Footnotes to Sex

by Mia Farlane

‘Almost everything, I’d say; the print on glass is gorgeous, isn’t it?’ He pictured it for a while. ‘I wish she’d give it to me… Ah well, I’ve got it for now.’ He combed his fingers through his hair. ‘Maybe I’ll just forget to give it back to her.’ He drank some of his coffee.

  They listened to Elizabeth chopping up fruit.

  ‘She’s helped me out a lot,’ he told May. ‘I was a bit of a major mess for a while there. As you may have noticed.’

  They listened to more chopping.

  ‘You do realize you’ve been housing a creative genius?’ he said.

  May nodded, since a reply seemed required. Her stomach contracted.

  ‘Have you got any dreams of becoming anything? Or doing anything at all?’ He took another sip of his coffee. ‘Or are you happy to be a nobody, like the rest of us?’ He laughed.

  ‘No,’ May said. ‘Nothing. No dreams.’

  Elizabeth returned with three small bowls. ‘Health!’ she said, handing them out. ‘So, how’s life?’ she asked May. ‘You’re going on holiday soon, aren’t you?’

  ‘In two days, yeah.’

  ‘Great! I bet Jansen’s looking forward to it. They’re going on a ship to Denmark. How romantic is that? My sister is doing something romantic.’ Elizabeth sat back into the sofa, clutching her bowl.

  ‘How long are you going for?’ Mark asked.

  ‘Two weeks.’

  ‘Two weeks.’ He was impressed in a downbeat sort of way. ‘Well, I guess you can afford it if you’re a teacher – unlike our artist friend here! Who was it who said that artists don’t take holidays? They’re not capable of doing nothing.’ He scooped up a spoonful of chopped grapes and kiwi fruit.

  ‘I don’t know – I’m always on holiday,’ Elizabeth said.

  ‘You won’t be soon though!’ Mark attempted a bad imitation of Elizabeth’s cross-eyed grin. ‘She’s got an interview at Saint Martin’s, did she tell you?’ He turned to May again.

  ‘The letter came this morning,’ Elizabeth said.

  ‘Wow!’ May said. She was pleased. ‘That’s wonderful! Wonderful,’ she repeated. ‘Brilliant!’

  ‘She’ll get in, too,’ Mark said.

  ‘I hope so. Even a part-time place would be great.’ Elizabeth put her bowl onto the floor and picked up the plastic bag. ‘May, I’ve made something for you’ – she pulled out the breadboard and leaned it against the side of the sofa – ‘Mark, you’re gonna have to go away now. You can’t be here for this; it’s a sisterly moment.’

  ‘Fine,’ Mark said, and he got up off the sofa. ‘Nice to see you again, May. Thanks for the coffee and the kiwi fruit, and the grapes. I’ll wait for you in the van,’ he said to Elizabeth.

  May heard the front door close. ‘It must be amazing,’ she said, ‘having someone who so completely believes in you. He has absolute faith, doesn’t he?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Elizabeth pulled out a large envelope and handed it to May. ‘Voilà!’ she said. ‘This one’s more for you than for Jansen, but she might appreciate it, too.’

  It was a framed certificate, blue on the borders, with pink and red glitter sprinkled around the calligraphy:

  May Woodlea

  has been awarded ‘un PhD’

  maxima cum laude

  ‘“Ceci n’est pas un PhD”,’ said Elizabeth, reading out the caption below. ‘Congratulations!’ She shook May’s hand energetically and gave her a quick hug.

  May looked at the certificate, and put it on the table. ‘Is it a joke?’

  ‘No, it’s a present: a gift from moi to toi.’

  ‘And what’s it for?’ May didn’t like it. ‘If it’s not a joke.’

  ‘I thought it might help you to visualize things. Then you can chuck it away if you want. Or keep it. Up to you.’ Elizabeth got something else out of the plastic bag. ‘Now this one – moving right along – is for both of you.’

  It was a glass mosaic on a slate tile: of two tiny blood-red birds, swirling around each other in a grey-blue sky.

  ‘Do you like it?’

  May didn’t know what to say. ‘It’s quite beautiful,’ she said. ‘It’s very beautiful, in fact.’ She gave Elizabeth a kiss on the cheek. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Cool. Right’ – Elizabeth collected up the bowls, and got up – ‘I better get moving.’ She took the bowls to the kitchen.

  ‘You’ve got your key?’ May followed her. ‘Because it’s all right for you to stay, just to let you know.’

  ‘Great, cool, thanks – say hi to Jansen.’ Elizabeth was at the door now. ‘She has enormous belief in you, in case you didn’t know: ginormous.’

  ‘She’s very open-minded,’ May said.

  ‘So am I.’ Elizabeth pecked her on the cheek. ‘Bon voyage!’

  39

  The Big Holiday

  ‘What are you doing, May?’ Jansen was back from the gift shop.

  ‘What do you mean? I’ve been sitting here with my shoes on, waiting for you to get back, so we can go and have a look around.’ She was sitting at the tiny square table that was attached to the wall of their cabin.

  ‘I thought you said you wanted to stay here for a bit, and rest.’ Jansen dropped the Guardian onto the lower berth.

  ‘But we’re going to go and have dinner now, aren’t we?’

  ‘The restaurants aren’t open yet. I’ve just had a look. Why don’t we both have a rest, and then go out?’

  ‘I feel like getting going,’ May said. ‘I feel like getting moving. Shall we go for a walk before dinner?’

  ‘I’m going to lie down for a bit, and read my newspaper.’

  ‘Oh, boring!’ May said. ‘Could we not go for a walk on deck together?’

  ‘I’ve just been for a walk, May. Why don’t you go for a walk on your own, and I’ll come with you later. After dinner.’

  ‘You don’t want to come now?’

  ‘No. I’m going to have a rest.’ Jansen sat on the lower berth, bending forward slightly, because of the top bunk, and she undid her shoelaces.

  May pouted.

  ‘Go for a walk, May. Go and have a look around.’ Jansen took off her trainers. ‘You’ll enjoy it.’

  ‘On my own,’ May said.

  Jansen pulled off her tracksuit pants, houdinied her bra off, from under her T-shirt, and climbed into the lower bunk. ‘Can you tuck me in before you go?’

  ‘I’m not going anywhere.’ May took off her shoes, pulled the covers up round Jansen’s shoulders, gave her a tiny kiss on the head, and climbed up onto the top berth. ‘I’m staying here. I’m going to do nothing.’

  ‘Good. Well, can you please not talk to me, if you’re going to stay? Because I’d like to have some quiet time.’

  May said nothing.

  ‘Okay?’ Jansen asked.

  ‘I’m not talking to you,’ May said. ‘I am saying nothing – as requested.’

  ‘Give me one hour, and then we can have dinner and go for a walk after that,’ Jansen said.

  May lay there, staring at her feet. It was scary how capable she was of doing nothing and thinking nothing; she was capable of never doing anything – ever – in her life; it was as if she were holding her breath under water.

  Jansen clicked off the little light next to her bunk.

  ‘Are you going to sleep now?’ May asked.

  ‘If you’ll let me, yes.’

  ‘Can I just tell you something?’

  Jansen didn’t reply.

  ‘I’ve had an interesting thought,’ May said.

  ‘Tell me about it later.’

  ‘It’s really quick… It wouldn’t take long.’

  ‘No, May. I want to go to sleep. Let me sleep for a bit, and then we can spend the whole evening together. We can talk all evening.’

  After a huge buffet dinner – smørre brød (open sandwiches) with a variety of Danish cheeses; herring and oysters and mussels; pommes frites and agurksalat (sliced cucumber); followed by æblekage (trifle with apples), jordbær med fløde (strawberries with cream),
and then kaffe – they went for a walk.

  They wandered through the disco area and a pub, past cinemas, slot machines and teenagers; up the stairwell to the Saloon Deck, past the children’s playroom, a bank and more slot machines; and then browsed around in the gift shop: dolls and mugs, and mini Little Mermaids; Bounty bars and Polo mints and Haribo candies; the English papers, but also Weekendavisen and Jyllandsposten, children’s magazines in Danish, and postcards of the Dana Anglia, ‘departing Harwich’.

  In the Bellevue Lounge, people were seated near the windows, reading or chatting – in Danish or Swedish, or in English – or they were looking out at the blue-grey sea and at the early evening sky.

  ‘Don’t you wish,’ May said, ‘that you were going on a long cruise somewhere?’

  ‘We’re going on a short tasteful cruise,’ Jansen said.

  A short expensive tasteful cruise, May thought. But she didn’t say anything, because she’d bought the tickets and she was trying to be nice. ‘Shall I go back and buy a Danish newspaper, and we can pretend to read it over breakfast tomorrow morning?’

  ‘No, thank you.’

  ‘You don’t want one? Are you sure? It could be fun.’

  ‘May, I don’t feel the need to pretend to be Danish.’

  They stepped outside onto the deck, through a heavy iron door that didn’t go all the way to the ground; they had to step over the bottom part of the door frame. ‘This is probably to stop the water from getting in, if there’s a storm,’ May observed. ‘It makes you feel like you’re really at sea, too,’ she went on. ‘With these kinds of doors. Doesn’t it? I’m glad this isn’t a boring new boat. Isn’t this wonderful? The fresh sea air. The “fresh, sea, air”.’ She breathed in deeply. ‘It smells of that, doesn’t it? It’s “fresh” – apart from the diesel – “sea” and “air”,’ she said. ‘The rumble of the engine, the smell of diesel – it’s all part of it; it’s all part of the “ship experience”.’

  ‘Yes, May.’

  ‘Is there something wrong?’

  ‘No, there’s nothing wrong.’

  ‘Hmm.’ May thought for a bit. ‘So you’re just being quiet then?’

  ‘Yes, I am.’

  ‘You’d have enjoyed going on that silent retreat with Tamsin, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Where did that come from?’

  ‘No, I’m just saying: I suppose you’d have enjoyed the silence.’

  ‘Ah-huh.’

  ‘Are you pre-menstrual?’ May asked.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You just seem in a bad mood, or something.’

  ‘No, I’m not in a bad mood and I am not pre-menstrual. Are you pre-menstrual?’

  ‘No.’ May said nothing for a few steps. ‘Was that an attack?’

  ‘No, it was not an attack. May, let’s just enjoy walking together. We don’t always have to talk, do we? Let’s see what it’s like, being quiet together.’

  ‘Do I talk too much? Is that what you’re saying? I wish I was one of those calm quiet people. I’d love to be like that.’

  ‘Yes,’ Jansen said, ‘but you’re not; you’re a talker.’

  ‘But I’m quiet sometimes; I can be very quiet,’ May defended herself. ‘Anyway, I thought we were going to talk all evening.’

  People were wandering around the ship: mothers and fathers, and children of varying ages, couples, and lone adults; all doing the rounds of the ship. A reconnaissance tour, in leisure time.

  ‘I wish I didn’t have to work,’ May said.

  ‘You’re not working right now. We’re on holiday.’

  ‘Am I horrible to be around?’ May asked. ‘I’m pretty horrible, but not all the time.’

  ‘You have been hard to live with recently,’ Jansen told her.

  ‘I wish I was a nicer person,’ May said. ‘Imagine if I was a nice person, a calm, quiet person.’

  ‘You could be calm if you wanted to be. I think you’d miss all the worrying though.’

  ‘Would you miss it, if I stopped worrying?’ May asked.

  ‘No.’

  That was the wrong answer. ‘You wouldn’t?’ May said.

  They walked past an old wooden lifeboat.

  ‘It can seat sixty-two people,’ May noted. ‘I wonder how many passengers there are on board right now. What do you think?’

  ‘About one thousand,’ said Jansen.

  ‘One thousand? How do you know that? You’re just guessing.’

  ‘I read it in a pamphlet: this ship can take about one thousand three hundred passengers.’

  May hadn’t brought anything to read; she was trying to have a holiday. That was probably a mistake. ‘Here we are on holiday: more time is ticking by, and I am accomplishing nothing.’

  ‘May, you’re allowed to have a holiday.’

  ‘No, I’m just saying: I’m aware of it.’ When would she ever see Francine again? She wasn’t about to do anything ‘extraordinary’: she wasn’t good at anything, except lying and putting on an act.

  ‘What about giving yourself some time off?’

  ‘I can’t do that: I’m always giving myself “time off”. I’m never going to do anything.’ May stared down at the waves. ‘This is a huge boat,’ she said.

  ‘It’s a ship, May, not a boat.’ Jansen laughed.

  ‘I did have a thought before,’ May said. ‘I was thinking that perhaps I need to do nothing for a bit; perhaps that’s what I really need to do: nothing.’

  Jansen nodded. ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Just not for too long, though,’ May added. ‘That was my revelation.’

  ‘Hm.’

  She thought about actually enrolling on a PhD, but really she couldn’t bear the idea. She just wished she could think of something completely different: something fun, if that were allowed. If only she could stop worrying a hundred per cent of the time – it would make Jansen happy. ‘Maybe I am allowed a bit of time off,’ she said. ‘Maybe you’re right.’

  ‘Good. In that case, let’s have a holiday.’

  ‘I just wish I’d never dropped out when I was twenty-two,’ May said. ‘I could already have a PhD.’ She sighed. ‘And then I’d be a totally different person.’

  ‘Do you know that you’ve wished about four or five things this evening?’

  ‘Is that not allowed? Am I not allowed to wish anything?’ May said. ‘All those selfish wishes.’

  They were now walking around the stern. It was getting cold; and the sun was about to set. It was late. Most people had gone inside; they were in the seating areas, or they were in the pub, or the cafeterias, or they were back in their cabins. It was quiet. And cold.

  ‘I think if you’re happier though, and more fulfilled, you’re more likely to be more pleasant to be around; that’s what I’m trying to say,’ May went on. ‘It’s cold.’

  ‘Come here.’

  Jansen took her hand and led the way up some steps to a higher deck, where there were rows of green plastic chairs all attached together, and they sat down; they were facing in the wrong direction, like the backward seats in trains.

  If time could stop now, May thought, perhaps I could stop worrying about doing something or not doing something; I wish time would stop for a while, and I could just sit here next to Jansen, and rest.

  A ship was about to pass on the left – ‘Yang Ming,’ May read out; it was all black with various coloured containers sitting piled up on the deck. ‘Here comes another one,’ she said; this one was blue, with a white deck, and yellow and green containers. ‘It’s from… just a minute… London,’ she said. Then, ‘What are your wishes?’ she asked Jansen. ‘Do you wish I’d stop talking?’

  ‘Yes.’ Jansen nodded. ‘Let’s have a bit of silence. Can we have no talking for five minutes? Let’s just enjoy being up here. Look at the sky.’

  May looked at her watch: eight fifty-one; she wouldn’t talk until eight fifty-six.

  <
br />