(036)
Two friends meet on a path at the top of a hill, exchanging a wide armed embrace and a kiss on the cheek.
“Long time!” says Ethan.
“Yeah,” smiles Sarah, with the hint of an apology, “I’d been meaning to respond. It’s just–” she trails off, shrugging her shoulders.
“Nooo, don’t worry! I know how things can get– I was just glad to hear from you. How’ve you been?” Ethan beams, his eyes twinkling and the lines around them soft and kind.
Sarah catches his eye contact for a second before looking past him and gesturing with her head for them to walk down the path.
“Yeah! Um…it’s been–” Sarah starts, her face twisting and turning trying to find the right words to go on. “Honestly?” She glances in his direction, then back in front. “Honestly it’s been a bit rough lately–” she pauses, then quickly moves on, “but no, it’s okay. How about you?”
“Damn…for any specific reason? Or?” Ethan asks.
“Euhm, no…not exactly, it’s just a cyclical sort of…depressive feeling I suppose. It creeps up on you and then all of a sudden– well, yeah…anyway. How’ve things been since we last spoke? Have you already started with the new job yet? Surely, right? How are you finding it?” Sarah plucks leaves and flowers from the side of the path as she speaks, fiddling with them between her fingertips.
Ethan watches her with concern. The gap between them, though less than a metre in reality, felt suddenly almost unbridgeable.
“You know you can reach out any time, right?” He says.
Sarah exhales a little laugh through her nose, giving Ethan a smile that could also be a wince.
“Yeah, I do…” she says, “well, no, honestly I don’t know that emotionally. Logically I do, but in the midst of it I just don’t know how to ask, or what I’m even asking for…you know? But thank you, genuinely.”
“Hmm.” Ethan says, considering it. They walk in his silence until the pressure of it starts to bubble over in Sarah’s mind. She opens her mouth to say something when the distant, distinctive buzz of feedback over a sound system catches both of their attention.
“What’s that?” Sarah asks, lifting her ear to the wind.
“It must be that fête thing– I didn’t realise it was today– should we take a look!?” Ethan nudges Sarah with his elbow, grinning at her and nodding towards an arrow stapled to a tree up ahead, then a realisation comes across his face.
“Oh, but we don’t have to if you don’t fancy it, obviously!”
Sarah checks her watch, wiggling her pursed lips in mental calculation.
“Yeah, why not?” She grins back. “I’ve still gotta hit my 10 thousand steps though, so we might have to do a few laps.”
Ethan’s grin returns and they walk with more purpose down the path.
“How long have you been doing the 10 thousand steps thing?” He asks.
Sarah pulls the same calculating face as before. “About three weeks now, I think? I did it a couple of days in a row by accident, noticed I felt less shit at the end of the day and figured, why not carry on?”
“For sure–” Ethan nods along enthusiastically.
“Although I also read that if you put the watch in your pocket, it actually calculates two steps for every one.” He laughs.
Sarah laughs too, a bemused look forming on her face.
“I mean, it sort of negates the idea–”
“Oh, no, no obviously– but I mean, if you weren’t gonna make it and wanted to maintain the streak…?” Ethan suggests, but his face questions his own answer.
“I’ll keep it in mind.” Sarah laughs again.
The hum of the speakers is soon accompanied by the steady thrum of crowd noise in the air. All along the path little arrows made from cardboard had been leading them closer, but the first poster with any actual information was finally in sight. It promised games, food, drinks and live music from local musicians, with no admission.
“Can’t say no to free, right?” Ethan says, nudging Sarah again with a glint in his eye.
“I suppose not.” Sarah smiles.
A larger arrow than the others directs them off of the path, down a grassy bank and into a crowd of people milling amongst the rows of stalls that had been erected there. It was charmingly shoddy. Fold out tables stood in wonky lines with an array of random bric-a-brac strewn across them. Tupperware boxes full of coins and notes are popped open and closed as patrons pick their way through the goods on offer, and off to the side children paddle in the river while their parents watch on, some dangling their feet in the water themselves. A row of children stand behind a table and chuck bean bags into hula-hoops of different sizes spread out across the ground; simple games with even simpler prizes. White sun hats and sailor-blue shirts abound, and in every other hand a glass of pimms or a fairy cake, half consumed. Ethan walks slightly ahead of Sarah into the throng, with little space to walk side by side.
“It’s busy!” Sarah shouts.
“Yeah,” Ethan turns back as he speaks, checking where he’s going between every few words, “it’s the first one I think, that’s why.”
They sidle and squeeze their way through, eyeing the tables and exchanging smiles with the people behind them – one of whom catches Sarah off guard. The sun appears from behind a cloud just as she locks eyes with him, and the depth and twinkle in his blue eyes takes her away from herself for just a moment. Feeling the heat rising in her cheeks she looks away, only to stumble into Ethan’s back. He’d stopped dead in front of the handsome, blue eyed merchant. Sarah leans round the other side of him to see what had caused the jam, praying for a quick resolution, but there is nothing in his way. She leans the other way and sees that he’s picked up a miniature dog’s-head-on-a-human’s-body bust from the table, examining it in his hands. Swallowing, she looks to the guy, who’s still smiling in her direction. She tries to meet his eye again but everything in her body refuses, like they’re magnets of the same pole. So she smiles at the table, her hand coming up to her hair absentmindedly.
“I think Grace would like this.” Ethan says, as if in explanation of his thoughts to Sarah. He looks in her direction, and then at the man across from her, finding their faces a mirror of one another.
“How much for this?” He asks, and the guy finally sees him.
“Oh, uh…” he clears his throat, “that’s 12.”
“Okay, well if I give you 15 can I also get your number for my friend?” He asks with a grin.
Sarah’s eyes widen and dart at the guy, who’s now smiling at both Ethan and at her.
“Call it 10 and the number.” He laughs, reaching for a pen and tearing off the corner of a newspaper from out of the box at his feet. While he scribbles Sarah shoots a bewildered look at Ethan, who stifles laughter. He fishes a tenner out of his wallet and hands it to the guy, who in turn wraps the statue, and finally passes her the number. She holds his gaze for a moment, then shoves Ethan to start moving, who labours to do so, but finally does. When they’re a few stalls away she can’t help but look back, and of course he’s still looking.
“Check, 1, 2, 1 – how’s the sound?” A voice booms through a pair of speakers to their right.
“Should we go watch the band?” Ethan asks.
“Yeah,” Sarah grins, “why not?”
They make their slow way past the last few stalls towards the open patch of field beneath a tree, and the makeshift stage in front of it.
“How’s Grace, and Florence, by the way?” Sarah asks, tucking the sheet of paper in her front pocket.
Ethan waits to let some people pass in the opposite direction, and for a moment she’s unsure if he heard her.
“Well,” he says, looking back at her, “Grace has been sick for a little while now–” he waits for a group of 5 to pass before they finally reach the open space. “And I’ve taken some time off work, just until she’s better– but she’s getting there.” He smiles.
“Sick in what way?” Sarah asks, frowning.
Ethan considers this while hunting for a spot for them to stand.
“It’s complicated,” he starts, debating how to continue, “– the doctors don’t exactly know, so they’re just trying to rule things out for now. She’s mainly very lethargic, so I’m taking care of Flo and I’m there in case Grace needs me–”
One of the three members of the band on stage busies himself with propping up a makeshift sign, while the guitarist steps up to the mic.
“Hi guys– look at you all! Don’t you all look lovely!” He says, to a smattering of laughter. He points to the now standing sign to his left. “We’re Broken Branches, as you can maybe read there.” A few cheers and whoops from their friends and family, and a broad smile appears on the singer’s face.
“So how’s about I stop talking, and we start with one you’ll all know?”
He steps away from the mic and looks back to the drummer, who counts them in on 4, followed by the distinctive bassline of Under Pressure by Queen and Bowie.
Sarah hadn’t taken her eyes off of Ethan as the band performed their preamble. The urge to reach out and touch him felt equal parts unbearable and impossible.
“Eth,” she says, and he turns to face her again, having been drawn away from their conversation.
“I had no idea, I’m so sorry.” She says, the futility of her words making them feel empty in her mouth.
“Oh, it’s okay,” he smiles at her, the lines around his eyes only now showing the tiredness hidden within them, “I’m just really glad you messaged.” He puts his arm around her back.
The lead singer and the bassist/keyboard player ably share the microphone, if not quite managing to capture the two iconic voices with the same skill.
“If there’s anything I can do…” Sarah says, mirroring his move and placing her arm around him.
“Well, you’re more than welcome to come around– Grace would love to see you, I’m sure of it.” He squeezes her shoulder with his hand, jostling her a little.
Sarah nods, squeezing him back.
“I will.” She says.
They stand, arm in arm watching the band play the rest of the song before either of them speaks, both breaking away to clap and cheer at the end of the final half-successful harmony.
Ethan nudges Sarah with his elbow as they clap.
“This is really lovely,” he says, “I’m really glad you messaged.”
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