Hamish and Kate Page 12

Euan worked hard at Woods Hole. It was a distraction that allowed time to pass before he could logically attack his predicament. He socialised with Steve and his friends and, when out, they often came across Clare and her friends. A loose conglomerate of a larger social group was formed.

  Steve actively promoted the joining of groups since Clare’s friends were mostly female. He had witnessed the apparent attraction of the foreign male to American women and he was determined to reap some discarded benefit. Steve did not have designs on Clare, she was out of his league, he thought, but he cajoled Clare to engage in activities that often whittled down to Euan, Steve and one other and Clare and two of her female friends.

  Euan indulged in the organised social activities without full attention. He was distracted by Kate. He wondered why she had not contacted him, to give an explanation at least. It worried him that he had been forgotten but he had a strange, unfounded confidence that Kate wanted to be with him. He could not accept failure, although his naive stupidity, of assuming she would wait, after a year of silence, irked him.

  Euan’s expectations discounted Hamish. He was an irrelevancy who would suffer the burden of Euan’s and Kate’s happiness. Euan was bewildered, thinking as he was, when Hamish called him at work.

  ‘Euan!’ Hamish sounded glad to talk.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Hamish!’

  ‘Oh, Hi.’

  ‘You never called me, mate.’

  ‘Was I supposed to?’

  ‘Well, I asked you to. At the barbeque. Remember?’

  ‘Vaguely.’

  ‘You’ve got to try this running stuff. It’s great. This is a beautiful place for it. You’re real close to some great trails through the woods there at Woods Hole. And the roads around Falmouth are good too. They have a race there every year. You’ll love running. I guarantee it.’

  ‘Oh?’ Euan was noncommittal.

  ‘Have you got running shoes with you?’

  ‘Yeah, I think so.’

  ‘Any shorts?’

  ‘Gym shorts.’

  ‘No worries. Bring those into work tomorrow. And a T-shirt and a trackie top. I’ll come around at noon. You’ll love it.’

  Hamish hung up leaving Euan to wonder what had happened. He saw Clare, and her friends, that night.

  ‘Hamish asked me out on a date,’ Euan said, with an awkward smile. ‘To go running.’

  Clare laughed. ‘He’s gone nuts over that. Evangelical even. He’s trying to convert everyone he has any contact with.’

  ‘You too?’

  ‘Me too,’ Clare said. ‘But he failed with me. And with Kate, apparently.’

  The mention of Kate’s name upset Euan but he hid it from Clare.

  ‘So,’ Clare said. ‘I guess you’re the next convert.’

  ‘Does it hurt?’ Euan asked, but Clare laughed at him and did not answer.

  Chapter 2

  Hamish appeared the next day at Euan’s office. He smiled broadly. He did not fear Euan’s proximity to Kate. He had prior doubts, knowing that Kate and Euan were the last of their friendship group while still in New Zealand, but those doubts had been dissolved by marriage. When Clare mentioned Euan’s inclusion in her social group, he assumed they had, again, become a couple.

  Euan struggled along with Hamish, who ran like a sleek gazelle, Euan thought, compared to his painful and plodding gait. However, Hamish jogged slower than his normal pace and Euan surprised himself by keeping up. They ran for four miles, starting at downtown Woods Hole, heading out along the coast road, then through some woodland trails and back to the township.

  After the run was over and he had showered Euan felt wearily refreshed like he had completed an arduous task but had also had an all-over body massage. He, truthfully, told Hamish that he would like to repeat the activity.

  Hamish smiled and slapped him on the back, proud of his friend’s enthusiasm for the new activity.

  They met regularly for lunchtime runs from work.

  Chapter 3

  Steve was drunk. Too drunk to drive. He and Euan and a number of friends from the larger social group had enjoyed an evening out but Steve’s enjoyment had been excessive. He had yet to snare any of the available women and that frustrated him. His failure was a disappointment. He had let his sorrow dictate his behaviour.

  It was a problem because he had driven Euan and in the course of the evening had misplaced his car keys. He had a sobering panic as the evening drew to a close and he discovered his loss. Clare came to the rescue. She offered to drive the two young men to where they lived.

  Steve invited Clare into Euan’s home. The three of them drank beer and talked.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Steve said, his speech loud yet difficult to understand.

  Clare smiled. She liked Steve, but in a way that would have disappointed him.

  ‘What don’t you understand, Steve?’ she said in a condescending voice while smiling at Euan.

  ‘Him.’ Steve pointed at Euan.

  ‘Me?’ Euan said and smiled back at Clare, as if confirming their conspiracy.

  ‘Yes, you. Mate,’ Steve said, emphasising the last word he had learned from Euan was a term of endearment from a New Zealander.

  Euan laughed.

  ‘How do you do it?’ Steve mumbled.

  ‘What does he do?’ Clare asked.

  Steve shrugged his shoulders and nodded his head, as if the conversation with his two friends was silently continuing.

  ‘I mean,’ Steve continued after Clare repeated her question. ‘You’re not that good looking. You’re OK, I guess. But nothing special.’

  ‘Are you after me, are you Steve?’ Euan said and laughed. He was a little worried where Steve was heading.

  ‘All these women,’ Steve said as if his statement was obvious.

  ‘Women?’ Clare said, with more interest.

  ‘Yeah,’ Steve said emphatically. ‘All these fucking beautiful women that just fall over him.’

  ‘I think you’re the only one falling over, Steve,’ Euan said uncomfortably.

  ‘What women?’ Clare insisted.

  ‘Well,’ Steve said. He lifted his bottle of beer to take another drink but it was empty. He stared through the glass as if the contents was playing hide and seek. He was about to get another beer but then thought better of the idea. He decided to go to bed instead. He stood and wavered on his feet. Euan and Clare remained seated and peered up as he looked from one to the other and back again and again. He had lost his train of thought.

  ‘Beautiful women?’ Clare repeated.

  ‘Oh yeah,’ Steve said brightly, like he’d found something. ‘Like you, for one. And that other one. The one at the barbeque. How do you do it?’ Steve said to Euan, then added for emphasis, ‘Mate!’

  Steve turned around, looking for the door.

  ‘I’m going to bed,’ he announced.

  Euan stood up quickly to shepherd Steve outside and over the short distance to his own home. Euan opened his friend’s front door, gave him a little push, with annoyance at his conversation, then shut the door behind him before returning to Clare. She had not moved.

  Euan was unsure if he should re-shut his door. He assumed Clare would leave. He stood inside, hesitantly waiting for Clare to stand and say goodnight. She stared at her drink as it sat on the little table in front of her.

  ‘I don’t have to go,’ she said quietly, not looking at Euan. ‘If you want,’ she added diffidently. She did not suffer from the same fear of rejection as Euan. He could not have made Clare’s offer. He knew that and marvelled at her confidence.

  ‘If you want,’ Euan said noncommittally. On balance he would have preferred Clare to leave but he did not want to upset her.

  Clare stood up, she was unsure. ‘Well, do you want me to stay or not?’

  Euan recognised her disappointment. ‘Of course, Clare. Please stay.’ He already knew it was a bad idea.

  As he slid inside Clare, he had a disorienting sensation of deja vu. He wonde
red how he had ended up fucking Clare again when there were already two women he was in love with.

  Chapter 4

  Euan woke before dawn. He stayed in bed and watched Clare sleep. He itemised her features and attributes like they were a collection of special objects. He liked her, he said to himself. He liked her a lot. She was intelligent, she was attractive, she was inventive in bed. They were friends. They were comfortable with each other. He could see no reason why he wasn’t in love with her. She was almost perfect, as perfect as a physical woman could be. Unfortunately, there was a queue for his affections.

  He dozed and dreamed.

  Clare woke him.

  ‘We’re being watched, Euan,’ she said quietly. ‘Are you awake?’

  Euan opened his eyes and turned his head to Clare. She was peering over him towards the front window.

  ‘Why don’t you ever draw the curtains?’ she asked, a little annoyed at his unintentional voyeuristic display.

  ‘Habit, I guess,’ he said as he slowly swivelled his head to look where Clare indicated.

  Euan and Clare watched as Joan’s face was framed in the window, her hands trying to shield her eyes from the low sun’s reflection so that she could get a clear look inside. She was unaware that she was watched. She had seen the strange parked car and was investigating the, probably, morally suspect phenomenon inside Euan’s home. She was outraged at people’s habits but content with her own intrusions into the privacy of others.

  Euan felt like throwing something at the window to frighten her.

  Chapter 5

  ‘Oh, Euan!’ Edith called out in a sing-song voice one morning, catching him as he got into his car to go to work. It was a week after Clare’s first night. She had returned every night since.

  Edith waddled over to where Euan waited impatiently. She was taking so long that he shut his open car door and decided to meet her part-way.

  ‘Yes, Edith?’

  ‘Just a short moment, if I could,’ she said. ‘Do you have time to come in for a minute?’

  ‘I’m on my way to work,’ Euan complained, refusing indirectly.

  ‘Oh, I see,’ she sounded surprised and disappointed as if she had always wondered where her tenants went each day.

  She stared at Euan for a moment, judging his resolve to not accompany her inside and out of the cold. He stamped his feet.

  ‘Maybe I could come and see you tonight? After work,’ he said. He made a small movement back towards his car.

  ‘No, it shouldn’t be necessary,’ Edith said. ‘It’s just about the rent, that’s all.’

  ‘There’s a problem?’

  ‘Potentially. Yes.’

  She did not elaborate.

  ‘And this problem is?’ Euan asked, a little annoyed at further delay.

  ‘It’s a little delicate,’ she said and halted, yet again.

  ‘Joan has told me,’ Edith continued. ‘That you’ve had a permanent visitor this last week or so. Is that true?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Is this likely to continue?’ Edith asked.

  ‘It might. Why?’ Euan asked.

  ‘The rent is only for one, my dear boy. Visitors are, of course, quiet acceptable. But a permanent dual occupation would have to be discussed, negotiated.’

  Euan was surprised and did not know what to say. Defending his behaviour was anathema.

  ‘It must be quite crowded,’ Edith said in a pleasant voice. ‘It’s only a small place. It wasn’t really made for two. But, if you want to continue with that behaviour, we would have to look at the cost. Do you see what I mean?’

  Euan did understand. Joan had, perhaps, exaggerated his unseen activities. Clare had insisted on closing the curtains after that first morning.

  ‘Do you want me to move out?’ Euan said abruptly. He lost his temper and was annoyed at implied moral displeasure.

  ‘Of course not,’ she said pleasantly. ‘If it were up to me, I wouldn’t mind at all. Although it was a very long time ago, I do remember what it was like to be young. I remember my first years with Joe were quite, what shall I say, torrid.’

  She laughed at her recollection, almost forgetting Euan and the reason she was standing outside in the bitter cold. The wind came up a little and blew frigid air across her face. She grabbed her clothes pulling them tight around her body. She would have liked to chat with the young foreign man but, with the wind, it was too cold for someone dressed for inside.

  ‘Oh dear,’ she said. ‘I think it’s going to be a cold one today. So,’ she added, as if a long discussion had come to its logical conclusion. ‘Is everything clear? Some tenants complain about that sort of behaviour. I just want everyone to get on.’

  ‘Of course, Edith,’ Euan said, controlling his annoyance.

  ‘That’s wonderful,’ she said, genuinely delighted. ‘Have a nice day now.’ She turned away and waddled back to be enfolded by the warmth inside her own home.

  Chapter 6

  ‘I what?’ Clare said. She was furious.

  ‘You can’t stay over anymore,’ Euan said apologetically. ‘She told me so.’

  ‘Euan!’ Clare was astounded. ‘This isn’t the 1870’s.’

  ‘I know, I know,’ Euan said. Although he was not upset at his landlady’s directive, after he’d considered the consequences. He could be absent from Clare without explicitly telling her he wanted to be alone.

  ‘Authority has spoken,’ he said flippantly.

  Clare angrily ignored him.

  Euan often stayed at Clare’s home, which she shared with one of the women in her social group. He, also, often stayed away. After three weeks of their resumed relationship Euan had fallen into the habit of returning home after work and only responding to a summons from Clare. If she did not contact him, he did not search her out. She became frustrated at his lack of initiative.

  One evening Euan was alone, at home, practising the Bach Suites. There was an angry knock at his door and his name was called. It was Clare.

  He stopped playing guitar but did not move. He wrapped his arms around the instrument’s body as if giving it a farewell embrace. He stared at the shut door not saying anything. He wished he had not been interrupted. He did not want to see Clare and that made him feel incredibly sad.

  He sighed.

  ‘It’s open,’ he called out loud enough to be heard outside.

  Clare thrust the door open. She was angry and upset.

  ‘Are we in a relationship, or not?’ she said acrimoniously.

  ‘Yes,’ Euan said quietly.

  ‘Doesn’t seem like one.’

  There was nothing for Euan to say, not yet. Clare had to finish what she wanted him to hear.

  ‘I get the idea,’ she said, ‘that you don’t care if you see me or not.’

  ‘I do, Clare.’

  ‘What are you doing here then? It’s been three days, and you haven’t called me. I’ve been waiting, just to see how long you’d leave it. It seems you’d be happy to leave it indefinitely.’

  ‘I’m practising, Clare. That’s what I’m doing. It’s nothing for or against you.’

  ‘Why are you practising? You’ve given up that. Or so you’ve said. I think there’s a whole lot you haven’t told me.’

  ‘I like playing guitar,’ he said. ‘I’m not going to stop just to spend every moment with you.’

  Clare sighed. She shut the open front door and sat down near Euan. Her initial anger had dissipated. At least, she rationalised, her competition was not human.

  ‘You never suggest anything, Euan,’ she complained. ‘It’s always up to me.’

  Euan was silent, she was right. He should have been honest with her. He had not told her how he felt about Kate. He had not mentioned Helen’s existence. He knew he should break up with her, it was cruel, it was ultimately selfish. However, as was usual with him, he only saw Clare’s immediate distress. He wanted an unpleasant situation diffused, regardless of future consequence.

  It was his major failing, h
e knew it, he understood its horrible consequences but could not resist. It was part of who he was, it was the root of his embarrassment problem. He wanted people to like him and he was unable to navigate a reasonable, fair course between the women who loved him. He could not make a choice because choice closed options. He should have known how to manage better, he knew that, but he lived planning for an impossible future. It was the adult realisation of his teenage dreams of the perfect woman with the indistinct features. Perfection was impossible but Euan refused, completely, to accept that concept. His childhood remained with him and often took control.

  Euan, reluctantly, stood up. He slowly walked across his lounge-room, away from Clare, to his guitar stand. He placed the instrument in it’s place, like it was returning home safe and sound. He stole a last, fond look, like a farewell, then walked back to Clare. She was watching like replacing the guitar was a religious rite.

  He took Clare’s hand. The memory of his first touch of her skin flashed in his mind, that moment in the park. He stepped out of his memory and examined the two of them as they stood together at that first tender moment. He remembered how he felt for that Clare. Some of that emotion leaked from the memory and infused the current Clare. He loved her again, just a little. But it was the prior Clare, not the current Clare, who he really loved. She was not the same person. And too much had happened.

  Clare drew him into an embrace. He did not resist and that was his ultimate problem. He took Clare to bed. He wistfully looked at his guitar and remembered a similar moment with Helen, as he went bed with another wonderful woman who loved him. His dissatisfaction with the rewards of life, with the life of the moment, upset him greatly.

  There was always something else, or someone else.

  Chapter 7

  It was an extremely cold day but, apart from the frigid air, it was beautiful outside. The winter world was blue and white, clean colours stolen from sky, ocean and snow. Euan opened the outside door of the building where he worked and tentatively, gracefully even, negotiated the concrete steps down to the ground. He had been warned often about invisible ice and he assumed it was everywhere. He walked as if each footfall required the prior step for support.