Love by Numbers by Lani Wendt Young

Author:Lani Wendt Young [Young, Lani Wendt]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lani Wendt Young
Published: 2021-03-21T00:00:00+00:00

He is waiting for me at the workshop. “Shall we go in my car?” he asks.

I like Jacob’s car. It has a very faint odor. Like a low humming vibration. Not overpowering and screaming for attention. We drive in silence most of the way. I don’t ask where we are going because what would be the point? I wouldn’t know it anyway because I only ever go to church, the market and grocery store, the university and home again.

Jacob is not afraid of silence. Of space. The quietness sits between us, a sort of blanket. A gentle connection.

I look out the window at the changing scenery and appreciate the beauty of our country. Something I don’t do very often. I count. Thirty-four colorful little shops. Fourteen churches. Nine are like fairytale castles. Grand and ornately decorated. The other five are Mormon churches, identically industrial in their stamped black and white plainness. We stop to buy niu and Jacob puts them into a cooler to chill. Then we continue on our journey. Just when I am about to ask ‘are we there yet…’ Jacob turns the car onto a rocky side road through lush green forest and exits by the ocean.

“The beach? You brought me to a beach?” I ask. Yes I am confused. WHY?!

Jacob stops the car under the shade of a pair of flame trees and grabs our gear from the back. I follow him to a line of spindly open fale on the sand.

I am trying not to show my distaste. But it’s difficult.

“Have you been to this beach before?” asks Jacob.

“No,” I say.

“What beaches does your family usually go to?” he asks as he unpacks gear in the fale.

“I don’t know. I don’t go to the beach. I have never been to the beach.”

“Ever? You’ve never been to the beach before?” Jacob is incredulous. “Are you kidding me?”

“No. I never needed to go to one.” It makes perfect sense to me. Growing up, beaches were for church picnics and Sunday School camps. Which meant large crowds jammed into buses hired specially to transport the congregation. Mother would go with my sisters. As the wife of the faifeau, it was expected of her to attend. Father would stay home because of his health. And because of his theological writing. He wasn’t the kind of pastor who partook in such recreational activities. I always got to stay home because I had study to do. Which I did. But the real reason is because the thought of being stuck with all those people, the loud noise and the disarray, the outdoor games, the sweltering melt of so many different smells? It sounded like hell and torture suffering to me. So no, I have never been to the beach. I don’t explain all that to Jacob though. It’s not necessary. I only shrug and look around us.

Perhaps today it won’t be so bad? First, we are the only people here. The strip of white sand, laced with coconut palms, is empty of any other visitors.

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