The Celestial Sea

by Marina de Nadous

  Chapter 3 Tracing

  Thursday 16th November 2006

  A.m. Mouse: Good morning, Lord Swallow. How does the new day find you? Did you feel me in your arms at 4a.m? Your Lady is tired and scruffy. Cooking for school lunch is on the cards so I don’t have much time this morn, except to say; “I love you, I need you, I could watch you all day and I could melt into you all night——my beautiful, noble, contemplative Lord”——X.

  Are you free after 1p.m? ——Where? ——Big J. off? ——X

  I don’t hear from Adrian this morning; it is mid-week and I expect he is preparing something for the teachers’ meeting later this afternoon, quite apart from organizing the Main Lesson for his Class. I admire his capacity to handle everything, including the all-consuming nature of our growing affection. I couldn’t achieve his level of creative outpouring for The School and fall hopelessly in love at the same time. No wonder he is often overburdened and stressed. However, we do begin the school morning together. I find him in the woodwork shed organizing pots and plants before the bell rings——“meet at my house at 2p.m?” He suggests. “You’re on.”

  Midday, Adrian: Come out, come out, you Scarlet Mouse! Come play, come play at my sweet house——

  Mouse: Oh Mouse’s Friend, pray do tell——at home, will I find you bushy and well? No lunchtime guitar? Well, I am still up the hill——so you see, t’will take longer to reach you, but I’m on for a thrill. Be there as soon as——X

  We spend a short time together in The Leafy Glade, wrapped up tightly and completely losing track of time. Big J. and Frances arrive home unexpectedly, parking right outside Adrian’s basement. My car is parked on the road and his curtains are closed; they must be getting suspicious. “Oops——what do we do now?” Adrian pulls himself together and decides to stroll upstairs. I come in afterwards. “Yes, we have nearly completed the song,” {true}. We chat amiably, we have a cup of tea and we head back to School. I am taking Frances’s daughter home for the night. The little girls are very excited.

  A crazy evening ensues with children swimming in mud puddles and the Castle Hound going bonkers. How long will it take her to learn she is NOT allowed to chase the chickens the minute the van door opens? The poor hens——this regular Mountain Derby at three-thirty must be effecting their laying. We surely provide an afternoon comedy for the neighbouring sheep.

  ‘Three thirty: Van groans up steep driveway, only just making it without stalling. Three thirty-one: Van door opens and hairy monster leaps out like a crazed woman at the Harrods sale, the glint of pre-planned acquisition obvious, even under the shaggy eyebrows. Three thirty-one-and-two-seconds: school-bags and yelling children tumble out of the vehicle——The Go-Getter in high chase, shouting his head off and waving his hockey stick he tries to head off the mad creature. The other children follow, all shouting, their mother too. Eventually, The Bog-Brush collapses in a spent heap while mother chastises her. She is totally unrepentant with her pink tongue panting a plea for understanding in the long grass. “I just cannot resist, Mistress; it’s in my blood. I am a hunting dog.”

  I collect the debris from the drive; a trainer, a lunch-box, the bag of apples I bought earlier——hmm——they will be bruised. Why is there always so much ‘stuff’ to bring in from the van? The children take some of their things, but are too excited to help further. Playtime is on the agenda, for goodness sake. “Sorry Ma; we can’t stop now, we’re busy!” Monty the cat watches all; quietly tolerant and unfazed from his deck rail position. The Castle Mistress sets to. There is food to prepare and the house to contain; her head partially in the clouds. I wonder how the teachers’ meeting is going. My thoughts are with Adrian as I chop apple and divide the broccoli heads. Can we manage this double life? Can we?

  P.m. Mouse: Madness rocks The Castle——just as she was beginning to get on top of things too. Small girls covered in mud——thick, black ditch gunge from top to toe. They arrive dripping, requiring bath and floating picnic. Meanwhile, the youngest Master decides to use electric jigsaw on the kitchen floor; a wooden dagger is needed, {probably to defend himself against extra feminine presence in The Castle.} The Mistress, trying to contain the spreading mud and make an effort to clear the living quarters, begins to cook supper, or tea, I should say.

  The Laird and young Master of the superior fashion sense are due back any minute and dislike disorder——oh dear, she will be in the doghouse again. She tries to get a speed-on, getting there——and then they arrive. At the same time there is a shriek——what has the hound got in her mouth? One baby bunny is removed from her jaws and brushed down——maternal care is required. Laird frowns——seeing he will need to assist with general chaos. Valiantly he sets to, cleaning up the kitchen while The Mistress crashes out on the sofa for her early evening, routine sleep——a habit disliked by her long-suffering husband who wants his wife bright-eyed and attendant at all times, and certainly with The Castle in neat order. “I must give you extra time away from the children, to get organized——and——can I borrow your mobile phone? Mine is at work. “Ummm——she stammers——I’m not sure where it is,” jumping up and taking her apron pocket quickly upstairs to retrieve messages and delete in a hurry. “Here it is——found it in the bedroom,” she lies, feeling bad.

  My indiscretion is noticed. The Laird realizes that I have deleted messages; that I have secrets——oops. We enter rough waters.

  P.m. Adrian: Here I sit——on my sofa——eating——a steaming bowl of organic veges on my lap. My extra astral body, {the dog}, sits before me, licking her lips at each lemon-juiced, dripping mouthful. Too hot and lemony for her taste——oh no——she ate a piece of cauliflower! A few minutes left before I leave for my course, early for the first time. The teachers’ meeting went well. I was particularly forthright. A very rich meeting indeed, pressing for more and seeing how we can help each other hold The School.

  Yes, our connection today; you and I, was short but very nice. Another step taken I suspect——preparation for a weekend meeting with The Laird at your place maybe? Had the thought——being toughened up——but maybe not. Certainly feel stronger this week; more level. Looking forward to seeing you in class tomorrow, and after class too——yum. I have bread rolls and donated soup veges organized for the weekend Working Bee, {community work party on the school land} ——so, very efficient as well. Getting on top of life. Scaling the sides of it anyway——Love——

  Mouse: Hi there, My Lover——so glad you gathered some strength for staff meeting after interesting life-shock. Found it hard to leave you today——never enough time. Did you remember to lock the main house door? You asked me to remind you and I forgot. Lots of things slipping my mind at the moment. Can’t think why? Are you off on your course? Thinking of you——missing you——loving you. M. X

  Adrian: ‘For the child, roses bloom,’——yes? Any good for the third verse of the song? Let’s trade lines. What was your line for the spider’s web?

  Mouse: ‘Wind they feel you, harsh and cold, spider weave a blanket bold, keep the chill out of the cave, for the Christ Child you shall save?’ See how you can tweak that, Fine Sir. Hope course went well? Still got lots of prep to do. Yikes——4a.m start for me tomorrow. Love you lots and lots.

  Adrian: Love the stones verse. How about this for the spider’s web? “Warmth you’ll give to those within, to Mary and her sacred kin?” Good work——exciting for me. We could work more this way——write a tune and work on words like this? Yum. Course was interesting in a constructive way——hostess was drunk——lovely challenge. Saw my tolerance and control drama——witnessed John’s compassion and patience. Sleep well——the sleep of the worthy and good. Special Woman to me——X

  ‘Special Swallow Man to me——how shall we keep The Boat at sea?’

  I feel a rhyme waiting in the wings, but I am too tired. Bedtime.

  Friday 17th November 2006

  A.m. Adrian: His favourite sleeping position. His earliest night this week——marke
d difference. The swirling thought storm has moved on——anti-cyclone weather in the mind. A weekend at home. Oh Mouse of high stature——Regal Rodent——last night I snuggled up with Lottie and read her the story of Thumbelina. She liked the bird——its freedom——a friend——‘and at last she decides for herself what it is she wants—not acting from obligation——“Yes”, she says to the little bird on the day of her wedding’——

  I roll out of bed reluctantly; my Lover’s message accompanying my early start to the day, his words; his sentiment filling me. Another of those little hints this morning. How I delight in Adrian’s communication. My days are instantly light-filled when we write to each other. I love him.

  Mouse: Morning Darling. Sorry about yesterday’s lengthy missive——thought The Castle antics might amuse you. How are you, My Beautiful Friend? Glad the meeting was as good as last week. Drunken hostess sounds interesting. Lovely ideas for the verses——yes, let’s do more of this——creative alone, but together. Perfect. See you soon. If I look bleary-eyed you will know why. Loving you so much——X

  I am up early this morning, cooking for the school café. We are having a different menu this week; pita bread with salad fillers. I hope the children approve. I spend the morning with young Andre again. He likes the action games——today’s is especially fun. The teachers bring the children to one side of the classroom and announce; “now we are going to play ‘Socks and Crabs’. Who is going first?” Zion puts up his hand; he chooses his friend Pete. “Socks or Crabs?” they have to decide. “Socks”——I watch in amazement as the two boys dash into the middle of the cleared space and wrestle each other with fiery excitement. The object of the game is to rid your opponent of his/her socks!

  Amidst thunderous applause from the spectators Zion stands up, triumphant. The ‘Crabs’ version consists of two children walking on hands and feet with torsos facing the ceiling; the aim being to use legs to collapse the opponent’s balance. ‘Breathing out’ after an hour of ‘breathing in’ deskwork is important; the children are not expected to step beyond their natural rhythm. Time and again, this teaching method surprises me——rather like the Class 3 teacher himself!

  When the class begins morning-tea I dash away to Big J’s house to warm the pita bread and complete the grated carrot and cheese salad. I chat to Big J. who has just returned from hospital. She had a minor eye operation yesterday. I like her sparky character and always receive a warm welcome. We get on well. Adrian returns home at eleven-thirty and we manage a close time in The Leafy Glade. We explore further feelings around ‘the small boy’; feelings of resentment for ‘fat Mr. Saunders’ who humiliated Adrian in front of a whole class when he was a nine-year-old. Another tangle to unravel. Yes, time to despatch Mr. Saunders, although I steer Adrian away from too much self-analysis.

  The cafe lunch goes down well with the addition of a cream cheese and pumpkin spread. The big boys from Class 6 amuse me with their large appetites. They retire to one of the tables with laden handfuls. I wonder what they talk about while they munch. The tallest boy has been chosen to play The Angel Gabriel in this year’s Advent Festival, {a different performance to The Staff Nativity Play}; he is the son of our kiwifruit orchard friends; Louise and Andrew. Cordelia is dipping candles in the courtyard with Class 2 today. She continues working while I serve lunch. She is the most remarkable person; alongside her already mentioned talents, her expertise in the school curriculum crafts is fast becoming a valuable asset. The teachers are grateful to have her on board. She helps as a volunteer in most classes, most days of the week. In between times she works as a translator. She speaks 7 languages!

  I head back to Adrian’s waiting arms after lunch. I snooze lightly on his bed while he gives me a head massage. I have one of those annoying aches from too little sleep last night. We take our places among the staff for a stage practice of the Nativity Play when school ends. We use the deck on the green; a sheltered area behind the office between the Kindergarten buildings. This is where we shall perform.

  How bizarre, yet wonderful, to walk on stage hand-in-hand with my Joseph. In front of all the staff too, acting as husband and wife! A mixture of alarm and deep comfort is how I can describe the sensation. During the early part of the practice Adrian has a minor dispute with Michele, the school grounds woman who is often grumpy. She doesn’t like his spontaneous method of gardening and haphazard replacement of tools. Today the missing wheelbarrow is the problem. He is thrown by her accusation but we continue well enough with our parts, singing the gentle pieces and remembering our lines. I notice our thighs touching as we sit together, watching others perform. Are we too close in front of them all? Adrian is certainly very gentle and attentive with me as his Mary. Yes, I think we are probably showing blatant affection. Oops again——

  Early p.m. Adrian: I wonder how the practice was for you. Tired——exposed——unfamiliar——and with your Lover wearing a different hat and reactive after wheelbarrow accusation——not quite present——certainly not his masterful self. Hmm. And now in a social setting, how is she? Getting clearer he reaches out——not much to offer her and The Laird right now. Tired——goodness me. Angels, settle your wings around us all, right now. Guard my Lady from barbs——ease her fatigue——bring her rest——soothe hurts and rifts and grief. Thank-you.

  We spend the evening at Bernard and Felicia’s home, watching a film and sharing a meal with two other couples. The atmosphere between The Laird and me is tense. Our discomfort is noticed. The Laird keeps me at arm’s length; angry with me for texting my lover while lying beside him when he is asleep——something he discovered recently. Of course that is understandably upsetting. How can I be so disloyal? My husband sleeps——a lot. And when he isn’t sleeping he is glued to the television. I need a responsive partner, and if my only access to deep intimacy is through a private world, then so be it.

  P.m. Mouse: How blessed to walk beside my Joseph——surreal too, in front of all. A strange but wondrous feeling. You were so lovely——

  Adrian: Hi——are you coming down from The Mountain at any time before 9a.m tomorrow? Need a big pot to cook soup. Did you see me get a life-shock from Michele and the wheelbarrow thing? I just put it away and carried on——but there it was. She doesn’t like me, I’m useless——she’s not kind——ashamed little boy immediately——one more time to learn about being clear. It took a couple of hours to process and could have gone on for much longer——eating bad food——avoiding people——distracting myself. Hope you’re all right?

  Mouse: Still out——film rather boring. Wish I were with you——M——X

  Late p.m. Adrian: Had my own film evening——very dark and dramatic film by Nick Cave set in Australian outback. Disc got jumpy and stopped——actually, a relief. Escaped to my own life. Hoping you would text but thought you might be The Laird’s tonight. Missing you——feeling clear and fun——new life——ready for it. Okay; grated potato on the sore eye lids——salute to the sun yoga done——yell and scream at mirror thing done——process complete——not ‘fat Mr Saunders’ though. Irish band practise tomorrow at 2p.m——X

  Saturday 18th November 2006

  A.m. Adrian: Oh, Lady of peace descend on your home——wings of love enfold you all. Need it be unpleasant? Perhaps. Strength is needed. Oh fiery, redheaded man——I see you clearly in my mind——your dynamism, your charm, your awareness and sensitivity, your quick mind. Yes, breathe—feel——act not from hurt and pain——look into the clear eyes of your woman——your friend——what do you see? Care? Love? Strength? Determination? Movement of life of a true nature——a faith. Good man, may God fill you with insight and wisdom that recognizes the call of truth——the call to break with convention——to grasp new forms of relationship——so much to gain. You are the one——It is possible. Release her and reclaim her in a totally new way——fresh and vital.

  Look upon her; this fine woman you have held, do you not want her to be strong and free? Will you chain her, or
reject her, or could you trust her——trust her to choose? And me? My desire here? I want——to fit in——be accepted as part of your family in whatever form that takes——gardener, friend or neighbour, contributing to family life——filling in the gaps——the background husband. A gentle, supportive Uncle without shame for my love——with the ability to laugh——to sing——to play——to take part. Like when I housesit——you return and I step back——warmly——hmm. Could be a dream——unreal——too much to ask.

  What is the alternative? The alternative is that I am banned——that there is no contact. Okay——yep——mediocre life——ho-hum——everybody gets on with the important business of everyday living. The Angels lose interest——the life force that could have nourished many diminishes——dwindles. For you see, this is not a selfish, lust-filled affair——this is something quite different. Taking the risk of interpreting and sounding like a justifier——this is Angel-dusted, destiny driven love and connection that has come at exactly the right time——it could be very important in a bigger sense. Maybe not, but in me is total trust in a higher wisdom that has kept me present through some difficult times; times that have worried and troubled me but not once did I want to give up. But not in a driven, determined or clinging way. I have been open to stopping, to changing course; Jules, European maidens, but not one flicker, one ember of interest in anyone else has fallen into my lap. This relationship with your wife is the most acute, sharp-focused and even-paced event of my life——step by gentle step——layer by deepening layer——no fixed outcomes in mind but clearer and clearer it becomes. You are not pushed out. You are not talked about disrespectfully, although there are laughs that are shared as with all our peculiarities and traits. You are honoured——you are asked to share. Even this. Is it so different to anything else in life? Yes, I suppose it is. But, we share the love of our children, our money, time, homes and food. Our partners go out to work, to interact with others——we don’t control that, so what is it with this? I suppose the taboo that we are facing and shrinking from is intimacy——our lovers’ talk. Maybe this is too personal——it is our secrets. But why does it have to be exclusive? It is the pillow talk that is the catch——how can this be possible to share? It hurts to consider.