“It’s saying I deserve to have some fun while I’m searching for The One. Dan’s great about making sure I come and he’s a much better lover than Lawrence or Geoff ever were and I never had this issue with them. Right now, we’re limited to one position, because all the others are uncomfortable. You’re the doctor. What do you think’s causing it?”
Libby ran through the usual suspects. “If you’re sure you’re aroused and well lubricated then it could be any number of things, including low level yeast infection. How about I write you a referral to Lacey Chu? She’s my OBGYN and she’s great.”
“Any tips while I’m waiting to get an appointment?”
“No waiting for my twin. I’ll call her and she’ll happily squeeze you in.”
“Thanks, Libs.”
“My pleasure.”
In the rough seas of her own confusion and pain, it felt good to be able to do something for Alice.
Karen bid farewell to her senior year French class and wished Alice or Peter was at home so she could share the buzz. Since none of her students had been to France, they were struggling with some of the conversation topics that were part of their oral exam, so Karen had obtained permission to bring them back to Pelican House. She’d cooked them coq au vin and tarte tatin and finished with a platter of French cheeses. As they’d sat around the table set with Provençal-style crockery and linen, she’d discussed the food, its origins and their reactions to it in French, helping them construct conversations about the importance of cuisine in French culture.
It had been a golden teaching moment and she’d loved every minute of it. The only thing that marred the experience was the impending return of the permanent French teacher, which meant Karen’s return to retirement. Over her long career many of her colleagues had often said in bewildered tones, “It’s a vocation for you, isn’t it? You really love it.”
“I really do,” was always her response. Not once had she confessed to any of them that the joy she got from teaching had been a surprise, or that her decision to enter the profession had been a pragmatic one, far removed from any altruism. At the time, the government had been offering scholarships to boost teaching numbers and that money, combined with a part-time job, allowed her to leave home. Or to be more accurate: escape.
Thoughts of Lisa drifted into her mind. For some unknown reason, Karen had been thinking about her sister more and more lately. Was it age? Did the dull ache of regret start to sharpen again when the years ahead added up to less than the years lived?
Karen gave herself a shake. Sixty is not old! But it wasn’t enough to disperse her melancholy thoughts. She went into the laundry and dragged out the step ladder before climbing it and opening the top cabinet. Pushing aside vacuum-sealed summer duvet and blankets, she pulled out an old box and carried it into the living room. The photo album was on the top and she lifted it out, rifling through the meager pages.
Lisa wearing a blue and white toweling dress with her hair in tightly permed curls. Lisa leaning against a Toyota Celica with the top down, licking an ice-cream. Lisa in a bikini standing in the shallows. Time had changed some of the colors on the Polaroid photos to purple and brown, starkly stating how many years had passed since the long hot summer when they’d been taken. Karen snapped the album shut, not wanting to follow those memories any further. Yet when she went to drop the album back in the box and seal it up again, the bundles of letters made her fingers itch. They were tied with ribbon in neat stacks of ten. Two bundles were clearly marked return to sender. The third was addressed to her and she held it close to her nose, breathing in deeply and hoping for the faint scent of cheap perfume. All she got was the stale and musky smell of old paper. She carefully stacked the letters on top of the album and that’s when she saw the copy of Anne of Green Gables. Her eyes filled with tears.
I’m sorry, Lisa. I should have tried harder. Done so much more.
“Hi, Mom. You okay?”
Startled from her memories, Karen turned to see Alice looking at her with a quizzical look. If she swiped at the tears that teetered heavily on her bottom lids, Alice’s next question would be “What’s wrong?” Karen would do almost anything to avoid the question so she blinked rapidly, glad for once that her glasses hid the finer details.
“I’m on a bit of a high!” she babbled. “It was an excellent class and it’s got me thinking. I’m going to talk to the school about the possibility of leading a trip to New Caledonia next year. The students would really benefit from soaking up some French culture.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Alice spotted the copy of Anne of Green Gables and her face lit up. “Remember how much I loved the Anne books? My favorite was Anne of the Island when Gilbert finally proposes. I remember sobbing my way through Anne’s House of Dreams when she lost the baby.”
“I read you the first one.”
“When I had the chicken pox and was quarantined. You read it to make up for Libby and Dad going to the Tina Arena concert without me. I’ve got the complete set, so where did this one come from?”
Before Karen could reply, Alice picked up the book and flipped it open. “‘To Lisa. Happy birthday, thinking of you. With lots of love from Karen xx.’ Who’s Lisa?”
Hot and cold chills raced across Karen’s skin. She’d kept her family a secret for longer than Alice had been alive and she wasn’t about to falter now. “A friend.”
“So why do you have the copy you gave her?”
At least Karen didn’t have to lie about the acquisition. “When Lisa
