The Readers of Broken Wheel Recommend (39 page)

Andy had placed a couple of bottles of wine and a row of plastic glasses on the counter. Now he was amusing anyone unlucky enough to be standing anywhere near him with selected stories from Sara's time among them. ‘Her face when we proposed. Terrified or what?' He winked at Josh. ‘But not as terrified as Tom's. Though he was the logical choice. For a while, I thought they'd try to convince me or Carl.' He elbowed Josh. ‘Almost as crazy as picking you, eh?'

Josh gave him a nervous look. He was squashed in between Andy and Grace, a clothes hanger pressing into his back. Caroline was at the other end of the shop. She started every time he came close.

‘I mean, Broken Wheel's pretty tolerant, but people aren't so crazy that they'd go along with that.'

‘Why –' Josh began, but he was interrupted by Jen's rippling laugh.

Sara noticed that Jen had given up trying to get Andy to take the beautiful situation seriously. She crept back to the changing room (a corner, with two scraps of material the only ‘walls') and squeezed out of the utterly catastrophic dress. Well then. The main thing was that it was white. Not even USCSI could demand that she looked nice in the pictures.

‘My God, no,' said Jen. ‘I have to admit that I was thinking about Carl at first. At least he's handsome enough to convince anyone that Sara could have fallen for him in just a couple of weeks.'

‘But no one would've believed that Josh had suddenly fallen in love with a woman.'

‘I don't get why it's so inconceivable that I'd marry a woman,' Josh said, annoyed. ‘There is such a thing as bisexuality, you know.'

Claire and George were standing slightly outside the group. He felt more relaxed than normal, almost self-confident in a simple – ironed – cotton shirt. The top button was undone and the edge of the bright white T-shirt he had on underneath contrasted starkly with his blue shirt. He leaned in to Claire and said, smiling: ‘You might be wondering why I haven't stopped by lately.'

‘No.'

He laughed. ‘Of course, you must've seen her.'

‘Yeah.'

‘Sophy, I meant.'

‘And Michelle.'

‘Yeah … but Sophy is worth it. She's a great girl.' He added, generously: ‘Like Lacey,' but got nothing in response. Claire was staring stubbornly ahead at Tom and Sara with a resolute expression on her face. George shrugged.

While the others were caught up in their own topics of conversation, Sara hung the awful dress back up and started mindlessly rifling through the other options.

She didn't know why she was doing it. Once again, she vowed to talk to Jen about the entire mad plan and call the whole thing off. Then she glanced at Jen's manic smile and eager photographing and shuddered. Just not tonight.

She held up a dress to get a better look at it. It was a dress which didn't seem to have any illusions about love and marriage. Perfect for a fake wedding.

She sighed and hung it back up, but not quickly enough. When she turned around, Tom was standing next to her and she knew that he had seen her there, among the dresses. As though she was still planning on tricking him into marriage.

‘Tom,' she said, placing a hand on his arm before he had time to say anything.

The look between them deepened when she touched him, and something in his eyes softened, as though he was seeing
her
for the first time. She thought about how little people normally expressed with their eyes, and about how much she liked him.

Strangely enough, the realisation wasn't all that shocking at first. She didn't even panic. She simply looked at him, unmoving, and her entire body relaxed in the absolute certainty that she loved him. A calm assertion, just like stating that the Earth was round: there it was, utterly clear, and there was nothing she could do about it. She was certain that this love would lead to problems in the long run, but at that moment, the realisation felt more like a kind of … peace.

And at the very least, it gave her the courage to say: ‘Tom, you aren't going to have to do this.' Her hand was still resting on his arm. ‘I told Jen the whole thing was mad.'

Tom laughed. ‘And she listened to you respectfully and called the whole thing off, of course?'

‘I'll talk to her again.'

‘Sara, I signed the form.'

‘But …' She blinked. ‘Why?'

He shrugged. ‘It's what Amy would've wanted.'

‘It's not right,' she said.

He was only doing it because he had to, she thought.

‘Why not?' he said, nodding towards the rack of dresses in front of them. ‘You've found a dress.'

She pulled a face.

‘And I know for a fact that Jen already spoke to the minister and booked us in for next Saturday.'

‘We might as well go along with it – there's no stopping it now. You can always say no when the minister asks you.'

She was trying to cling to some kind of reality. You couldn't get married for a residency permit. You couldn't go to a foreign country and get married to someone you didn't even know. And you really couldn't force someone else to do it.

She stared at the clothes hangers and the old dresses, as though the tired-looking fabrics or the old-fashioned colours and cuts would keep her grounded.

But all she could see was a precipice.

It was funny, she thought, how often we stuck to the safe path in life, pulling on the blinkers and keeping our eyes to the ground, doing our best not to look at the fantastic view. Without seeing the heights we had reached, the opportunities actually awaiting us out there; without realising we should just jump and fly, at least for a moment.

She had kept well behind the safety barrier her entire life, but now she was standing there, at the edge of the precipice for the very first time, fumbling blindly at the realisation that there were other ways to live, at how intense and rich life could be.

She reacted to the view the same way she would have reacted if she had been standing before an actual precipice. She felt dizzy, had a strong urge to jump, regardless of the consequences; she could imagine how it would feel just to fall, she
wanted
to do it, but felt an equally strong pull back to safety.

You love him
, she thought, but she didn't know whether that was an argument for jumping or backing up.

‘Come on, Sara,' Tom said, as though he could read her thoughts. She really hoped that he couldn't. ‘You want to stay, don't you?'

‘Yes,' she said simply. She looked at him. ‘It's just that I like everyone here so much. And it's the first time in my life I've ever felt like I belong somewhere.' She fell silent. Then she asked: ‘Are you still moving to Hope?' She couldn't help it.

‘I would never have moved,' he said, ‘but I'm starting a job there in a few weeks. It's actually OK.' He shrugged. ‘If we get married, you're not going to have to move with me to Hope,' he said, smiling wryly. ‘But maybe it's best if you move in with me for a while,' he continued. ‘We need to know more about one another. Whether you eat birdseed for breakfast, for example.'

‘Birdseed?' she asked. She was lost.

‘From a movie,' he said. ‘Gérard Depardieu and Andie MacDowell?'

‘Oh,' she said. ‘I haven't seen many movies. I –'

‘Prefer books,' he finished. This time, he was smiling as he said it.

‘So,' said Jen, ‘do you really think Josh is in love with Sara?'

‘Why should he be?' Andy asked.

‘All that talk about being bisexual. I thought it was a bit suspicious.' She filled her plastic glass. ‘He was very animated on the subject.'

‘Has he even been to the bookstore?' Grace wondered.

‘No …' Jen said hesitantly. ‘Not lately.' She raised the bottle of wine for Grace and Andy, who held out their glasses.

‘Exactly,' said Andy.

‘But there's a woman involved somewhere,' Jen persisted. ‘Though maybe not someone in Broken Wheel. The only woman I've seen him with is Caroline.'

Grace and Andy stared at her. ‘Jesus, Jen,' Andy said, adding musingly: ‘They were drinking beer together after the dance. And they did leave together.'

‘Beer?' said Jen. ‘Caroline?'

The three of them automatically looked over to Josh and Caroline. Josh had just placed a hand on Caroline's arm and was laughing at something she had said. She moved her arm away immediately, but it wasn't the touch that bothered them. But laughing at something Caroline had said? Something had to be going on.

‘Maybe he's been drinking …' said Grace.

‘So, you see,' said Jen. Andy wasn't protesting any longer. A worryingly determined look had appeared in his eyes.

The next time Josh passed, Andy grabbed hold of his arm and said: ‘Jen's come up with some interesting theories.'

Josh looked at him calmly. ‘Oh?'

‘Really funny, actually. She thinks you and Caroline are together.'

Josh said nothing.

‘A crazy accusation,' Andy continued. ‘Caroline, of all people.'

‘Mm-hmm.'

‘I knew it wasn't true. All due respect to bisexuality, and to older women as well, but no one could get close to her without getting frostbite. Or without taking a sudden vow of chastity.' He laughed at his own joke, but added in the name of fairness: ‘No, no, I'm assuming that
some
people could have sex with her. She's well preserved, at least. But you? With
Caroline
?'

‘Of course there's nothing going on between me and Caroline,' Josh said tonelessly.

Andy patted him on the arm. ‘Sure, sure,' he said, adding hopefully: ‘And you're sure that she isn't into you? Lots of older women suddenly fall for younger men. I see it happening all the time.'

Josh laughed, but it was completely lacking in humour. ‘I can promise you Caroline isn't the least bit interested in me,' he said.

‘No?' Andy sounded disappointed.

‘No,' said Josh. ‘She's just using me for sex.'

 

 

 

 

Sara Lindqvist

Kornvägen 7, 1 tr

136 38 Haninge

Sweden

Sara!

I've only got one piece of writing paper left so I'll reply to your latest letter in more detail once John has brought me some more, but I just had to write you right away to say that I had Tom taking books down from my bookcases for me all morning. You were right! They smell completely different. What a thing to discover in the autumn of my years! I probably wouldn't manage a blindfold test just yet, but you can bet I'll be practicing. I've already ordered three different kinds of paperback, a photography book and a hardcover novel to see how they smell ‘fresh'.

I must admit, Tom didn't really understand what I was up to. I said it was a tip from ‘my good friend Sara, in Sweden', and that certainly shut him up. At my age, it's something very special to have new friends to shout about.

Not that Tom actually said anything. He's much too polite for that. He just looks at you
in that way
, as though he's laughing with or at you, but likes you enough to go along with it. Tom may take things a bit too seriously at times, but at least he also has a twinkle in his eyes. Maybe you can be happy without it, but my personal advice is this: never marry a man who doesn't have laughter in his eyes.

It's not advice I followed myself. In my defense, I'll say that I was young back then, and didn't know what I was looking for. Not even John's eyes ever laugh at me, but they do smile often, so I think it mostly depends on the circumstances.

If you ever come here, I hope you'll like John. He is without doubt the most extraordinary person I've ever met. As I'm writing this, he's sitting in his usual armchair next to my bed (did I mention that I've got a stupid little complaint which keeps me in bed sometimes? It doesn't matter). I'm almost certain he knows I'm writing about him and that he probably wants to protest – he knows I only write positive things, and thinks I exaggerate – but still, he's sitting there smelling a paperback. It's one of the things which gives me the most satisfaction, when I look back on my life: that I was able to experience such a friendship, know such a man, and had enough sense to appreciate him.

So there you have it. My paper is full, and just as I was becoming unbearably sentimental. One last thought, though – won't you come visit?

Best,

Amy

PS This isn't just the confused, passing fancy of some old woman. If ever you feel like visiting a small town or even just taking a vacation somewhere peaceful, then I hope you know you'd be very welcome here. I can show you Jimmie Coogan Street and we could talk about books and, well, spend time together. And you wouldn't be completely at my mercy. We would take care of you, all of us, and keep you entertained as best we could. Think about it.

IT TASTED LIKE
a mix of extremely sweet pancakes and sausage which, when Sara thought about it, was probably exactly what it was.

Tom had made corn dogs for her, and while she ate them as a starter, he chopped onions and fried mince for the Sloppy Joes. She was sitting there desperately trying to fight back tears. He had made
corn dogs
for her! Completely genuine American food.

He had done some shopping after dropping her off at Amy's, where she packed up everything she would need for her stay at his house. When he picked her up again, he had refused to say what they would be having for dinner.

Corn dogs turned out to consist of a batter made from egg, lots of sugar (it seemed to feature in the majority of American recipes, she thought, having also watched Tom add a healthy amount to the minced meat) and cornmeal, which the sausage was then rolled in. You fried the sausage as best you could in a deep frying pan with plenty of hot oil. The batter normally seeped out, so they became flatter and more rectangular than the uniformly round versions you saw in the picture on the recipe, but Sara felt it was more genuine that way. The sausage tasted boiled, and sweeter than normal. She helped herself to another.