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Authors: Amanda Smyth
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notbother to shower, or brush his teeth. He slides in next to her, noticing how her in-breath catches on the back of her throat making a familiar ka sound. Thankfully, she does not stir.
His body is tired; it has been a long day; it is hard to believe that only a few hours ago, he was in Trinidad with Safiya sleeping deeply beside him. He misses her smell, her cinnamon skin; the sound of her sleeping is pleasing to him. And yet he often finds himself unable to sleep when she is there, tossing and turning until the early hours of the morning. Does his guilt keep him awake? Is it possible? In truth, he probably sleeps better with Miriam, or alone. If she knew, Safiya would be dismayed.
He knows this much: he has never been a good liar. During these past months, he hid his growing feelings for Safiya behind a heavy work schedule. He told Miriam he was up against the wire. When they spoke, especially in the early days, he often sounded exhausted. Miriam understood. She didnât complain about being alone; she handled it all without himâtaking care of Georgia, running their comfortable new family home, project-managing the installation of a new Shaker-look Magnet kitchen, and all the while continuing to teach Spanish part-time at a further education college. She has been patient. A rock. But rocks can crack, and Miriam is here now because she needs him. There will come a point, tomorrow or the next day or the day after, when she will expect him to come to her, to want sex. She will want sex too. The thought of this fills him with terrific anxiety.
F OUR
They are up early. Itâs the time difference, Miriam says. For them it is already almost midday; half the day is gone! They are in their swimsuits and colourful wraps, flip-flops on, ready to potter down to the beach. Miriam rubs sun cream into Georgiaâs shoulders. Her hair is bushy in the heat and sits at the bottom of her neck. He always preferred her hair long, not this middle-aged midway length. It is neither one thing nor the other.
âBreakfast? Coffee?â His eyes are tired.
âAll done,â Miriam says, and points to the little stack of washed dishes. âGeorgia had toast and juice.â
Georgia rubs her tummy and smiles at him. âGood afternoon, Dad,â she says, and checks her watch. She pecks him on the cheek. She is going to look for towels and some goggles. Terence has shown her where theyâre kept.
He slept quite well, considering. It was a relief to hear the door close when Miriam got up, to stretch out in the bed. His waking thoughts were of Safiya, and he wonders if she woke in her Mayaro beach house thinking of him, too. He guesses not, or at least, not for long. She seemed determined to have a good weekend with her young friends. And so she should.
He makes a cup of instant coffee and follows them outside. He is fond of the local instant coffee. In fact, when he last went back to England he took a jar of Nescafé with him. Miriam said, âYouâve been in Trinidad too long, youâve lost your epicurean taste.â Yes, Miriam prefers her Krups capsule coffee maker with its milk steamer and adjustable stainless steel drip tray.
Through the casuarina trees, the sea is a bright turquoise. He stands for a moment and watches its rippling skin, and he is wondering if the tide is high. From here it looks calm enough, and in a moment he will follow them down to the sandy beach and make sure everything is okay.
Miriam and Georgia are walking quickly down the path, towels slung over their shoulders. Miriam waves, and then Georgia waves too. From here, Georgia is lanky and striking; her fair hair is flaxen in this light. Otherworldly. He has already warned Miriam that she must be mindful of the sun even when it is overcast.
âBe careful,â he shouts. âIâll be down in a minute.â
In the yard, he can see Terence walking with a hose; Conan follows on behind him. Terence is spraying the
His body is tired; it has been a long day; it is hard to believe that only a few hours ago, he was in Trinidad with Safiya sleeping deeply beside him. He misses her smell, her cinnamon skin; the sound of her sleeping is pleasing to him. And yet he often finds himself unable to sleep when she is there, tossing and turning until the early hours of the morning. Does his guilt keep him awake? Is it possible? In truth, he probably sleeps better with Miriam, or alone. If she knew, Safiya would be dismayed.
He knows this much: he has never been a good liar. During these past months, he hid his growing feelings for Safiya behind a heavy work schedule. He told Miriam he was up against the wire. When they spoke, especially in the early days, he often sounded exhausted. Miriam understood. She didnât complain about being alone; she handled it all without himâtaking care of Georgia, running their comfortable new family home, project-managing the installation of a new Shaker-look Magnet kitchen, and all the while continuing to teach Spanish part-time at a further education college. She has been patient. A rock. But rocks can crack, and Miriam is here now because she needs him. There will come a point, tomorrow or the next day or the day after, when she will expect him to come to her, to want sex. She will want sex too. The thought of this fills him with terrific anxiety.
F OUR
They are up early. Itâs the time difference, Miriam says. For them it is already almost midday; half the day is gone! They are in their swimsuits and colourful wraps, flip-flops on, ready to potter down to the beach. Miriam rubs sun cream into Georgiaâs shoulders. Her hair is bushy in the heat and sits at the bottom of her neck. He always preferred her hair long, not this middle-aged midway length. It is neither one thing nor the other.
âBreakfast? Coffee?â His eyes are tired.
âAll done,â Miriam says, and points to the little stack of washed dishes. âGeorgia had toast and juice.â
Georgia rubs her tummy and smiles at him. âGood afternoon, Dad,â she says, and checks her watch. She pecks him on the cheek. She is going to look for towels and some goggles. Terence has shown her where theyâre kept.
He slept quite well, considering. It was a relief to hear the door close when Miriam got up, to stretch out in the bed. His waking thoughts were of Safiya, and he wonders if she woke in her Mayaro beach house thinking of him, too. He guesses not, or at least, not for long. She seemed determined to have a good weekend with her young friends. And so she should.
He makes a cup of instant coffee and follows them outside. He is fond of the local instant coffee. In fact, when he last went back to England he took a jar of Nescafé with him. Miriam said, âYouâve been in Trinidad too long, youâve lost your epicurean taste.â Yes, Miriam prefers her Krups capsule coffee maker with its milk steamer and adjustable stainless steel drip tray.
Through the casuarina trees, the sea is a bright turquoise. He stands for a moment and watches its rippling skin, and he is wondering if the tide is high. From here it looks calm enough, and in a moment he will follow them down to the sandy beach and make sure everything is okay.
Miriam and Georgia are walking quickly down the path, towels slung over their shoulders. Miriam waves, and then Georgia waves too. From here, Georgia is lanky and striking; her fair hair is flaxen in this light. Otherworldly. He has already warned Miriam that she must be mindful of the sun even when it is overcast.
âBe careful,â he shouts. âIâll be down in a minute.â
In the yard, he can see Terence walking with a hose; Conan follows on behind him. Terence is spraying the
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