Category: Love

I hadn’t quite grown up,
not immaturity exactly, although there was some
more the lightness of an early 20’s
or perhaps the absence of density
no weight of mortgage or career
teenage-ness could still be felt
those needs –
to be centre,
wanted
and thought to be doing – it.

I got to know her over the summer,
had done some odd jobs … was more than acquaintance –
somewhere between hired help and friend.
Amenable,
but could turn employer quickly. Damn quickly.

She was surprised when he called in,
especially the second time.
They had been lovers, a couple, an item,
for several years – a decade and more ago.
– “ 12 or 13 years at least. ”

He was a long way from home – on business …
wondered if she was in …. and dropped by .. just on chance
…. ditto for the return journey.

I was there both times
both times she was very different with me –
tugging the waistband of my jeans
ruffling my hair
expressing mock outrage at minor profanity and
delivering a playful slap to my butt ….
letting him think ….. she and I …. might just be …

The second time we had drinks
on the deck
overlooking garden
becoming shore
becoming Pacific Ocean …. becoming horizon.
There,
amid the slosh of gin, clink of glasses and clatter of plates
the tiring sun backlit wist, acceptance, regret – what if  – plural
and generosity – single – from him to me.
He seemed pleased –
pleased I might be filling her need.

We called him rigor mortis
irony
he talked quickly, very quickly
and in the days before vivid markers
burned up the white powder – chalk.
He appeared a little misguided,
unenlightened,
seem to think final year chemistry students preferred,
the furtive indiscretions of molecules
to drinking
socialising
and the opposite sex.

He advised : “urged,” additional reading
claiming some of the examples recommended
would “assist understanding.”
“assist understanding,” proclaimed in the same tone
as proselytizers of
spiritual healing and food supplements as cure.

Something stuck
three days before the exam I looked at ….
opaque –
make no sense at all –
not for the life of me.

“Oh this one,” he said gleaming,
“a dream,
it separates understanding from knowledge –
an antidote to cram learning.
You can’t begin to attempt it, unless you really do know.”
He stepped me through it, line by line …
stopping and checking –
making sure I really did.
Two days later, the exam …… and identikit example.

I wondered if it was appropriate to ask one of my staff
explained that normally I wouldn’t ….
but my loved one was abroad.
“No. It’s okay.”
“Thank you.”
Second thoughts…. “a funeral …
you’d probably be okay for anything else …
but a funeral …. yes … you should. Not much … just a little.”

The worst timing : the gap between Christmas and New Year.
The best policy: honesty.

A secular block of shops,
suburban,
concrete block, retail unsuited and unwanted by supermarkets
a blend of the personal, optional and esoteric.
Striped pole and tobacco, men’s chairs
and magazines – cars, fishing, football.

I told the blue smocked owner the truth –
Why
and why here –
my regular hairdresser closed for statutory holidays.

Brittle speech
emaciated tone
nicotine filed vowels –
“right, you need to be scrubbed up a bit.”

No coffee
or polish of my regular saloon
the rasp of comb
thrust of hands
gnaw of scissors
the scent of last break’s cigarette.

“Ok , that should do it –
drop cape whipped away.
“Thank you. How much?
Funeral … it not your fault …. on the house.”