Rosie Thomas - A Simple Life

The frisbee skimmed again on a long curving path towards Matt. He caught it two-handed and as he leapt in triumph he looked to Dinah so taut and springy, and so unquestionably comfortable within himself and in his place, that the coloured lenses of familiarity fell from her eyes.

The naked vision made her shiver in the afternoon’s heat.

How was it that she had driven across town needing to talk to this man rather than that one, or another altogether? She was gazing at a stranger, a man she didn’t know in any way, who lived a life with which she was unacquainted.

Disorientation rocked her. She put out a hand to steady herself in the rushing air.

Someone had sent the disc spinning away on the wrong trajectory. There was a chorus of jeers and the players ran after it in an eager pack. The woman PhD stumbled on the bank and landed on her outstretched hands, but she pushed herself up again and ran on, anxious not to be left out. The shadow of his cap’s peak cut sharply across Matt’s face.

Dinah did not want him to see her here. She could only think of getting away before anyone noticed her. She shrank backwards, two or three steps, then turned and fled for the shelter of the trees.

‘It was only a frisbee game,’ Nancy said. ‘Why are you so angry?’

They were in the Pinkhams’ yard, laying out cutlery and paper napkins. Nancy had had her hair cut in the summer and it stood out in a cottony floss around her face, making her look not many years older than her little girls. ‘Even Todd plays it.’

‘It wasn’t the game. I’m not angry.’ Dinah couldn’t express to Nancy the failure of recognition and the confusion that had come with it, or the sense of loss at being excluded from a closed circle of shared interest and common purpose that mocked what her marriage had become.

Matt was happy here.

How had that obvious fact somehow escaped her? She was lonely; Matthew was considerate and careful of her, almost as if she were an invalid, but on his own account he was happy.

‘Damn it. Nancy, I sound a miserable shrew, don’t I?’

‘Uh-huh. You don’t deserve him. And oh boy, are you a misery. You never come over here and make me laugh when I’m ready to scream, do you? You aren’t funny or cute or a great mom or anything?’

‘Aren’t I?’

‘Shit, Dinah, what’s wrong? You know you are.’

Simple. On the face of it.

Dinah shook out a gingham cloth and twirled it like a matador cape. The boys were up in the trees hanging candle lanterns from the branches. Todd had lit the barbecue and there was the scent of charcoal. Later there would be a full moon.

‘I miss home,’ she offered pathetically, trying to explain something away. She patted the cloth over a table and smoothed the wrinkles.

‘Sure you do. Anyone would.’

‘About Matt, you know? There’s all this talk of how busy he is, and the research, and all the other administration work to keep up with and the travelling to lectures and conferences and the pursuit of funds. And then I go round there and they’re all playing bloody frisbee?’

‘Listen up. That’s the way it is. You have to let them have their importance. It’s the same with Todd, the hospital hours and the crises and being the only one who can do anything right. They have to show us they’re out there hunting and gathering. They’re men, aren’t they?’ Todd was an intern at the local hospital.

Nancy’s plump-cheeked face was smooth and shining within the halo of hair. Dinah felt a surge of affection for her and ashamed of deflecting her friendly concern with only a sliver of the truth.

They had not become close friends. Nancy made Dinah feel cynical and partial and foreign. They spent a good deal of time in and out of each other’s houses, and Dinah was sparky and ironic in her company, but it was as if with her clothes and manners and eccentric theories of motherhood she was playing the role of a certain kind of Englishwoman to meet Nancy’s expectations.

‘You’re right, darling. Men are men and all too explicable, and woman are supreme beings full of wit and insight and beauty. Now then, where shall we put all this bread?’

‘French loaves, if you don’t mind. Maria Berkmann has only been back for four days but I think if I have to listen to any more about Lyon and Côtes-du-Rhone and TGV pronounced tay jay vay, I shall start hollering.’

‘Thanks for the warning. Otherwise I might have put the noise down to the hopelessly unGallic Californian Chardonnay.’

Laughing together, the two women went on laying out plates and knives.

When they finished Nancy said, ‘You don’t want to worry about Matt. Just let him get on with what he wants to do because he’ll do it anyway, regardless.’

That much was true. Matt always got what he wanted. He worked out in his methodical way precisely what it was, and as soon as he had identified it he went ahead and got it. He was never blurred, never impetuous or unconsidered. Dinah knew him so well, and yet he could reveal himself to her as a total stranger.

‘You’re probably right.’

‘I know I’m right.’ Pleased with herself, Nancy gave a little affirming nod. ‘I’ll tell you something else. You should do something for yourself, instead of just for your husband and kids. You should get yourself a job.’

‘Right. Hillary Clinton could probably use a little help. I’ll call her.’

‘I’m serious.’

‘Nancy, I know you are. Thank you.’

Todd appeared dressed in a lemon-yellow Ralph Lauren Polo shirt. Nancy turned to him at once.

‘Todd, are you planning to barbecue tonight or do I have to do everything?’

Dinah went home to change her clothes and tidy the boys.

‘Clean T-shirt, Jack.’

‘I don’t want to change. I don’t think it’s necessary, in fact. This one’s good enough.’

‘All right.’

‘So if Jack doesn’t have to, then I shouldn’t have to either.’

‘All right .’

‘When’s Dad getting home?’

A minute later they heard his Toyota drawing up, and Matthew banged through the front door. The spring was still not fixed. His blue shirt was tucked in again and he was bare-headed. The boys leapt at him and he looked over their heads to Dinah.

‘I like that dress.’

She smoothed the bright yellow linen with one hand. She had dressed carefully, but Matt had seen the outfit a dozen times before.

‘Busy day?’ she asked.

‘Yep, pretty busy. The usual.’

‘You’ve got time to shower before the party.’

We are so careful of each other, Dinah thought. Solicitous, as if we have some sickness between us that is never mentioned, even though the pain gnaws.

Matt groaned. ‘I’d forgotten the party.’

He made for the stairs, with a child hopping on either side. Watching him, Dinah saw that his shoulders were hunched and there was a prickle of grey in his hair. She remembered the lithe man across the grass who had seemed a total stranger to her, and tried to knit together the two images. They made an uncomfortable hybrid. We are Matt’s responsibility, she thought. He shoulders the weight dutifully. And work is his resort and comfort. When did it happen, this switch?

She thought back involuntarily and then stopped herself, pinching off the flow of recollection.

The guests arrived, headed by the Berkmanns. Max Berkmann was wearing French workman’s overalls. Mr Dershowitz was missing because he was in hospital, and the four graduate students had moved on. Dinah had never really got to know the good-looking one any better than to exchange affable nods across the street.

‘Bit of a failure,’ she had joked to Nancy.

‘Matt’s better-looking anyway, and he’s got full tenure.’