I could not. It seemed like that sea breeze was only for him.
David asked if I wanted to have a lie-down. The bed, at least, seemed to be brand new. He said while I rested, he might “bite the bullet” and go out right now to join the scuba-diving club suggested by Stella.
Something about the way he said Stella’s name made me sense the hidden rustle of danger, like Grandma with the baby and the snake.
I said, “Maybe it’s time I learned to scuba dive.”
I did not have a desire to scuba dive. I have always been a strong swimmer, and I love the ocean, but I had never felt compelled to explore underneath the sea.
But I was prepared to do it. Just like Jack had been prepared to jump in the blowhole for me.
David said, “I don’t think it would be your thing, Cherry. You’d be an air pig.”
I didn’t understand. He explained that an air pig was a diver with a much higher than average air consumption. You never want your dive buddy to be an air pig because your dive time is cut short.
“But how do you know I’d use more air than average?” I asked.
“Oh, sweetheart, you would! When you get nervous you breathe like this!” He impersonated me breathing, my chest rising and falling quickly. It was like seeing secretly filmed footage of myself.
David said, “I remember the first time I saw you walking into that god-awful fondue party. I thought I’d need to get you a paper bag.”
The mortification must have been clear on my face because he said, “Aww, don’t worry about it, Cherry, it’s sweet, it’s sexy, you’ve got that heaving bosom thing down pat. You’re doing it right now.”
“It was not a god-awful party,” I said coldly. “It was a wonderful party.”
—
I didn’t become a scuba diver in Perth.
I became a drinker.
Chapter 92
“I hear you’re moving to Tasmania and giving up work for a year!”
Leo’s mother is on the phone, radiating misplaced joy.
“Mum, I really don’t think we are, it’s just an idea Neve has got in her head,” says Leo. “She should never have told you that. Also, even if we did move to Tasmania, I’d still have to find a job.”
He puffs up with pleasurable self-righteousness: this is an unequivocal marital misdemeanor. Every court in the land would agree. His wife should never have mentioned this possible plan to his mother.
It’s late on a Sunday afternoon. Right now, Neve and the children are down at the beach. Leo had said he’d love to join them but should probably catch up on some work. Nobody said, “Oh, come on, Dad.” Nobody whined, “You never come!” They threw towels over their shoulders and off they went into the warm spring-scented air. He could have gone, but then he would have been up so late tonight, and if he wants any kind of sex life, which yes, he does, it helps to go to bed at the same time as his wife. Every single decision in his life is a compromise.
“My friend Priscilla’s son-in-law did exactly what you’re planning, took a year off work,” says his mother. “Priscilla said it saved his marriage.”
Who are these people who can afford to just stop working for a year? He won’t ask his mother because she will tell him. There will be a long story about how Priscilla came to be connected to their family. It’s also possible he briefly dated Priscilla’s daughter.
“I wish Neve hadn’t mentioned it.” He thinks of all the reasons why it’s not going to happen. “The kids are settled here. They would miss their friends.”
“They’ll make new friends,” says his mother placidly. “And their friends would be waiting for them when they came back home.”
“Mum, it’s not—”
“Yes, it’s only an idea. I understand. I am capable of understanding this in spite of my advanced age. My hopes are not up. Although Neve says there’s a chance you’ll be here for your birthday so I’ve booked that new Japanese restaurant.”
“Neve has been talking to you about dates? What, has she booked our flight?”
This is ridiculous. He has agreed only to consider the idea. You don’t just move a thousand kilometers on a whim. A whim based on Leo’s answer to a hypothetical question, where one of the fantastical presuppositions is that “money is no object.”
“Of course she hasn’t booked the flight,” says his mother. “I hope my garden might be under way by then. My landscape gardener got started and then disappeared. I wish I hadn’t paid him upfront.”
Leo feels like his head might explode. “What? Please give me his details, Mum. I’ll call him right now.”
To take advantage of an elderly woman like that is egregious. At least Neve hasn’t mentioned the prediction to her, and even if his mother has by chance read anything about “the Death Lady,” she must be unaware that Leo was on that flight, because she has said nothing.
“No, no, I’ll give him a few more weeks. I think he had an illness in the family. I guess if he really has disappeared we could sell his equipment on eBay,” says his mother. “I might make a profit. Well, I must go, darling, talk soon, tell the children if they agree to move to Tasmania I’ll give them one hundred dollars. Each! But they mustn’t tell their cousins.”
“We’re not bribing them.”
“Your hands are clean! I’m the one doing the bribing. Bye, darling!”
She’s gone. Leo returns to his computer screen.
Neve is “preparing a proposal” for this hypothetical move. She is “crunching the numbers.” She plans to have him unemployed by his birthday so he will not die in a workplace accident when he’s forty-three. Leo suspects Neve might have his letter of resignation already drafted and dated, awaiting his signature.
Should he just let all this happen?
Ridiculous.
