by S. E. Babin
“I am Miranda,” I added. “And it is fair to say everything you’ve heard about me has been greatly embellished.”
“How disappointing.” He placed the cups on the counter. “I was looking forward to meeting the sweetest, kindest, smartest, funniest woman in the world.”
That sounded like Elspeth. “Sorry.”
“I’m Connor. Connor Shaw. And I’m Dave’s brother so I’m the best man.”
I leant closer to him and whispered. “Is your suit purple?”
“You saw your dress, huh?” He gave a shudder. “I believe I’ll be wearing a purple cummerbund, tie and accessories.”
I couldn’t help cringing. “That sounds … gorgeous.”
He moved closer and gave me a cheeky smile. “I’m your prom date Miranda,” he said, with a lift of his eyebrows, “and there will be slow dancing.”
And suddenly the wedding looked a whole lot better.
* * *
The walk home wasn’t long but it gave me time to think. The wedding had been a perfect excuse to get out of dodge. The truth was I was burnt out and run down. I had worked eighty-hour weeks for so many years now it had begun to seem normal. My best friend had a new sexy boyfriend and I had to admit I was more than a little jealous. Despite how those television shows set in hospitals made it look, I hadn’t met too many patients worth swooning over, or other doctors for that matter.
I was over-worked, over-tired and in serious danger of being constantly overlooked.
When I arrived back at my grandmother’s after my coffee, a slow trickle of sweat was running down my back from the walk and eight septuagenarians were in the downward dog position in her garage. Elspeth has done a rough conversion to it and now referred to it as her ‘studio’ but it was for all intents and purposes still a garage. I admired these women. In my job I saw many frail old people brought into the ER every day with broken bones and bodies that were giving out. These ladies were fighting it all the way.
I tried to sneak inside where the fans would be blowing but I had to stop and dispense all manner of medical advice as Elspeth’s doctor-grand-daughter. So another hour passed. Time moved at its own languid pace here. It was tropical time and I had a hard job pulling back from my city frenzy.
My grandmother and I had several things in common and one was our love of sandwiches. Neither of us cooked anything much that couldn’t be put between two slices of bread. I whipped us up some BLT’s and she poured us each a cheeky chardonnay for lunch.
We sat in the lounge-room staring at the twinkling lights of her Christmas tree. It had only been up three days and like me, it was looking a little tired and wilted. The heat was zapping its energy, like life had zapped mine. Despite that, like all things my grandmother touched, it was still trying to put on a good show, adorned as it was with a lifetime of memories in the form of ornaments including, I noted, the popsicle stick manger I’d made in the second grade.
“I’m so glad you’re here, my dear. And Anne, dear sweet thing, is thrilled.” Elspeth raised her glass at me.
“I’m not sure I deserve a toast. I’m the world’s worst bridesmaid.”’
She harrumphed. “Ridiculous. I’ve seen far worse. And really how do you help a girl prepare for a wedding she’s had planned since aged nine? She wouldn’t have listened to your suggestion that perhaps a baby’s breath wreath on her head is a tad passé anyway.”
“She’s not really wearing one?” I started and my wine sloshed, a small wave sliding over the edge and onto the sofa.
My grandmother gave me a nod as she bit into her sandwich. “Try and stop her.”
I decided a change of subject was in order. “I met the best man at the Boat Shed.”
“Oh Dave’s sexy half-brother. Same father, different mothers. He’s very cute. All the ladies have a thing for Connor.”
“Oh, which ladies?” I asked in as casual tone as I could muster. I didn’t want women all over my wedding date.
“Me, of course and Thelma. Young Kate from the post office, Nancy from the grocery store, all the young ladies.”
So that cleared that up, she meant every single woman in Chameleon Bay.
“He hasn’t been here long. Used to have some big job in the city. Won’t talk about it though. Dave says he wanted a sea-change.”
It made sense. If you wanted to escape the hustle and bustle of city life, there were few towns sleepier than ours. I wondered what his story was. Still, if Elspeth couldn’t break him, I had no hope.
“He’s done a great job with the Boat Shed. It looks good and the coffee was delicious.”
“Oh yes. He’s creative. I think he paints as well. Quite the renaissance man,” she assured me as she took a swig of her chardonnay.
He looked more like a surf bum to me, but maybe he had hidden depths. It was hard to tell from one conversation. And as my friend Cassie had informed me before I left Sydney, I needed to try and be less judgmental.
“Why Cass? I’m usually right.”
“You are not usually right. You dismiss people too quickly, you put them in a box and leave them there to rot.”
“I’m not a serial killer.”
“You are socially. You’re killing your own social life one person at a time.”
Maybe she had something. Perhaps Connor, who I thought was a surf bum, was really the highly evolved individual my grandmother thought him to be. It was unlikely, but not impossible.
“Seeing anyone?’ Elspeth asked as if reading my mind.
“Not right now.”
“Not ever.” She peered at me with her appraising eyes. “I bet I’ve been on a date more recently than you have.”
It was entirely likely but still. “One that ended in sex?”
“I’m a lady. I don’t discuss those things.” She took a beat, peering at me over the rim of her wine glass. “Probably, though.”
I was not thrilled to hear my grandmother was getting more action than me. The truth was this wedding week came at the perfect time. My boss had suggested I needed a break after I bit the head off the hundredth intern in a week. I was happy to tell him I already had a week of leave booked. And he had been happy to tell me to extend it to two and to come back with a better attitude after Christmas.
“Miranda,” he said, staring me down. “I know you’re good at your job, but a man is not an island. You have to work with these people.”
“I don’t care if they like me,” I replied. But that was a lie. I did care. People used to like me. I used to be fun.
“Maybe you should care a little bit. People are trying to change their rosters to avoid you.”
“Can they do that?”
“No. And even if they could, no one would swap with them.” He shook his head and came around from behind his desk. “You know I like you, but you need a breather. You need to get some perspective.”
He wasn’t allowed to tell me I needed to get laid because he was my boss but I had a feeling that was what he meant.
I sighed, shaking off the memory of my boss’s pitying look. “Elspeth with my hours it’s kind of hard to meet people.”
“My dear girl, I worked in the theatre, I know what difficult hours are.”
“Yeah, it’s kind of different. People don’t come outside the hospital door at the end of a shift wanting my signature and inviting me for cocktails. In fact, they would like to think I never had a cocktail in my entire life.” I tried to explain it to her, but I knew my explanation would fall on deaf ears. “Life isn’t all fun and games Elspeth.” Mine certainly wasn’t.
“Well, in my experience that just means you’re not doing it right, Miranda.” She gave a shrug. “Maybe you could try being a little friendlier. You’ve changed and I miss the old you.”
“I am friendly.” I growled.
“Yes, I can see that. So sweet. So charming.” She stood and carried her plate to the sink. “Darling, I know how delightful you are. Maybe you just need to let other people see that side of you. You can star
t tonight at the wedding rehearsal. Look pretty, wear a dress, and smile.”
“Anything else?”
“No darling, that’ll be plenty. Now I’m off to the hairdressers to make sure I look fabulous.”
The whole afternoon stretched out before me and I had nothing to do. Anne was at work and the rehearsal wasn’t until six.
I went into the room Elspeth kept for me and flopped down on the bed.
Why wouldn’t everyone back off? Surely I wasn’t as cranky and distant as they made out. I was over-worked and over-tired and well, over it, whatever it was, but wasn’t that normal for someone like me?
I glanced up at the open door of the closet. Inside was an array of dresses hanging neatly in rows. Dresses I owned, it seemed. When had I last worn a dress? A year ago maybe? The dresses were a vibrant rainbow of colours in inks, blues and greens as well as stripes and spots and florals.
I sat up and stared down at my open suitcase on the floor. Everything was black, white or gray. Not a jot of colour. I picked up my simple black one-piece swim-suit. Boring. I leaned over and opened a drawer in the bureau beside the bed and pulled out a red bikini. When had I last worn a bikini?
I fell back on the bed, a swimsuit in each hand. Each represented a different version of me. Dark, dull and looming large or small, bright and cheerful. My eyes trained back to the closet. The evidence was there. Elspeth was right. I had changed. I’d lost my old self.
The question was did I want her back?
* * *
It was two in the afternoon when I decided to hit the beach. The old I would have been in the water the minute she arrived in Chameleon Bay, but the new me only swam laps in sensible swimming pools. I threw a sundress over my bikini and headed across the road. The asphalt shimmered with heat. When I reached the sand, it slid into my thongs, scorching my feet. It was so hot in the middle of the day that the beach was almost deserted at this time. At the far end of the beach, I could see a crazy jogger and over on the rocks a couple of old fishermen.
I lay my towel, hat and dress by one of the flags, slid off my shoes, and headed down to the water. I dove straight in and under, feeling strangely free in my red bikini. I’d always loved bodysurfing and the waves were perfect for someone a little out of practice. Still, I found my rhythm again and remembered why I loved to spend hours in the surf.
Some of it had been about the cute boys and ogling the sexy surfers and lifeguards when I was younger, but mainly it had been the exhilaration of being one with the ocean, or in my more fantastical moments, pretending to be a mermaid.
The last wave I rode carried me all the way to shore, but when I popped above the surface, I realised my bikini top had not made the journey with me. I was standing topless in the surf. Now, it was true that many Australian beaches were topless but I wasn’t really one to indulge and not anywhere my grandmother and her cronies might see me. I ducked neck deep into the water and turned to search.
A male voice cut across the sound of the waves and the seagulls.
“Looking for this?”
There, standing ankle-deep in the surf, was Connor brandishing my bikini top.
“Ah yeah,” I mumbled.
“I saw the whole thing. That was quite a surf in.”
“The whole thing?” I hoped I was the only one catching that double meaning.
He gave me a slow nod. “All of it. Quite a show.”
“Can I have my top? I don’t usually let men see my boobs without buying me dinner first.”
He tossed the offending swimsuit in my direction.
“I have the same problem in reverse usually. I have to buy the dinner first.” He dipped under the water and emerged beside me. “I think this way is much nicer.”
“For you, I’m sure. What are you doing here anyway?”
“Jogging.”
“In this heat? Are you crazy?”
He lay floating on his back. “Probably. I think best when I jog and I was working this morning. Wedding rehearsal tonight … this was my shot.”
“What was so important to think about that you had to jog in a heatwave?”
He gave a slow grin. “Would you believe me if I said you?’
I did not believe him. Not one little bit. I wasn’t a fool. Still, I appreciated the flirting. I grinned back. “I would not.”
“Yeah, I didn’t think so. Smart girl.”
And then he flipped over and caught a wave to shore. When he emerged, he honestly looked like some sort of romance cover hero. Slicked back, wet hair, sexy smile. “See you tonight.”
He jogged away.
There wasn’t enough water in the whole Pacific Ocean to cool me off.
* * *
The rehearsal was in the old stone church. It was the only church in town. We were not a religious family but a church wedding was part of Anne’s dream. I followed my grandmother in through the back door. She was wearing an elaborate red and gold kaftan for the occasion and I was wearing a simple sleeveless blue shirt dress.
We were, it seemed, the last to arrive. Elspeth liked to make an entrance and her arrival was always timed accordingly. My aunt just rolled her eyes at us. She was used to her mother and I’m sure felt that perhaps just once we could have someone else as centre of attention.
Anne, on the other hand, sped down the aisle to embrace us both. “Now we can start.”
The groom and his best man stood at the front of the church talking to the minister. They turned and smiled. Dave was a shorter, balder, slightly stockier version of his half-brother. Connor was a foot taller and a decade younger but they had the same smile. Brothers.
Uncle Harry, father of the bride, sat in the church’s back pew waiting for instructions. He was a man of few words.
“Come on. Come on.” Anne said, grabbing my arm and pulling me to the back door of the church. “We’re ready, father.”
The celebrant nodded and Harry stood.
“You’re up first,” Anne said. The organist began playing Pachelbel’s Canon and I was instructed to walk slowly down the aisle. Apparently I could revive a heart in an ER, but I could not walk in time with the music.
“We’re theatre people darling. This should be easy for you,” Elspeth said after my fourth attempt.
“I prefer a different kind of theatre,” I hissed at her.
“Just take your time dear.” The minister said. “It’s not a race to the finish. It’s a beautiful moment to be savoured.”
It felt like a race to just make it finish to me. It felt ridiculous, not romantic at all. Still the fifth time was apparently acceptable because I was finally allowed to stand off to the side.
“You’ll be fine going back. Connor can guide you,” Elspeth said from the first row, giving him a smile.
“Great.” Not that I cared what Connor thought of me, but so far today, we’d established I couldn’t keep my clothes on and I couldn’t walk with rhythm. I had promised him I didn’t live up to my grandmother’s hype, but I didn’t need to be such a spectacular dork. I was a doctor - surely I could walk.
I looked across at him and he was smirking. Well might he smirk. He only had to stand there.
At the end of the rehearsal which, given the stifling heat of the church, was thankfully short, he linked his arm through mine.
“I’m here to help you,” he whispered.
“Jerk.” A low laugh rumbled out of him. It was a sexy sound, I had to admit. “Wait till you forget the ring …”
“That won’t happen.”
“You’re very smug.”
“It’s all I have to do. Bring the ring … surely even I can manage that.”
“We’ll see. “
“And you might want to try and smile too. You looked like you were walking to the gallows.” If one more person told me to smile I might lose it. “Thanks for the tip.”
“Not a fan of marriage, I take it?”
“It’s kind of an archaic institution, but to each their own. I guess if I could take a wife, I
’d feel differently.”
“Huh?” His brow crinkled.
I shrugged. “Men often succeed because they have wives, and women who marry are often no better off except they have kids and housework and a husband, which usually makes them worse off. So if I could take a wife maybe, rather than a husband…”
“My, you are a cynic. Lots of marriages aren’t like that.”
“I’m a realist. I see the truth in action every day,” I said, dropping my arm from his as we reached the back of the church. “I see men around me succeeding all the time and so many women held back by marriage and family.”
“Right. So you’re committed to being very successful but very alone?” His arms were crossed over his fine chest and his eye-brows were raised.
“I wouldn’t exactly put it like that…”
“Well then, as long as you have it all worked out, good for you. I would however, suggest you don’t share that view with the bride and groom. Not very romantic.” He gave his head a shake. “Want to walk with me to the club?”
“I hate the club,” I mumbled
“Why am I not surprised? What is it you hate about the club?”
The truth was the local RSL Club was loud; loud poker machines, loud swirling carpet and poor acoustics. The lighting was harsh, the tables were plastic and the food was terrible. It made me feel overwhelmed and agitated.
“Nothing in particular.” I wasn’t interested in sharing any more with him.
“Right. Another opinion you should keep to yourself,” he said as we were joined at the back of the church by the rest of the group.
“We’re walking,” I announced.
“How romantic,” Elspeth crooned.
“It’s practical,” I snarked back.
“Are you this crabby at home in the city?” Connor asked.
“I’m not crabby.” He widened his eyes at me. “Okay, sorry I am a bit crabby and I apologize. No, I’m not always this crabby but lately ... I’m tired.”