“Gran, there’s one thing I don’t understand: How did I come to have both halves of the coin?” I ask her.
“Oh, that blasted coin!” she says. “They argued about it for years, a lawyer even came knocking once—it was all deeply unpleasant.”
“Why did she care so much, when it ended like it did?” I ask.
“She felt the coin was a part of your story as much as it was Margorie’s. She believed she must have found it for a reason—she didn’t want to let it go.” Gran sighs, and I hear the sound of her Sudoku pencil tapping against the handset. “Before he left for Morocco, out of the blue, Alex sent her the other half, saying he wanted it to be yours, that the pieces should stay together.”
My eyes begin to itch. He’d wanted me to have it.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you any of this sooner, Laurie. Sometimes it feels better not to look backward, to let the past stay in the past. When are you coming home?”
“I’m going to stay a few more days actually, Gran, I-I’ve kind of met someone.”
“Have you now,” Gran says, instantly sounding more cheerful. “There must be something in the water on that island, I tell you. What’s his name then?”
And for a moment, I pause, because I don’t know which name I want to say.
TIGER WOMAN ON OBLIGATION
As women, we spend so much of our lives feeling obliged. Obliged to show up when we say we will, obliged to turn up with a smile, obliged to tell everyone, “I am fine.” But obligated is just another word for oppressed. The only person you are obligated to is yourself.
Chapter 28
I’m rapidly running out of clothes. The legs of my capri pants are now dry, and they’re probably the smartest trousers I have with me. If I wear them with my backless gray silk blouse, Suki will hopefully deem me smart enough. Changed and made up, I’m about to leave the cottage when Ilídio comes over holding something large and square in his arms.
“I just finished it,” he said, holding it out for me to see. “Is this how you imagined it?”
I press all my fingers to my lips. It is perfect. He’s made a memory cabinet to hang on the wall: a wooden frame, full of tiny drawers and shelves to stow trinkets and mementos in. I’ve read about them but have never seen one in real life, so I just drew how I thought it should look. They are a way to keep memories of a person or a place, a distillation of details, which can be displayed almost as a piece of art.
“It’s beautiful, just how I imagined it. This must have taken you hours.”
“It did, but when you said it was for Ted, well— It’s a great idea.” Ilídio glances across at me. “He’s lucky to have someone like you come into his life.”
Sans Ennui is still empty, but I leave the cabinet just inside the porch with a note:
Ted, something to hold the best memories of this house in. Thank you for everything, Laura
I’m waiting in the driveway for the cab I’ve ordered to take me to Jasper’s when Ted’s car pulls in. I freeze when I see him, every inch of my body remembering our last encounter. He gets out of the driver’s side and walks purposefully toward me. He looks a mess, as though he’s slept in his car.
“Hi,” I say, my voice coming out as a croak.
“Hey,” he says, resting one hand awkwardly on his hip; the other briefly massages between his brows. He does not meet my gaze. It’s ridiculous—he has been gone less than twenty-four hours, I have only known him a few days, but I realize I have missed him, missed his face.
“I’m sorry I left yesterday—after the beach.”
“It’s fine,” I say, waving a hand as though to brush it off as nothing.
“I tried to call you—”
He called me.
“I lost my phone,” I explain. “I’m sorry I didn’t give you the letter straightaway. It was none of my business.” He doesn’t correct me, but when he finally looks up and meets my gaze—it’s all still there, the kablammo that makes my entire body fizz. “Did you call Belinda?”
“Yes,” he says. A wave of disappointment washes over me—but of course he did.
A taxi pulls in behind Ted’s car. He turns toward it.
“You’re going,” he says, more statement than question.
“I have this work thing, a photo shoot.”
“With Jasper.” He shifts his gaze to the ground. He looks so tired. We stand in silence for a moment, and I stare at his forehead, willing him to look up and say the right thing, but I don’t even know what it is that I want to hear. What could he possibly say that would make any of this simple?
“You still think he’s the man the universe sent you?” he asks, eyes finally coming back to meet mine.
“I don’t know,” I say, honestly, “but the way we met is a good story. My boss has flown out here this morning and wants to feature us on the website, and I—” I want to say, “in the absence of anything else,” but worry that wouldn’t make me sound great, like I’m a monkey, swinging from vine to vine, just looking for someone to hold on to.
“A messed-up old cabdriver isn’t as good a story,” says Ted, scuffing the gravel with his shoe.
“Ted, I wasn’t under the impression the messed-up old cabdriver was even an option. We kissed, and then you disappeared to call your wife, who you’re still clearly in love with. It’s nothing to do with the ‘better story,’ I’m not that shallow. Anyway, you’re not even a real cabdriver, or especially old.”
His mouth twitches into a smile.
“I’m not in love with her anymore, Laura. She just left frayed ends that we needed to discuss.” He pauses, rubbing his palm against his neck. “I’m sorry I disappeared; I didn’t know how to react to what happened.” He lets out a heavy sigh as though he’s waiting for me to speak. When I don’t, he says, “Laura, my life is a mess. Did you know I haven’t been to the hospital where I work for four months? I’m on a leave of absence.”
My face must register surprise, because he gives me a rueful nod, “My hand started shaking, I didn’t feel safe in an operating theater. My mind went straight to what Dad has, and if it was that, I didn’t want to know. The whole career I had planned would be over before it even began. So, I didn’t tell anyone why I needed time off. I finally saw a doctor a few weeks ago—she told me the shaking was down to stress. I’d worked myself up so much about what it might have been, I’d only made it worse.”