and time was running short because there was not much change left over from 70. All true.
In his thoughts Marion and the stealth of death and how you could never know what was waiting for you up ahead. In their youth she had encouraged him to join her and travel and work overseas and because of that experience he was still lucky, he could still travel to India. I’m going to India sounded good. But it was just him, alone. All those years, all those travels had been together and for a while with the two girls. Marion’s young fresh face, always full of optimism , the common sense and the determination. The ideas that led them somewhere special. Don’t worry, we will find a way. Now she had gone and he was always alone, but being alone in the city of his birth, in his own apartment was one matter. Being alone far from home was another.To go to India alone meant that he would have to be the person that some people had said that he was. The question floated around and around and the answer was there and then it changed and he wasn’t sure and then he said yes and he told himself he could do it.
After breakfast he put his plate and cup in the sink. These days he could do this, deal with these things later. He headed for the bathroom. After he had shaved and showered , retied his hair, as he brushed his teeth, he took in where he was on his journey, the grey that dominated the sides of his head was spreading upwards and streaking his ponytail. The sun spots on his cheeks, the hammocks of flesh that hung from under his arms, the downward pull of the two lines from his nose that dragged down his mouth so that it looked like he might never have smiled. All were testimony to the fact that his certain fate was already beginning to be etched into his body. Standing on one leg to get his underpants on was a challenge these days. He said to his reflection, you have no time to waste. He pulled a stupid face in the mirror as if to a lifelong friend, a surge of optimism filling him and he smiled . He would fight back, that’s what Marion would want him to do.
He returned to the kitchen and grabbed his shoulder bag and the piece of paper from the sideboard on which last night he had scribbled down some questions that he wanted to ask Jalal Singh. He was ready. Elvie sensed this and rubbed her body against his leg.
See you later puss. I have a train to catch. Be good and I will have a treat for you tonight, won’t I?
Eliot rubbed her behind the ears until she purred and then he headed for the front door. As he reached for the door knob there was a brisk knock and his heart missed a beat. He was almost certain he knew who it was. There were so few visitors these days and Louise had a key. He opened the door. It was her of course, almost the mirror image of the first time that she had stood in the doorway a few days after Marion had died. Brightly coloured floral print dress, red geraniums on a yellow background with a matching collar and just a hint of cleavage below a string of pearls. Her auburn hair swept to one side and held there by a bright red clasp. Sensible heeled shoes. Around her waist a belt, finger thin notched up to make the most of her figure. He had guessed then that she was probably just the wrong side of fifty. Her smile framed by bright red lipstick was real, he knew that by now.
On that first day she had said, hullo, I’m Ms. Eleanora Dobson, I have just moved into apartment 2. Eliot, isn’t it. The Ms.might have sailed over his head but it seemed that she needed to explain, so she said something like, I’m Ms. because I’m my own boss but I would be happy to share. She smiled good naturedly without a hint of embarassment. Eliot stepped back in his mind to that day. God , this is one unusual women he whispered in his head and no she wasn’t being smart or trying to be funny. That day she was holding a tupperware container full of yo yos. Today she was holding a book, clasped in fingers tipped with red nail polish.
Hi Eliot, can I come in?
When Eliot didn’t answer immediately she said,
I noticed that the library had two copies of our new book for book club so I thought why not borrow one for you and save you the trouble and expense of buying one. I’m half way through it, a whodunnit. I think you……
I’m sorry Eleanor, but I’m in a bit of a hurry. I have an appointment and I have to catch a train.
What kind of an appointment?
Eliot reached out for the book and she gave it to him and he dropped it into his shoulder bag.
Thanks. Must be off.
He ushered her out, shut his door, gave her a thumbs up and skipped down the stairs. Eleanor followed and when she stood outside the door of her apartment he sensed her wave and smile at the back of his head. Without turning he held up his arm and wiggled his fingers. He couldn’t say exactly what it was about her appearance and manner that annoyed him so much and set him on edge and why her cleavage should discomfort him.
Hope your appointment goes well she shouted down at him.
2.
For weeks after Marion died, Eliot would wake in the night and in his half sleep his arm would reach across to her side of the bed and then he knew all over again and he felt a stabbing grief that at first took his breath away. He had to stand up in the passage way, he needed to make a noise to say this grief even though no one would ever hear. From his open mouth would sound a long moan that he wanted to hear. Sometimes for minutes on end, bending his body over and then straightening up.
Every day, every thing that he did in and around their apartment, the dishes, the garbage, the cooking, the garden , meant that he had to think of Marion. His head could reproduce her image, of her self deprecating smile, her screwed up face of frustration, that look of love, and her voice, so that she was as good as in the room. What she had done in his life. What she had said in his life. Always there. After the funeral, he had put her letter away in the drawer of the bedside table, he couldn’t bear to read it again and there it stayed untouched.
They had moved out of their family home and into Grange Apartments soon after Marion had received the bad news. Some place more simple. Just a few suburbs away and it was true that this made his loss and grief easier to deal with, away from years of memories, but the move also made him more alone. He developed a solitary routine away from those others with whom he had passed most days, now sometimes relieved by a visit from Louise. And then there was Eleanor. Sometimes his loneliness made him feel like he was hollow, like he had been punctured and everything in side him had escaped.Yet in some ways being alone suited him , he didn’t want to have other’s concern in his face, their commiserations, the tip toeing around the unmentionable subject. He didn’t want Eleanor deciding what was best for him, sticking her beak into his business. Watching out her window until he went to his garden plot and then springing on him, like some round technicolour predator.
Whatever the struggle before him, moving out of the family home helped him prepare for a future without Marion and soon a new start stood before him fair and square. Yes there would always be something new. Nothing , no circumstance can stay the same for ever so the phone call came, and there beckoning him, staring him in the face, was a new path that he would choose to go down. In a few weeks time he would be at the airport and for a short time feel that something had clicked over and here was a new life and he was striding down this path and there was no turning back. Now the future was something with unknown posibilities. This phone call had come and soon he would be standing in the queue at the departure gate . The phone call was from his brother in law, Marion’s brother. How were things? They must catch up soon and have a beer together and would he be willing to talk about his overseas experiences as a teacher trainer with the Rotary Club.
For a split second Eliot was going to say no because that had become his default position since Marion had died. Yet he changed his mind just as quickly as if someone was pulling his strings as if someone was reading her letter to him. Who didn’t like talking about themselves?He would do it. Sure Barry he said, just give us the details.
When the time came Eliot found himself standing in front of maybe forty men at the Rotary Club . When he stood up to speak, he was not nervous but it dawned on him that what he felt most was that he was uncomfortable talking about the experiences of a partnership now that Marion was no longer there. Every event that he would describe was their event , their experience. Honesty would say that it was Marion who set things in motion……….But the men were waiting, they wanted it to happen and maybe they