Peter, I’m not sure.
Peter
Just as friends. We can talk about everything properly.
Sarah
OK.
I’m not 100per cent sure whether that’s such a good idea. Going to dinner to talk about Peter’s feelings sounds excruciating. He’s a nice man though, and we’ve eaten together many times before. Hopefully we can get things back on a professional level.
I mean, he’s a good man. Perfect, on paper. But that’s the frustrating thing about love, isn’t it? It’s the least practical of the emotions. You can will the feeling all you like, but if it’s not there, it’s not there.
How much easier life might be if I could fall in love with the colleague who’s been by ‘work husband’ for so many years? We get on, we understand each other. He knows my work and I know his. But when I imagine touching him, kissing him, the idea makes me shudder. Not because Peter is gross – ostensibly he’s pretty good-looking. But because it would be like kissing a brother.
I glance over at the cheese stall. Hal’s in intense conversation with the owner over what appears to be a tiny chunk of hard cheese on a cocktail stick. He’s acquired an unfortunate tan (or burn, I suppose) today, and the back of his neck has turned red-raw. He’s showered since the swimming, but hasn’t bothered to do anything to his hair since, so it’s sticking up in disarray, and he’s wearing some beige shorts with an ill-advised Hawaiian-style shirt.
Sébastien walks up next to him, and his athletic, tanned body throws Hal’s into sharp relief, making it look even softer, less toned than it had before. Hal shows him the piece of cheese and soon they’re all in conversation about it.
I imagine both of their pictures on an online dating site. I’d probably swipe right for Seb and poor Hal would get consigned to the reject pile. Yet in reality, I feel nothing for Sébastien at all. If I had to choose, it would be Hal’s lips on mine, his arms around me.
The thought that slipped into my mind unbidden makes me uncomfortable. It’s only because I’m comparing them, I think. It doesn’t mean I want to be with Hal, kiss Hal. I’m just playing a mental game of Snog, Marry, Avoid.
I snatch my gaze away, but the sharp turn of my head is my undoing. My vision flickers for a moment and I put my hand on the edge of the market stall to steady myself. ‘Are you OK, madame?’ a woman asks.
I nod. I have a pathological desire not to be helped in any situation. I don’t think it’s a pride thing. It’s more a determination to be independent. Perhaps because usually, the buck stops with me.
In any case, I know what’s wrong this time. I took my medication, which the packet even said can cause dizziness. And I’m a bit dehydrated. Plus, it’s hotter this evening that I gave it credit for. The sky is dark, but the air feels thick and cloying. I’m amazed that nobody else seems to feel it, the muggy, suffocating atmosphere. I long to crack a window, let some air in. Only I’m already outside. And something is very, very wrong.
Suddenly I’m hyperaware of the people around me, the chatter, the body heat. I spot a kiosk selling hot and cold drinks a little farther down and decide to head for it, hobbling on my crutch determinedly. It’s only a few metres away, and there are white plastic chairs and the promise of cold, refreshing water. That’s all I need. I’ll be OK after that.
I’m halfway there when the buzzing starts. A kind of radio static noise that buzzes in my ears and vibrates through my body. My vision begins to change, and it’s as if someone’s popped on the vignette filter on social media – the edges are dark and the centre begins to turn sepia.
But other than grab the arm of a stranger for support, there’s not much I can do but step on through it, aim for the chair. Just a few more steps, just a few more.
The buzzing intensifies and suddenly my whole body feels unsteady. I take a deep breath and lean against my crutch, trying to ground myself as my vision flickers like a broken TV, desperate to rediscover signal but failing miserably.
The only good thing is that when I hit the ground, my face smacking against the paving slab, I’m unconscious. I don’t hear the gasp of those around me as they make room. I don’t see the woman who kneels at my side and checks my pulse. And I don’t hear Hal call my name as he runs towards me.
20
HAL
I’m already watching Sarah when she begins to stumble, so I see the entire thing, hear the sickening slap of skin on concrete when she hits the pavement.
I drop the piece of cheese I’m holding and rush towards her, pushing people out of the way in my haste. A woman is already kneeling at her side, her hand on Sarah’s pulse point, and for a moment I think the absolute worst.
‘Sarah!’ I cry, sinking to my knees next to her. I touch her skin and it’s terrifyingly hot.
‘I have called thepompiers,’ the woman informs me. ‘They will be here soon.’
Sarah’s eyes flicker under her lids, and she lets out a strange moan.
‘Sarah, I’m here,’ I say, holding her hot hand.
Sébastien arrives and kneels down next to me, reaching for Sarah’s other hand and I want to bat him away. He doesn’t even know her! But I try to focus on Sarah, telling her it will be OK.
And at last, thepompiersarrive in their blue uniforms with their serious faces. They load Sarah onto a gurney and wheel her quickly to an ambulance. I’m following, Sébastien still at myside. ‘No!’ I tell him, tossing him Betty’s keys. ‘Take the van back to the site. I’ll call you when there’s news.’
