Love Is...

by Haley Hill

  I glanced down at him, leaning against the side of the spring, steam rising off his chest.

  Bore turned to me, brow furrowed. ‘My secretary informed you I conduct all my meetings here, didn’t she?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘It opens my mind,’ he said, leaning back and closing his eyes.

  ‘Great,’ I said. ‘I’ll just perch on the edge and ask you questions from here.’

  Bore opened his eyes again. ‘Iceland is an equal country. To engage in an equal debate, we must all be equal. Besides,’ he added, ‘to understand us, you must live like us.’ Then he dunked his head back into the water.

  Dominic was grinning. ‘If it makes you feel any better, Bore and I will turn the other way when you get in.’ Dominic flipped himself over. ‘There you go,’ he said. ‘Can’t see anything.’

  Bore did the same, after reminding me that it was my soul he was keen to discover, not my body.

  ‘OK,’ I said. ‘So long as you promise no peeking, Dominic.’

  He laughed. ‘Of course not. I’m a gentleman.’

  I quickly removed my shoes, socks and both of my fleeces. Then my T-shirt.

  ‘You done yet?’ Dominic asked.

  ‘No,’ I said, quickly covering myself in case he turned around. Then I wriggled out of my jeans. I wrapped a fleece around my body and quickly whipped off my bra and knickers. Then. as quick as I could. I dropped the fleece and slid into the water.

  ‘I’m in,’ I said, instantly feeling the warmth spread around me.

  Dominic flipped over and smiled. ‘Welcome,’ he said, moving towards me.

  It was cloudy but I could see the outline of his body through the water. I couldn’t help but glance down.

  Dominic caught me looking and grinned.

  Bore turned to face us. ‘Now,’ he said, leaning back against the side. ‘Make yourself comfortable and look up at the sky. When a question for me comes, don’t filter it, just let it out.’ His body was rising up and his penis began bobbing up on the surface. I screwed up my face and Dominic laughed.

  Dominic leaned over and whispered in my ear, ‘Is there an eel in the water or is he just pleased to see us?’

  Bore looked up and frowned. ‘Let’s just get the silly toilet humour out of the way first. Any more comments to mask your deep-rooted body insecurities and suppressed sexuality?’

  Dominic leaned back and dipped his hair in the water. ‘You said no filtering.’

  ‘I did indeed.’

  Dominic sat up and ran a hand through his wet hair. I wondered if he was deliberately acting out an aftershave advert. ‘So my question to you, Bore,’ Dominic said, ‘is, with all the goodwill in the world, how do we ignore the fact we’re naked in a spring?’

  I giggled.

  ‘You don’t ignore it,’ Bore said. ‘You face it. Remove the barriers to intimacy to allow free-flowing communication. By being naked, I am making myself vulnerable to you and to nature.’

  I lay back and stared into the sky, letting my thoughts flow around my head. I glanced up to see Dominic watching me. He quickly looked away.

  I sat up to ask Bore a question. ‘So Icelandic people,’ I said, ‘are the happiest in the world?’

  ‘Well, as far as it is reported,’ Bore replied.

  ‘Yet they have the highest divorce rate?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes,’ said Bore.

  I stared at him for a moment and waited for an explanation.

  ‘Why?’ I asked, when it was apparent one wasn’t coming.

  Bore took a deep breath. ‘We are yet to discover a universal measure for happiness, so we must rely on self-reported data,’ he began. ‘That being said, Iceland does have the highest reported levels of happiness. The divorce rate is high. Yet there is no proven link between the two. It’s not cause or effect. And if it was, does happiness cause divorce? Or does divorce cause happiness?’

  ‘Well,’ I said, ‘in my experience, divorce certainly doesn’t cause happiness.’

  Bore raised a finger. ‘Marriage promises happiness. Have you considered, Ellie, that it is only unhappy people who pursue happiness? And therefore in turn, unhappy people get married, because they think it will make them happy? And when it doesn’t they get divorced and blame their unhappiness on a failed marriage?’

  I looked down into the spring, while my mind processed what he had said. Then I turned to Dominic.

  He was looking down thoughtfully too. Then he looked up and cleared his throat.

  ‘So you’re saying,’ he said, ‘that just as happiness and divorce are not causal, neither is happiness and marriage.’

  ‘Precisely,’ Bore said, sinking his shoulders into the water.

  I did the same and then tipped my head back. I looked back up at the sky and watched a wispy cloud float past.

  ‘It’s beautiful here,’ I said.

  Bore smiled. ‘I’m glad you’ve finally noticed.’

  Dominic looked me up and down in the water. ‘Quite spectacular,’ he said.

  Bore glanced at Dominic and then at me and smiled.

  ‘The Icelandic people,’ he continued, ‘believe in freedom and independence. We place a high degree of importance on self-sufficiency. This lack of dependence enables us to leave a marriage we no longer want to be in.’

  I shook my head from side to side. ‘Women too?’ I asked.

  Dominic looked to Bore.

  Bore lay back, his manhood bobbing to the surface again. ‘We also place a high degree of importance on gender equality. If you look at the countries with the lowest divorce rate, you’ll find the women don’t have the rights or the freedom to divorce. Or they would be socially and economically excluded if they did.’

  Dominic dunked his head under the water, then popped back up again. ‘But having the freedom and the means to divorce is an enabler, not a cause. A lower divorce rate in other societies does not indicate a greater success at marriage, does it?’

  Bore nodded. ‘So what does?’ he asked us.

  ‘How would I know? I’m not married,’ Dominic said, before submerging himself in the water again.

  Bore looked at me.

  I thought for a moment. ‘I suppose success is measured by goals. It depends what a couple hopes to achieve from a marriage. If they achieved what they wanted then it is a success.’

  Bore sunk back down into the water. ‘That’s an interesting perspective,’ he said.

  ‘What’s your perspective?’ Dominic asked him.

  Bore looked up to the sky and tapped his hand on the side of the spring. ‘Marriage is no more than a collection of moments in time. The past is sentiment and the future is fantasy.’

  I looked blankly at him. ‘So you don’t agree with marriage?’

  He shook his head. ‘I have no opinion either way. If marriage can’t make you happy then it can’t make you sad. So what is there to lose or gain?’

  Dominic stared at him. ‘There’s a lot to lose,’ he said.

  Bore glanced round at him.

  Dominic splashed steamy water over his shoulders. I found myself gazing at his collarbones.

  ‘Marriage forces us to live by a set of rules,’ Dominic said.

  Bore smiled. ‘We all live by our own moral and social codes, either way,’ he said. ‘The majority of married people just lie, or split up, if their true desires conflict with their marriage vows.’

  I went to stand up in protest, momentarily forgetting I was naked. Dominic raised his eyebrows before I quickly sank down into the water again.

  ‘I disagree,’ I said, my conviction disarmed by the grin on Dominic’s face.

  ‘Go on,’ Bore said, arching his back and rolling his shoulders.

  ‘I stand by my vows,’ I said. ‘Even through the bad times.’

  Dominic’s brow furrowed.

  ‘But that’s your moral code,’ Bore said. ‘Not one that marriage enforced on you.’

  ‘Why would I get married if I didn’t believe in the vows?’

&nb
sp; ‘Why indeed?’ Bore said. ‘A very interesting question. But it seems that many people do.’

  ‘It’s simple,’ said Dominic. ‘People get married because they believe in the vows at that precise moment. They don’t understand that circumstances may change and in time they might feel differently.’

  I turned to him. ‘I disagree.’

  Dominic glared at me, his nostrils were flaring. ‘How can you be so sure, Ellie? What if something happens and your whole life and future changes? How could you possibly predict how you might react?’

  I looked to Bore, who raised his eyebrows. ‘With the best will in the world, humans are fallible,’ he said.

  I lay back in the water and, despite the heavy weight in my core, I felt myself floating.

  We all floated together in silence until suddenly Bore jumped up and pulled himself out of the spring to get dressed. Then he glanced down at the mound in his shorts. ‘Apologies,’ he said. ‘These kinds of debates get me quite excited.’

  I grimaced and Dominic looked the other way.

  Bore smiled at Dominic. ‘You have nothing to be intimidated by, my friend. You’re mightily endowed yourself.’

  Dominic glanced at me and then back at Bore.

  ‘I must go now,’ Bore said, pulling some towels out of his rucksack. He wrapped a tiny one around himself and then threw another two on the side of the spring.

  ‘One last question,’ I said, raising my arm out of the water, ‘before you go.’

  He nodded. ‘Of course.’

  ‘How can I help people who want to stay married?’

  He looked at me and then over at the other springs bubbling up across the valley.

  ‘Remind them to enjoy their time together,’ he said, ‘whichever moral code they live by, because as I said, love is nothing but a collection of moments in time.’

  I watched him walk away, micro towel now replacing micro shorts and I wondered what I was expected to do with this information.

  Dominic moved next to me and squeezed my shoulder. ‘You can’t save the world, Ellie,’ he said.

  I quickly backed away to the other side of the spring. ‘I know,’ I said. ‘I can’t.’

  Chapter 21

  That evening I was feeling contemplative and fancied staying in my hotel room to process the day’s learnings. Also, I’d promised Matthew a Skype call, and I had an inbox rammed with emails from Mandi that I had yet to address. However, just as I snuggled into bed with my laptop, minibar wine and a giant bag of crisps, there was a hammering on my door. It was Dominic.

  ‘Open up,’ he said. ‘We’re going out.’

  I tried to ignore him, hoping he’d assume I was asleep, but after his repeated threats to force the door open if I continued to pass up on a night exploring Reykjavik in favour of ‘moping’ in my room, it became apparent he wasn’t going to give up. I dragged myself out of bed and opened the door, wearing one of Nick’s old T-shirts.

  Dominic looked me up and down.

  He frowned and then smiled. ‘I’ve booked us a table at The Gallery,’ he said, pushing past me. ‘You’ve got five minutes.’ He flipped up the lid of my suitcase, rummaged for a bit, then pulled out a red dress.

  ‘Wear this,’ he said, throwing it at me. I stood there, silent. Then he checked his watch and stared at me. ‘Would you like me to pick your underwear for you too?’

  I handed the dress back to him. ‘I’ve told you, I’m not going out.’

  Dominic shook his head. ‘You can’t stay in. We’re only here for one night. It’s the best fine-dining restaurant in Iceland. Besides,’ he added with a smile, ‘we owe it to our clients. We need to find answers, remember?’

  I rolled my eyes. ‘I’m not sure we’re going to find the answers in a restaurant.’

  He handed back the dress. ‘We came here for an Icelandic perspective on love and that’s what we’re going to get. So hurry up. Meet me downstairs in five.’

  When I walked into the foyer, Dominic’s eyes widened.

  ‘That’s more like it,’ he said, jumping up and taking my hand. ‘You look nearly as good dressed as you do naked,’ he added with a smile.

  I pulled my hand away. ‘Firstly,’ I said, ‘you’re my colleague, so you shouldn’t notice how I look and, secondly, you haven’t seen me naked.’

  He smirked. ‘Didn’t anyone tell you water is transparent?’

  I rolled my eyes. ‘It was murky.’

  ‘Not that murky,’ he said. ‘And don’t pretend you weren’t checking me out either. I saw you.’

  ‘I wasn’t checking you out.’

  He laughed. ‘You so were.’ Then he grabbed my hand again. ‘Come on,’ he said, ‘let’s eat.’

  According to the digital thermometer behind the hotel desk it was minus thirteen degrees outside, and although I felt my fingertips numb as we walked through the streets, I noticed the chill inside was beginning to thaw. Dominic kept trying to take my hand, and although it was something I would routinely do with Matthew, with Dominic I knew it was wrong.

  After dinner, we sat outside a bar with blankets on our laps and the infrared heaters blazing down on us.

  Dominic downed his shot straight away and wiped his mouth. ‘Do you think it’s wrong for a married person to be attracted to someone else?’ he asked.

  I went to nod. The idea of Nick being attracted to another woman had always filled me with fear. I paused before I replied.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ I said. Then I looked up at the sky. The stars twinkled, almost as if to say, We have the answers but we’re not telling you.

  Dominic looked up at the sky too. ‘Does it make me a bad person for desperately desiring a married woman?’

  I laughed. ‘“Desperately desiring”? Are we in a Barbara Cartland novel all of a sudden?’

  He shuffled in his seat. ‘Is it so wrong?’ he asked.

  I nodded. ‘I suppose it depends how people act on their desires.’ I took a tentative sip from the shot glass in front of me and grimaced. ‘We are supposed to be a civilised species. We have rules in place.’

  ‘And if those rules weren’t there?’

  I laughed. ‘If we acted purely on impulse? Men would be mounting any girl they fancied on the way to work. We’d never get anything done.’

  Dominic looked at me. ‘You always say men, as though we are the only ones with desires. What about you?’

  I laughed. ‘What about me? I don’t want to mount anyone on the way to work.’

  He leaned forward and took the shot glass from me, his hand brushing mine as he did. ‘You don’t stop being a sexual person just because you’re married, Ellie.’

  His gaze seemed to intensify in the infrared light. I felt his fingers curl around mine and he leaned in closer, his lips parting.

  ‘Ellie! Is that you?’

  I recognised his voice immediately and jumped up out of my seat.

  ‘Matthew?’ I said, squinting across the street.

  He ran towards me with open arms. ‘I’m here!’ he said. ‘I’m in Iceland. I’m here!’

  He flung his arms around me and twirled me around.

  ‘I’m here,’ he said again, dropping me to the ground and staring at Dominic. Then he looked back at me and then at Dominic again.

  ‘If I didn’t know you better, Eleanor Rigby,’ Matthew said, one eyebrow raised, ‘I’d have thought I was interrupting something.’ Then he let out an exaggerated laugh.

  Dominic stepped forward. ‘I’m Dominic,’ he said, stretching his hand out to Matthew, ‘Ellie’s colleague.’

  ‘That’s reassuring,’ Matthew said, looking him up and down. ‘For a moment, I thought Ellie had forgotten she was married and had taken an Icelandic lover with a bizarre penchant for cable knit.’ He stepped forward with his hand out. ‘I’m Matthew, Ellie’s best friend,’ he said.

  They shook hands.

  ‘That’s equally reassuring,’ Dominic said. ‘For a moment, I thought Ellie had a gay stalker who dressed like Kate Moss.’r />
  Matthew glanced down at his fur gilet and opened it as though he were selling wares. ‘This,’ Matthew explained, ‘is Helmut Lang. A collection inspired by primal man.’

  Dominic laughed. ‘I didn’t know cavemen wore skinny jeans.’

  Matthew scowled and mumbled something about cable knit and Dale Winton.

  ‘OK, boys,’ I interrupted. ‘Let’s not forget why we are here.’

  Matthew looked at me with narrowed eyes. ‘Yes, why are we here, Ellie?’

  I raised my eyebrows. ‘I know why I’m here. To help my clients find lasting love. Why are you here?’

  Matthew shifted his weight. ‘Because my wife’s left me and her wanky boss has taken her and my kids to Center Parcs for the weekend to celebrate.’

  ‘Center Parcs?’ I asked.

  Dominic’s expression softened. ‘Shit, mate. That’s bad.’

  Matthew eyed our empty shot glasses. ‘You’ve been drinking Brennivín without me?’ he asked, shoulders slumping. Then he put on his puppy dog eyes. ‘Can we get some more? Please, Ellie, please,’ he said. ‘I need to get wasted.’

  Dominic looked at me and shrugged his shoulders.

  I sighed. ‘Oh OK then,’ I said, putting my arm around Matthew and realising this night was about to take an interesting turn.

  ‘Bloody Center Parcs. Can you believe it?’ Matthew slurred, leaning against the chrome pillar of the student nightclub we had stumbled into. ‘Not Barbados or the Maldives, but instead my wife would rather bob up and down in a giant pool with a wave machine than save our marriage. And to take my kids too. The bloody cheek of it.’

  Dominic patted Matthew on the back, with an expression that suggested he understood his pain.

  Matthew hung his head. ‘I keep imagining his lardy belly rubbing up against her.’ He shook his head. ‘I can’t shake the image.’ He shook his head again. ‘Nope, still there.’

  Dominic leaned forward and topped up Matthew’s shot glass. ‘That’s tough, mate.’

  Matthew downed it and turned to Dominic. ‘I mean, it’s not as if she’s run off with someone like you.’ He punched Dominic in the stomach. Dominic didn’t flinch. ‘You know, all chiselled and gladiator like. I could sort of understand it.’