Dare to Love (31 page)

‘I would take him with me. His mother have family in Cayman, and to tell the truth I would like to get him out of Barbados just now.’

‘What’s up? I thought things were a lot better between you two now.’

‘Is not just us.’

‘What do you mean, not just you? Is it something to do with Mel, won’t she look after him?’

‘I can’t really talk about that now. I don’t want it eating into our time.’

‘Talking of time.’ I glance at the clock on the wall, a small plain white face with black hands moving over it all day long. It’s behind the chair where my clients sit, so it’s never obvious when I’m checking the time. ‘I have to go. I’m going to need to freshen up before my next client arrives.

‘When you going call again babes?’

‘I’ll try and call you tomorrow same time, no wait, I can’t, I have a lunch appointment. It might be a quickie on my way home or after the gym.’

‘You have such a busy life.’

So would you if you had a job, I want to say but bite my tongue. ‘Yeah, it’s always been like that.’

If he senses my annoyance he doesn’t show it.

‘I’m missing you already babes.’

‘Miss you too. Speak soon.’

‘Love you,’ he says as I click off. He doesn’t hear me say, ‘I love you too.’

My next client is a thirty four year old lecturer grappling with the turmoil of being in love with one of his students and wants help with the choice he has to make. Stay with his wife and two young daughters in a loveless marriage or leave to be with someone ten years his junior. He risks being ostracised by his colleagues as his wife is also a part-time lecturer in his department. He’s riddled with guilt and fear. He wants to find a way out of this without hurting anyone. I tell him I’m not sure that’s possible, but that ultimately he must do what’s right for him.

Four weeks later, I too have to make that choice.

Josi

I’m constantly amazed by how quickly most of us adjust to a routine and how easily we
convince ourselves that what we’re doing is best ‘
under the circumstances’
. We need schedules to help us pass the day; locate us in the right time and space, to punctuate the hours, separate morning from afternoon and evening from night. Some people have little or no schedules, no timetables, no calendars, and live either very exciting or very chaotic lives, depending on who’s judging. Some have too much and live boring, predictable or stable lives. Again, depending on who’s making the assessment.

In my office, behind my desk, where my clients look when they’re not looking directly at me, is a plaque that reads LIFE IS A DARING ADVENTURE – LIVE IT. It’s one of the first things my lecturer client notices and asks me if I really believe it’s possible to live life as a daring adventure. Isn’t that something we just wish for, a pipe dream, something that happens to other people, people without responsibilities?

I tell him what I tell them all. It’s your choice. We can all use responsibility as an excuse to hold us back from following our dreams. Responsibility is the word we use instead of fear. Most people focus on the worst possible outcome and never take the leap, whereas if they focused on the best possible outcome they wouldn’t hesitate.

What if he does leave his wife, what if she finds someone else to replace him who will make her happy, not treat her as a burden, as someone he’s with out of duty? What if his children grow up to be happy, healthy, well-balanced adults who’ve been shown how to take risks instead of playing it safe? What if the happiness he’s found with his student goes on the make him the happiest man alive? What if these are the things he is flying to instead of being weighted down by fear and guilt now and later adding resentment and anger? Doesn’t his wife and children deserve better than the lying and cheating he is doing now? Don’t they deserve better than that?

Yes, he can live the adventure, but he has to make the choice – out of love, not fear.

I stare at him and he at me. In the space where we see directly into each other’s souls, he and I both know I’m not just talking about him.

‘What would you do?’ he asks.

‘I can’t ever answer that for you or for anyone else. You know that. It’s part of the agreement remember. No advice.’

‘What will you do?
’ he asks, in that moment when the client becomes the therapist.

‘I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it.’

I don’t add that I’ve been thinking of nothing else for the past four weeks. Always finding a reason why I can’t tell Richard yet. I could’ve told him the night he came home early and heard me calling Grant ‘Darling’ on the phone, instead of pretending it was an old friend from school and that was the way we’d always addressed each other. Could have told him when he asked why I was using phone cards – instead of saying I had them left over from Barbados, that I’d bought them when my phone wasn’t working and I didn’t want to rely on Celia’s phone. Could have told him my late night email correspondence was not a backlog of client queries. He trusts me. There’s no physical person to see, so I’m home every night, he knows where I am at weekends.

My love-making with Grant takes place in the office or at night when Richard’s out at his shooting club. Our passionate correspondence is filed in unmarked folders. We’re careful to be discreet on facebook, treat each other as friends. It’s usually Grant using it to track me down when I’ve not responded to any of his other contacts and generally consists of one liners.

Call me please.

Haven’t heard from you in hours, getting nervous. Please call.

Been trying to reach you. Have you gone underground?

Are you OK?

His emails are only marginally more eloquent.
Hi babes. Thinking about u – girl how I miss u – ever since that day u went away – I can’t live without you – You’re always on my mind.

His media of communication is voice and touch. He caresses me over the phone. Holds my hand and makes me believe our life together is possible. When he speaks I’m filled with certainty. It’s later the doubt sets in, especially when I don’t hear from him for a few days, when he doesn’t answer his phone. Then I’m bereft. I conjure up worst case scenarios. He’s changed his mind, Mel’s found out about us and given him an ultimatum, whatever Carlisle warned me about has happened, he’s decided to go to the States, he’s come to his senses.

Last night after Richard had gone to bed (it’s his shooting night Wednesdays, he has to be alert so goes to bed early), I was drinking to dull the ache for Grant. I got drunk but the ache didn’t leave. I phoned. It went to voicemail. I didn’t leave a message. What I wanted to say would fill his voicemail. I wrote him a long email.

My Darling Grant. I am very drunk and very horny. This email might not make sense. It’s 2.30 a.m. Been thinking about you all day. Grant, I miss you. I want you with an intensity that hurts. You fill all my waking hours. I re-live all our time together in exquisite detail. When I go to bed at night you’re the last thing on my mind and when I wake in the morning you are the first thing there. I have dreams that are directly about you and dreams that are indirectly about you. Sometimes I am absolutely terrified by what I feel because I fear it could unhinge my entire life plan. Before I met you I pretty much had my life mapped out. Now… I question everything.

My life feels like a roller coaster, the peaks are when I talk with you and the dips are when I don’t hear from you for days. I feel like some crazy person building her hopes on fourteen days, but maybe the best fourteen days of her life. I remember every beautiful detail of our meetings. Every touch, every kiss. When I close my eyes and focus I feel your lips on mine, your breath in my ear. I feel you moving inside me. I hear your voice.

Grant, I miss you more than you will ever know. If this is a game you are playing with me then I am certain to lose because I lay myself bare to you, open in my declaration of love. I don’t know what will happen. Each day my feelings for you get stronger instead of weaker. Oh my God, I am so very scared. I’ve never been so much out of my depth. I’m very confused; very much in love.

I hit the send button, drain my glass and head up to lie beside Richard’s warm, gently snoring body. My body’s on fire. I want Grant’s love but Richard will do. He’s not gourmet but right now I’ll settle for fish and chips. There’s not even that on the menu tonight. He rolls over, mutters, ‘I’m tired, Josi,’ and continues snoring.

I open my emails while trying to dilute last night’s wine with strong black coffee. I’m grateful for a couple of early cancellations. My first session isn’t till eleven. I should have most of it flushed out by then. I’m just pouring myself another cup when I hear the new mail blip. It’s Grant.

My love. You have a way with words that really turns me on. You are incredible. I received a call about 2 mins ago from my colleague in Grand Cayman. He wants me to travel by tomorrow or Friday. You have perfect timing babes. Our dreams are coming true. I’ve told Mel about us. I’m taking Darron with me. You have to join me now babes. This is the start of our life together.

Love you beautiful. Call me.

Grant

I read and re-read it. I don’t know what to do. He’s taken action and wants me to do the same. I stare at the screen. His life’s in upheaval, he wants me to do the same. Maybe he doesn’t see it as upheaval, maybe to him it’s all opportunity. Maybe it’s his age, life’s still one big adventure for him. Do I still want that adventure? My life is OK. Things are so much better between me and Richard, I try to convince myself. At least we’re making love again. When I’m honest I admit all I’m doing is using Richard’s body to make love to Grant. Without Grant in my head there would be no love-making. My life is OK but only because Grant is in it.

‘Have we finished?’ the lecturer asks from some far away place. I drag my focus back to him, to my paying customer. I feel he should be reimbursed for his session. Not only has he not had much help from me – barring a sermon – but he’s had to take on the coaching role.

‘You tell me. Do you feel you need another session?’

‘No, I meant have we finished for today?’

I look at the clock behind his head, rather indiscreetly.

‘I guess we can call it a day.’

‘Same time next week?’

‘Have a think about what I said. Call me tomorrow if you feel you need another session.’

He’s my last client for today. I sit in the client’s chair with a cup of coffee and stare at the statement. LIFE IS A DARING ADVENTURE – LIVE IT. I see the irony of my office set up. My clients are challenged to live an adventure while I look at a clock. Assuming I live another twenty five years, can I do it as I am? Can the security Richard provides be enough? Will I be watching my life tick by?

It’s no longer just about his inadvertent abuse of a little boy and his unwillingness to deal with it. He’s addressing it now. He’s facing up to the consequences of his actions. He is now fully aware of the possible repercussions, knows he’ll have to live with that uncertainty, the same way the boy’s had to live with his maltreatment all these years. He knows if it ever gets in the press it could ruin us both. His practical step was to set up trust funds to protect against any compensation claim. I don’t approve but at least he’s accepted the seriousness of the matter.

I’ve been waiting for Grant’s situation to improve because I’m afraid I’ll have to support him and all his children. Sometimes I’ve wondered if I should have disclosed so much about my finances to him. Is he looking for a sugar mommy? He’s never asked me for money and I’ve never offered. Only once he queried whether the amount I was spending on phone calls was more then the cost of a flight, but he didn’t say in which direction. I told him I couldn’t find a legitimate excuse to return to Barbados so soon.

‘Will you come if I’m on another island?’ he’d asked.

‘That would be easier to justify.’ But at the time I couldn’t think how.

Now he’s fulfilled his part of the deal. He’s waiting for my answer. What if I take my own advice and anticipate the best instead of the worst? What if Richard deserves someone better than me, who would be satisfied with him in a way I no longer am? What if my children are supportive, say ‘Whatever makes you happy Mom.’ What if my clients applaude me for practising what I preach, for living my truth. What if Grant is my lifetime partner, and even if it doesn’t last a lifetime, will ten years of adventure be better than twenty five years of mediocrity?

Our dreams are coming true.
Was it ever more than a dream for me? Was Grant just a temporary escape from my real life? If I go to him, how will we live? Will I able to find clients? I don’t know enough about Grand Cayman.

LIFE IS A DARING ADVENTURE – LIVE IT!

When they are faced with only two options, I ask my clients to think of both of them in turn. Picture a lifetime with the first option and then a lifetime with the second. The one that makes their heart sing is always the right one. It’s usually also the one that scares them the most. The one that makes their heart pound, their palms sweat, their spine tingle and their stomach churn. Do I want someone to grow old with or someone to stay young with? Can I throw away the plans and trust the process of life?

My fingers are damp on the key pad as I dial Grant’s number. He answers on the first ring.