The Practice Baby
Page 32
‘These don’t look too bad on you,’ she said and immediately regretted putting his physical being out there between them.
‘It’s interesting to not be noticed,’ he said. ‘I don’t know if I like it or not.’
I’ll always notice you, she thought. She wanted to put her hand on his chest.
Instead she said, ‘I’m hungry, how about fish and chips? Takeaway? I don’t want to be anywhere but here.’
Raj pulled a champagne cork opener and two glasses out of the picnic basket. From the fridge he produced a bottle of her favourite bubbles, a Stefano Lubiana sparkling from Tasmania. He must have brought it from Sydney.
They drank a glass together on the balcony. The ocean breeze was chilly. Raj brought her a wrap from the bed.
‘You relax. I’ll go do hunter–gatherer duty. There’s a good place just down the block,’ he said.
Once he was out the door she looked around. The wicker picnic basket he’d taken to Orange sat on the kitchen bench. Raj’s suitcase was in the smaller of the two bedrooms. He had taken hers from her at the door. It was in the room with the full-length windows opening onto the balcony and an unobstructed view of the Pacific Ocean.
It was still chilly but she went back outside with her glass. The view would soon be gone. The unending sound of the surf, of long waves rolling and booming against the shore from across the vast ocean reminded Dee that there was more in the world than Adam.
There was a knock at the door. It was two hotel staff with an outdoor heater.
‘This is the heater your husband asked for. Should we set it up?’
Dee took them through to the balcony with her head averted so they wouldn’t see the flush at the base of her neck.
Raj came back with far too many parcels for just fish and chips. He set out china, cutlery and napkins from the picnic basket. There were a dozen oysters to share first. The heater roasted them on one side as the salt tang of the ocean chilled their faces.
‘Can we eat the fish and chips out of the paper—it stays warmer?’ Dee asked.
The real reason was to go back to the easy meals of summer holidays and childhood. Her first taste of a Sydney rock oyster was one of her few memories of her father. At low tide they walked around the rocks to ‘his secret spot’. The water reached up to Dee’s knees. He was tall and strong. He had a short knife to prise the shells off the rocks. He ate several till she felt left out and wanted one too. He tipped the strange thing directly into her mouth. It was salty, soft and slippery. When she squished it with her tongue there was an explosion of flavour, all the scent of an ocean distilled into a mouthful.
Her father was dead. Dada, she still called him. Dead Dada, dead like Tom, like all the others whose lives were cut short by Adam.
The empty paper and uneaten salad on the table between them took Dee back to the summer holidays she and her mum spent here at the caravan park. Any open space was now long gone for expensive apartments but the smell and sounds were the same. There were even traces of sand underfoot. All that was missing were the sunburnt shoulders to be soothed with the cool wetness of slices of tomato or cucumber.
She hoped her kids had similar memories. And Raj, what of Raj? He was only starting to be able to build memories with his girls. Her decision was made.
‘You’re quiet. Are you okay?’ Raj asked.
Dee considered how to pass on the jumbled memories and thoughts about parents and lives cut short but it was too hard, too soppy.
‘I was thinking about the past, people who are gone. But it’s the living, our children, yours and mine, who we need to think about now.’
Raj moved his chair closer. He slid down so she was higher than him and took her arm and put it over his shoulders. ‘You don’t have to say it. I know.’
‘It’s not forever, just till they’re older, till they know you and till you know what’s going on with them.’
Raj didn’t say anything for a long time. Dee turned to snuggle closer. She put her hand on his chest. The T-shirt was soft and silky. Not from Target—probably a designer label. He looked good. She let it go.
‘What if I run off with another woman?’ Raj said.
‘That’s up to you.’
There’d been too many momentous moments for one day. She wasn’t willing to get involved in another one.
‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘that’s not going to happen. You won’t get away that easily. I’ll keep hanging around till you can’t do without me. And, anyway, aren’t you supposed to be compassionate and caring for the lost and lonely?’
I already can’t do without him. I’d be dead without Raj. It’s Friday, no one wants or needs me except Raj. This is for me.
Dee stood up and took his arm. She pulled him up out of the chair. ‘Let’s go inside and see what we can do about the lonely bit.’
About LM Ardor
LM Ardor is a former inner city GP
First published by Critical Mass in 2018
This edition published in 2018 by Critical Mass
Copyright © LM Ardor 2018
http://www.lmardor.com/
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
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The Practice Baby
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