Chapter 23
Meanwhile, I never did write that letter to Elizabeth. I thought about it, I even started a few, though I could never get past 'Dear Elizabeth'. They all sounded ridiculously emotional or cold and formal. But for some reason, I couldn't pick up the phone to talk to her and the longer I waited the harder it got. So, instead, I emailed her to let her know I was seeing Sally, and my reasons behind choosing her. I think I wanted her permission. She responded and was surprised that I would choose the psych that Georgie had abandoned in favour of herself but reflected that Sally was probably a good choice for me. She had avoided recommending anyone with whom she ever had a personal or professional relationship with, but of all the psychs she knew, Sally was probably the best fit. Her practice strengths were much more corporate in nature, with a lot of her time spent in behavioural psychology for the professional arena, so her approach suited me much more than it suited Georgie.
I had decided to keep my distance, but once I had opened the dialogue via email, I couldn't help sending her an email every now and then, just updating her on life, work, Georgie, and random things that I saw that I knew she would appreciate. She would respond in a like manner, keeping it casual and light, though she managed to write exactly as though she was talking to me, so I could hear her voice in every line, and even imagine the inflections and the pauses, and when she would quirk her eyebrow or purse her lips. It was like being drip fed my drug of choice after making it through withdrawal and going clean. Having gone cold turkey, I only needed the tiniest hit to shoot me off into space. I sent her a text a few weeks later, which she responded to positively, so I switched from email to text, which felt like one step closer to her. Her responses were much more immediate, which is always gratifying for the addict, and even though they were shorter, they usually had the effect of hearing her voice directly in my ear. I was beginning to send her messages on a daily basis, mainly trying to keep myself as much on her mind and she was always on mine.
This morning I sent her a photo of Floreat beach during my early morning run, with the single word "Mood". It was around the spot where I opened up to her that night after Lumber Punks and I wondered if she would remember and feel my melancholy. The sky was grey, the morning sun shuttered behind the massing clouds to my back, the sea a little frothy, and it captured my mood in a way mere words could not. Her reply was immediate and singular.
Deep
It made me laugh out loud. It made me ache, yet gave me such joy because I knew she knew, that what I needed at that moment was to laugh. Out loud. To stop taking myself so seriously. Even when it came to her and everything she meant to me. Come what may, she would always be the best thing that ever happened to me. I sent her the laughing emoji in return, then pocketed my phone and started jogging home. I was surprised to feel it vibrate with a call alert only a minute later. I couldn't help the hope that bubbled inside, so had to tamp down the disappointment when I answered the call from Bing. Jane was heading down south again for another Leaver's Week next month. He had invited all the older Bennet girls to join him at The Shack, but Jane had just declined, insisting she would stay at the youth camp, so she could fulfil her counselling responsibilities, and help Mary and Kitty, who would be joining her as assistant leaders this year.
"Elizabeth won't be going down?"
"She hasn't made up her mind yet. The practice shuts down for two weeks over Christmas and Jane said she's not sure she wants to use up another week of leave she hasn't earned yet. Jane wants her to take a break because she's going to be spending part of the summer looking after Lydia at this boot camp thing, you know? Look, Darcy, I just wanted to let you know that I'm going down there that week with Jane. I've told Caz and Louisa that they're welcome to use the Shack, but I'm signing up to stay at the campsite. I've been talking to Errol, and I want to get involved. I think the organisation is something I could support financially but Jane thinks I should see it from the inside before I make my decision. Anyway, the house will probably be empty, so think about it. I'll let you know if my sisters are going to use it."
I agree to think about it, and we make plans to catch up later in the week. It starts to rain, the tropical cyclone currently threatening the northwest coast is making its presence felt as I make my way back home through the suburban streets. Traffic builds as people start heading out to work and I wave to my neighbour as I bound across the street in front of her car to get to my front door. Georgie is up and getting ready for an early start. I hit the shower and skip breakfast as I realise I'm going to have to drop her off rather than make her catch the bus in the rain.
I think about Elizabeth and the sacrifices she was making to support Lydia through her recovery. Georgie kept me up to date as she chose to be a part of the group therapy sessions that Lydia was a part of. Lydia would still be at school during Leaver's Week and was going to be spending the summer with the Gardiners full time, earning her digital privileges and her personal freedoms back with a summer of service looking after her young cousins, volunteering at the practice and a refuge centre, and joining in an intensive short term boot camp for troubled teens, which the Gardiners were trialling with a view to incorporating the training principles into their practice and to add it to their suite of services. Two weeks of hard yakka out in the desert scrub on the Great Central Road between Laverton and Cosmo Newberry. Lots of time to think, lots of space for solitude, and lots of hard labour to both focus and free your mind. It would make her or break her.
I decide it's time to man up and think about approaching Elizabeth. I send her a text.
Leaver's Week?
I'm pretty sure she understands what I'm asking, but I don't hear anything back. This leaves me in limbo, unable to send her anything else until she responds. In the meantime, Bing tells me his sisters have elected not to join him down south and have instead booked to go to Thailand and witness the Lantern Festival in Chiang Mai. Apparently, Caroline has been seeing the only son of a wealthy Thai pharmaceutical magnate while he's been studying business at UWA so she's following him back home, and Louisa and Henry are tagging along. Guaranteed to have the place Caroline free, I tell Bing I'll take it, but ask him to keep it to himself. I don't need anyone changing their mind last minute and surprising me. With or without Elizabeth, it seems like a good time to take stock, in the house where I first saw the woman who turned my world upside down.
