Authors: Dee Winter
“You don’t know how I feel!” She snaps, taking me by
surprise. I glare at her.
“You’re right! I don’t, and I sure as hell won’t if
you won’t speak to me.” She’s silent. “I know you don’t like to say, but I
know it must be hard for you, it must hurt you as well, and that Rob feels
forced to go to that bastard as you can’t help him.”
She slaps me quite hard, square across my face, but
not so that it hurts. It makes my ears ring and the noise hangs awkwardly in
the air like a surprise unwanted guest and for longer than the smack actually
existed. Something inside says strongly, I deserved it.
“Ok, I’ll just shut up now,” I say, sharply.
Rob suddenly crawls back out from wherever it is he
went, like a spider from a crack in the wall, drawn out by the sound of skin on
skin, phone in hand. He looks at us both and says gently, “Look, I heard
everything you just said. I do want you to come with me, but there is
something else I need to tell you, Ella.” I stare at him, like a ghost, transparent,
motionless. My cigarette still burns silently, a plume of wiggling smoke rises
from my still shaking hand. “I just made a phone call. I need you to just
listen to me now. Please, listen.”
He then starts to speak differently little
words come like coins plucked from thin air, flashes of silver. I can taste a
lemon sharpness. The atmosphere has a jagged edge. The air in fact must be
solid, holding me up. There’s no other explanation as to how I could be
standing. “Look, now hear me out on this. You know Heather, our new neighbour
in the flat upstairs, well I met up with her on Sunday, when you were back in
the flat with your French fella. When I came back and saw you with him, I
didn’t want to disturb you. Trust me. I could see you were a bit of a state.
I didn’t want to freak you out even more by barging in on you both. But
seriously, I was made up seeing you with someone else, and not that Benny lad.
So, anyway, I left you to it. I knocked on Heather’s door and said Hello and said
that I would like to take up her offer of a cup of tea. So, I went up to her
place and had a chat with her.”
“What? You saw… Wait… You’ve been in
her house and had tea with her!” I feel like the kid at school picked last for
the team. But no time to play green-eyed bitch, I’m so intrigued at what he’ll
say next, I practically want to rip the words out of his mouth, while at the same
time I’m feeling completely and utterly mortified beyond words that he actually
saw me with Etienne, and that he just told mum. A heady mix of burning
curiosity and withering shame. I just stand there. My knees are bent,
shoulders hunched and all my teeth are showing. I can barely even balance now even
with my crutches.
“Well, it’s nothing much and not a lot
to get excited about, but I told Heather that I’m moving out soon. I told her
that you wouldn’t be coming with me and that you would probably have to come back
here and live with mum and that’s when she told me she’s got a room going
spare. It’s nothing big or fancy at all. But she knows you’re at college and
only working in the pub and that you’re not bringing in much money, but I told
her what a good housekeeper you were and all about your cooking and cleaning
skills. I said that you like to do the shopping and stuff too. I even said
you could walk the dog.” I feel even more unsteady now, but this time a good
unsteady. A little dizzy and tingly excited, like a child in bed on Christmas Eve,
but I don’t believe in Santa Claus.
“What? Really? Are you sure?”
“Yeah… She said that it sounded like a
great idea, and yes, why don’t you go and live with her. She would appreciate
the company. She said you could just chip in what you can with money, do a bit
of housework, get some shopping in. Remember it’s only a box room, only a
small bed. Not much space at all, but still, it’s a room. You could call it
home, right next door to your old home. Still near mum, near college. You
just won’t be near me.”
Dazzled with disbelief, I say, “Mum, is
it true? Is he making this up?” I look at him. “But, I still don’t see why I
can’t just come and live with you. I can get a train in to college or work
something out?”
“Look Ella, I’m sorry but it’s not
happening. You can’t come with me. I’m getting out of here for good. You
need to stay here and go to college. You’re future’s important too. It’s here.
You can stay with Heather. It’s not going to do you any good coming with me. Really,
it’s not. And besides, it’s too far from your college.”
“But… I could change college. I can
find one near you. Look, I can’t do anything without you. I can’t live
without you. You have to help me.”
“Listen Skit, I am helping you. You
just don’t see it yet. You’ve got to understand, life changes, people move
on. It happens. This is an opportunity for you too. A new start. Me moving
a couple of hours away is not going to change anything between us. It gives
you the chance to sort yourself out and go to college, get your grades, get a
job, maybe even get a car one day and then you can come up and see me whenever.
This is a chance for you to do something for yourself now. Start living your
life, as it should be. Stop getting yourself tied up in mine. Believe me, this
is what’s best for you.” I am watching him so closely, I swear I see a tiny
tear start in his eye, no bigger than a pinhead, but he blinks and it’s gone.
I feel frightened. I’m losing my best friend and the
idea of everything changing is terrifying. But moving out, and on, and in with
Heather, the thought of that is just amazing. I can’t believe it. Trembling
still, I put the end of my cigarette out in the sink and place it in the pedal
bin. “Ok, shall we go now? Are you ready?” Rob says, and I fall back down to
earth with a very big bump.
I immediately light another cigarette but it still does
not stop me from shaking. The imminence of going to meet my dad now is the
only thing on my mind. I cannot even speak. I hold on tightly to the little
sponge tube between finger and thumb. I concentrate on drawing in deep breaths
and holding on to the smoke. I feel dizzy, little fireworks going off behind
the bone of my forehead. I blow jagged little rings into the centre of the
kitchen. Rob is standing by me still, waiting for us to move.
I feel paralysed but of course I will go with him,
despite nearly every cell in my body detesting the idea. My feelings are in a
food mixer. The beaters are spinning fast. I think that’s maybe what’s
bothering me most. There is just one tiny piece of me that really does want to
go, but our dad must be a terrible man for leaving me, for leaving Rob, and
leaving mum. But the smallest atom in the tip of my toenail feels that he may
not be that bad. He might have the perfect explanation for never having met
me, never sending a birthday card and not wanting to know. Even though I am a
stranger to him, part of me still feels he might not have wanted things to be like
they are. Maybe he has an excuse. Admittedly, it would have to be one big blue
whale-sized reason, but still. I need to meet him to find out. He gets this one
chance. “Mum,” I say, “I want to know how you feel about me going. I mean, are
you ok if I go?”
“I can’t stop you.” She says.
“That’s not what I asked.” I say calmly, with as much
scattered warmth as I can.
“Then no. I cannot say I’m happy that you’re going. I
am worried for you. He broke my heart. I don’t want him to do the same to you.
But it’s only fair that if you want to go, that you go and judge for yourself. It’s
been a long time, so many years now. You’ve grown up and I think you will be
ok to go on your own now, with Rob. I hope. I hope so.” She rubs the top of
her head, making her tight greying curls messier still. Her brown cotton
headscarf is pushed out of place.
“What do you mean?” I say, confused by her words.
“I mean, that if things don’t go well, which honestly,
I have to say I don’t think they will, I think you should be mature enough to deal
with it.” I look at her with Evil Eye restrained. She’s much too negative. I
want her to be happy for me. To try and convince me more, not try and put me
off going. I need her support.
“Well, what’s the point? Why should I even go if you just
think it’s just going to go badly?”
She gazes back at me gently with her swirling green
eyes that are still slightly pink around the edges. “Of course, however, he
may have changed and I hope that he has, and if it’s true that he has, and
things go well, then of course you have my blessing. I can forgive but I can’t
forget all the pain and heartache he caused for you, me and your brother. But
it’s up to you, if you do go and see him, be prepared. It would break my heart
all over again. But it has to be your choice.” She readjusts her headband
smoothing out the little creases with her fingertips and pushes her gold-rimmed
glasses further up her freckled nose. She looks at me blinking, her mouth a
perfect straight line, not happy not sad.
Mum has never spoken so calmly about my dad. Usually
she would just shout at him, when crying alone in her room, full of anger and
resentment, even though he wasn’t there. She now sounds almost, maybe even just
a little hopeful, dare I say it. Hope can be a dangerous thing. Of course I hear
her hesitancy too. She is a perfectly balanced brass scale of optimism and
doubt. Maybe she does not know how she feels. Maybe she does and this is her
perfect poker face. At least now I feel semi-authorized, though I know in my
heart, my decision was already made.
I need to take a new approach. I will go calmly, with
patience, honesty and dignity. I must expect nothing, and then if I get
nothing, I will not have anticipated more. I will be reasonable. I will say
exactly how I feel, without any screaming or knife-wielding or flying off the
handle. It will either work out or it will not. If there is a problem, it
will lay with him, not me. I have to be the adult. I must reign myself in
tightly, wrap ropes around all my nerves, excitement and fear. Holding back
all of my emotion, like a flood barrier, the weight of the sea behind it. However
heavy, I must hold it together. I’ve done alright so far, well, one or two
exceptions. I don’t expect miracles to happen. This is not Surprise
Surprise. If nothing changes I can carry on. My life was fine before him. It
will never be the same again once I meet him, but life will go on, with or
without him.
I feel at a loss for any feeling now. I don’t know
how to feel. It’s not even like a mixture any more. It’s just sheer lack of
anything. From being hyper-hyper I now feel flat, ice-plain numb. Rob comes
over and almost hugs the life out of me. He lets go, leaning back to look at
me but I still feel nothing. He hugs me again, closely and hard. I can feel
the denim of his jeans against my tummy, smell the wool of his jumper and his
warm, earthy aftershave on his neck. I can hear the dull thud of his heartbeat
now my ear rests on his chest. I feel hollow inside, like a chocolate Easter
egg. If he hugs me any harder I’m not going to melt, maybe just crack and fall
into pieces on the floor.
“What…” he says, but trails off. I don’t know what he
was going to say but I can guess.
What’s the matter?
What’s up?
What are you thinking?
Either way, he knew best to stop before he finished
the question. Rob lets me go from his grasp and takes both my hands, moving
them gently to his heart, against his soft navy chest. The wool feels a little
scratchy. He then says, “We’ll do this together, all the way. If you want out
at anytime just say, ok? Else, I’ll be with you all the way. I promise.” His
voice is solid and soft.
“Ok.” I say, hearing myself agree from somewhere in
the distance.
“Are you sure?” He says firmly, moving my hands again,
shaking them gently between his. I feel the edge of his gold ring pressing against
my knuckle.
I am not sure but still, I say, “Yes. I am.”
“But I know you’re not,” he says, reading my mind. “Think
how I feel. It’s been pretty messed up for me too. I’m not in love with the
man after all that he’s done, or rather not done. But, I just need to get away
from here and he’s offered to help me. So for now, it seems the right thing to
do. I just hope it will work out ok. For all of us.”
“Have you spoken to him?” I ask, a pass the parcel is
now stuck in my hands, no music playing. This is real. The layers are falling
off, getting ever closer to the surprise.
He looks at me like he is unsure of how to answer. “I’m
sorry,” he says.
“What are you sorry for?”
“Look, it’s just that yes, I have spoken to him. I
don’t know. I feel like I’ve betrayed you.”
“When?” I say, a little scared, ever-pressing reality
closing in. More crumpled paper pieces are gathering at my feet.
“Well. Yesterday... And before.”
“You spoke to our dad yesterday?”
“Yes.”
“You heard his voice?”
“Obviously. Yes, I mean yes. Well, I had before
anyway when I was a kid.” Reality attacks. I feel like I’m now being squashed
from above, unable to move under the invisible paper mountain. It’s now my own
heavy, lead-lined heart I can hear beating with fear. Still, I’m instantly
fascinated, and stuck on him like superglue.