Summer's End (3 page)

For the next twenty minutes she watched Marianne assemble the dish. Almost entranced by her graceful movements around the designer kitchen, Emily hardly noticed Marianne’s bra-less state anymore—except when she reached up to grab something from a cabinet above the cooker.

“Dinner’s ready,” Marianne said, with a smile so bright it stirred something in the pit of Emily’s stomach. Or maybe it was just hunger.

MARIANNE

They ate dinner while staring out into the fleeting light of dusk. Marianne loved the time of day—because it was hardly evening yet—when the ocean seemed to disappear and all that remained was the spot she created for herself with candles and discreet lighting.

“It’s so quiet here,” Emily said. If she was enjoying the food, she hadn’t said so yet, which was terribly un-upper class of her. Marianne suppressed a smile at the thought.

“That’s why I love it.” She chewed on some noodles while contemplating if she should continue, but then didn’t hesitate. As if, for some reason on this evening, it needed to be said. “It’s the only place where I can find some sort of peace.”

Marianne could tell Emily didn’t immediately know how to respond to that. She fidgeted with a piece of chicken on her plate and avoided her gaze. When she finally did look up, Marianne was surprised by the intensity in her eyes.

“I gathered as much.” She put her fork down. “Hey, I’m running from something too.” Emily’s voice had gone soft, barely a whisper against the light breeze sweeping in from the sea. “And if you can’t be at home, this place isn’t half bad.”

An opening. Marianne took it. “What are you running from?”

The corners of Emily’s mouth curled into a tight smile, as if she’d been waiting for the question and the right time for it to be asked.

“A terribly expensive wedding and a subsequent life I stopped being able to imagine, I guess.”

Marianne couldn’t hold back a grin at being subjected to more dramatic vagueness. “Did you leave him at the altar?”

“As good as.” She reached for her beer. “It broke my heart as much as it did his, you know. But of course no one could see that. He was my best friend for five years, my life really, and I loved him—I still love him, I always will—but as our wedding day approached, an uneasiness kept building inside of me. First, I brushed it off as nerves because I simply couldn’t stop lying to myself. I’d been doing it for so long by then. And it was so easy with him.” She took a breath before continuing. “But I knew in my heart that it wasn’t right to promise eternity when I couldn’t even face the next day.” Emily fell silent, but Marianne didn’t press her. She was starting to put the pieces together and, oddly, despite the sadness creeping into Emily’s expression, Marianne grew excited about the words she suspected to hear next.

“All throughout planning the wedding, which was to be a momentous occasion for both of our families, I’d fooled myself into believing that the love I felt was enough. That it was based on a solid, deeply-rooted friendship and what could possibly be more important than that?” She shook her head. “But one day I looked at myself in the mirror and asked my reflection how on earth I had become a twenty-four-year-old who didn’t allow herself any passion. I mean, my family’s not very big on passion and I’ve always been taught that getting along well with your partner is so much more valuable and sustainable than that ‘short bout of foolishness’—my mother’s words—at the beginning of a relationship.” Emily’s fingers seemed about to strangle the neck of the bottle she was holding. “That’s when I realised my idea of love had been wrong all along. And that I didn’t want to end up twenty-five years later giving the same advice to my daughter.”

She took a long gulp from her beer and some of it ran down her chin. She wiped it off with such a sweet, almost child-like gesture.

“It’s like when you make a puzzle and the last pieces just won’t fit and you cram them in anyway. As if that’s what I’d been doing with my life. Well, one day, they’re going to come loose and nothing clicks anymore.”

Marianne was amazed by the sudden clarity in Emily’s words and by the eloquence she displayed in explaining something so personal and complex. “Wow.” She didn’t really know if she should speak yet, but the need to acknowledge Emily’s confession as something big and valid and true was too great. “That must have taken a lot of courage.” Marianne had no trouble picturing Emily’s family. She had one just like it of her own.

“It wasn’t even courage. It was just… need. An undeniable desire for something else.” Emily drew her eyes into slits. Marianne noticed the sparkle of the first tear that gathered in the corner of her eye.

“I mean… I know what I want, I’ve known all along, really. I just…” She paused. “I just haven’t allowed myself to give in to these feelings ever, which is silly and stupid in so many ways, but I always had Jasper and I thought I always had to give it at least one more try…” She wiped away the lone tear running down her cheek. “And I would never have cheated on him, not on anyone.”

Poor girl.
All of this had been bottled up inside of her for years. For some it was so easy, while others just found it so difficult. Marianne briefly reflected on her own life and how simple love had been before it had become cruel and nearly destroyed her. “Have you ever told anyone about this before?”

Slowly, Emily shook her head. The tears started streaming rapidly now, painting tracks on her cheeks that reflected in the flicker of the candlelight.

Marianne moved out of her chair to give Emily a hug.

EMILY

Embarrassment was not the right word to describe how Emily felt, it was more a mixture of quiet shame for rambling on like that and an enormous sense of relief. Marianne’s arms around her only acted as more of a catalyst to let her emotions run free—mostly in the shape of tears raining down her cheeks.

But what was this? Three months of endlessly mulling it over in her head and she still couldn’t say it? Was she that afraid of who she really was? Could she even say the word out loud?

“I know I’m a complete outsider on this matter.” Marianne’s mouth was very close to Emily’s ear. “But it sounds to me as if you’ve made the right decision.”

Emily nodded. She knew that much, but that decision was only the beginning. Walking away was hard, but going back and starting anew would be even harder.

“I’m sorry for blubbering like this,” she managed to say. “Trust me, I’m not usually like this.” She felt a chuckle make its way through Marianne’s muscles.
 

“There’s no one here to judge you.”
 

This simple remark from Marianne set loose another round of tears, because that’s exactly what it came down to in the end. To be free from any judgement and all the expectations heaped upon her from the day she was born. It was the reason why Emily had hopped on that plane and had flown all those miles.

“I—” she started. “I like…”

Marianne’s arms hugged her tighter, as if wanting to squeeze the words out of her.

“I like girls… women, I mean.” The words tumbled clumsily out of Emily’s mouth. She was on a beach in Thailand in the company of a woman she barely knew—a kind stranger she had just happened upon—and Emily didn’t know what she had expected to occur the instant she finally dared to say it, but the moment could not have felt more right. She’d reached the end point of her journey and soon she’d be ready—really ready—to go home.

“And there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that.” Marianne’s grip on her loosened, her hands snaking to Emily’s neck. A ball of fire seemed to come alive underneath Emily’s skin, as if, now that she’d finally said it—confessed her secret to a perfect stranger—she was allowed to feel it too.

As if she had no choice at all, she stopped thinking and placed her hand on Marianne’s. She snuck her fingers around the woman’s palm and held on for dear life—as if her body was convinced she’d never meet anyone as sympathetic as this again.

“It’s going to be all right.” Marianne briefly dug her fingers into the flesh of Emily’s shoulders, sending a jolt of lightning through her body, before retreating. She let her hand slip out of Emily’s grasp and kneeled beside her. “Believe me, I’ve been where you are and I know.”

“W-what?” Emily felt her eyes grow wide.

“I received my toaster oven a long time ago.”
 

Emily pinched her eyebrows together and, confused, repeated, “What?”

“Silly inside lesbian joke, never mind.” Marianne patted her on the thigh and returned to her seat.

Clearly Emily was not enough of a lesbian yet to get it.

“I’ve never…” She felt heat rise from her neck to her cheeks. “You know.”

“What?” Marianne tilted her head, clearly adamant to not cut Emily any slack with this part of her impromptu confession. “Had a slice of toast before?” Her lips curled into a smile, breaking her face into a kind, gentle expression. The crow’s feet around her eyes crinkled beautifully.

Emily smiled back. Marianne’s words started to register at last.

“Hey, we’ve all been there at some point.” Marianne broke the silence. A sudden darkness seemed to take hold of her face, her confident smile fading and the sparkle in her eye dying.

Emily racked her brain for something to say. Should she ask? They were sharing, after all.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She kept her voice soft and inviting.

Marianne locked her gaze on Emily, eyes boring deep and face unflinching. Emily swallowed hard and concluded she might be in over her head a bit. This was a sombreness she had yet to encounter in her life. A dull sadness hung in the air and swept away any of the elation Emily had been feeling.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.” What was she thinking? That because they’d had a short moment of bonding over the fact that they were both gay was going to make this stranger open up to her?

“It’s not your fault.” Marianne’s voice was unrecognisable, coming from a low, desperate place. One where words failed. “I just… can’t…” Marianne pushed her chair away from the table. “By no means do I want to trivialise the moment we shared tonight by storming off. I’m genuinely happy for you, but I need to go upstairs now.”

She walked to the edge of the yard and closed the gate, her movements sparse and precise. When she walked past the table where Emily sat she remained silent. Only when she’d reached the door to the house, she turned around.

“Just let the door fall into the lock and twist it around twice when you go inside. Goodnight.”

The tremble in her voice was unmistakable. And so was the pain etched in the lines of her face.

MARIANNE

Marianne could kick herself for her cold reaction. The girl had just admitted something life-changing to herself—and to Marianne. Something Marianne could relate to like no other, no less, and this was how she responded? Slinking off like a thief in the night as if it could ever undo the past? As if it made a difference?

Any sliver of joy, any indication that she might enjoy herself a bit too much, and the guilt set in. Like the storm clouds in rainy season, drenching a perfectly good day in a million tears. And all there was to show for them afterwards were a few puddles that dried up in a matter of hours.

But she was guilty. And instead of doing time in a prison cell, she spent it in paradise. In perpetual exile, because no one could punish her better than she could herself. When people arrived here, on her little patch of land on Samui, they only saw the palm trees, the glittering ocean and white-headed waves, but they didn’t see—couldn’t see—what wasn’t there. The missing person. Nothing could be more punishment for Marianne than spending her days here, in this place that people dream of, without Ingrid.
 

She peeled off her clothes and slipped into bed. It would have to be a night of medicated sleep. She hadn’t had one of those for a while, had somehow managed to keep the demons at bay—some days it was easier than others, but more so of late. She grabbed a strip of pills from the nightstand—always close by—and swallowed one dry. Sleep came within minutes.

“Toast?” Marianne grinned broadly—overcompensating for last night’s insensitivity, no doubt. And yes, she’d had a one-way heart-to-heart with Emily, but that didn’t make her qualified to predict her sense of humour, especially before breakfast. Even though it was almost ten. Gosh, the girl slept late. Marianne had been up for hours, skulking around the house, hushing herself when she made too much noise.

“Do I get my own toaster now?” Emily still looked a bit groggy, a pinch of moon dust had gathered in the corner of her right eye, but she was awake enough for a quip. Clearly, she hadn’t showered yet. Marianne would have heard—but even if she hadn’t—the crumpled look of Emily’s clothes and the riot that was her hair gave that away.

Suddenly, without notice and from the far recesses of her brain, Marianne envisioned herself waking up to the very sight before her eyes, to a warm body next to hers.

She blinked twice rapidly and shook off the thought.
Where on earth did that come from?

“I’ll call HQ and see what I can do.” Marianne found herself rummaging around the kitchen, looking for things she didn’t need. “Coffee or tea?”

“Strong coffee, please.” Emily rubbed her temples ostentatiously. “After you went to bed, I helped myself to some more beer from the fridge. I hope that’s all right. I lined up the bottles so you could count them and charge me.”

Marianne had indeed found three empty Singha bottles in the kitchen this morning. She’d cleared them without giving them any further thought. “Nonsense. This is an all-inclusive lesbian resort, you know.”

“But—” Marianne could see Emily struggling to get past her utter Britishness and say something about money. “I want to pay. It’s only fair.”

“Why don’t you sit down outside and I’ll bring your breakfast out in a second.”
 

“As you wish,” Emily shrugged and headed towards the patio, which was drenched in sunlight. Marianne watched her for a second and saw her stretch like a cat, her long arms leaning over the back of the chair, seemingly reaching towards her. For some reason, Marianne felt inclined to meet them and take Emily’s hands in hers.