Chapter 44 - Bardy
BARDY
The course of true love never did run smooth.
Bardy is out on the beach, and the surroundings perfectly suit his mood.
If he looks one way, the sun is shining, turning the town in the distance a rich terra-cotta.
Looking the other way, there is a purple bruise of a rain cloud.
A confusion of weather. And he knows if he stands staring out to sea for much longer, he is going to be caught by the tide, and then he really will be fucked.
What the hell is he going to do?
Even he realizes “I don’t know” just isn’t good enough.
But the one man he wants to talk to is out of bounds. Wouldn’t be fair.
Lou, do you think I should sell up and move to New Zealand with Hana?
He hadn’t seen it coming.
Blind as Gloucester in King Lear.
What an idiot he’s been. Knew something was coming, but not that. He had kind of been expecting the kiss. Even he’d noticed Hana was hanging around a lot. Being . . . oh, Hana didn’t do “nice,” but being Hana at her best. Making him laugh. Thought it was because of “that Kate of yours.”
He can’t go there.
The dancing with Hana had brought it all back.
Those nights in Botswana when they first met.
A group of teachers, so young it was ridiculous that anyone let them teach their children.
But hanging out together, impromptu music, and dancing.
And that kiss was good. Everyone else had gone. He just leaned into her golden yellow.
He looks toward the horizon. That liminal place. A threshold.
Is home a place or a person?
The water is now submerging his boots. Pulling his feet out is an effort that nearly makes him fall.
Then he is off, striding toward the lifeboat station.
Better to get there under his own steam than have them called out to the man stuck waist-deep in water, staring out to sea, wondering what the fuck to do.
It’s the boys. That’s what gets him. The chance to be a family again. How does any landscape weigh against that? Is home a place or people?
They had stopped before sex. Somehow, that felt all wrong. But the kissing? Familiar and odd all at once.
God, he wants to talk to his best friend.
Then there is Tina. The orange that warms the heart and the bones of a man and makes his best friend cry with the loss of her. Was she wrong?
Thinks you could do better. Hana was kind of hard.
But Tay? Tay who walked into Hana’s arms.
That red ocher girl. He dodges her shards of rust. Gets frustrated by her mood switches, her language, and her timekeeping.
But he trusts her like few others. His closeness to her—that close, but no closer—was hard-won and is one of the things he is most proud of.
But that girl, that exceptional girl, saw Hana as a person she could trust. She walked straight into her arms and hugged her right back.
Why is he even thinking like this? Trying to understand his ex-wife.
Understand the roots and branches of the woman.
Like there is some equation he can do, this versus that, which will give him an answer.
The truth is, he wasn’t enough for Hana in the end.
It wasn’t just about the place. Would a different continent make any difference?
How much has this change been brought about by “your Kate?” Hana is jealous.
And what does he want?
Your Kate and Edith? He almost smiles.
It’s that or cry.
He does want Kate. Silver-bright Kate. Extraordinary. No doubt about that. And there was hope there, too, the possibility of exploring so much together. If she could be persuaded and didn’t run a mile, it could be a fresh start.
But New Zealand. His family again. A different sort of fresh start?
But what about Lou and Tay?
How can he leave Tay after promising to stay?
He can’t imagine what he would say to Lou . . . “You remember me apologizing for being a twat for talking about New Zealand? And not giving a toss about how you might feel? Well, I’ve changed my mind.”
No, not a conversation he wants to have.
As the rain starts to fall, Bardy walks on, oblivious.
Only when he reaches the town does he realize he is soaked to the skin. He glances down into the creek, unsure what he is expecting.
An otter?
God, he wishes he could talk to Lou.