though,” she asked after a minute, “that kind of protectiveness? I’m struggling with that. I am.”
I waited a second, but she didn’t go on, so I said, “Explain.”
She glanced at me, then looked ahead again and said, “Beautiful sunrise.”
“Sun’s going to be blinding in a few minutes,” I said, “down here on the beach. If we go a bit faster, we can get up onto the road and amongst the trees before it happens.”
She said, “You’ve got no soul, boy,” and I laughed.
It was pretty. The clouds were shaded from yellow to orange to pink to purple, and the sky above was violet. I said, possibly just to annoy her, “It’s likely to rain, with that much cloud. Bugger.” When she was annoyed, I smiled and said, “Go on and explain it to me. Best way to work out how you feel, explaining it.”
“That’s oddly sensitive,” she said.
“I didn’t say I did it,” I said. “I heard it, that’s all.”
“Right,” she said. “OK. You know how women talk about ‘the patriarchy?’”
“I’ve heard of it. Not sure any woman’s ever talked about it to me. Like I told your sisters, I’ve spent my life in some pretty male-dominated spaces.”
“Well,” she said, “I’ve lived the patriarchy. I’ve lived where women do what they’re told, where their lives are absolutely constrained by what men decide is their place. I don’t want that. I’m all clear on that. It’s not comforting. It’s stifling. It’s limiting. It’s making a woman into a child, except it never changes. She never gets to grow up.”
I said, “Makes sense. I’m sure my mum would agree.”
“But it’s not just a thing for women to agree on,” she said. “Women don’t live in this society by themselves. Do you agree, that’s the question.”
“Oh.” I considered. “Well, yeh. Obviously. I don’t expect a woman to do what she’s told. Why should she? Except …”
“Well, see?” she said. “See? Exactly. You’ve got an ‘except.’”
“Ah …” I scratched my nose and devoutly wished I’d been less honest. “Could we call it ‘role playing’? Sounds better.”
“Oh,” she said, then went on like she was determined not to be embarrassed, “You mean in bed.”
“Well, yeh. Sorry. That’s what flew into my mind.”
“I talked about the patriarchy, and you flashed straight to, ‘Hmm, how about if I give her orders in bed?’”
“Well, yeh,” I said. “Obviously. Men are dogs.”
She laughed, and I grinned. “And that’s not what you’re talking about,” I said. “But, right, even in bed … don’t you want him to be protective there? Face it, he’s likely to be bigger than you. Stronger than you.” That conjured up a pretty powerful mental image. Beside me, the pale-brown skin of her shoulder gleamed, reminding me of how soft the skin of her face had been when I’d touched it, and I could see those wisps of hair at the nape of her neck, the bumps of her spine, the narrowness of her waist.
Bone structure of a sparrow.
Distracting.
“I’m not talking about in bed,” she said. “Why would I?”
“Because you have an opinion? Obviously you do, or you wouldn’t have brought it up.”
“I didn’t bring it up. You brought it up. I so do not have an opinion, you cannot imagine. No. Drag your mind away. I’m talking about assuming she’s not competent to assess danger. About, all right, climbing in the window for her. Coming by to stare darkly at the man living next door and letting him know she’s under your protection.”
“Going into danger to make somebody else safe,” I suggested. “Getting one hell of an electrical shock so the people you love can get away.”
“That’s different,” she said.
“Is it? Isn’t it just wanting to help somebody you care for, with the tools you have to do it? Maybe that’s physical strength. Maybe it’s courage. Maybe it’s being able to argue so well, a man gets all confused.”
“You are not confused.” I thought she might be trying not to smile.
“You’ve had me confused since the day I met you,” I said. “Here we go. Hard part. Up the hill.” We ran the track up to the footpath, skirting the quarry, and I said, “How many girls do you think I’ve invited to live in my yurt? Other than Iris.”
“You think you’re making your point,” she said. “You’re not.”
“Right,” I said. “Then I’ll say that I can’t promise not to be protective, sorry. And I’m definitely going to be protective of your sisters, but then, so are you. I’m as interested in being not protective