Talking with the Eagle Cliff Beach babes. They are true blue Bowen locals with unobstructed views. They bring their own lawn chairs and vodka coolers onto the end of the dock. They know how to prop an umbrella up just so between the wooden slats. They are prepared to hang out all day under the sun and watch the children paw at floating logs and fish for mud sharks. I am particularly fond of D. She’s probably in her mid sixties, rocking a floral one piece with a skirt. She always dips in the ocean with her water noodle wrapped around her middle and her sunglasses on, in search of the warm spot. What causes warm spots? I imagine an octopus just peed there. Childish, I know, but it never ceases to secretly amuse me when she announces, “ooh, here’s a warm one!” D is delightful. She knows how to make a passion flower vine crawl all the way up her balcony rail and bloom bodacious. I bought one too. She inspired me. My first passion died and the second one is still alive but stunted. I’m happily married enough to not take that as any kind of omen.
I am new to Bowen. I have earned my right to be here though. We kicked in money for the yearly community docks upkeep and Scott helped with repair in the spring and I worked a volunteer shift at the recycling depot for beer can keeps. This beach is super friendly and welcoming. (not like the snobs – apparently – at Hood Point…) But I don’t fit in yet. I do not have a lawn chair. No cooler. No umbrella. Not even sunglasses. Nope. I have a saggy assed bikini thinning with salt and a German tourist across from me pulling off a Speedo. And I don’t mean he pulls it off as a fashion statement, I mean literally, he’s pulling it off. I am glad my daughter is swimming and doesn’t catch his towel slip. It is a wrinkled but firm and tanned Euro bum and it tells me he often sunbathes in the nude.
We chat about the things we’ve seen out on the sea, the ladies and I. K generously offers me a vodka soda from her cooler. Peach. This is an alcoholic beverage I would never ever think to drink but it is so kind of her to offer and the day is so hot – I eagerly accept, “Oh, yes please!”
I have only seen the usual things on the water: seals, orcas…today a buoy was adrift and somehow this was connected to somebody losing out on their prawns… I don’t have the right terminology. I’m still learning about all this boat and tackle speak. K pipes up, “What about the polyamorous yoga?”
I raise my eyebrows.
D, “Oh yes, I remember that! I thought he was with the blonde and then he goes over and kisses the brunette.”
I am thinking binoculars may be involved in this conversation.
K “My husband thought he was with the brunette but I said I think the brunette is with the blonde AND with him.”
D “And then they all started doing the stretches and poses while making out.”
I am listening. I am not entirely understanding where and how this happens at sea but it all sounds a bit too flexible to me.
K: laughing That’s nothing. You remember that sailboat with the man tied up naked to the mast?!
What?!
D: Oh yes, and a woman was striking him with a whip over and over, yelling at him. You could hear her all up and down the Sound.
Some dominatrix thing?
K: The boys took the boat out and did a circle to get a look. Each to their own pleasure I suppose.
And I thought it was something when I saw a humpback whale.
The gals continue to buzz buzz buzz. They crack me up. I chat with Mr Berlin bum for a while about Germany’s jazz and theatre and he talks for a while about the West coast mountains and trees. He’s cool. His wife was on the dock earlier rocking a bikini, also in her sixties. Her belly told me they’ve had a couple of kids together. They made each other laugh as they sat and chatted in German on the dock, also sans lawn chair. At one point she sang him a little song and pretended to throw him in. I like how he kissed her so lovingly when she decided she was getting out of the heat. They’re enjoying their retirement.
I phone my fellow, he’s in his car heading from the RMT clinic to a night shift out in Surrey. I feel a bit guilty. I’m sitting out on the breezy dock with a vodka peach and he’s sitting in a hot Toyota with no air-conditioning, pulling a 24. We discuss what our financial advisor laid out regarding pulling equity now to do a reno: rising interest rates, re-mortgaging penalties…do we really need a new roof now? Won’t it last a couple more years? Is the deck dangerous or can we just reinforce it? The bathrooms are old and ugly but it’s no big deal, I don’t mind, do you? If we just get some new taps…we can talk about it later…it’s okay. No, I’m not disappointed…I’m relieved. I don’t think either of us are the kind of people to spend a lot of money that we don’t necessarily have…let’s wait…and plan thoroughly…I’m on the same page, honey…okay, talk to you later I’m at the station…
My girl and her pal Violet are jumping in and out of the ocean, two little nymphs. My daughter is now as tall as me, slender, tanned, perfect and oblivious to her breath-taking beauty. K has a daughter of a similar age and we shake our heads that this is the first time we’ve seen each other all year. Her girl plays ringette and mine does tap dance…our weekends are busy, chauffeuring around. We commiserate over the West coast dilemma. You pay the extra money to live here so you work the extra hours and then you haven’t got the time to enjoy the surroundings you’re paying so dearly for. Yup.
“And I only have five summers left” I say.
K’s cheerful fresh face falls into sadness. “I know. Hard to believe. But it’s true. Already friends are becoming a priority, and activities in town – ”
“Soon the summer jobs and the boyfriends and girlfriends…”
“These are the precious days, I have to remember that. I have to protect that.”
We stare out a bit misty eyed at our kids splashing away, doing somersaults into the green water. K tells me about a holiday their whole family is going to be taking together for their parent’s anniversary. It might be the last one – as some of the nephews are now in their twenties. It’s costly but it’s worth it. Taking time off. Traveling together. Staying here, hanging out on the beach. Making those memories.
Later at the house the girls dance and play and I make my daughter’s favourite pasta with my new le Crueset dutch oven. (oh how my husband knows me and loves me, good birthday present!) Nora says, after hugging me, curling into my ample bosom, “Mom, I’ll never be as old as you. And I’ll never be as thick as you.” She flounces off, but then calls out, assuringly as I stand there a bit empty armed, thick and stunned, “I mean that as a compliment.”
Um…how?
“Well, I obviously don’t have your figure and I like your figure. I’ll probably never be as curvy as you. And you should just say thank you and believe me when I say I think you’re beautiful.”
Well, thank you honey. Perhaps next time, a better choice of words? Old and thick…?
“Curvy is what I mean! Curvy and mature! I’m just a girl and I’m a stick!”
I like curvy. That’s a good word. We laugh. She floats up the stairs light as dandelion fluff.
I write to my Fellow while he’s on shift. I know he wants this house done. I know the “to do” list is weighing on him. I know he wants me to feel comfortable in a home with storage and new cupboards that I can keep clean. Oh don’t we all. Don’t we all have a list with a hundred things… I look out at the ocean. What do I see? It’s night time now. The moon is full and astonishing. It leaves a wedding dress train of lacy white along the water. It whispers to me of bigger delicate things.
Let’s not touch our mortgage. Let’s leave it. Leave it all. Who cares about the house? Let’s just be with each other, with the kids. Let’s spend time swimming. Let’s go on holiday. Let’s keep our sense of family renewed.
“I love you, Bella.”
“I love you too. Hope you get some sleep tonight and there aren’t too many calls.”
And so, we take care of each other. We tuck ourselves back in to where we belong. This feels much more like us. One small thing at a time. He’ll finish sanding the kitchen ceiling and put up the light and maybe my spice rack. I’ll downsize the office and see if I can deal with the mess of shoes by the door in a way that doesn’t require a new porch. He’ll finish the trim on the chicken coop and put a roof on the canoe rack. I’ll keep planning my dream kitchen as I collect it one le Crueset pot at a time.
