He said gently that he was very sorry to hear that Felix had lost his mother. Felix looked at him, screwed one eye shut, and then looked back down at the water. Yep, he said.
Simon asked how he felt about selling the house and he gave a strange, hard laugh. It’s funny, he replied. I’m avoiding my brother for the last six weeks trying to get out of signing it over. Isn’t that mad? I don’t know why I’m doing it. It’s not like I want to live there. And I really need the money. But that’s me, can’t do things the easy way. He splashed his hand through the water again aimlessly. It’s good you’re doing that stuff you were saying, about the asylum seekers, he said. God love them. Simon seemed to consider this a moment, and then said that he felt increasingly frustrated with his work, because all he really did was go to meetings and write reports that no one ever read. But at least you care, said Felix. A lot of people don’t. Simon said that while of course he
did care, in theory, it didn’t seem to make much difference whether he did or not. Most of the time I’m going about my life like it’s not even happening, he added. I mean, I meet with these people who’ve gone through things I can’t even begin to understand.
And as much as I’m on their side in principle, and I go to work every day and do my job, in reality I spend most of my time thinking about— I don’t know. Felix gestured back toward the shore, at the reclining forms of Alice and Eileen. The likes of them, he said. Smiling now, Simon turned his eyes away and said yes, the likes of them. Felix was observing him carefully. You’re religious, are you? he asked. Simon paused a moment before looking back up at him. Did Alice tell you that, he said, or did you just guess? Felix gave another cheerful laugh. The Catholic guilt was a giveaway, he answered. Nah, she told me. For a few seconds they were silent, walking on. Quietly, Simon said that at one time in his life he had thought about joining the priesthood. Felix was observing him, mild, interested. And why didn’t you, he said, if you don’t mind me asking? Simon was looking down into the cold cloudy water, the surface broken up here and there by fragments of reflected light. Then he answered: I was going to say that I thought politics would be more practical. But the truth is, I didn’t want to be alone.
Felix was grinning to himself. That’s your problem, he said, you’re hard on yourself for not being more like Jesus. You should do what I do, just be a dickhead and enjoy your life. Simon looked up then, smiling. You don’t seem like a dickhead, he said. But I’m glad to know you enjoy your life. Felix waded a little further ahead into the water.
Without turning back he said aloud: I’ve definitely done a lot of stuff I shouldn’t have done. But there’s no point crying over it, is there? I mean, maybe I do cry over it sometimes, but I try not to. Simon watched him for another second or two, the water lapping up around his small white body. Well, we’re all sinners, Simon said. Felix
turned around and looked at him then. Oh yeah, he said. He started laughing again. I forgot you lot believed that, he added. Absolute freaks, no offence. Come on, we’re not going to get a swim in at all if you stay standing there. He walked in a few steps further and then dipped his whole body under the surface of the water, disappearing completely.
On the shore Eileen was sitting up, cross-legged, leafing through a collection of short stories. Alice was lying on a towel beside her, sunlight glistening on her damp eyelids.
A breath of wind caught at a page of Eileen’s book and she smoothed it back down impatiently with her hand. Without opening her eyes Alice said: So what’s the situation? Eileen made no reply at first, did not even lift her head. Then she said: With Simon, you mean. I don’t know what the situation is. You know, I think we’re very different people. Alice’s eyes were open now, shielded by the flat of a hand, looking up at her. What does that mean? she asked. Eileen frowned down at a page of dense black type and then closed the book. He’s seeing someone else, she said. But I don’t know if it would have worked out between us anyway. You know, we’re just very different.
Alice still had her hand up, shading her eyes. You said that before, but what does it mean? she asked. Eileen put the book down then and took a drink of water from her bottle. After swallowing she said: You’re being intrusive. Alice dropped her hand away and closed her eyes again. Sorry, she said. Eileen put the cap back on the bottle, saying: It’s a touchy subject. A small insect landed on Alice’s towel and zipped away again through the air. Understandably, said Alice. Eileen was looking out at the horizon, two figures dropping down now below the surface of the water, and now emerging again, changing places with one another. If it didn’t work out, it would be too depressing, she remarked. Alice sat up on her elbows, digging two little hollows in the soft sand. But if
it did work out, said Alice. That’s gambling mentality, Eileen replied. Alice was nodding her head, her eyes travelling up and down the seated figure of her friend beside her. The slender black shoulder strap of her swimsuit. That’s risk aversion, said Alice.