7 I am cleaning a pound of squid. Stripping the flesh of ink-freckled skin, cutting the abdomen rim to push out the cartilage spear. Removing this spear is like slipping a belt off your waist.
I melt a chunk of butter in the black pan. I slice the tubes into rings. I flick on flour and scatter them in the pan. Just seconds. Until the edges shrink and contort in agony. Slip them onto a plate and squeeze half a lemon on them. Spray them with salt.
We eat with our fingers. Lydia says we can shut off the video system while we’re in the house. But even so I feel monitored. There is one camera on the front door, one in the living room, and one in the kitchen.
8 This morning I woke up to a honking. It looked like flags had been strung across the harbour. But it’s the world’s eighth-largest cruise ship. The radio says be nice to the tourists, let’s not charge for the water. It makes me want to go down and knock heads.
Last night I bumped into Iris and we walked home. She was waiting for an e-mail from Helmut. She said the team is holed up in a small port near Sydney, waiting for the leg across the Pacific.
Iris stopped suddenly at Garrison Hill. I’m taking you out of your way, she said. No, youre not. Oh good, I just assumed you were going down to Lydia’s.
It’s obvious to Iris then that we’re not getting along.
We walk around the basilica. We investigate a doorway and a concrete alcove to the rectory. There is a cemetery full of priests. She says, Everything we did in Brazil was fun. Even brushing our teeth. You know what I mean?
9 Oliver Squires is putting on weight and he’s letting his ginger hair grow. Oliver Squires and Maisie Pye have officially separated. They have joint custody.
Oliver told me of the day when he knew. A boiled potato had fallen on the floor and he was damned if he was going to pick it up.
Oliver: I was working and Maisie wasnt. She was writing but I was at legal aid from eight till six. I’d ask her to iron a shirt for me. I thought that would be nice, to have a clean shirt. And when I came home something cooked. I know this sounds ridiculous or old-fashioned, but I figure if I’m working this is a little return. But Maisie wants to write, she was writing and one time she did cook this thing but spilled some and we ate with a potato on the floor and we walked around it for three days and I knew then that was it.
When Oliver tells this to me he has a solemnness I rarely see in men. He is deeply sorrowful.
Max too lost Maisie. Once, about eight years ago, I asked Max why he went with Maisie. We were at the Ship Inn and Max was on his way to the washroom. Above the men’s is a pistol. He said, How old are you, Gabe? I said twenty-six. He said, When youre twenty-nine you’ll see. It all changes when you round thirty.You’ll want children.You’ll want a house. And you’ll need money.
And now Oliver is cut adrift, and Max is marrying Daphne. And I am dispirited at thirty-four.
10 Alex calls. Can you come down? I drive down. She says she asked Craig to marry her. And those words hovered over their weekend. He left for Seattle today and she thought it was time to be rash.
Alex: We were planting bulbs and Max came over and made fun of our domesticity. And by Sunday we were more and more married. And I felt diminished. For the first time I was looking for a way to get away from him. Craig said to me: What’s getting in to you? And I told him: The energy we have comes from not being married. Being married would kill it.
Craig: Youve just figured that out? Then he added, Let’s leave it. Alex: Craig doesnt like conversations that look like theyre headed for arguments and ground he isnt sure of. And I knew then it was the end.
Me: When youve been alone for a long time, as Craig has been, you become rigid. It’s hard to consider someone else. Alex: Men become selfish.