Happy People Read and Drink Coffee

by Agnes Martin-Lugand

  “Is this really what I think it is?”

  “I’m getting to know you.”

  “Thank you! Thank God!” I followed him out to the car.

  My dose of caffeine and what I saw when we got to the port finally woke me up. You could hear the sound of the trawlers and see the night mist thanks to the lights on the fishing boats. I quickly realized we were about to get into one of those old tubs. All I needed was a yellow wax jacket and navy blue boots to be the very picture of a Parisian at sea. I stayed back while Edward said hello to the sailors. They all had a cigarette hanging from their lips and faces deeply lined by the elements. Forces of nature. I felt particularly uncomfortable when they all turned to look at me. Edward waved at me to come over and get on the boat.

  “You’re going to stay on the bridge,” he said.

  “And what about you?”

  “I’m going with them.”

  “All right.”

  “Don’t move from there; I’ll come and get you. And umm . . . don’t touch anything and don’t say anything.”

  “I can hold my own.”

  “Don’t you know the old saying? A woman on a boat is bad luck. And since they didn’t know you were coming, I had a battle to keep you with me.”

  “What did you say to convince them?”

  He looked at me, suddenly very serious, and wiped his face with his hand.

  “Nothing special.”

  He walked away.

  Since I hadn’t caused any problems on the crossing, I was treated to a few smiles when I got off the boat.

  After spending the morning at the port with the trawler men, we headed towards the beach. It was actually an inlet surrounded by high cliffs. Edward got to work, and I took the opportunity to go and explore what was hidden behind the rocks. I climbed up. Nothing but the sea on the horizon. I leaned against the rocks and closed my eyes. A ray of sunlight warmed me up, and I enjoyed the moment.

  “Diane!” Edward called, from behind me.

  “Yes?”

  I glanced at him and my smile faded when I realized he’d just taken my picture. He looked very satisfied with himself and walked away. I hurried down from my rock to run after him.

  “Show me those pictures right now!”

  ‘“Artistic property,” he replied, lifting his camera out of reach.

  I ran all around him, trying to jump high enough to grab it, but in vain. I finally collapsed down on the sand and Edward did the same.

  “Will I see them one day?”

  “If you’re a good girl.”

  He’d left the camera on the ground. In a flash, I jumped over him, stole the object of my desire, and took off as fast as a rabbit. Thinking I had a few fractions of a second to spare, I turned it around to see it from all sides.

  “How do you turn this thing on?”

  “Like this.”

  Edward was right behind me. He put his arms around me, took my hands and guided me. The screen lit up.

  “Do you really want to see them now?” he whispered in my ear.

  “On one condition.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “I want some pictures with you in them.”

  “I hate that.”

  “Is the gentleman photographer afraid to have his picture taken?”

  He didn’t reply, just started fiddling with the settings on the camera. His face was leaning over my shoulder and he looked deep in thought. He finally raised his arm and took the picture without warning me.

  “Smile, Edward. Wait, I’ll help you.”

  I turned around to face him, still in his arms. He frowned. I held his face and pulled his mouth into a smile.

  “You see, you can when you want to! Go on then, get to work!”

  It was the first time I saw Edward so joyful, almost carefree. He had me climb onto his back for a series of pictures. I was thrashing about so much that we ended up falling. I managed to snatch the camera from him and run away. When I turned around, I saw that Edward hadn’t moved. He was watching me. He sat down, lit a cigarette, looked away, and stared out into the distance. By some miracle, I brought the camera up quickly and managed to immortalize the scene. I went back and stood in front of him.

  “Well, what’s your professional opinion?”

  He stuck his cigarette in the corner of his mouth, took the camera from my hand, and leaned over it. He looked up at me when he realized he was the subject of the photo.

  “Come here,” he said, pointing to the space between his knees.

  I slid down in front of him; he put his arms around me and showed me the screen.

  “It’s not bad at all for a first try,” he said. “But you see, there, it needs . . .”

  I couldn’t hear what he was saying any more. I turned to stare up at him and it was as if I were seeing him for the first time: his messy hair, his beard, the color of his eyes. I breathed in his scent for the first time, too, a mixture of soap and stale tobacco. I was so overcome with emotion that I had to close my eyes.

  “Let’s take one more little picture.”

  I saw he was looking at me. He put the camera down without taking his eyes off me. He put one hand against my cheek. I leaned my face against his palm.

  “We should get back to the port; the boat won’t wait for us,” he said, his voice more husky than usual.

  He stood up, gathered together his equipment, and helped me up. We walked hand in hand for a long time on the way back.

  “Wake up, we’re here.”

  It was Edward’s voice. He had stayed with me below deck and I’d fallen asleep in his arms during the crossing. He stroked my cheek to help me come around. I rubbed my face against his. I felt good.

  The owner of the bed and breakfast was there to greet us, despite the late hour. He’d saved us some leftovers for dinner. Edward was right at home here. He heated up the food and poured us a drink while I sat on a high bar stool and watched him, without doing anything. Once we sat down, all we did was look at each other; we didn’t say a word.

  “You haven’t forgotten that we’re going back to Mulranny tomorrow, have you?” Edward asked me after dinner, while we were smoking a cigarette outside.

  “I’d stopped thinking about it,” I replied, suddenly feeling a heaviness in my stomach.

  “Are you all right?”

  “I feel free here. I don’t want to go back.”

  “Let’s go to bed.”

  He held the door open for me and I walked ahead, brushing against him; he followed me up to my room. I paused in the hallway. When I turned around, I was surprised at how close he was to me. His head was down and he had one hand pressed high against the wall.

  “Thank you for these three days.”

  “I was happy to have you with me.”

  He looked deep into my eyes. My heart was racing. He moved closer to me, put his lips against my forehead, and lingered there. I couldn’t fight it any longer. I clutched his shirt. He stepped back a little and leaned down towards me. Our foreheads brushed against each other. I couldn’t control my breathing any more; my stomach was in knots. His lips brushed against mine once, then again. He put his arms around me and kissed me passionately; I returned his kiss. When we finally stopped kissing, he leaned his forehead against mine and stroked my cheek.

  “Stop me,” he whispered, “please.”

  I lowered my eyes and saw I was still gripping his shirt. All my senses were aroused, but I had to work out how I felt. Reluctantly, I let go of his shirt and, as gently as possible, pushed him away. He let me, a little too easily.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, “I . . .”

  I put my finger against his lips to silence him.

  “I think it’s better if we leave it here, for tonight.”

  I kissed the corner of his mouth. I opened the door and went into my room. I turned towards him; he was watching my every move.

  “Sleep well,” I whispered.

  He wiped his face with one hand, smiled at me, and took two
steps back. I silently closed the door and leaned against it. It was only at that very moment that I realized my legs were shaking. I listened for noises in the house; I heard Edward go back downstairs. I smiled; he’d gone for a cigarette, I was sure of it.

  Still shaken, I slipped under my duvet. In the half-light, I ran my fingers across my lips. I’d liked feeling his lips on mine. I could have gone further but hadn’t. Moving too fast, perhaps. I settled down in the middle of the bed. In spite of my heavy eyes, I stared at the ray of light under the door. Then I heard footsteps on the staircase; they stopped in front of my door.

  I sat up. Edward was there, very close. I got out of bed, trying to think fast about what I should do. I’d decided to open the door for him when I heard him go into his room. Total darkness now; I stretched out in bed again. As sleep overtook me, I told myself that I would see Edward the next day. I couldn’t wait.

  I opened my eyes and my first thoughts were of him. I looked at my watch; our boat was leaving in an hour. I got showered and dressed, packed my things, and closed my bag. In the hallway, I glanced over at his room; the door was open. I went to see if he was still inside. No one. The room had already been cleaned. I went into the kitchen. Only the owner was there. He smiled at me and gave me a cup of coffee. He was about to give me one of his breakfasts, which seemed to be his specialty.

  “No, thank you. I’m not very hungry this morning.”

  “As you like, but it’s better to have something in your stomach for the crossing.”

  “I’ll be fine with the coffee.”

  I took a few sips, still standing.

  “Have you seen Edward?” I asked.

  “He rushed out early. Even less talkative than usual, can you imagine that?”

  “Hard to believe.”

  “He went down to the port, then came back to pay your bills.”

  “And where is he now?”

  “Pacing like a lion trapped in a cage; he’s waiting for you outside.”

  “Oh . . .”

  I gulped down the rest of my coffee under the mocking eye of my host.

  “You’re all white. Is it because of the crossing or Edward?”

  “Which is worse?”

  He burst out laughing.

  I gave him a little wave to say goodbye and walked towards the front door.

  Edward didn’t notice me. His face a blank, he was smoking a cigarette like a maniac. I softly called his name. He turned around, stared at me with a vacant expression, and walked over to me. Without a word, he picked up my bag. I took his arm to hold him back.

  “How are you?”

  “And you?” he asked dryly.

  “Fine, at least I think so.”

  “Let’s go.”

  He smiled slightly, took my hand, and led me to the port. The longer we walked, the closer I stood to him. In the end, our fingers were interlocked.

  We had to let go of each other when we got to the boat, so he could load the bags. I followed him onto the deck. There was a fierce, howling wind. He lit a cigarette, handed it to me, then I watched him light one for himself. He was leaning against the rails. We smoked in silence.

  The boat left the island. We hadn’t moved.

  “It’s going to start rocking,” Edward told me, standing up.

  “Are you staying here?”

  “For now. Go inside if you like.”

  I got my footing and grabbed onto the railing like him. The boat was already pitching, and the wind was hurting my ears, but nothing in the world would have made me want to be anywhere else. Suddenly, I was being sheltered. Edward had gone to stand behind me; he put his arms around me and his hands over mine.

  “Tell me if you feel sick,” he whispered in my ear.

  There was laughter in his voice; I elbowed him gently in the ribs.

  We spent the whole crossing holding each other tight and not saying a word. It felt so good to make the most of it, just the two of us. When the boat reached the quayside, Edward went to get our bags. He held my hand again as we walked towards the parking lot. He loaded the trunk while I got in the car. When he climbed in, he sighed deeply. He must have felt me watching him; he turned towards me and looked straight into my eyes.

  “Are we going home?”

  “You’re the driver.”

  Throughout the whole journey, we each sat engrossed in our own thoughts, lulled by music by the Red Hot Chili Peppers, a mixture of sweetness and brutality, just like Edward. The only sound was the cigarette lighter. We took turns lighting cigarettes. The countryside sped past my eyes; I fiddled with my necklace and wedding ring. I didn’t dare look at Edward now. When I saw the sign for Mulranny, my whole body tensed. He parked the car in front of my cottage but left the motor running.

  “Well, I’ve got work to do.”

  “No problem,” I replied quickly as I got out of the car.

  I slammed the door harder than I’d intended. I got my bags out of the trunk. Edward didn’t move and still hadn’t driven away. When I got to the door of my cottage, I started fishing around for my key. By the time I finally found it, I was so furious that I couldn’t get it into the lock. If he had nothing to say to me, all he had to do was leave.

  I dropped everything and suddenly turned around. I bumped straight into Edward. He caught me and put an arm around my waist so I didn’t fall backwards. Several second passed. Then he let go of me. I ran my hand through my hair; he lit a cigarette.

  “Would you come to my place tonight?” he asked.

  “I . . . yes . . . I’d like that.”

  We looked at each other for a long time. The tension was mounting. Edward slowly nodded.

  “See you later.”

  I frowned when I saw him lean over. He picked up my key and opened the door.

  “It’s better that way, don’t you think?”

  He kissed my forehead and walked back to his car before I had a chance to say a word. I watched his Land Rover take off in a cloud of dust.

  8

  I’d just gotten out of a long, steamy, relaxing shower. I stood naked in front of the mirror and looked at my body. It had been a very long time since I’d cared about it. My body had died along with Colin. Edward had gently awakened it last night. I knew what would happen between us tonight. Up until now, I’d thought that no man would ever touch me again. Would I let Edward’s hands and body replace Colin’s? I mustn’t think about that. All my past feminine habits came back to me: applying moisturizer, putting a drop of perfume between my breasts, combing my hair, choosing my underwear, dressing with a desire to be seductive.

  Night had fallen. I was in a real state, self-conscious, like some teenager in love, but over a man I’d only recently hated. And now, a few hours without him and I missed him. I glanced out the window; the lights were on in his house. Instead of biting my nails, I smoked a cigarette. I wandered around the room, feeling suddenly very hot, then shivering with cold. Why wait any longer? I put on my leather jacket, grabbed my bag and left. Even though our cottages were only a few yards apart, I still found a way to light another cigarette. I stopped half way there, told myself I could just turn around and he wouldn’t know; I’d call him and tell him I wasn’t feeling well. I was terrified; I was bound to disappoint him, I didn’t know how to make love any more. I laughed at myself. Ridiculous, that’s what I was. It was like riding a bike, you don’t forget how. I stubbed out my cigarette and knocked on his door. Edward took a few seconds to answer it. He looked me up and down, then stared deep into my eyes. I started breathing quickly, and the appearance of calm I’d hope to give him went up in smoke.

  “Come in.”

  “Thanks,” I replied, very softly.

  He stepped back to let me pass. Postman Pat greeted me enthusiastically but that didn’t relax me in the least. I jumped when I felt Edward’s hand on my back. He led me into the living room.

  “Would you like a drink?”

  “Yes, please.”

  He kissed my forehead and went behin
d the bar. Rather than watch his every move, I looked around to convince myself that this was the same Edward from before our trip to the Aran Islands, that we were going to spend a completely normal, friendly evening together, that I’d been inventing what had happened between us. His notoriously messy place and overflowing ashtrays would reassure me. I looked around several times, feeling even more panicky as I realized something was different.

  “You cleaned up?”

  “Are you surprised?”

  “Maybe. I’m not sure.”

  “Come and sit down.”

  I glanced over in his direction. He gestured for me to sit down on the couch. I perched on the edge. I took the glass of wine he handed me without looking at him. I had to find some way—any way—to overcome my nerves. I took out a cigarette and didn’t have time to get out my lighter before a flame appeared in front of me. I thanked Edward.

  He sat on the coffee table facing me, drank some Guinness, and looked at me. I dropped my head. He lifted my chin up.

  “Is everything all right?”

  “Of course. What did you do today? Did you work? What were the pictures like? You know, the ones we took together.”

  My monologue had left me breathless. Edward stroked my cheek.

  “Relax.”

  I gave a great sigh.

  “I’m sorry.”

  I jumped up and walked around the room before stopping next to the fireplace. I finished my cigarette and threw the butt into the fire. I could feel Edward standing behind me. He took my glass, set it down on the mantle and put his arms around me. I stiffened.

  “What are you afraid of?”

  “Everything . . .”

  “You have nothing to fear with me.”

  I turned around to look at him. He smiled at me, pushing my hair off my face. I fell into his arms. I breathed in his scent. He stroked my back. We stayed like that for a long time. I felt good. All my doubts disappeared. I gently kissed him. He took my face in his hands and leaned his forehead against mine.

  “You know that I nearly turned back when I was coming over here?”

  “Then you nearly got yourself torn to pieces.”

  “You mean you would have come over and demanded an explanation?”