the restaurant, and Barry walked her to the car.

  “Stay in touch,” he said. “Let me know about the novel. And about Michael.” He took her hand. “Everybody has the right to be happy. Go for it, girl—be happy.” He turned on his heels, crossed the parking lot and waved as he got in his car.

  Nina eased her car out of the parking slot, where it was wedged between two SUVs. She would need to concentrate on her driving—the conversation with Barry had upset her more than she wanted to admit.

  On the way, she stopped at a florist and bought a dozen long-stemmed red roses for Samantha. Feeling indulgent she bought flowers for herself, as well.

  Driving into the garage, Nina was more anxious than she remembered being in a long time. She hit the remote control to close the garage door, as if by the gesture she could shut out the disturbing thoughts triggered by Barry’s comments, but failed. He had challenged her, forced her to analyze what she felt.

  After her fall off the ladder, Michael soon became a constant presence. She thought she had succeeded in creating a protective wall around her feelings, but gradually, without her noticing, she came to count on him. His gentle and considerate ways, his wisdom and the things they had in common sneaked behind her armor. Without seeing it come, she’d fallen in love with him. She hadn’t planned it, had certainly not wanted it, found it much too soon after the breakup with André, but she couldn’t hide from reality; she loved him.

  Nina carried the flowers into the kitchen and glanced at the lanai. While she was gone Michael had almost finished painting the first coat. His back was turned, so before she put the flowers on the counter she cracked open the sliding door, a tiny tremor in her hands from excitement.

  “Hi, I’m back.”

  He turned and studied her for what seemed like a long time. On a deep intake of air she gazed at him, waiting to exhale until she could breathe normally.

  Clearing his throat, he wiped his hands on a paint-specked rag. “Lovely flowers. What’s the occasion?”

  She smiled. “No occasion, really. I love flowers and missed having them around.”

  Motioning at the red roses. “And I bought these for Samantha’s barbecue tomorrow.”

  Only then did she notice Sophie standing by the screen door to the lanai, partly hidden by the “Snow on the Mountain” tree. Nina rested her eyes on Sophie, not sure she was pleased to see her, sneaking in when Nina wasn’t home, usurping Nina’s time with Michael. Then she berated herself for lack of generosity.

  “Hi,” Nina said. “I didn’t see you at first.”

  “I was strolling in my back yard when I saw Michael working here. Thought I’d do the neighborly thing and say hello.”

  “Uh-huh. Are you sure you should be in the sun after your bout with the tumor?”

  “I use plenty of sun block, don’t worry about me.”

  “Well, don’t just stand there. You can’t come in through the lanai because the paint’s wet, but walk around the house, have a drink with us.”

  “No, I don’t want to disturb you. Michael’s busy, and you have things to do. I’ll just go back the way I came.”

  “Wait,” Nina said. “I’ll walk you …”

  “I’m on my way.” She waved a wide-brimmed white canvas hat Nina hadn’t noticed.

  Sophie left, and Nina went into her office, deep in thought. She wondered about Sophie’s visit, feeling uneasy. Last fall, when Sophie told about her life, she had mentioned a man she used to date. Then there had been this indefinable way she talked about Michael when she came to visit unexpectedly. Nina wondered then, as now—was it Michael Sophie had dated? Then she decided she was irrational; even if there had been something between Sophie and Michael, it must be long over, or they would have told her. She didn’t know very much about men, but it was hard to imagine that Michael would spend all this time with her if he was involved with Sophie. Nina could ask Michael, but she didn’t want to be embarrassed by her lack of self-confidence. Let’s see how this plays out
. Either they’ve been close, in which case I’ll find out or I’m totally paranoid.

  In the kitchen Nina filled vases with flowers, distributing them here and there in the house—in the den, on the dining room table, in the living room, moving those she’d received from the children into her office. She was left with one vase of plump cinnamon-colored roses, which she carried into the bedroom. With defiance directed at André, she placed the vase on the dresser. He used to object to flowers where he slept—they ate up his oxygen, he insisted. As usual, Nina hadn’t protested.

  No denying it, she felt tired after her outing. She prepared a pitcher of ice-tea and drank a full glass before filling another one for Michael.

  “Care for a drink?” she asked through the open lanai door.

  He removed his shoes before entering and emptied the glass in a few gulps. “I’ve enjoyed the music of your wind chime. It’s very nice.”

  “Isn’t it!” Nina beamed, pleased that he liked it. She pointed at the lanai. “Seems you’re almost finished?”

  “Another half-hour or so and I’m done.” He took another sip. “The paint dries fast, so after the barbecue tomorrow, I should be able to do the second coat.” He poured himself more ice tea, holding up the glass. “I’ll leave this by the door so I won’t bother you. I’d better get back to work.”

  “I’ll be in my office if you should want anything.”

  By the door Michael stepped into his shoes and returned to finish painting. Nina settled in her office to outline the next scenes of her novel, remembering the characteristics she’d gleaned from Barry.

  Every now and then she glanced through the window, filled with gladness to see Michael there, like somebody who naturally belonged in her world.

  Later, his voice behind her startled her. “Am I interrupting anything?”

  She turned to see him standing on the threshold to her office. Her breath caught in her throat at his sparkling eyes, bluer in the bright light.

  “Sorry, I didn’t hear you.” She motioned to one of the armchairs. “Have a seat.”

  “Not right now. If you bought the carpet, I’ll take it out of your car.”

  She stood to accompany him. “Yes, it’s still there.”

  In the garage he heaved out the roll of carpet from the trunk, laying it on the floor, out of the way. He pulled a handkerchief from the pocket of his overall and wiped his face. “Very nice color; it will go well with the peachy coral of the floor.” His eyes met hers. “If you’re not busy right now could we go inside?”

  Surprised, she glanced at him. Then she preceded him to her office, sat in her desk chair while he took one of the recliners. “Care for a drink? Some coffee?” She didn’t seem able to get out of the habit of offering drinks or food, as if her own company wasn’t enough.

  Michael shook his head, leaned elbows on knees, his eyes intense on Nina’s face.

  “I guess you wondered about Sophie’s presence here when you came home.” His intonation made it a statement, not a question. Before she could respond he continued. ‘A couple of years ago, Sophie and I dated a few times. She’s interesting, fun to be with. I guess we were both feeling lonely. For a few months we saw each other often—dinners, movies, sailing.” He stopped talking and stared at the floor. Looking up, his eyes met hers, steady, unblinking. “We became intimate. It was nice while it lasted, but our different work schedules kept us apart, and we weren’t prepared for a commitment; not Sophie, not me either. We talked about it and decided to stop seeing each other.” He stood, stretched and came to stand close to Nina. With his hands on her shoulders, he gazed at her upturned face. “It’s over, past history. Sophie and I developed a good friendship, the kind that sometimes grows after intimacy. I thought you might guess about us, so I prefer to tell you.”

  Taking a deep breath, Nina stood and kept her eyes on his face, solemn, a faint smile teasing the corners of his mouth, blue eyes dancing. “Today, when I saw you together, I wondered. Frankly, to ask you point blank, or Sophie, seemed like interfering, so I decided to leave it alone.”

  He still held her by the shoulders. “In a short time I’ve grown to like you a lot, Nina. More than you know. I want things honest and open between us.”

  She placed her hands on his forearms, wanting to respond that she was fond of him, too, or something to that effect. What could she say that would be enough, but not too much? In the end she only said she didn’t like secrets either, and appreciated his frankness.

  He glanced at his watch. “I have to be at the clinic shortly. Walk me to the car, will you?”

  Her hand slipped into his as they went through the house.

  His gaze made her feel light-headed. She leaned against the side of the car. Her eyes met his, wondering what she read in his look.

  Then she was alone; the afternoon dragged on, hour after heavy hour. Long after he’d left, Nina sat watching a movie when the phone rang. She was both pleased and surprised to hear Michael’s voice.

  “I’ll be busy tonight. Only wanted to make sure you’re all right.”

  She assured him she would be fine and added, “Have a nice evening.” She sat, the receiver still in hand, puzzled over why he found it necessary to let her know he had plans for the evening.

  Chapter 15

  Sunday morning Nina microwaved a mug of water for tea while she fetched the newspaper from the driveway. The sky was overcast, the northeasterly wind gusty and cold. Shivering, she hurried inside and crawled into bed for a leisurely hour of hot tea and the paper.

  After her morning routine, she logged onto the laptop in her office and opened the door to the lanai to let in the cool fresh air, a welcome change from the air-conditioning. Through the window she watched the areca palm fronds dance and swirl, the wind making them crunch and whoosh.

  A “dring” from the computer alerted her that someone had signed on to the instant messenger; the little window in the corner announced it was Natalie. Wonderful! Nina jumped on every opportunity to be in touch with her granddaughters.

  She typed in her message. “Hi. Got time for chat?” and sent it.

  An instant later Natalie answered. After the usual greetings, Morgan joined them, and for the next hour Nina read and laughed to herself and typed.

  “Tell me where you are and what you see,” Natalie asked.

  “I’m in my office. Looking at the pool I can’t use because a friend is painting the deck.”

  “Can’t you swim?”

  “Not for a few days. To Natalie … did you do well on your math test?”

  “Got the highest grade.”

  “Hey, that’s great. You’re so smart.”

  Morgan was typing. “Have you asked Mama if she’ll let us come visit?”

  Hmm, better be honest. The girls were sharp and would catch on to any falsehood. “No, chérie, but I will. It’s a promise.”

  “Mama said she’s angry because you left Annecy.”

  “I know, and I’m sad your Mama is angry with me.”

  Natalie was typing. “She says you’ve abandoned us.”

  “What do you think?”

  “I know you would never do that,” Morgan typed.

  “Me too,” from Natalie.

  “You’re right, I wouldn’t abandon you or Mama. Sometimes we have to do things that are hurtful and don’t seem very pleasant. But I love all of you very much.”

  After they signed off, Nina sat smiling and content, gazing through the window, surprised the sky was still heavy with clouds. How odd, she was sure the sun was shining.

  The time chatting with the girls had been fun, but she needed to focus on other things, such as what to wear to a barbecue on a Sunday at noon? She didn’t have a clue, didn’t own any leisurewear, having been unable to go shopping after the accident. Possibly a cotton print. Why was it s
o important how she dressed? She couldn’t remember it being an issue in Annecy.

  In the end the chilly, blustery weather made the choice for her: slacks, a blouse, and a cardigan in case she felt cold. And a touch of scent. She could still hear her beloved Mama, “My dear Nina, remember, a lady is never fully dressed until she wears scent and a smile.”

  Samantha’s roses in hand, Nina hesitated, feeling ill at ease, her hands wet with perspiration, anxiety like a lump in her throat. She wished she hadn’t accepted the invitation to this barbecue—most of the guests were strangers to her. As she’d told Michael, she wasn’t used to socializing without being accompanied by either André or one of her coworkers. What did she have to contribute? What could she talk about that would be of interest to anybody, she—newly divorced, a retiree, and a foreigner? What did she use to talk about in Annecy at a party? That was different—old friends, the past a common bond or shoptalk with colleagues. Too late to chicken out now, she’d try to make the best of it. Filling her lungs, she squared her shoulders and left the house.

  Crossing the street, the wind nearly tore the roses from her grip. She leaned into the gust, running to take shelter by Brian’s house. Voices and sounds of laughter drifted from the back yard. Instead of ringing the doorbell, she walked around the house to the lanai.

  “There you are, Nina.” Samantha opened the screen door. “Good to see you.”

  “Sorry I’m late. I was chatting with the twins.” She handed Samantha the roses. “Hope I haven’t ruined lunch or upset your plans.”

  “Not at all.” Samantha held the blossoms to her face, inhaling. “You shouldn’t have, but I’m glad you did—I love roses, and this color is lovely.”

  Together they walked toward the group of people gathered around the table. In the pool, three boys were playing a boisterous ball game.

  The lanai was similar to Nina’s, except Brian and Samantha had sacrificed the hot tub for an oversized pool. The furniture, white rattan with linden bloom green cushions on chairs and on the couch against the wall, accentuated the same shade of green that dotted the ceramic tile flooring. Baskets of salmon-pink azaleas hung from the ceiling over the dining area. The house itself sheltered the lanai from the high wind.