The Celestial Sea

by Marina de Nadous

  Adrian and I stroll blissfully through the vegetation beside a meandering stream. We choose a peaceful spot and produce a simple lunch out of rucksacks; even the rug has found its way into our organization. We are surrounded on all sides by water. The dogs splash their way greedily through the abundant Raupo reeds screening our Lover’s feast of soup and salad, corn crackers and delicious baby lettuce leaves from the Gardener’s own veggie patch. “The Raupo reed is highly prized by Maori,” Adrian tells me between mouthfuls; “like the flax plant it has many traditional uses.”

  We lie side-by-side while time ticks by, laughing and teasing each other, a welcome lightness after the seriousness of the past few days. Re-reading our week’s messages and diary writing is a favourite pastime. Adrian constantly surprises me with his beautiful prose and lyric. I love him so much; he is my perfect match-mate. Each day I thank the realms of higher understanding that have brought us together across Hemispheres. “Now, how about some times-tables with hand-clapping rhythm; like we do at School?” Adrian challenges me again. “It isn’t easy, I can tell you.” I have a go, my timing and concentration makes a complete mess of something the children learn fluently; the principal being that between the ages of 7 and fourteen children learn best with rhythmic movement and practical application.

  “Do you think there are any crocodiles in these Everglade-like waters?” I ask playfully. “If so, the dogs are going to get eaten alive!” We laugh, delighting in each other while packing up our picnic before heading off for a quiet stroll. We follow the narrow paths between banks of luscious spring vegetation. Greenery envelopes us completely; we are walking through a secret paradise. A group of Casuarina trees spread their silvery-needled branches beside us; they almost appear misty. I blink in case my eyes are playing tricks. Adrian tells me they are often called ‘Sheoaks’. The path goes for a long way; at times entering a meadow full of ox-eye daisies and pretty maple trees. A man walks his dog in the distance. A group of Punga ferns on the bank keep guard above him, they stand as Goddesses in green, their watchful presence awake to our every footfall. Turning around we head back, retracing our steps. Our cars; our lives are waiting at the top of the track and we say goodbye reluctantly. “Thank-you Everglades. We shall return.”

  * * * * * * *

  I manage a quick visit to The Leafy Glade later in the afternoon. Adrian shows me the newly screened area outside his basement. He now has a private outside room, which hides his more organic mode of living from Big J’s accusing eyes. He talks me through his plans to install a camping kitchen and workroom; he is excited by the potential. “I need something smart to wear this weekend,” he suddenly changes the subject. Another ‘More to Life’ course takes him away this Friday. As a new member of the management team he needs to look the part.

  “Shall we go clothes shopping tomorrow?” Of course, I agree. What fun. I am tired and doze quietly on Adrian’s bed while he burns me a C.D of some favourite Kiwi music; ‘Don McGlashan and Co.’ One song hits home particularly: ‘Eugene’s wife’; about a married woman, spied through a window in the arms of another man. “How strange,” we agree; “when you step outside the ring, lots of things hit you as relevant, especially in film and song. Sometimes they catch you unawares.” My long-suffering husband is often the first to comment. The illicit lovers’ storyline is age-old and ever-potent, appearing time and again. Adrian already has a collection of songs on his computer like ‘Mattie Groves’ and ‘Turkey’s Daughter’; all tell stories of thwarted, tragic love.

  P.m. Adrian: Hello, Sweet Friend. A quick goodnight. Thanks for nice meetings. Where to now? Next phase?

  Mouse: The fire crackles, all are a-bed. I lie stretched out by the chattering flames, my dog relaxed beside me. We watch the last light touching the hills with subtle shades of grey and orange——an artist’s Mecca; a writer’s poignant prose. Memories of a joyous day in our newly found Everglades; of dripping dogs, baby lettuce leaves, shared love messages, shades of bright spring green and hands held in deep friendship. Bliss—X

  Adrian: He works at his computer. Thoughts drift, eyes close——lulled by new music. Jolted awake. Incoming text——heart racing——MOUSE. Picture from The Mountain——a beautiful mind reaches out——gentle memories——mmm. Arse-grabbing comfortable——splatters and laughter——avocado riddles——times-tables——Eugene’s wife——legitimacy——yahoo! New clothes——sunny days.

  P.s——We are having a short play practice at 3.15 tomorrow. 10/15 minutes——Keen.

  Mouse: Darling, thanks for lovely messages. Can do a short practice tomorrow. Next phase——A&Z texts? Feel like some quick wit and fun? In the morning then, with love——M——X

  Thursday 26th October 2006

  A.m. Mouse: Attention, all Zoos——anyone attributing zero acrobatic antics to their zebras will automatically be awarded zilch accreditation in any Zoological, Annual Announcements. Any zany Zoo Keepers abroad, or at home, had better pay attention and zip up their anoraks——Zikes!

  I don’t hear from My Friend this morning. Adrian often disregards my suggestions and ideas. I can tell he has had enough of our alphabet word play. He probably won’t even mention it. This is rather refreshing in a partner, especially as I am used to taking the lead. I never know what might come next. Perhaps his question: “Where to now? Next phase?” Means something more serious than playful word games. Is he considering our future? I wonder if he will let me lead him in the art of bargain hunting and classical attire when we shop later on today? We shall see.

  Midday, Adrian: On my way now, My Love. Where are you?

  Mouse: At the rugby ground by the second-hand clothes emporium. Come join me for lunch in the sun——X

  Oh, what fun we have this afternoon. Adrian follows me along the massive hanger aisles with their gender assorted, second-hand clothes. There is something for everyone. We are looking for trousers, shirts and a classical jacket. Mrs. Mouse, in expert bargain hunting mode, guides her Fine Sir to direct action; finding appropriate garments to adorn his handsome figure. He is surprisingly coy, looking to her for assurance as he pulls one or two trousers off the colour-coded rails. “Are these any good? What do you think? Are they too narrow? Too old fashioned?”

  I hoped to find Adrian a smart jacket months ago, before he took off for Europe, and here is my chance. He looks very attractive in classical clothes. He usually wears casual, pale trousers and linen shirts for school, often with a bohemian waistcoat. He looks particularly good in light blue and beige tones, which work well with his soft colouring. He has a good eye and a natural, easy style. He looks fantastic in whatever he wears; with his lean frame and beautiful poise he always turns heads. The ‘classical gent’ is a new concept all together. Emerging self-consciously from the changing-room, wearing the narrow trousers, a smart blue shirt and tailored, lightweight jacket, he looks at himself in the mirror with surprise. The women on duty shoot him admiring glances.

  “Oooh, he looks like one of those posh film stars!” With melting admiration between us, he imagines himself a new man; a gentleman. “May I introduce My Lord Swallow”——

  After a hasty completion at the checkout desk and exciting bundles stowed in the back of his car, we head back to school for a play practice, school pick-up and the weekly, teachers’ meeting. We are both reluctant to end our wonderful afternoon.

  Somehow I manage to produce a good supper and new table decoration when I reach home. Toni is our guest for the evening. He is a new work colleague of The Laird’s; a lovely man. Recently arrived in the town, his family are yet to join him. He is obviously less used to working around a kitchen; we find him trying to heat our electric kettle on the gas stove! I suppose it does look old-fashioned. I shall always smell burning plastic when I see him. I make a hurried dash down the hill at eight o’clock. Rinky’s parent/ teacher meeting is on tonight. Adrian and I have planned to meet briefly, once it is over.

  P.m. Adrian: Little Mouse, Little Mouse, don’t come to my house. I
’m on my course til 9p.m I think. Completely forgot about it. Love you——miss you X

  Mouse: Little Mouse calling——am at your house with lovely time to spare. Just got your text——boo hoo——am vexed——so wanted you to be there. Hope you’re well and happy. Missing you——Loving you——X

  The Laird had been troubled earlier in the day by an e-mail message from a friend at home. I heard him talking about me on the telephone yesterday, saying in a joking voice; “Well, how is she? I have to tell you she is in love!”

  How perceptive of him. He could easily have said: “she is cheating on me; having a sordid affair.” But he didn’t. He knows me so well; knows that I would never be enticed by anything other than the highest connection. I don’t deserve a kind and faithful husband. The same friend had replied today via the Internet: “This new relationship, is it something to worry about?” Seeing the reality, and the potential problems in written form, has understandably unsettled The Laird. Thinking of him as I motor home, I send a text message to ease his fears; “My Darling——know that I love you——that you will always be in my heart. Let’s escape for a picnic lunch next week. See if there is a free slot——X”

  Home is waiting, warm and chaotic as always. Children are sleeping, the dog and cat have taken the best seats by the fire and my kind boys have cleared the kitchen. The temperature has dropped again and I pull on a woolly hat to keep out the whistling wind creeping through every nook and cranny of the wooden cabin.

  P.m. Mouse: Goodnight, My Lovely Friend. Hope course was good? Am going to bed now. Got some cooking done. Will get up very early to do more. Laird off to fish at 5.20a.m——shame it isn’t a weekend morning. I really enjoyed shopping with you today. You looked extremely dashing in your new clothes. Your Lady could have eaten you then and there. In fact, I think I’ll take you to bed right now——just close your eyes. I shall be kissing you all over——X

  Adrian: Just finished course. Useful but overcooked I am. No dinner. This boy needs his vegs. Food at the teachers’ meeting was not good——ate cheese. Oh well. Need a catch-up tomorrow. I finish at 11.00. Heading off for the weekend at 12.30. Can I see you? Leafy Glade? I loved shopping today, thank-you so much. Could have eaten you then and there too. My own fashion consultant. I love you.

  Later, Adrian: He doesn’t know much about this. She is in her element. Tentatively, he makes his suggestion——“I quite like these, are they okay?” She is so clear. She guides him easily to her vision. He allows her——without retort. How well they work——recognition of strengths——partners. He is sad to wave farewell; there is so much more to say. It has been nice to see her shining. He loves her.

  Part Five Toe the Line

  “Unfurl the second Jib, My Lady,” Lord Swallow calls loudly from the helm. “We’re into a close haul; the Main Course needs more tension; we’re heading out; away from the coast.”

  They are off, sailing upwind with controlled risk. The adventure is totally thrilling; all consuming. Wind and water dance irresistibly, sharing their knowledge with the sailors. The World’s Soul lies before them, a truth they recognize. The full potential of The Boat is harnessed and The Craftsman shares their joy. He watches the windswept couple. They are glowing——so capable. They have time to put The Boat through her paces; to sail for uninterrupted months where they bond with their vessel, intimately embracing every nuance. They waste not a single moment.

  The Ocean swell takes them far off land. They feel safe on board and trust the seaworthiness of The Boat with a faith of steel. They take her to the very edge, at times heeling at dangerous angles, at others loosening the sails for less risk. They have never been happier. They know these are blessed, glorious times and they enjoy them to the full. Big swells, foaming wave crests, threatening storms and blue skies with solitary, accompanying gull greet them with variety and challenge every morning. Days of effortless tacking are followed by near disastrous gybing. The exploring of uncharted seas offers fulfillment of the highest quality. Sweet elixir of celestial joy and boundless freedom sweep over the deck and fill the sails——until the day they venture back towards the coast and a patrol boat unexpectedly pulls up alongside.

  “Lower your sails and follow us back to the Marina, please. You are voyaging without a Registered Sailing License.” The loudspeaker shocks the crew of two and stops The Boat dead in her wake, causing a lethal tear in the Main Course. The Craftsman winces at the devastation, yet bows to the path of The Quest. Three Marine officials stand by with authority and paperwork; a red clipboard keeping the papers from blowing away. With an audible tremor in his voice one of the officials declares: “This Boat is to be confiscated for the foreseeable future. You will follow us to the Dry-Dock bay in the Marina——without delay.”

  Chapter 1 Tremor

  Friday 27th October 2006

  A.m. Mouse: Darling Friend——Little Mouse is a Dashing Mouse this morning. Still, spent a wondrous dreamtime in your arms earlier on. Dog woke me at 2 a.m. ——sent me straight to The Leafy Glade——mmm. Could you sense me with you? Can I bring all the soups down to Big J’s kitchen this morning? I hope to be organized enough not to have to come back up the hill. Will the house be open? Better get dashing. Big, big wrap around kiss, your very own, Little Mouse——X

  Adrian: Come to me, Lovely One——this house is always open to such a clever Little Mouse. Had a very late night. Talked for a long time with Cordelia——filling in the pieces. I’ll tell you. Lots to catch up on. Not much time though. Efficient souls we shall be. Very well Angels——so it is. Breathe deep, My Sweet. Your dashing, young Groom——X

  P.s Love you, Little Mouse, yum yum, nibble nibble.

  Mouse: XxXxXxXxXxXxXXXX

  Adrian: Gorgeous Creature, Heaven’s teacher; you loin-awakening wonder, it’s your delectable spell I’m under——and off to School I go. See you at 11.10. Yum Yum.

  I have a busy morning preparing four pots of soup. Today we are having pumpkin and tomato. 7 loaves of homemade bread are heating up in the oven; my bread-maker has been going all week. A large tray of chocolate cake completes the School Cafe lunch. I’m into a good routine with it now and have run the Café for several Fridays. Transportation and set-up occur with time-tested routine, often helped by Adrian whose concept it was in the first place.

  The tricky descent from The Mountain over our pot-holed drive makes café days interesting. Selotaped lids on the hot soup pots wrapped in an old sleeping bag seem to work relatively well. Cooking in Big J’s kitchen makes for an easier job today. At eleven-fifteen Adrian arrives home to ready himself for the weekend. He is driving to Hamilton this afternoon. In between stirring soup and packing the car we manage some peaceful time together. We are feeling particularly close today; wrapped up so completely there is only room for Angel wings between us. In preparation for the coming course Adrian tries out a ‘process’ on me. I am relatively uncomplicated and the outcome is interesting but not revelatory. I’m sure my Friend will find another occasion to dig deeper, as is his want.

  I dash away to School at twelve-thirty——late today because I have been kissing the Class 3 Teacher! I set up the courtyard trestle table and spread the pink tablecloth over its surface. I cut the bread, butter it lavishly and place it in the flat baskets. I have collected forty pottery mugs over recent months——the Opp. Shops are full of them; yesterday’s fashion ousted for today’s brighter designs. Arranged beside the soup pots they stand ready for eager little hands. I put on my pink apron; one from my Kindergarten days back home, and wait for my customers.

  Class 1, the Minx’s class, is the first to appear. I usually acquire a couple of bread cutting volunteers. They hover in obvious hope for a morsel; a tidbit. Flavours are discussed, second helpings dished out and my helpers juggle coins and calculate change. We are an extra large crowd today. Lunch in this tranquil courtyard is always a treat. Shaded by the spring leaves of the overhanging trees, children, staff and Kindergarten families gather in community spirit. Whe
n I see the delighted faces I know it has been worth the early mornings and extra shopping trips.

  Returning to Big J’s house, I collapse into my Lover’s arms before he departs. After a hasty shoe polish he is off. I lie on his bed in silence when he has gone, loving him. After five minutes I head upstairs to clean the kitchen surfaces and pack away my culinary clutter. As I look out of the window I spy Cordelia outside, looking up at the kitchen. I hesitate. What did Adrian tell her last night? He forgot to update me. Did he tell her that we are together? I decide not to go down; better to ask Adrian what he revealed. But that is not to be. Her gaze catches mine and I can’t refuse to meet her. She is one of my best friends. I join her outside. Hesitatingly, I make conversation. As we talk it becomes clear that Adrian has indeed told her all. Oh——I feel caught on the hop; unprepared to face her with this huge revelation.

  She offers kindness and clarity, explaining that she has been in a similar position herself. She points out the huge hurt to The Laird and the impossibility of a total recovery from such a breach of trust. She speaks in a non-judgmental way, letting me know, as we suspected, that she has been aware of our connection for some time. “When I spoke with The Angels about you both I was told not to interfere; not until the end of October,” she states openly. It is the end of October now. So, the Angels are holding us——