Before I Saw You

by Emily Houghton

  ‘Fragile? I’ll give you fragile in a minute, son, if you stand in the way of me and this cake!’

  Alfie was glad to hear a bit of bite in the old man’s voice. He walked over to his mum, kissed her on the cheek and then held out his arm in readiness.

  ‘Can I accompany you to my cubicle, Madame?’

  She squeezed his arm gently, looping hers through as she handed the cake tin to Robert, who was already balancing five in his hands. ‘Certainly. Lead the way.’

  He knew that showing her the progress he’d made in his walking would cheer her up, and so he was vehemently pushing down the pain of using his prosthesis. He wanted to keep her mind distracted and the topic of conversation light. It was important not to leave too many silences or she’d find a way to fill them with memories. Memories were always the start of a slippery slope into despair.

  Once they were across the ward and Alfie was settled back in bed, he realized just how many tins his dad was carrying.

  ‘Mum, how many people are you feeding? How long did it take to bake all of this?’

  ‘Don’t even ask, Alf. She had to go and use next-door’s oven because we ran out of room. I swear I’ve never seen Tesco sell out of butter as a result of one single person.’

  Alfie loved the way his dad moaned about his mother’s foibles while simultaneously looking at her with such unabashed adoration and love.

  ‘Well, if you don’t want them, I will happily take them back and give them to the ladies at the salon.’

  ‘Oh, come on now, Mum, let’s not make any rash decisions here.’ Alfie reached across for one of the tins. ‘I’m very grateful for the cake, especially the brownies. Thank you.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, I know how much you love them. Plus, you know I always like to bake a little something to try and honour today.’ Her face dropped, and his dad immediately reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze.

  ‘Come on, love, why don’t we see if anyone else wants some of these?’

  Before she could reply, Robert was already pulling her to her feet, cake tins in hand, and leading her out on to the ward floor. Just as they were finishing their rounds, Sarah walked in.

  ‘Oh my God! What the hell is going on, Alfie? Have you hired people to bring better food than me?’

  There she was. A small, blonde, bright ball of energy hurtling towards him.

  ‘Hello, love. I don’t think we’ve met yet. We’re Alfie’s parents, Jane and Robert.’

  Sarah ignored the outstretched hand of his mother and went straight in for a hug.

  ‘I’m Sarah, Alice’s friend. I’m guessing you haven’t delivered the mystery woman any cake yet? Hard to do when she’s stuck behind this bloody curtain.’

  ‘Oh, well, we were just about to act—’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll take some in for her if that’s OK?’

  ‘Of course! Take as much as you want.’

  Sarah fished out a large slice of the lemon drizzle and disappeared behind the curtain.

  ‘Thank you!’ Alice called.

  ‘THAT’S OK, LOVE. THERE’S MORE HERE IF YOU WANT.’

  Why his mother was shouting at her, Alfie had no idea.

  ‘Mum, it’s just a curtain, not a stone wall. You don’t have to shout.’

  ‘Oh, right. Yes.’ Redness flooded her cheeks. ‘Well, just be quiet and eat your brownies.’

  The afternoon passed surprisingly well. Probably a result of the extremely high blood sugar levels and numerous cups of tea being delivered because ‘a slice of cake isn’t right without a cup of tea’, according to the nurses.

  ‘So come on, tell us. Is there any news on when you’ll be out yet?’

  His mum was desperate to have him home; every day that passed was one too many in her opinion.

  ‘No. They keep saying soon. It all depends on when the physio team are happy to sign me off.’

  ‘Do you want me to talk to them? Maybe get them to give a firmer timeline? I’m happy to go and speak to them if you want.’

  Of course his mum would be happy to go and speak to them. If you needed an answer from someone, it was highly recommended that you send in Jane Mack. No man, woman or child could survive a grilling from her.

  ‘No, it’s fine. Thanks, though. I’m having a review next week, so if I still don’t have any answers after that, I’ll call you in for back-up.’

  ‘You’re just too laid back. If this was either of your brothers, they’d be asking every minute what was happening. But knowing you, you could be in here for another ten years if someone doesn’t get involved! You get that from your dad.’

  ‘Don’t go comparing me to my idiot brothers, please. And I think you’ll find I’ve seen our Robert over there stressed and highly strung on many occasions. Don’t lump me in with him!’

  ‘No, Alfie.’ She looked exasperated. ‘I don’t mean Robert. I mean your dad.’ Her voice was tired. She sounded exhausted by life today. ‘I remember so many times when everyone would be tearing their hair out or shouting and screaming, and your dad would just be sat there, not fussed at all. Calm as anything. Sometimes we asked him if he had any cares in the world at all. Life was just water off a duck’s back for him.’

  Robert wore a mixture of joy and grief on his face. Somehow, they’d landed right in the centre of where Alfie really didn’t want to go today.

  ‘Mhm. I remember you saying this before.’ Alfie didn’t want to be rude, but he was frantically looking for a way to steer the conversation away from here. Sometimes, if he just sat quietly, they would run out of steam and move on themselves.

  ‘I remember this one time, we were all going on this stag and th—’

  ‘Can we not? Please? I just can’t hear it today,’ Alfie snapped, stopping Robert in his tracks.

  He couldn’t help himself. He didn’t want to look Robert in the eye because he knew what he’d be faced with: deep regret, grief, and longing to educate a boy he loved so dearly about a friend he’d loved just as much.

  ‘Of course, son, of course. I guess, just today being the anniversary and all, it’s easy to get caught up in reminiscing. But you’re right, we can do that at home.’

  Then came the familiar wave of guilt. Alfie didn’t mean to be so sharp with them. It just came so naturally whenever they started doing this.

  ‘Sorry, I know it’s hard. I just …’

  ‘No need to be sorry, darling. Let’s talk about something else, shall we?’ His mum patted his hand reassuringly. ‘Have another brownie, it always makes things better.’

  ‘No, Mum. You always make things better.’

  He leant over and kissed her on the cheek. Neither of them managed to stop the tears from welling in their eyes.

  *

  If there was a world record for the number of cakes eaten in a day, Alfie was sure he would come close to claiming the title with his performance that afternoon. His parents left earlier than usual – he assumed to go and visit the rest of the family – but conveniently forgot to take with them the remaining piles of sweet treats. Sure, it was probably emotional eating, but it felt so good stuffing his face with rich sugary brownies that he couldn’t even pretend to feel bad about it. Sarah and Alice were chatting away as usual, and despite their many attempts to bring him into the conversation, Alfie didn’t feel like talking. He just wanted to sit there, eat and then go to sleep.

  ‘See you tomorrow,’ Sarah said, as she popped her head around the curtain to say goodbye. ‘It was lovely to meet your parents today. Your mum is a magical baker.’

  ‘Yeah, she’s pretty special. They both are.’ Alfie looked down at his hands. Why did he still feel so guilty for his behaviour earlier? And why was Sarah looking at him like that?

  ‘Makes sense that they created someone as special as you then. Night, Alfie.’

  And just like that she left.

  And just like that, he started to cry.

  45

  Alice

  As hard as she tried, she couldn’t ignore
the sounds of him crying next to her. Muffled sobs and gulps of air punctuated the relative silence of the ward. And as much as she wanted to reach out and ask if he was OK, they’d been through enough now for her to know that space was key.

  It had been a strange sort of afternoon; she’d felt something had been off the moment Alfie’s parents walked on to the ward. A tension in their conversation, Alfie’s tone slightly harsher and blunter than usual. But for now she’d wait; they had all evening to talk, so her curiosity could be silenced for a little longer.

  Surprisingly, it was Alfie who started the conversation with her. To say she was relieved was an understatement; navigating her way skilfully into emotional heart-to-hearts was still not her strong point.

  ‘Hey, Alice, do you want some more brownie? I think for the first time in my life I’ve reached my limit.’

  ‘Alfie, it’s 10 o’clock at night.’

  ‘And? Brownies are good 24/7, it’s a scientific fact.’

  ‘Well, in that case, yes, hand some over. Plus, Sarah ate most of the lemon drizzle cake we had – I barely got a look in.’

  An entire cake tin suddenly appeared through the gap in her curtain.

  Alice reached in for a couple, only to find the tin stuffed full with cake. ‘Whoa, how much did your mum bake? There’s still so many!’

  ‘Please, Alice, just take the whole lot. I still have two tins back here, if you can believe it.’

  ‘If you insist.’

  Without hesitating, she started making her way through the brownies. Maybe she could eat herself into oblivion and avoid the reality of the outside world. She supposed it wouldn’t be a bad way to go. Burns victim survives fire but dies by chocolate.

  ‘Was there any particular reason why your mum decided to give us all diabetes today?’

  ‘You can always tell something bad has happened, or someone’s sad, when my mum starts to obsessively bake.’

  ‘Is … is everything OK?’

  ‘It’s a bit of a weird one. I’m not really sure where to start.’

  ‘You can start anywhere or nowhere. It’s totally up to you.’ She held her breath: would he remember he’d said those same words to her not so long ago?

  ‘Ah, someone very wise must have said that to you once.’

  ‘Oh yes, he was very wise. Wildly inappropriate, and laughed at his own jokes a lot, but he was one of the smartest … and the kindest.’

  ‘Well then, in his honour I guess it’s only fair that I tell the story.’

  ‘I’m right here – with a hell of a lot of brownies and ready to listen.’

  ‘Today was the anniversary of my dad’s death.’

  Had she really heard that right?

  ‘But I th—’

  ‘You thought Robert was my dad? Well, of course you did, I call him Dad. To me he is my dad. I’ve never known anyone else. But biologically he isn’t.’

  ‘Oh, right, I see.’

  She wanted to know more immediately but she didn’t dare push him.

  ‘My real dad, Stephen, got cancer when my mum was only a few weeks pregnant with me. It was in his kidneys. They operated and he went through chemo, all with the prognosis that he could have years left to live. Years left to meet me and see me grow up, and live a relatively normal life. Unfortunately, they got it wrong. Or maybe the cancer just decided to show us all who was boss. So, not only did my mum have to nurse my dad through some really dark times, she also had to look after two young boys, all while being pregnant with me. Then, to top it off, the love of her life went and died on her only weeks before she gave birth. It was really shit – apparently – I mean, I only know this from my brothers, and Robert of course.’

  ‘Wait, so Robert was around even then?’

  ‘Robert was actually my dad’s best friend. They’d known each other since school. They came as a package, apparently – you rarely saw one without the other. Robert was like an uncle to my brothers. They grew up with him too. With Mum being so heavily pregnant and basically dealing with all of this on her own, he was around a lot to help us out. Plus, he kept Dad’s spirits up and helped with taking care of him. I don’t think my family would have survived without him. Nothing romantic happened for a while after Dad passed. Robert just wanted to make sure he looked after us. I think Dad made him promise to be there for us after he’d gone. Over time, things started to change between him and Mum, and it turns out they found love. It’s amazing, to be honest, and I love Robert like a father. Like I said, to me he is my dad. I’ve never known any different.’

  He paused, although Alice knew there was more.

  ‘It makes days like the anniversary of Stephen’s death hard because everyone is grieving, even my brothers, and I’m just there going through the motions. I know I should feel sad, but I can’t miss a man I never knew. Robert insists on telling me stories about him – I think he wants me to love the man like he did. Everyone says I’m a lot like him, that I have his laid-back attitude, his humour, and of course I’m the only one who got his eyes.’

  ‘His eyes?’

  He laughed. ‘I forgot you wouldn’t have seen them! I have different-coloured eyes. One is hazel and the other is bright green. It’s pretty cool, although growing up, people used to tease me about it. Every time I’d come home crying after school, my mum would say to me, “It’s a piece of your dad, Alfie. What’s not to love?” That made me hate him even more. It was hard for my mum to watch her youngest son try to forget his real dad ever existed. As I grew up, I realized how important he was to both Mum and Robert, and so I made a special effort to listen more to their stories. To ask questions. To study the photographs of them all as a family. It’s just hard when it’s not the family I know.’

  ‘That’s a hell of a lot for you to deal with as a kid.’

  He was silent.

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply anything bad about your family. It just seems like that’s a lot of pressure for you to have taken on so young.’

  ‘No, it’s OK. I’d never really thought about it like that. Growing up in a family that carried so much sadness and that had been through so much pain, all I wanted was to make them smile. I guess I’ve never grown out of it. I hate the thought of ever upsetting anyone.’

  Instinctively she reached her hand through the curtain. His hand was warm and firm in hers. ‘Sorry, there’s probably a load of brownie on my fingers.’

  He squeezed her harder. ‘Just how I like it.’

  Once again she had that urge to share something of herself with him in return. Not out of duty or because she felt like she had to, but because she really wanted to.

  ‘My dad left us after Euan died.’

  Wow, there it was. Just like that.

  ‘Really? How come?’

  ‘Didn’t want to be around the sadness any more. That was the exact line he wrote in the letter he left for me. He didn’t even have the guts to say goodbye to me face-to-face. I was twelve by then, and he left me at home with a psychopathic mother who could barely look after herself, let alone a child. He was a coward.’ There was so much venom in her voice that she could feel the acid burning her tongue as she spoke. Her dad was a subject she rarely talked about, even to Sarah.

  ‘Has he ever been in contact since?’

  ‘He wrote a few times. Always apologizing and trying to explain why he had to get away. And the worst thing is, I understand. I couldn’t have stayed married to my mother after what she became, but still, to leave me there with her … I find that really hard to forgive.’

  ‘I can imagine.’

  ‘The funny thing is, I convinced myself he was coming back. Every night I would leave the hall light on, a glass of brandy out on the side and a portion of dinner I’d saved in the oven for him. Every night for almost a year, until one night my mother – who had drunk more than her usual bottle of whiskey – woke up on the sofa and saw me leaving the drink out. She laughed and told me how pathetic I was for thinking he would come back for me. He didn’t love me
. He couldn’t wait to get away from me. Euan was the only one he cared about, and he’d told her he wished it was me who’d got sick instead. I was so mad I threw the glass at her head. It missed, fortunately or unfortunately, but after that I gave up on him. And her. Told myself he was never coming back and shut myself off from that life altogether.’

  Silence.

  Hands squeezing even tighter than before.

  ‘Alice, I’m so sorry that happened to you.’ His voice was so soft it barely kissed her ears.

  ‘I haven’t thought about that night for years. I kind of forgot it ever happened, actually.’

  ‘People do say I’m like therapy, but better and free.’

  He was obviously joking, but he was right. Not that she’d been to therapy as an adult. Her dad had tried to make her go after Euan’s death; she’d gone maybe three times before her mum pulled her out of it, saying it was a waste of money.

  ‘Thank you.’ She squeezed his hand again and let go. It was suddenly too much for her and she had to break free.

  ‘You know that not everyone is going to hurt you, right?’

  His words hit her hard. A sob escaped from her mouth as she buried her head in her hands. All of a sudden the pain was pouring out of her and she didn’t know how to make it stop.

  ‘I didn’t mean to make you more upset. I just needed you to know that. Not all of us are going to leave you. You don’t have to push us all away.’

  She looked down to see his hand still outstretched on her side of the curtain. She reached for him once again, just briefly. A wave of heat flooded her body.

  Maybe Alfie was right. Maybe she didn’t need to push everyone away to survive. Maybe love didn’t need to be feared. She remembered the words that had come to her before.

  If you’re not willing to die, you have to find a way to live.