Chapter 38 – Life

The beach was nearly deserted, just a few people on the sand, and only two or three in the water. Several surfers were leaving the beach as we got there. Louisa plopped our gear on two lounges, slipped off her sandals and cover up and gave me an expectant look. "What?"

"Aren't you coming into the sea with me?"

"I… uhm… would rather read."

"Another stuffy journal?" She took my hand. "Come on, Martin! Live a little."

Wasn't my heart beating, my brain firing away, and my lungs pumping? And as for living, hadn't we exercised our marital rights this very afternoon? I suppose she would think of me as a stick in the mud sort and old fogy and in many ways Louisa was not far wrong. With a faint shudder I lowered the journal, took off my vest and allowed her to tow me into the water.

To my amazement the water was enjoyable, in that it was warm, the waves were not too rough, and the periodic nature of the swells was soothing. I followed her into the waves, feeling with my feet as the bottom rose and fell in the inter-tidal zone. The wind was from the land and I supposed that flattened the waves to some extent. I felt a moment of concern when the bottom disappeared from sight, between stirred up sand the sun shining me full in the face.

"Isn't this nice?" Louisa asked as she swam around me. "One thing about Spain I do like is the warm ocean. Can't do this at home, at least without a wet suit or freezing to death."

We were now chest deep with the waves breaking gently on the shore, rising and falling a foot or more on us they rushed landward. "At least I haven't seen too many cases of hypothermia back in Portwenn. A few fishermen of course, as the surfers know better." That made me think. "You could surf, if you wanted, that is. They do rent boards here."

"Oh, I don't know," she said stopping and putting her feet on the sandy bottom. "Just got my nails done."

"You could do it tomorrow. Plenty of time yet."

Louisa threw arms around me and hugged me. "Would you like to try, surfing I mean? I do like it."

"No," I sneered. "I'd probably make a mess of it. But don't let me stop you." I touched her cheek tenderly. "Louisa… you might think that I'm going to hold you back… no need for you to miss out on things you want to do. Go on. Don't let me hold you back."

"Well I could. Not much fun for you to just watch." She bit on her lip. "Wouldn't want you to miss out."

"I'm perfectly fine. You go and…" I waved at the beach.

"I'll think about it."

"Alright."

She reluctantly released me. "Now how about a swim? Race you!" Kicking furiously she left me behind and only after nearly a minute was I able to catch up. She moved like a seal in the water, and my thick body had a hard time to catch up. I enjoyed swimming, but the intermittent waves slowed my progress as I chased my wife.

"Come on slow poke!" she yelled over her shoulder and only when she started to tread water did I catch her. She bobbed slightly in the water. "I can almost touch here," she blubbered as water washed over her face.

"Here," I held out a hand which she took.

"Thanks." She spat water then pulled herself to me. "Having fun? Feeling alive?"

There was a show on the telly which Louisa watched occasionally. Some sort of science fiction story, I've never watched enough to really get the thread, and she always remarked about one character. This person was a sort of computer hologram, balding and not tall, with a crude robotic manner. He would pop into existence in the spaceship's surgery and severely state "Please state the nature of the medical emergency." This robotic doctor was only a simulation of a human being and not a very good one at that as shown by his stiff words and actions.

Feeling alive? Was I feeling alive, she asked. Her flashing eyes and smile were right before me, waiting for an answer. The water lifted us up, bouncing my feet on the sandy ripples below, Louisa floating beside me like an errant buoy and she was still waiting for an answer. "Let's swim back."

"Right," she said gloomily.

000

After watching the sun slide down the sky and reading for a time, Louisa yawned and dug out her mobile. "Getting late. We should go change for dinner."

"So where are we going?"

She smiled. "It's here. In the resort."

"Oh."

"It comes highly recommended."

"By who?"

"Mylow."

My heart sank. "Oh."

She touched my arm. "I asked around. It will be…"

"Fine," I said, not quiet feeling it.

We showered the sea salt away in the showers at the pool, took a few quick laps in the pool itself and traipsed to the bungalow where we changed. Louisa quickly dried her long hair with towel and electric drier, brushed on makeup, touched up her eyelashes, and after pouring herself into a luscious looking mauve dress declared herself ready.

I was holding a tie in hand, when she blurted out. "No. No tie."

"But…"

"You don't need one. It's casual. No suit coat either."

"Oh," I sneered slightly. "Not used to…"

"And," she bent and drew out the white, beige, and blue short-sleeve shirt she'd bought me that day. "Put this on."

I gave a look of utter confusion.

"For me? Please Martin?"

I was learning that Louisa could be pleased by simple things, and if the least of them was changing my shirt, I should do it. Although years of wearing a full suit and it made me feel quite… strange to be wearing something else. She watched as I settled the new shirt after pulling it over my head and the soft material felt strange.

"I do like that." Louisa looked at me as I combed my hair. "Suits you."

I nodded, splashed on my too-bland aftershave and followed my bride out the door.

000

"Well, this is nice!" Louisa's West Country accent came out with delight.

Louisa sat at my side, not quite opposite me at a small round table. There were a line of marquees set up, facing the ocean, and we were seating in one of those. Small wrought iron tables and chairs were in each one and it reminded me of Large's Restaurant. But these chairs were clean and padded and the linen tablecloth was very white, making a contrast with the orange sunset.

"Rather like Bert's, don't you agree?" Louisa added. "Not as many raucous seagulls, though." A waitress approached, lit three small candles on the table, poured out ice water and delivered a bread basket. "Gracias," she told the woman.

The girl nodded and giving us menus left.

"No," I said surveying the items. "I'm certain Bert would not serve couscous or palm hearts." The menus given us were in English, but I could have struggled through Spanish if needed. Knowing Latin would help immensely – not for a conversation, of course.

Louisa sighed. "No. No couscous." She sighed and looked to sea. Her hand took mine. "I was thinking…"

She was interrupted by the wine steward who started to expound on the merits of several wines, local and imported, in a strange English, heavily accented by German. "By the bottle or glass."

Louisa's eyes flicked to me. "I would like a nice white, if you have it. The local would be fine."

"I'll have the same," I told the man and I thought Louisa was going to fall from her chair in surprise.

"You're drinking wine?" Louisa seemed to be aghast.

I nodded and the man went away.

Louisa's eyes were wide. "You don't really drink."

"If my liver enzymes are exposed to more alcohol, then I may be better able to process them."

"So…" her eyes twinkled, "You going to turn into a night clubber? That it?"

"Doubt it. Not like we have that many opportunities in Portwenn do we? And there's James…"

Louisa sighed. "I do miss him, but I will miss this place." She cleared her throat. "Or at least the company…"

I was still shy in relating with my wife and our changed status. Louisa's passionate advances… nice as they are… had certainly been unleashed by this trip, especially as we were both not working and had no infant to care for. "I have tried…"

I was interrupted by the waiter. "Senor, senora?"

Louisa took the menu from my hand. "We'll both have the special item I saw on the board. And the salads."

"Ah," I had seen the signboard at the host's table but didn't read it. "I didn't…"

Louisa took my hand. "I'm sure you'll love it."

The waitress left and I was mystified. "What are we having?"

"You'll see. Trust me."

Trust was a tricky word. Did I trust her and did Louisa trust me? "Alright."

The wine came and I tasted it and was pleased that it had a nice aroma and finish.

"Not too much, Martin." Louisa chuckled. "I'm not strong enough to haul you back to the bungalow by myself."

"Right." Holding hands we watched the sun sink lower and our marquee, open on three sides, took on the orange glow.

After some quiet minutes, I inhaled deeply and spoke. "Your telly show."

"Which one?"

"The space travel thing…"

"Oh. Yeah? What about it."

"The… uhm… the doctor… character."

"Oh? Right. The E.M.H." She spelled out the last three letters.

"EMH?"

"Emergency Medical Hologram." She chuckled once more. "Sorry."

"I notice that when I have seen you watch that show and that one is doing whatever it is that he does…"

"Martin. What a moment. Are you saying that…" she stopped with raised eyebrow.

I gulped. "Do my patients see me that way, do you think? Robotic?"

"He's not a robot, Martin. He's an emergency medical… oh, you don't really care, do you?"

I ignored her question. "Whatever." I sipped at the ice water. "Do you think it might enhance my medical interactions with my patients if I acted… ahem… less like that?"

"Whatcha' mean?" she asked cautiously. "Less like what?"

"Less… more…" I waved my hand, "personable." It hurt me to say it but I did anyway.

"Medical interactions," she said slowly. "Maybe." She smiled slightly but it looked strained.

Silence lasted until the salads came and they appeared to be a small seafood salad, adorned with anchovies, a small octopus, and capers.

Louisa poked at it. "Martin, is that what I think it is?"

"It's not one of your space aliens. It's an octopus – a baby."

She lifted it with her fork and shoved it aside. To show her it was edible, I sliced off a portion and ate it. Louisa shuddered at me. "No thank you," she whispered nibbling on the lettuce.

"Quite good. Full of iodine." I patted my mouth.

That made her laugh. "Good old Martin." We ate our salads, Louisa more nibbling than eating. "I asked you a question earlier, and you didn't answer me."

"Oh. Which one was it exactly?"

She sighed. "I asked if you were having fun."

Fun. Another hard word. Fun. Was I having fun? Enjoying life? Or was I a simulacra like the hologram on the telly, someone who was merely imitating the actions of living creatures? I recalled the times that Aunt Joan or even Ruth had admonished me to have some fun. If this wasn't fun, then what was? Louisa sat there waiting for the bombshell. "Yes, Louisa. I am. Are you?"

"Oh, Martin!" She half rose and kissed me, pressing her hands on my new shirt, and I quickly looked about to see if anyone was watching, but the coast was clear. I touched her hair, her cheek, and her lips. "You do mean it?"

"I wouldn't say if I didn't mean it. I trust you know that."

She sat back clearly moved. "Well." If I could bottle that smile it would light up the darkest day, or mood. "I… do. I wanted…"

The salads were whisked away at the moment and further verbal exposes were disturbed. Our water glasses were refilled and after the waitress left, Louisa looked at the sun, now at the rim of the world. "Martin, I don't know quite how to say this."

"Ahem, just say it." I lifted my water glass to my mouth.

"A long time ago I was speaking to Bert."

I groaned. "What nonsense was that about? The man was a terrible plumber and is an awful restaurant owner. He's quite a fount of knowledge that one."

Louisa ducked her head and sighed. "Yes, but he is a friend, at least I think of him that way. Anyway, he once asked me if I wanted children. And I told him that I did want kids. Lots of them. When I found the right man…"

My epiglottis didn't work properly for a few seconds and the air grew warm.

Her eyes were wide open now and her posture spoke volumes. "We're not getting any younger and my clock is ticking so… Martin, James is still quite young and I know that these things take time." She cleared her throat. "But… I want to have more children. At least one and maybe more." She grasped my knee under the table and I felt the tension transmitted down her trembling arm. "Since you're the right man… would you, uhm… can you… I mean… if you want to… God this is hard… help me? Please?"