Learning to Love Louise

Louise laughed. "I did a similar thing when I was about four. Mum's younger sister was pregnant, and Mum and Dad had explained to me that she was going to have a baby. Some new neighbors moved in and they came over to say hello. I took a look at the lady's big stomach and yelled out, 'You've got a baby in your tummy like my aunty!' and as it turned out she was just fat."

"Oh no," said Paul, cringing and laughing at the same time.

"It must be a genetic thing or karma," said Louise. "A couple of years ago I was with Tyler and Josh in the city, and we were walking down the Rundle Street Mall. Suddenly Josh stopped, pointed and yelled out, 'Hey Mum, look at that big fat pig!' He was pointing at one of the pig statues in the mall, but standing next to the statue was this guy who weighed about 200 kilos, eating a large jam and cream doughnut. If looks could kill. I just took one boy by each arm and got out of there as fast as I could."

Paul laughed and smiled. "That beats what happened in the post office."

Louise nodded in affirmation. "And that's not even the worst. Another time we were in the supermarket, and in the queue for the checkouts. Tyler looked into the trolley of this elderly couple next to us and called out, 'Hey Mum, these really old people are buying the same toilet paper that you use!'"

"Is that one of those times you wanted to vanish?" Paul asked.

"Definitely," said Louise. "The old couple looked like they had been eating lemons and walked away talking about 'bad mothers' and 'proper upbringing', while glaring at me." Louise shook her head. "Unfortunately, that wasn't the first time or last time for something like that happening. I've lost count of the number of times somebody has called the house and one of my sons has answered the call and informed the person I can't come to the phone because I'm on the toilet."

Paul smiled. "Thank must be very awkward when you return the call."

"Yes, very much so," said Louise. "And when my sons aren't embarrassing me verbally, they're doing it in writing at school. One time, Tyler wrote this story about how I'd taken him and his brother to a bar on the weekend, and I'd had a lot to drink. It was actually a coffee bar and I'd drank a lot of iced tea and water because it was hot, but try explaining that to the school. Another time I was really sick with a migraine, and Mum had to come over and take care of me and the boys. Josh wrote a story -- a very detailed story -- about how many times I'd thrown up. He even drew a picture -- again very detailed -- of his grandmother holding his mother's head over a bucket while she was vomiting. I hate to think what the school must think of our family." Paul laughed. "I've met some interesting families over the years. There was one girl in some of my classes, and I always wondered why she was the way she was. Then on parent-teacher night I found out. Her whole dysfunctional family -- mother, father, sisters, and brothers -- showed up, and walked around yelling at each other at the tops of their voices. They went through the refreshments table like a swarm of locusts and devoured most of it, and what these bogans didn't eat then they put into containers to take away and devour at home later. They even brought along two enormous, vicious dogs with them." Louise raised her eyebrows in disbelief and Paul said, "It's true I swear, they didn't even have the dogs on leads."

"You must have some challenging kids at times," said Louise, as they finished their game and walked to the restaurant.

"Definitely," said Paul. "One time, I think they rounded up all the problem kids in Year 10 into one class and decided I was going to teach them their favorite subject of all, history. I thought the best way to handle them was to be funny, so I was making jokes about me being 'square' and how it was going to be 'swell' learning about all these historical events and people. It was like one of those situations where you get a terrible stand-up comedian and a humorless audience. All I could see was about 30 teenagers just glaring at me, not a single smile. If they'd had fruit and vegetables, I think they would have thrown them at me."

Louise shook with laughter. "I wish I had seen that. Poor you."

With the pensioners now seated, Paul and Louise were shown to a table quickly and handed menus. "I'm having a great time tonight Paul," said Louise.

"Me too," said Paul. "I'll be honest with you, I've been wanting to ask you out for ages, but I could never work up the courage until Thursday."

"I'm glad you did," said Louise.

"I should thank Tyler and Josh," said Paul. "If they hadn't kicked the football onto my roof, I still might never have taken the chance."

Taking a sip of water Louise said, "Actually, about Thursday there was something I wanted to ask you, nothing big but just something that puzzled me a little bit."

"Go ahead," said Paul, but before Louise could answer a waiter came over with some garlic bread, and asked if they wanted to hear the evening's specials.

"You were saying?" Paul asked Louise when the young man had gone on his way.

"Sorry?" asked Louise.

"You were going to ask me something, before the waiter came over."

"Oh yes, that's right." Louise thought, a puzzled look on her face. "It's slipped my mind, oh well, I guess it can't have been very important."

The pleasant evening continued as Paul and Louise were served their main course, the pair finding that conversation between them flowed easily with no awkward silences. They discovered a remarkable coincidence in that they had worked part time jobs in the same shopping center as teenagers, although not in the same store nor at the same time given Paul was three years older than Louise. Paul was glad Louise didn't once mention her ex-husband Simon, as talking about exes was always awkward on a date, especially a first date.

The waiter cleared their plates and handed them dessert menus. "Normally I try and avoid sweets, but the food is so nice here I don't think I'll be able to resist," said Louise.

Paul grinned. "Yeah, me too. Although I always feel so guilty afterwards when I blow my diet."

Louise watched as another table were served their dessert. "They give generous serves here, I don't think I could eat a full serve anyway. How about we order something we can share? Then we only feel half as guilty."

"I'm in," said Paul.

Louise looked at the menu. "The strawberry pancakes look nice."

Paul's reply was terse. "You want to order the strawberry pancakes?" Louise looked up, unsure as to why Paul's manner had abruptly changed, and felt even more disquiet as she took in his appearance. Paul sat rigidly in his seat staring directly ahead, his facial expression ashen and drained.

"Paul, is everything okay?" the concerned Louise asked. No reply was forthcoming, Paul continued to stare directly into space, his eyes unblinking. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Louise's dismay was growing by the second as Paul sat staring blankly ahead, not blinking once. "Paul, you've got me really worried now. Did I do or say something wrong? Please tell me."

In a flat, monotone voice Paul said, "It's not you, it's me. I can't be here. I'm sorry, Louise." He stood up abruptly, took his wallet out of his pocket and removed two 50 dollar notes, placing them on the table. "This will cover the bill and then some."

Continuing to stare blankly ahead, Paul turned and walked in a stiff and robotic manner towards the front doors. Louise jumped up from her seat and followed him. "Paul, come back and we can talk about this," she said, but Paul simply continued on his way, oblivious to her and everybody else.

Flustered, hurt and upset Louise returned to the table with other patrons staring at her as she puzzled over how a date with a man she knew to be good and kind had turned so bad so quickly and so inexplicably. Getting her purse and the money Paul had left, she glanced outside and saw him reverse his car out of its space before driving away. Louise had absolutely idea what had set off this bizarre ending to their date, but she knew that it must be something serious.

*

Paul drove home, his eyes staring directly ahead and unblinking. Putting his car away, he walked to his front door with the same robotic gait and went inside. Taking off his shirt, trousers, socks and shoes, Paul cast them to one corner of his bedroom and lay on his bed wearing only his underpants, staring blankly at the ceiling. His cat Missy came and lay beside him but Paul paid his pet no attention, just as he paid no attention when he heard Louise return home next door. He continued to lie on the bed staring at the ceiling as the numbers on his clock radio continued to change throughout the night.

Eventually Paul fell asleep around 2.30, but awoke two hours later, resuming staring at the ceiling for close to an hour before rising. Pulling on shorts and a tee-shirt and running shoes, he fed Missy, then collected his keys and made for his car. Like the previous night, the downcast Paul drove robotically south to the city, then made for the bayside suburb of Glenelg. Parking his car, Paul shambled down the path adjacent to the beach and took in his surroundings.

It was a beautiful dawn, and the start of a magnificent Sunday for the South Australian capital. An early morning breeze blew from the Southern Ocean delivering the smell of the sea into the suburb, and Paul walked along the Glenelg jetty. He stared blankly at the deep blue ocean with the waves rolling in to the shore, then turned back to look at the high rise buildings, shops and tall Norfolk Island pines that dominated the Glenelg beachfront.

Shambling back down the jetty, Paul could see that people were out and about cycling, running and walking, others enjoying the sights. Paul hardly saw them at all as with the same blank expression he made his way to Glenelg's main pedestrian mall near the tram stop. An empty soft drink can was on the ground, and Paul kicked it around aimlessly for close to 15 minutes before a male voice cut into his thoughts. "Paul?"

Paul turned to see a couple aged in their late 60s standing nearby watching him. The husband, tall, balding and with a grey beard and the wife, tall and slim with gray bobbed hair, stood with concerned expressions on their faces.

Forgetting about the can, Paul managed to put a smile on his face and went over to the couple. "Bill, Pat, how are you both?" he asked, shaking hands with both of them.

"Fine thanks," said Pat uncertainly, looking at the younger man whose smile was about the least convincing she had seen.

"How about you Paul? Are you okay?" Bill asked.

"Yeah, I'm good," said Paul, Bill and Pat exchanging a glance, neither convinced by this.

"Pat and I are going to have coffee," said Bill. "There's a really nice shop around the corner that opened last year. How about you join us?"

"Um, no thanks, I don't want to intrude," said Paul.

"Paul, we'd really like for you to join us," Pat assured him. "It's been ages since we've seen you, we'd love to catch up."

"Yes, it has been a while hasn't it?" said Paul.

"Way too long," said Bill. "We insist."

"Okay then, thanks," said Paul, accompanying Bill and Pat to the coffee shop.

Going inside, a young waitress greeted Bill and Pat, and showed them and Paul to their table.

"So, how are things at the moment, Paul?" Pat asked.

Paul shrugged. "Fine I guess, busy educating kids. They aren't going to educate themselves. Well, I guess you could try leaving it up to them, but I don't think it would work." Paul laughed possibly the least convincing laugh, and his unhappy expression returned immediately afterwards.

The silence at the table was awkward and Paul said, "So how is retirement going?"

"Good thanks," said Bill as they were served their coffees. With Paul hardly a fountain of conversation this morning, Bill and Pat talked about what they were doing with their retirement, such as a cruise in the Pacific and hiring a motor home and driving from Adelaide to Cairns and back. Paul attempted to be polite but could not hide his morose expression and most of the time was only able to respond in monosyllables.

When it came time to leave, Paul had barely drank two sips of coffee, and trailed his hosts. He took out his wallet, but Bill stopped him. "This is our treat, Paul," he said paying the account and he and Pat wishing the cashier a good day. Paul said nothing as they went outside and walked back down the street to the park near the beach front.

"Well, don't be a stranger Paul, keep in touch," said Bill as he and Pat prepared to leave.

"Yes, we'd love to see you more often," said Pat.

"Yeah I will," said Paul. "Thanks for the coffee, and again I'm really sorry about well, you know."

Bill and Pat exchanged a concerned look. "Paul, come and sit over here with us," said Bill, he and Pat leading Paul to an empty rotunda and sitting him down on a bench, the older couple sitting one each side of him.

"We knew you weren't with it this morning the moment we saw you," said Bill. "Every time you saw us years ago you would apologize, but you haven't done that for ages. Not that you ever had anything to apologize for then or now."

Paul stared morosely out to sea. "I have plenty to apologize for. I was the one who brought your daughter here that day. I was the one who didn't react in time. If only I'd been a second faster when she fell she wouldn't have hit her head on the concrete, and would still be alive today."

"No Paul, no she wouldn't, the coroner said so in the report," said Pat. "You know that."

"All I know is that because of me, instead of attending your daughter's wedding you got to attend her funeral instead," said Paul miserably.

"Paul what happened, it wasn't your fault," said Bill. "It wasn't anybody's fault. Jane had a brain aneurism, she died instantly. Even if you had caught her there was nothing that you could have done. You did everything possible to save her. There was a nurse passing by, a doctor ran out of his surgery and there was an ambulance there in two minutes. Even if the world's leading brain surgeon had been there that very moment, he couldn't have done anything either."

Paul had heard similar words in the past, and while he knew they were true sought out his other source of self-blame, any possibility of preventing Jane's death beforehand. "Jane always suffered from migraines, I should have taken her to see a doctor."

"Paul, Jane's migraines had nothing to do with her brain aneurism," said Pat. "She didn't have migraines all the time, just on some occasions when she had her period. It was always the case, ever since she was a girl. You know that. Nobody knew that Jane had an aneurism, and even if we had, there was nothing that could have been done about it where it was located in her brain."

"Paul, we know how much you and Jane loved each other," said Bill. "But Jane has been gone nearly 16 years now. You can't spend your life blaming yourself for something that wasn't your fault. You need to move forward. I know that's what Jane would want you to do."

"I tried," said Paul. "Last night I went out on a date with my neighbor Louise, the first time I've dated anyone since Jane died. It was all going so well, until one little minor, stupid thing happened that reminded me of Jane and I fell apart. I froze, and then just ran out."

"Maybe if you spoke to Louise and explained to her about Jane she would understand?" Pat suggested.

"I don't think Louise will ever speak to me again," said Paul, shaking his head in despair. "So much for moving on. How do you both cope? And Tim and Laura? You're all so much stronger than me."

"Paul, it isn't a matter of being strong," said Bill. "We all miss Jane, we miss her every day. She was kind, caring, intelligent, beautiful, and the sweetest girl you could ever meet, the perfect daughter. We often ask why that should happen to her. For years after, Pat and I couldn't stand to have her photographs around the house, or her hockey trophies or other things from her childhood on display so they went into a box. Then after some time we thought about how sad Jane would be if she could see our house, it would be like she had been forgotten so we took these items out of storage and try to think of pleasant memories of her."

Bill swallowed hard, the sadness of speaking about his late daughter evident in his face. "It's the same as where we are now. For the longest time we avoided coming to Glenelg, a place we love so much, but time went by and we started coming back."

"Some things are harder than others," said Pat. "We love spending time with Tim and Laura, but when they're both together at the same time it always reminds us that one of our kids isn't there. We love Tim and Laura's kids, our grandchildren, more than we can say but again at times we think about how if Jane had lived you would probably have had kids the same age now. But sometimes small things give you reassurance. Jane's organs went to four different patients, so she helped save four lives."

"Tim and Laura had their own struggles when Jane passed away," said Bill. "Tim especially, given he and Jane were twins. For years, he couldn't stand to celebrate his birthday as his twin sister was gone. But last year, we had a small family celebration for his, and what would have obviously been Jane's 40th birthday."

Pat looked at Paul. "We sent you an invitation, but we never heard back from you."

Paul shook his head. "Sorry, I should have responded. I just couldn't face it."

"And we understand that," said Pat. "People cope with things in different ways. When Laura got a tattoo in memory of her older sister, Bill and I were horrified at first, we thought it was morbid. But if it helps Laura, and brings her peace of mind, then that's the important thing."

"It seems you still struggle at times," said Bill. "I know how hard it was for you especially. You and Jane were childhood sweethearts, soulmates if you like and losing her so suddenly just two weeks before your wedding was downright cruel. I know you refused at the time, and I hope you don't mind me suggesting it now, but maybe if you spoke to somebody like a counsellor it might help."

Paul shook his head. "No thanks. I have to deal with it on my own."

"You aren't on your own Paul," Pat assured him. She reached into her purse, took out a pen and a piece of paper and wrote down her and her husband's telephone numbers. "If you need to talk with us, if you're feeling down we're only a phone call away."

Paul took the piece of paper. "Thanks," he said.

"We mean that, we hate to see you like this especially after so many years," said Bill. "Are you sure that you'll be okay to drive home?"

Paul nodded. "Yeah, I should be fine."

"Remember, if you need us, please call us," Pat urged the younger man.

"I will," said Paul. "Thanks for everything, I appreciate it."

Paul parted company with Mr. and Mrs. McKinnon who could or should have been his in-laws if only things had been different and drove away from Glenelg. He was in a quandary as he drove home. Half of him wanted to get inside the house he and Jane once shared together so many years ago, yet the other half of him didn't want to go back there. In any case, when Paul did return home he spent a full five minutes sitting in his car, before slowly walking to his front door and going inside.

The house contained three bedrooms. The first Paul obviously used as a bedroom, and the second he used as a study. The door to the third bedroom however remained closed and locked at all times, and it was to this room that Paul made his way now. He opened the door and went inside, the room neat and tidy containing furniture of a desk, two chairs and a wardrobe.

On the wall over the desk was a framed photograph of Jane, the last one ever taken of her, just a week or so before she died. The beautiful young woman with her long dark brown hair hanging loose down past her shoulders smiled for the camera making her prettier than ever, her big brown eyes looking back at the camera.