Saturday, 20 Oct 07
Sunset
The little round table is carved to look like it has been carelessly hewn from a tree trunk, and the bottle of liquor sits atop it awkwardly. The grain of the seat makes her thighs itch. She crosses and recrosses her legs as she stares at the waves lapping idly on the beach.
“Would you like a drink?” he asks.
She nods. Her glance flickers to his hands as he picks up the whiskey and pours a smooth dollop into her glass, tops it up with ice. She doesn’t say anything, just nods as she takes the drink from him. The light around them is growing dim, but the sunset is nothing spectacular, a muddy blotch of orange sort of slopping down into the horizon while they sip their whiskeys and think their own separate thoughts.
“You know, there’s something I’ve always wondered,” he ventures finally. “About you, I mean.”
Her eyebrows lift. “After twelve years of marriage, there’s something about me you still don’t know? There’s a surprise.” The whiskey slides over her tongue and burns as it goes down her throat.
He shrugs, frowning, while picking at a loose thread on his shorts. It’s kinked at the end and he likes the feel of the kinked bit running through his fingers. He doesn’t look at her but at the brown thread, studying it intently and rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger.
The silence between is neither comfortable nor awkward - it just exists, hardly noticeable, like a dusty vase sitting in a hallway that nobody takes particular note of. She is in no hurry to hear what he has to say; she’s not sure that she can quite be bothered. But he will not be stopped.
“You’re a fantastic actress. You’ve made a career out of it.”
She inclines her head almost modestly. “Why, I didn’t think you’d noticed.”
He ignores the sarcasm, tries to work his thoughts into words. The thread is beginning to fray at the edges as he plucks at it methodically, and the seam starts to open up. “What I mean is, you can act. You really can act. So what I’ve always wondered, about you, is why can’t you ever hide your feelings in front of me? You’re just a bit too easy to read. And I’ve always sort of wondered, if you can act so well, why it is you can’t hide your feelings. It’s confusing. And I used to think it was because I know you so well, but you know, I don’t think I do, really.”
“I was just wondering,” he repeats.
It is growing darker now, and she knows she’ll have to squint to see his face properly, so she just looks into her whiskey glass. The liquid has turned a dusky gold. A sight more attractive than the crappy sunset, she thinks. She wrinkles her nose as she tosses another sip down. The wood grain has left imprints on the underside of her thigh, and she scratches it. She lets out a little sigh; he looks up at her for the first time and can see a glint of wetness in the corner of her eyes.
“What’s the matter? I really was just wondering,” he says hastily. “I didn’t mean anything by it.” The whiskey in his gut suddenly feels too heavy, like the bottom of his stomach is weighted with lead. The hole in the seam is now large enough that he can stick his finger through; he wiggles it gently and a few more threads loosen up.
“What are you trying to say?” she asks. Her tone is wounded. Now that he’s gazing at her, her face crumples swiftly.
“Nothing, really. Nothing. I’m sorry. It was a silly question.”
She sniffs, quietly, trying to hide the sound from him. It echoes in the quietness of the bay. He gets up, comes round to her and puts an arm around her shoulders.
“Darling. I’m sorry. I really shouldn’t have said anything.” He dabs his finger into the corner of her eyes, wipes it on his shorts.
“Really? You mean it?” Her eyes are luminous in the fading light.
“Yes. Yes, don’t mind me. Just a silly thought.” He gets to his feet. The whiskey shifts uncomfortably in his belly. “Actually, I don’t feel so good. Would you mind if I went to take a lie-down? Just for a little while.”
He’s not quite sure if he sees her eyes snap - it’s too dark to tell - but her tone is solicitious and she quickly stands up and curls her arms around his neck.
“Why? What’s the matter? But what about dinner?” He’s almost sure he can hear a hint of petulance this time. “No, you’re not feeling well…you should go back and rest, darling.”
Testing the waters, he says, “No, you want to have dinner. You’re right; let’s go. I’ll be fine.”
“No, you need to rest, you really do. Go back and sleep? Please?”
“But dinner…”
“It’s all right, we can eat later. Or I’ll just eat alone…”
“You’re sure?”
“If you’re really not feeling up to it, darling.”
“Well, all right then.’ He purses his lips reluctantly. “You’ll wake me up if you want to eat, won’t you?”
Her voice is buttery as she pushes him gently in the direction of their villa. “No, of course not. I want you to rest. I’ll just sit here by myself and wait for you. I’ll be fine.”
“Look, you’re upset. All right, I’ll stay. You don’t want to be alone, do you?”
“Darling, please. Don’t argue? Please. Go rest.”
“Okay then, if you insist. I’m going now.” He kisses her cheek and turns away, but this time he’s absolutely sure he caught the spark of annoyance in her eyes. He continues walking. His belly is roiling.
She calls out after him. There’s bite in her voice. “By the way, darling, your seam is unraveling.”
He doesn’t turn, only lifts his shoulders in acknowledgment as he walks away.
Copyright J. Pan 2007
JADEITE