“Ready whenever you are.” I headed through the archway from my sitting area to the kitchen and pointed to the table which I’d set with a cream linen cloth, the starter of seafood sushi ready to go.
“Christ, Kate! You’ve gone to a lot of trouble.”
“It’s just second nature to me - no more than you dabbing a few brush strokes on a canvas,” I said, sitting down and helping myself to a piece of sushi with soy sauce and wasabi. I ate as I spoke: “I couldn’t believe you were into mythology – you never mentioned it to me.”
“I love it.” He buttered a slice of brown bread. “But I think I’m coming from a different angle to you. I love fantasy. Lord of the Rings and all that. I love magical realism where art remains representational, but with dream-like and fantasy elements included. Myths are a great way to incorporate these elements. My interest is not as pure as yours.”
“There’s no such thing as coming from a purer perspective. My dad read myths and legends to me as a kid, so my interest is quite childish. But tell me more about magical realism. Some of the South American authors like Borges and Gabriel Garcia Márquez use it in their work, don’t they?”
“Absolutely… Yep, I love it. Are you familiar with some of the South American poets? Neruda and Salinas?”
“Just Neruda, whom I love, along with the Argentinian poet Borges. Do you know his poem ‘You Learn?’”
He said, raising an eyebrow, “’After a while you learn the subtle difference between holding a hand and chaining a soul …’ ”
“Yeah, I feel it’s about what a loving relationship should be. Each person having independence and yet being part of one loving unit.”
“That’s it exactly. You’ll also like Salinas. I’ll read him to you sometime, when… When I’m not getting heated up on wasabi! Whew!” He gasped and groped for a drink of water. “It’s just gone shooting up my sinuses!”
“Are you all right?”
“Fine, fine … Great for clearing the head.”
“Well if you’re okay, I’ll put on the steaks.” I was laughing as I stood up to prepare the pan and check that the gratin dauphinois was not burning in the oven. “Keep talking as I’m cooking, Geoff. I’ll keep my concentration on the steaks but you talk away. How do you get that magical realism effect in your paintings?”
“I use photographic images. I’ll explain it to you later when I show you images of unfinished canvases. That picture you like, Pandora opening the box, is of my daughter Shannon. She’s eighteen now. It’s from a photo of her when she was fourteen so she’s a little bit childlike in it. She’s starting art college next month.”
“She’s gorgeous. You must be proud of her. She’s your only child then?”
“No, I have a sixteen-year-old son, Liam. He’s special: he has Down syndrome and he’s very loving. He’s part of the group you met but he didn’t travel today because he had an earache.”
“My cousin had Down syndrome. Sadly she’s passed on. I found her so funny and lovable when I was a kid. She made us all laugh.” I tended to the steak, throwing a tablespoon of brandy on the pan and then lighting it with a match to flambé. Flames burst forth from the pan.
“Christ! It’s gone on fire!” Then he laughed helplessly when I told him it was all in aid of a well-flavoured sauce. I mixed in some cream, a handful of peppercorns and stock, whisked up the sauce and turned everything out on to two hot plates. “This is heavenly, Kate. Thanks a mill for cooking for me. I love my food, but I’m more accustomed to bacon and spuds.”
“Well, tuck in and help yourself to some salad for a change,” I said, handing him the salad bowl. As his hand touched mine, a bolt of electricity surged right through me.
“Ever thought of opening a restaurant?” His eyes met mine for a split second. I looked away, could feel a blush rising as I sat at the side of the table.
“Several times, but I find having a secure pensionable job is one less thing to worry about. There’s a lot of extra work to a restaurant between balancing books and getting the customers in.”
“You seem wasted in a college. Everything about you is creative and enterprising. You’re an innovator and big establishments stamp that out.” He was smiling, his amber-flecked blue eyes crinkling softly. I felt a sudden glow around my heart which spread immediately all the way up to my cheeks.
“That’s kind – you aren’t far wrong, yet you barely know me,” I said, puzzled.
“I know that you don’t accept the status quo just because everyone else says it’s fine. I know you’re very imaginative and you have a strong aesthetic. It doesn’t take a genius to figure that much out.”
“Stop or I’ll get a big head,” I said, putting my hand to his mouth. It felt warm and moist. Immediately, without thinking, I moved to kiss him, my lips touching his as they parted slightly, our breath mingling. Then I pulled back and sat down like a prim school girl who’d been called back to her senses. “Whoops – excuse me!” Embarrassed at my forwardness, I blurted, “So tell me the bad things you’ve observed about me?”
He was smiling. “Nothing bad, Kate.” He tilted his head sideways while appearing to consider how to phrase what he was about to say. “It’s just you’re still guarding your heart too much to let anyone in. You haven’t fully gotten over your last relationship. Your beautiful green eyes are full of sadness and you’re doing your best to push that away rather than deal with it.” He half rose and reached across the table, tracing a finger across my cheek. I could feel my eyes fill with tears.
“And what about you, Geoff? Are you over your last relationship?”
“Ah now, that’s complicated,” he said
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Just that. It’s complicated.” As he smiled, his eyes flickered between something akin to melancholy and mischievousness. I couldn’t tell whether or not he was teasing me and suddenly felt frustrated. Maybe there was someone else. After all, Myra in the gallery had said she would see him in Dublin and he was still on the dating site. I didn’t want to appear over-eager by probing too much. Silence descended, and I knew he was not going to be the one to break it, so I stood up to clear the table and at the same time asked him whether he would like tea or coffee.
I said, “I’d love to see more of your paintings.”
“I’ve some images on my laptop if you have wireless.”
“I do.” I was relieved to be on safe ground and keen to see them. “Why don’t you go out to the living area and set up your laptop while I get coffee ready?”
“Yes, mam.” He put on a mid-western American drawl. “And while I’m there I think I’ll have another fag. Outdoors of course.”
A few minutes later, I arrived out to him with a tray and found him sitting on my sofa, MacBook on his lap. After placing two mugs along with a dish of Pavlova on the coffee table, I sat beside him, curling up. Despite the fact he smoked, it didn’t appear to linger on his skin which had a warm woody scent mingled with musky overtones from whatever cologne he used. Dewy perspiration drops caused his wavy blond hair to curl at the temples, like babies’ kiss curls. A wave of desire swept over me and I had a sudden mental picture of losing control and throwing myself at him, like a hungry wolf. I fanned myself, afraid he might read my thoughts. He looked at me and smiled, then glanced at the coffee table.
“No dessert for you?”
“No, I’m full … Oh my goodness, is that your daughter?” A series of beautiful images had just appeared on his screen.
“Yeah, that’s Shannon. I took these photos of her in the woods.”
“She’s like a model and the photos are stunning – like a magazine spread.”
“That was the idea, in a way. She wanted to model along with going to college, so we did this thing in the woods with her looking like a wood nymph. She gave them to a Dublin agency and they signed her up.”
“I’m not surprised.” I gazed at the photographs of the tall willowy girl dressed in white chiffon, her strawberry blond untame
d tresses tumbling around her face. In one picture, she wore a coronet of twigs covered in tiny red berries.
“I’m working with one of the photos to turn it into a painting,” he said, showing me an image of an unfinished canvas. “I’ve projected the central image of Shannon on to canvas and then painted over it with oils. Afterwards I worked on the background to add in all manner of fantasy creatures and plants.”
“And these men and women,” I said, pointing to the subjects of other paintings. “Are they all people you’ve photographed?” As I spoke, I suddenly recognised one of the models as Myra. So they were old friends and maybe more? I hoped my demeanour didn’t betray any feeling of envy.
“In some cases.” His eyes lit up. “I see you’ve your own Goddess picture in pride of place.” He pointed to my beloved print. “The triple Goddess, Persephone, Demeter and Hekate the crone.”
“Everyone who comes in here comments on it. You’re the first one to recognise which myth it represents. But then, you’re into this.”
“Yes, more and more. Like I said, mythology suits my genre with its mix of realistic Jungian archetypes and fantasy.”
“You’re a bit of a dark horse, Geoff, if you don’t mind me saying so. You never told me you were into any of this. And how can you read me like you did in the kitchen?” I asked.
“I’m really a very simple man, Kate.” He closed his laptop and rested it on the table, turning to me, resting his hand on my knee as he spoke. I feared my flesh would burn through my white jeans. It took a huge effort to push away increasingly erotic images as I gazed into his blue eyes. “I was reared on a farm in County Meath and I’ve been close to nature all my life. I hope I don’t sound in any way pretentious when I say that some things are easy to see if you don’t allow yourself to be blinkered by the outer stuff in life.” I could barely take in anything he said as my eyes were drawn to the sensuous curve of his mouth. “Any possessions I have are necessary for work – like my laptop there. I struggle as an artist to pay my bills but I’m committed to follow wherever my heart leads me.” Then he laughed and said, “I’m not ‘edumacated’ as you are. I’m only a country boy who likes to feel rather than think my way through things. I was slow to talk as a child so the need to define and analyse things has never been for me. To some people that would make me a bit on the thick side. I figure things out through art without the need for endless rumination.” He paused, “And on that note I’d better be leaving you.” He stood up.
My heart sank – had I just received a brush off? “You’re not thick in any way,” I said hurriedly, and was once again disarmed by his enigmatic grin. I didn’t know if he was enjoying a private joke at my expense and I found myself fumbling as I handed him his jacket, thrown on the back of the sofa. Maybe he thought I indulged in endless ruminations? “I’ll let you out.” I led the way upstairs. As I walked ahead of him, self-consciousness overtook me and I tripped on the second step from the top.
“Good job we didn’t have the wine,” he said, helping me up. Was it my imagination or was his smile more dazzling than ever? I was relieved to reach the front door without faltering for a second time.
“Thanks for a lovely evening, Kate.” He kissed me on the mouth as I held the door open. Just as he seemed about to penetrate my lips, he drew back and smiled, saying, “Let’s be friends, then. Shall we?”
“Yes, of course.”
He turned to walk towards his car.
On my way down to the apartment I wondered had he found me as superficial as I’d found the Tom Ford imitation designer earlier in the day. Maybe he was playing with me? After all, he seemed to be able to converse intelligently and eloquently in between slipping into acting like an “unedumacated thick” as he’d called himself. He was by far the most interesting man I’d met and I was hugely attracted to him but he represented several challenges to me. I didn’t know if I was up to facing those sorts of challenges at this late stage of my life. And I didn’t have a clue whether he was remotely interested in me. One thing I was pleased about was how quickly I’d seen through Isaac, not allowing his ridiculous flattery to blinker me from the fact he was a moron with an emotional age considerably less than his shoe size. By contrast I could see Geoff’s magnanimous spirit as he engaged with the young artists. After Peru, I was definitely better tuned into my gut instinct and had finally started listening to it. In many ways the dating had helped to enliven me, and in the process lift that woozy spaced-out feeling I’d been suffering from. I would return to meditation in an effort to help deal with my issues and keep me balanced in the midst of new romantic stirrings. This time, I didn’t want to let things run away with me in the way I had allowed my thoughts to construct the elaborate fantasy I’d entertained for Ray.
Chapter Twenty-seven
The following morning after meditation and breakfast I logged onto my emails and then the dating site. Much to my surprise, Geoff had already contacted me.
Hi Kate,
Glad u left Persephone behind since u make a great Demeter/Demetriana surrounded by nature in ur Peru photos. Whew! A sexy one too in that black dress. Shouldn’t be allowed! Though for the life of me I don’t know what in Goddess’s name u’re doing on a site like this?
Geoff
A flush of exhilaration swept over me as I read his message. I’d convinced myself he hadn’t found me attractive and that perhaps there was something going on with Myra, what with her antics in the gallery and her presence in his paintings. The one unmistakable fact was that he was still on the website, so that surely indicated he was not in a relationship. It was surprising how much more flirtatious he sounded on the site – maybe being at a distance helped overcome his shyness.
I decided to be bold and try to provoke a reaction:
Hi Geoff,
The Goddess wouldn’t be on a site like this if a certain artist had asked her out. But then he has a complicated love life and heaven knows what that means? Too many beautiful women?
Kate
As soon as I’d sent it, I regretted having alluded to his love life and started mentally beating up on my self. Maybe I’d never hear from him again? Would he think I was desperate? Then awareness struck and I decided I was right to clear the air. If he didn’t like what I’d said, tough luck – it just meant he wasn’t for me. In fact I was beginning to think that my hankering for romance probably brought the craziest highs and lows possible and in many ways interfered with my spiritual progress. I didn’t know why internet dating sites were so addictive, and I vowed that I would soon give them up …
Just then, a message came in from Geoff:
My dearest Demetriana,
No it’s not at all complicated that way. I’ll tell u when I see u. The silly artist didn’t think the Goddess would be interested but now that she’s said she is. Well that’s different! Can I visit u on Friday and bring u to the woods at Coole Park to take some photographs? Ur long red hair loose around your face is a must! How about finishing with drinks and dinner in a restaurant? Can’t have the Goddess cooking again.
Your humble servant, Geoff
I read it and printed it off just to make sure I understood it correctly. He was inviting me out on a date! And he must like the way I looked since he wanted to photograph me, and drinks surely meant he must intend staying overnight. Did this mean we could finally move from platonic friends to … what? Lovers? My heart started to flutter madly as though it could take flight through my chest and start humming at the same time. Then I reminded myself that it would be wise to hold off after what happened with Ray. The problem was, I found Geoff totally irresistible.
If Friday had been any slower arriving I would have auto-combusted from sheer impatience and excitement, despite my best efforts to stay calm and centred.
Geoff was due to arrive at noon and I’d been up since the crack of dawn, doing everything from plumping cushions to messing with my hair. If I fiddled with my hair one more time it would look contrived, and contrived was the last thing
I wanted to look for Geoff. Natural it had to be. But a natural no-makeup look was very difficult to do, as was dressing well for the woods. For the hundredth time, I checked my reflection in my full-length mirror. Was I over-dressed in my kick-flare blue jeans, worn under a light voile mini kaftan in shades of pinks and russets on a cream background? It was certainly a hip look, but did I look too much like a regular at Glastonbury? At least for dinner it would be simply a matter of swapping trainers for heels, and I’d be organised with minimal fuss.
I’d just decided everything was fine when my phone rang. I saw it was Billy, and answered it.
“Hi Kate. I know it’s short notice, but I’m in Galway visiting my aunt in hospital. Your mam said you lived in Taylor’s Hill. Right?”
“Yes …”
“I’m only five minutes away from you, then. Would you mind if I stopped in for a cup of coffee? Won’t stay long as I’ve to get back to Wicklow this afternoon.”
“Of course. I’ll text you the address.” Damn! Geoff was due in an hour’s time. And there was no way I could wriggle out of Billy dropping in. He had been sending me texts reminding me that I’d promised to visit his new cookery school. (I had a plan to bring my father with me for the pleasure of a day out, although he had grumpily informed me he was in no mood to travel anywhere at the moment because he was flat out going to see his “bloody psychiatrist”. Mam told me that “you’d need a watch tied to his behind” to time my father’s mood-swings these days. She blamed it on the therapy, saying it was better not to rake up the past since it was well and truly buried for a good reason. I reasoned with her that sometimes the past had to be dealt with before we could move on and that my father had to face the skeletons that had come back to haunt him. But to be honest, it was a waste of my breath trying to convince her.)
Love & The Goddess Page 23