Trick of the Light

by Fiona McCallum

  The only thing that consoled her was that he didn’t seem to mind his situation too much or, if he did, he didn’t complain loudly enough or within Erica’s hearing. And the other thing, of course, was he wasn’t suffering from any major physical ailments or pain beyond the usual age-related issues. Unlike Stuart.

  They’d discussed euthanasia during his lowest moments and thankfully he hadn’t asked her – even as a joke. Not that it was something to joke about, but Stuart sometimes could have a dark sense of humour. Thankfully he’d never said, ‘Shoot me now or please put me out of my misery.’ She thought perhaps he was protecting her by instead extolling the virtue of the opioid drugs he was on at times – a little too enthusiastically, in Erica’s opinion, as if he was faking his bravado. He’d been so incredibly brave. The man who’d hopped around the house swearing and limping for days after simply stubbing his toe had endured his own body ravaging itself from the inside with only a grimace and comment that it might be time for his next dose of pain medication. It was knowing how courageous he was being for her and the girls that had caused her the most tears, the biggest ache. That and seeing the glint in his gorgeous big brown eyes gradually dimming and then being extinguished.

  ‘Did your girls get off okay, Erica?’ she heard Doris ask quietly, most likely being careful not to cause Erica’s hand against her eye to jolt. She forced her attention back to the present. She really hoped her client hadn’t said anything else and she’d missed it in her rude lack of focus.

  ‘Oh yes. And so far, so good. I’m getting regular updates via text and online.’

  ‘Isn’t all the technology marvellous? Back in my day we had to deal with phone boxes and terrible connections. And the cost. I was only allowed to phone home once every few weeks and if my parents weren’t there it was too bad – no answer machines. Incredible that we all survived, really!’

  ‘Yes,’ Erica agreed. ‘It’s certainly different now – even from when I went overseas.’

  ‘It’s hard to remember what it was like before. Though we were a lot more resourceful generally as a society, I think,’ Doris said. ‘Had to nut things out, not just pull up an app. My grandson couldn’t even tell me which direction was which the other day. The good with the bad, I suppose.’

  ‘Yes,’ Erica said.

  ‘I bet you miss your girls.’

  ‘I sure do. The house seems so empty without them.’

  ‘When mine left home it was like they took the soul of my home with them – it didn’t feel at all like the same cosy place without them. The same house, yes, but not quite the home it was.’

  ‘Yes, that’s exactly how it is,’ Erica said sadly. Though I still want to tuck myself up and never leave … ‘So, what did you do? To, you know, feel better,’ Erica said, pausing and looking at Doris.

  ‘Packed up and went on my own trip! I wasn’t missing out on all the fun! After I’d wallowed for far too long, that is. Also, I downsized. I knew they would never be back permanently. Of course, it’s not like that these days. They seem to stay home until much later. They need to with everything being so expensive now.’

  ‘Hmm,’ Erica said, and got back to work.

  ‘I’m sure yours will be back before you know it,’ Doris whispered a few moments later. And then Erica felt a warm bony hand on hers. ‘It’ll be okay, dear,’ Doris said, looking into Erica’s eyes.

  ‘I’m so sorry, I’m not quite with it today.’

  ‘As long as my face doesn’t look like a clown’s, I don’t mind at all.’

  ‘You look perfectly presentable, I can assure you,’ Erica said. ‘All finished. See,’ she said, taking the small mirror from the counter and holding it up in front of Doris.

  ‘Thank you so much.’

  ‘It’s always my pleasure, Doris. Would you like to book in for the same time next week?’ Erica asked, going around the counter and retrieving her appointment book from underneath.

  ‘Yes, please.’

  ‘Enjoy your lunch.’

  ‘I will, dear. It’s the highlight of my week – that and seeing you beforehand, of course.’

  ‘You’re far too kind. Take care and see you soon.’

  ‘Thank you. You too. Not too much moping, mind,’ Doris said, and gave Erica a wink.

  Erica watched Doris thread her way through the space towards the exit, completely ignored by the perfume pushers, who stayed back against their counters. Perhaps they thought their products unsuitable to the old woman or else they were worried for their safety with the walking stick swinging in step with Doris’s strong gait.

  Erica really hoped it wasn’t because women of a certain age were suddenly invisible. She wasn’t sure when that kicked in.

  Chapter Seven

  Erica came back from her lunch break to find her appointment book open and a new entry for later that afternoon – Kayla – and a sticky note from Rebecca across the way to tell her she had made the booking on Erica’s behalf. Rebecca only worked half days so she was already gone. Kayla. Is it the same Kayla?

  Erica’s thoughts went to Matt. She felt bad for turning him down – not being more helpful. She’d had some really lucky breaks and introductions all those years ago so really should be paying it forwards, as the saying went. Or no, paying it back by paying it forwards would be more correct, wouldn’t it? She smiled as she pictured Mackenzie saying, ‘Muuum,’ in that exasperated way that she did, complete with eye-roll – always an eye-roll – when she thought her mother was being obtuse. Erica found meanings, slang and lingo and what was cool and what was not seemed to change so quickly these days. Invariably, it would be just when Erica congratulated herself on knowing this or that she’d receive a swift reminder from Mackenzie – or, very rarely, Issy – that sent her right back to feeling positively ancient. And then, just like a really old person, she’d succumb to her exasperation and remind Mackenzie that she had taught the child to use cutlery. Sometimes Issy chimed in and added, And to clean our bums, huh, Mum? And chances were Mackenzie would then dissolve into a series of gagging noises. Ah, Issy, she thought fondly. Issy was always her defender. God, I miss you guys. Their fighting and other antics had nearly driven Erica mad at times, now she longed for them to be right there sniping at each other. She was glad their text messages indicated they were loving their trip, though a part of her wouldn’t have minded a teary phone call saying someone was homesick or missed her. Or just wanted to hear her voice. To feel wanted. Loved. To feel like a mum. And then she told herself off for being a grizzly-guts – a favourite saying in the Tolmer household growing up – and feeling sorry for herself. And for expecting too much. She couldn’t change the goal posts now, and certainly couldn’t expect the girls to be able to read her mind and do so either. They’ve been gone less than a week, Erica: buck up, she told herself, trying to conjure up her dad’s voice. Which only made her sadder. Bloody hell. Oh, to be home, snuggled up, free of makeup and indulging in a good weep …

  ‘Hiya.’

  Erica looked up to find Kayla, Matt’s Kayla, standing in front of her. Today she seemed surer of herself – standing a little taller and straighter, and her hair tied back away from her pixie features.

  ‘Hi, Kayla. I wondered if you were the Kayla I met on Friday,’ she said, smiling.

  ‘Yes, ’tis I,’ Kayla said brightly.

  ‘Have you seen Matt?’ Erica found herself asking. She wasn’t sure why.

  ‘Er, yeah. We live together.’

  ‘Oh, right. Of course.’ Is he okay? No, you can’t ask that. And you’re making a mountain out of a molehill. Let it go.

  In front of her, Kayla frowned slightly before saying, ‘He’s really disappointed you wouldn’t help.’

  ‘I know. And I’m really sorry. I just can’t.’

  ‘Yeah. Whatever. Anyway …’ Kayla looked expectantly at Erica.

  ‘Yes. Sorry, I’m a little distracted today. Take a seat.’ As Kayla shuffled her way onto the stool, Erica wondered if Kayla’s whatever was genuine dis
missiveness or a sign of annoyance and if her being there had anything to do with Matt and his aspirations. She tightened her shoulders, just in case. Kayla was booked in to have her makeup done, but she might just have said that to Rebecca. Erica also wondered why she was bothered at all. What is it about Kayla that bugs me? Maybe because she reminds me of the girls and how much I miss them. Maybe it isn’t Kayla, but just her youthfulness. Erica mentally shook herself and tried to regain focus, be professional. Kayla was there to have her makeup done.

  ‘Don’t worry, I’m not wanting scars, or bruises, or any of that,’ Kayla said before Erica had a chance to trot out her standard spiel asking what look she was going for. ‘Proper makeup, please. I’m surprising Matt with cooking dinner. Date night.’

  ‘That’s lovely. Do you want me to talk through what I’m doing so you can replicate it at home?’ This level of instruction she was absolutely fine with.

  ‘Nah, that’s okay. I can do it.’

  It was on the tip of Erica’s tongue to ask her why she was paying to have someone do it, then, but she swallowed the words. She’d never ask a client this ordinarily – it didn’t matter. So why was her professionalism suddenly going out the window? Was it her or was it somehow Kayla, with her strangely intense and then shifting gaze, that was unsettling her? And if so, why? She’d had plenty of intense, highly strung people in the chair before and was rarely the slightest bit rattled – just concentrated on their features, as if they were a canvas, and on getting the job done while being pleasant but swift. Plenty of people just liked to use the time to be quiet and still. At beauty school one of Erica’s favourite parts was sitting having someone else do her makeup, so she got it. And she was usually reasonably good at reading people and knowing if they wanted to chat – unload, get an unbiased opinion on a situation they were dealing with or just some friendly banter about a prominent social or political issue. Erica had had everything crop up during her career so was difficult to surprise these days. As she studied Kayla’s features to decide how she’d work on this particular piece of blank canvas, she realised with a start that Kayla’s dark brown eyes were cold, like dull little black pebbles you might pick up off a beach. Perhaps it was just the way the light was catching them.

  ‘Is there any particular look you’re after?’

  ‘No, just make me look, you know, attractive.’

  ‘Oh, you don’t need me for that, Kayla, you already are.’ The well-used phrase slid automatically off Erica’s tongue.

  ‘Thanks,’ Kayla muttered barely audibly. Or maybe she’d said something else. Scathing, maybe? Erica wasn’t sure and as she turned slightly to pluck a face wipe from the container on the counter wondered if she’d been treated to an eye-roll while she wasn’t looking.

  ‘So, are you studying, too? You didn’t say the other day,’ Erica said as she got to work, suddenly a little concerned she hadn’t really given Kayla the full experience in terms of her attention. But then she reminded herself that Kayla had said that session was about Matt. She also cursed forgetting to ask if Kayla would like to put her bags down behind the counter. Perhaps if she didn’t have them to clutch quite so tightly to her she might relax …

  ‘Kind of. I’m taking a break from uni. I’m meant to be studying psychology, but …’ she said, and shrugged.

  ‘Is that what your parents want you to do?’

  ‘Yeah. I think they think it’ll help somehow.’

  ‘Help?’

  ‘Help me understand me. What they don’t understand is I’m not the one who needs to understand. They do.’

  ‘Oh. Right.’

  ‘They’re both doctors,’ Kayla said with a knowing look. ‘I’m not bright enough, apparently.’

  Erica almost said, Oh, I’m sure that’s not … before reminding herself she knew nothing about this young person in front of her. How the bloody hell would I know? And patronising her won’t help anyone. She was glad when Kayla spoke again before the silence stretched too far.

  ‘I don’t reckon it’d be for me, anyway,’ Kayla added, and Erica was grateful for the shift in the direction of the conversation.

  ‘Too long hitting the books? The blood?’ she said.

  ‘Nah, too many rules.’

  Erica found herself grinning. ‘Fair enough.’

  ‘Same with psychology, to some extent, but …’ Another shrug.

  ‘Is there something else you’d rather be doing? Because sometimes it can take a while to find your niche. Life’s too short to spend doing something you don’t truly love.’

  ‘Like you, you mean?’

  Ouch, Erica thought more in response to Kayla’s tone than to her actual words. ‘No, I’ve loved my life. Working here and being a mother are both very rewarding,’ she said, trying not to sound defensive.

  ‘But you still pine for your lost or not pursued career, though.’ It wasn’t really a question. Erica felt a little jolt run through her as she looked into the girl’s piercing eyes: they seemed downright mean now. Her face had an air of nonchalance, but her eyes were saying something else. What? Erica dismissed it as young person’s defiance. The not wanting to be told anything. The chip so many seemed to have on their shoulders when not everything was handed to them on a platter. Entitlement, Erica thought, remembering Kayla saying her parents were both doctors. And then told herself off for her judgment.

  ‘Well, sometimes life doesn’t go the way you thought it might. And that’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with changing your mind and taking a different direction. As long as you’re happy.’

  ‘Tell yourself whatever you want to make yourself feel better.’

  ‘Sorry?’ Erica was as little stunned by what she’d heard and also genuinely unsure she had actually heard what she thought she had. But the tight set of the younger woman’s lips told her she had heard correctly. But also, that the words quite probably had not been directed at her specifically. Erica wondered – a little meanly – if Kayla had got as far as projection in her psychology course before she’d quit.

  ‘Look what you’re doing – you’re doing makeup in David Jones.’ The words might have been You’re picking up chewing gum off people’s shoes, for goodness’ sake for all the warmth they were issued with.

  A big part of Erica was annoyed by the conversation and her part in instigating it, and that she’d been drawn in. Another part of her couldn’t help respecting Kayla’s forthrightness. And as her mum and dad had both said almost daily while they were still compos mentis, It takes all kinds to make the world.

  ‘Well, we’re each on our own journey. Sorry, I didn’t ask you what colour you wanted for your eyes,’ Erica said, smiling politely, having prepared Kayla’s face.

  ‘Whatever you reckon.’

  ‘What are you wearing for your date – I mean, what colour. If you’ve decided already, that is.’

  ‘Oh yes. Here. I just got it.’ Kayla rummaged in the shopping bag on her lap and brought out a floral top in multi-tones that was pretty but Erica didn’t think was quite Kayla. Though, again, she cursed her snap judgments. She’d seen the girl twice. But, twice, she’d been dressed in plain black T-shirt, black skinny jeans and black Doc Marten boots. Her spiky hair suited her look, too.

  ‘Gorgeous,’ Erica said. ‘And gives me a lot to work with,’ she added, looking from the top to Kayla and back again.

  As Erica worked, mainly in silence, Kayla seemed to relax. Erica was taking extra time in the hope she would, and it seemed to work.

  When she was finished and holding up the mirror, the girl was beaming and her eyes looked friendly. Though Erica’s careful work in softening her look had helped, too.

  ‘Great,’ Kayla said, barely giving herself a glance before dragging her backpack onto her lap and then holding out a credit card.

  Erica searched for something to say and only just caught herself in time from uttering Matt will love it or Matt will love all the effort you’ve gone to. What a woman did to or for herself should be for her, not to imp
ress anyone else. These reminders, catching herself, like this, always made her feel old. Usually she was quite good with keeping on top of old ideas, but it must be her tiredness causing her to slip. Thankfully she’d managed to raise Mackenzie and Issy to dress for themselves. Be themselves.

  ‘I hope the cooking goes well and you and Matt enjoy your date night,’ Erica said, handing Kayla her receipt.

  ‘We’ll see,’ Kayla said.

  She smiled back at Kayla’s cute expression and the gleam in her eyes, which Erica’s mum would have described as proving her a proper little madam. Erica felt an urge to point out, and again managed to stop herself just in time, how pretty Kayla was when she smiled like that. So bloody patronising! And old!

  ‘Have fun,’ Erica said as she waved Kayla off after she’d vacated the chair and hoisted her small backpack over her shoulder. As she looked after her, she experienced a strong sense of longing to have Mackenzie and Issy there to translate for her whether the young woman was a bit socially awkward or arrogant, or something else.

  Erica left work right on the dot of five-thirty, which didn’t go by unnoticed by Louisa, who made a point of checking her watch and raising her eyebrows. In response, Erica waved her hand and smiled while cursing behind her teeth. What was it with Louisa? Bossy cow.

  Alastair joined her as she made her way past his station. ‘Hot date? Not like you to leave right on time, darling.’

  ‘Something like that,’ Erica said, matching his cagey tone. ‘I have a bottle of pinot with my name on it,’ she said, surprised at how easily the lie slipped out. The truth was she’d already drunk all the remaining bottles of wine in the house and buying more was too much of a luxury to contemplate. She missed her evening tipple.

  ‘Enjoy your night.’

  ‘You too.’

  ***