Memories of May

by Juliet Madison

  ‘What did happen, exactly?’ asked Mr Donovan.

  ‘Ah, I’ll have to leave that to your imaginations so we can get onto the main topic of tonight. But firstly, onto those opening pages …’

  He talked about the pages he’d read, what did and didn’t work, and some samples were shared and discussed. As he helped the students find the core emotional hook of their opening pages, he was filled with a sense of gratitude. ‘You know, guys, whether these books get published, read by many, or read by a few, you’ve done good. Even just to start something.’ He walked between some of the desks and sat on the edge of an empty one. ‘It’s a real privilege reading your stories. And each is as important as the other. I can’t wait to see the finished results, so make sure you keep me posted in our Facebook group or via email.’

  ‘Mr F, if I get published and have a book launch, will you launch it with me and be like a guest speaker or something?’ Dylan asked.

  Joel smiled. ‘You bet. We could have cardboard cut-out sharks, whadd’ya reckon?’

  Dylan laughed. ‘Totally. Sounds awesome.’

  For a young dude who had almost been killed, he was amazed by his resilience and acceptance of what had happened. He’d spoken to Dylan a bit via text about his experience and his book, and knew that making a joke like that wouldn’t be in bad taste. The guy made them himself all the time, he said hardly a day went by when he didn’t take an opportunity to make a pun about sharks or bites. Joel had told him that despite the serious nature of his story, if he could add his sense of humour to the book it would endear him even more to readers and make his story more enjoyable to read.

  He’d met many interesting people throughout his adventures, but by teaching these courses with small groups, he was meeting many more. Discovering new people and their stories was becoming an adventure in itself, one he’d never really focused on before. It had always been about the physical experience, the adrenaline, the rush … but now, and as time seemed to pass more quickly than it used to, he was beginning to understand how the human mind, and heart, held many stories of its own and many adventures yet to discover.

  But still, he would always crave that rush. And would always give in. And once it was done, he’d look for the next.

  * * *

  ‘Sorry about before,’ Joel said after the students filtered out and Olivia was hanging about. It occurred to him afterwards he probably sounded like a chauvinistic pig, calling her a damsel in distress.

  She waved her hand. ‘No big deal. You helped me out of a tricky situation, so I’m glad. And you were right, it was a good example about establishing reader interest.’ She shrugged.

  ‘Still, sorry if I offended you. Sometimes I don’t think.’ He switched off lights. ‘I reckon after a while you would have got yourself out anyway. I just sped up the process.’

  ‘Who knows. I was just glad to be able to get out and get on with my day.’

  ‘I bet. Thanks for calling me and trusting me to help you. If it were me stuck in that window, I’d probably be too stubborn to call anyone for help.’

  ‘Probably,’ she agreed with a grin.

  He walked outside with her. ‘Such a nice night, so clear and mild.’

  ‘It is.’ Olivia looked around. ‘Today, I stopped for a moment. Like completely stopped, just to see what it felt like. You ever done that?’

  Joel shrugged. ‘I don’t meditate if that’s what you mean, but after a hike I’ll stop and sit for a bit, take in the view, my surroundings. But I guess I’m always thinking of something or observing something.’

  ‘Me too, usually.’ Olivia stalled outside her car, glanced around, then looked at him. She had a different look in her eyes, like they were seeking something. ‘Got time for a walk?’

  Joel raised his eyebrows. Him, got time? She was the one who never seemed to have any. ‘Always,’ he replied. ‘Anywhere in particular, or shall we see where the wind takes us?’

  Olivia held out her hand. ‘I don’t feel any wind, so how about … Lookout Point?’

  He nodded. ‘Let’s go.’

  They walked across Miracle Park, usually coloured with children and people and sunlight, tonight subdued with darkness and moonlight guiding their way along the grass.

  ‘My grandma walked up here one night to meet William, that man from her past I told you about, around seventy years ago.’

  ‘Oh?’ He turned his head to look at her for a moment as they walked.

  ‘Yeah, she snuck out, climbed out the window, that’s why I tried it today, for your information.’

  Joel chuckled. ‘A-ha, now I get it. Are you going to tell her about your adventure?’

  ‘Of course, she will find it amusing. She tripped and fell after climbing out hers, so I blame my genes for today’s situation.’ She smiled, and a light breeze lifted her hair behind her shoulders.

  ‘When in doubt, blame genetics.’

  ‘Exactly.’ They walked across the street and started up the hill towards the lookout. ‘Speaking of genetics, looks like we both didn’t really know our real fathers. There wasn’t much in your book about him.’

  ‘That’s right. He wasn’t around, don’t even know where he is now. Mum hooked up with a couple of new men until my stepdad came on the scene and, well, you know the rest.’ He shrugged. No matter how often he talked about it with someone, he always felt this strange sense of rawness, or was it emptiness, gnawing away inside. He hadn’t had a good male role model, so he just kind of became his own. Became the person he wanted to be. But the one person he wanted for his mum to have in her life, a caring and devoted partner, he had yet to become for anyone. Didn’t know how. Had never tried. Not that he hadn’t had opportunities, but he’d never felt inclined to hang around long enough to find out. If he kept moving, avoided deeper, more meaningful relationships, he wouldn’t risk hurting anyone, or himself.

  ‘My mum is so much happier now she’s found a new guy. Can’t keep them apart,’ Olivia said. ‘But I do remember when I was young she was often stressed out, and it was only as I got a bit older I realised she was lonely. I’m happy for her now.’

  ‘And what about you … any recent relationships?’

  Olivia appeared to tense a little, wrapped her arms around her waist. ‘It is getting a little cool now,’ she said.

  He nodded.

  ‘Um, no,’ she said. ‘I’ve met a few here and there, but to be honest I haven’t had a serious relationship since before Mia. And I don’t mean her dad, he was just a …’ She lowered her face and shook her head.

  ‘A one-night stand?’

  ‘I guess so. But that in itself was a one-off, I don’t normally do that sort of thing. Don’t ever, actually. Just the once.’

  Not only had he helped open her window, but somehow she was opening her heart a little to him, and he wondered how and why she felt comfortable doing that with him.

  ‘I understand,’ he said. ‘If it makes you feel any better, I haven’t had a serious relationship at all.’

  ‘Never?’ She turned and looked at him.

  ‘Never.’ One-night stands, he’d had plenty of those, and a few great girlfriends, but nothing had ever lasted more than one or two months, three at the most.

  ‘Is that because you’ve always been on the move?’

  ‘Partly,’ he replied. ‘But when I was in sales I wasn’t on the move, and even then I hadn’t had one. I dunno, maybe no one liked me enough!’ He laughed, but deep down he knew that wasn’t the case. Some had wanted more from him, but he hadn’t been able to be the man they were looking for, so he’d often let women go before they got to that stage so as to spare them any deeper hurt.

  ‘I seriously doubt that,’ she said. ‘You’re a charmer.’

  ‘I am?’ he asked. ‘Well, I’ll take that as a compliment, but the truth is, I just found it easier to keep things simple. In life, and in love.’

  ‘So I discovered in your book. And your promise to your mum, to keep moving forward and not stay stuc
k in one spot.’

  ‘Yep. And like I said in tonight’s class, our past, though it doesn’t define us, it does help create who we are and what we choose to do in life. If you look back, you can usually see a link between early events and future ones.’

  ‘Are we all doomed then, do you think?’ They reached the top of the hill. ‘To forever live out our lives at the mercy of our childhood wounds?’

  He shook his head as they neared the lookout platform. ‘The wounds, they are one chapter, not the whole book. We can always start writing a new chapter. Or even a new book.’

  They stopped. He leaned a hand on the railing, at the same time she did. He glanced at her hand only an inch away from his, a simple, thin silver ring on her middle finger.

  ‘I like your perspective. I never thought about things like that till you came along. I’m glad I’m having some new experiences, so thank you for that.’ Her cheeks rounding out her smile had a glow to them under the moonlight.

  ‘It’s my pleasure, Olivia. I’m having some new experiences of my own, thanks to your new experiences.’ He smiled and resisted the urge to touch her hand.

  ‘I’ll try to keep it going once you’re gone,’ she said. ‘I’ll try not to fall back into old, safe ways.’

  ‘Well, keep me posted,’ he said. And he really hoped she would. He didn’t always keep in touch with every new friend he made on his travels, but some he felt compelled to, and she was one of them. ‘You don’t need me to continue your new adventures. You can do them perfectly well on your own.’

  She nodded. ‘I guess we’ve both learned to do things for ourselves in life, do things our own way. Just in different ways.’

  ‘Yes. You and me are more alike than we think, Miss Chevalier.’

  ‘Except you move, I stay.’

  And I run, you hide, he thought. ‘Perfect opposites,’ he remarked.

  She nodded, then tilted her head. ‘Have you ever climbed out a window, Mr Foster?’

  ‘Heaps of times. But never been stuck. Have also jumped over fences, manoeuvred through barbed wire, climbed rooftops, and hidden underneath a house. But they are other stories.’

  ‘Show-off,’ she said, lifting her hand and lightly slapping his bicep with the back of her hand. When her hand lowered, it brushed against his on the railing, and her gaze followed it, as did his. His skin tingled a little at her soft skin, and he wanted to feel it again, but held his hand steady.

  She glanced back up at him. ‘My grandma’s hands were on here, like this,’ she said. ‘Although I think the railing may have been replaced at some stage, but still. Standing here at night, with William, all those years ago. Isn’t it weird how the past becomes the past. Like, at what point does yesterday become old enough to be “the past”? Each day merges into another, and all of a sudden the yesterdays are the years that have gone by, and today is some magical new thing that feels so permanent yet so fleeting.’

  Joel got out his phone, tapped in the words she had said, then texted it to her, her phone buzzing a moment later. ‘Put that in your book,’ he said. ‘Those words. They’re the things that people like to read, not just the action and suspense of an intense situation, but those wonderings and musings about life that people can relate to.’

  ‘Huh,’ she said. ‘I never would have thought to write that. I’ve been focused so much on getting the facts right, all the details and timelines.’

  ‘Those things are the structure, the framework, but what makes a real-life story magical to read are those nuances of thought, those words that jump off the page because they somehow connect with a reader’s own thoughts, emotions, and mortality. Brings a book to life.’

  ‘Wow, Joel, that was the best bit of insight you’ve given all night.’

  He tapped in his own words so he could add them to one of his classes. ‘It’s usually when we don’t try too hard that the right words come along. Life is the same, the best things happen unexpectedly.’

  ‘So true,’ she said softly as she looked out across the ocean. ‘Well, here’s an unexpected invitation.’ She turned herself to face him. ‘Would you like to join us for pancakes this Sunday? Before our book-worthy moment, which you are yet to enlighten me about?’

  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had pancakes, and now his stomach was grumbling. ‘You and Mia? I’d love to. As long as you follow through on my challenge.’

  ‘The caterpillar shape? Of course, and if you’re lucky and Mia doesn’t beat you to it, you can eat the caterpillar.’ She took her hand from the railing and crossed her arms. ‘But you have to take your plate to the dishwasher and help clean up.’

  ‘I always do,’ he replied. ‘What time shall I be there?’

  ‘Hmm, around eight thirty?’

  ‘Deal. That will give us enough time to eat and clean and get to your surprise on time.’

  ‘Can’t you give me a hint?’ she pleaded, her hands in prayer position.

  He loved watching her squirm. ‘Uh-uh. The best things happen unexpectedly, remember?’

  ‘But the day itself will be expected, I just don’t know what I’m expecting,’ she said.

  To be honest, he didn’t know either. And he wasn’t talking about the book-worthy moment, but the fact that the more time he spent with her, the more surprises he got, and the less he knew how to handle his unexpected attraction to her.

  Chapter 18

  After their regular Friday lunch date in which Joel had convinced Olivia to eat French fries with tomato sauce (she had never tried it before in her life), he was now about to try her Sunday pancakes and meet her little girl.

  This made him nervous for two reasons. Firstly, it felt more intimate, being in her house. She was a student, and a friend, but she was also occupying his mind far more often than seemed normal for a student and a friend. Secondly, he wasn’t used to being around kids. He didn’t know if he was any good with them. What if the girl trod on his foot or punched him in the gut or something? Kids did things like that to new people, didn’t they? At least, he did, when he was a kid.

  He knocked his fist on the timber door, and the curtain beside the door flicked to the side. A brown-haired girl peeked through. ‘He’s here!’ her muffled voice said.

  He prepared a smile on his face and the door opened. He glanced down. ‘Hi, you must be Olivia,’ he said, holding out his hand.

  She giggled. ‘No, that’s my mum’s name!’

  ‘Oh, is it?’ He scratched his head.

  ‘Yes. I’m Mia,’ she said. She lifted her hand and he tensed his gut for a moment in case the sweetness was an act and she was really a little rascal. But she held onto his hand gently and he gave it a small shake. ‘And you’re Joel Foster. My mum told me. She also told me I have to let you eat the caterpillar.’

  Maybe she would punch him or tread on his foot for that instead.

  He chuckled. ‘I’d be happy to share it with you, if you like.’

  ‘Can I eat its head?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Okay. We can share.’

  ‘Mia, let him in!’ Olivia’s voice called out.

  The girl stepped back and skipped off, and he walked through, closing the door behind him. He approached her in the kitchen. ‘Hi.’

  ‘Hi, sorry, come on in. Can’t leave my pancakes at this crucial moment.’ She was wearing a soft-looking cream-coloured top, and a soft smile, and he guessed her skin would be even softer.

  ‘Let me have a look.’ He sidled up next to the stove and observed. ‘Wait, is that a—’

  ‘Leg!’ she exclaimed. ‘It’s a leg, not a …’

  ‘A …’ He waved his hands around in circles.

  ‘A different body part that isn’t a leg,’ she said.

  Mia was at the fridge, withdrawing the jam. ‘Do caterpillars have legs?’ she asked.

  Olivia shrugged. ‘I’m sure they do. Don’t they? If they didn’t they would be slugs or something.’

  ‘Eww, I don’t want to eat slugs. Even pancak
e ones.’ Mia held her stomach and pretended to puke.

  Yep, she had gut-punching and foot-treading potential.

  ‘Mia, manners please, we have a guest.’

  ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘Would you eat slugs, Joel Foster?’ Mia placed the jam on the small round table and looked up at Joel.

  ‘I would, Mia Chevalier. Especially pancake ones.’ He grinned. Then he hoped that Olivia’s daughter did indeed share the same surname as her mother, but he’d assumed so, since her father had been a one-night stand.

  Mia laughed, then sat at the table. ‘Boys like yucky things.’

  When Olivia was turned to face the stove, he glanced at Mia and placed his hand on his stomach, then pretended to puke, silently. She laughed again. ‘I think, most of the time, boys pretend to like yucky things so they look tough,’ he said.

  ‘Ah, is that right?’ asked Olivia. ‘The secret is out.’

  ‘’Fraid so,’ he said. ‘But that caterpillar is looking pretty good.’

  Olivia lifted the ‘legs’ off the frypan and arranged them on the plate with the circles forming the caterpillar’s body.

  Joel pointed to the caterpillar’s butt. ‘Is that a—’

  ‘Tail!’ she said. ‘It’s a tail.’ She adjusted the small protrusion.

  ‘Do caterpillars have tails?’ asked Mia.

  ‘This one does,’ Olivia replied.

  Joel smiled; this was a new experience for him. He didn’t have brothers and sisters and so had not been exposed to nieces and nephews, and a few of his friends had kids but as he was always on the move he only visited them occasionally, when he was passing through various towns.

  ‘Okay, let’s eat up while they’re warm.’ Olivia placed the plate of circle pancakes in the centre of the table and the caterpillar creation in front of one of the chairs. ‘Your breakfast is served,’ she said, gesturing for him to sit.

  ‘Thank you, madam,’ he said. ‘I’m very impressed with this caterpillar, even if it does have a rather large—’

  ‘Tail! And legs.’ She took her seat. Then she got straight back up again. ‘Oh, coffee?’