Until Next Weekend

by Rachel Marks

  The practice doesn’t start well. There’s a lot of confusion over the fact the wolves are kind and the pig is the baddie, and I mean A LOT. I’m tempted to just switch it back to the original, but I think that’ll just make matters worse, so we stick with it. None of them can get their lines, the narrators keep making the microphones squeal, cue covering ears, screams and tears from all the weedy ones, the percussionists might as well not even be there (they just stare at me blankly when I demonstrate keeping a steady beat) and one of the wolves wets himself all over his costume. In fact, the only one who’s any good is Harley, who snorts and shouts his way through his part like someone out of RADA. Oh well. I will not admit defeat. It’s only day one. The only way is up.

  *

  ‘Can I be a total pain and change my mind about not having the boys this weekend?’

  I can hear Kate clattering around on the other end of the phone, emptying the dishwasher or something similarly noisy. ‘It depends. Are you going to change it back again in the meantime?’

  I shake my head vehemently even though Kate can’t see me. ‘No. I can promise you that.’

  There’s a pause, as if Kate is considering my response, and then she says, ‘So what’s changed? I thought you had reports to write.’

  I take a deep breath. ‘Emma, Mimi’s sister, tried to commit suicide. Her son’s in my class. I found her.’

  ‘Oh, Noah. I’m sorry. Is she OK? Is Mimi OK?’

  ‘Yeah, they’re both doing OK.’

  ‘I knew something was up when I came over.’

  ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you at the time.’

  ‘It’s OK. I’ve just been worrying about you. How are you holding up?’

  ‘As you can expect, it brought up a lot of stuff to do with Mum. You were right when you said I was angry at her. I think maybe just admitting that was half the battle. And realizing that I couldn’t change it – what happened, you know?’

  ‘Good for you, Noah. I’m really glad you’re finally dealing with it. But why weren’t you going to have the boys?’

  ‘I panicked, I think. About messing them up. Like Mum did with me.’

  ‘You won’t mess them up, Noah. Well, no more than all parents do with their kids.’

  ‘Thanks. I’m doing better. I know I’ve said that before, but I think I really am this time. Mimi and I have decided to give things a go. And I was hoping to take the boys to meet Dad at the weekend, if that’s OK with you?’

  ‘Of course.’ I was expecting Kate to gush about how wonderful it was that I was finally going to go and see Dad, but there’s no mistaking it, she sounds sad.

  ‘What’s up?’

  ‘It’s nothing.’

  ‘Come on, Kate. I know you well enough to tell when you’re upset about something.’

  Kate sighs. ‘I’m just sorry I couldn’t help you like Mimi clearly has, that’s all.’

  I suddenly get it. I’ve inadvertently made her feel like she wasn’t enough.

  ‘Hey, don’t say that. It’s not like that at all. I just wasn’t ready before. It has nothing to do with you.’

  Kate sounds like she’s doing something again, moving to a different room or tidying something away, the sound of doors closing, her breathing suggesting more exertion. ‘I’m sorry. I’m being selfish thinking of me in all this. I’m really happy things are starting to work out for you, Noah. Honestly.’

  ‘Thank you. And I’m sorry I didn’t do it all sooner.’

  ‘Don’t be sorry.’

  I tuck the phone between my ear and my shoulder whilst I pour myself a glass of apple juice. ‘So is it OK for me to still have the boys at the weekend?’

  ‘Of course. They’ll be thrilled.’

  ‘Thank you, Kate. Really. I know not all ex-wives would be so understanding.’

  ‘Yep. You lucked out with me. See you Sunday.’

  *

  I pull back Mimi’s chair and she does a little curtsy before sitting down. It’s our first proper date and I’m actually quite nervous. I didn’t go too posh as it didn’t seem very ‘Mimi’, but I wanted something that felt special enough, so I went for a nice gastro pub by the water. It’s a warm evening so we sit outside, and it reminds me of our drink after the art gallery and how far we’ve come.

  ‘Well, this is very nice.’

  ‘Only the best for you, of course.’

  When the food arrives, it’s delicious and I’m chuffed that I made a good choice. The benefit of having been friends first is that the conversation flows effortlessly, there are no awkward silences and it’s hands down the best first date I’ve ever had. Mimi looks beautiful in an unusual patchwork denim dress, her red hair glowing in the candlelight.

  Once we’ve finished our mains, the waiter brings over the dessert menu and I know better than to suggest sharing. She orders a hot fudge sundae and I go for the chocolate cheesecake. We talk about a new song that she’s working on. The one we uploaded to YouTube has had some really positive feedback so far and it seems to have spurred her on to keep writing, which I’m really glad about. I tell her some amusing tales about the horror that is my class assembly, and she puts the date into her phone so that she can come along and laugh at my misfortune. Before long, the waiter brings over our desserts and after he’s placed them in front of us and left the table, I decide to broach the subject of my plans for the upcoming weekend.

  ‘So,’ I say between mouthfuls, ‘I thought I might take the boys to meet my dad this weekend.’

  Mimi’s face immediately lights up. ‘Oh, Noah. I’m so pleased.’

  ‘You were right. I think the closure would do me good. And I wondered if you wanted to come with me?’

  ‘Of course,’ she says, looking like someone who’s just been asked to be a bridesmaid. ‘I’d be honoured.’

  ‘Great. And I thought I’d tell the boys about us on Friday night. If you’re OK with that?’

  ‘What about us, exactly?’ Mimi asks, her eyes teasing, as she looks at me over the top of her wine glass.

  ‘Well, that we’re, you know, going steady.’

  A burst of wine flies out of Mimi’s mouth. ‘Going steady? What century are we in, Noah? Surely nobody uses the term “ going steady ” any more?’

  I find myself laughing with her until we’re both giggling like schoolgirls. ‘I’m not sure where it came from, to be honest. I’ve never said it before in my life.’

  ‘Well, I’m glad you’re going to tell the boys. Shows it’s more than a mere dalliance, darling,’ Mimi mocks.

  ‘I’ll tell them you’re my bitch. Is that better?’

  ‘Much.’ Mimi sips the last of her wine and reaches across the table to hold my hand. ‘Thank you for an excellent first date.’

  ‘You’re very welcome.’

  The waiter comes over and takes our bowls away, not speaking, as if he senses he might be interrupting a ‘moment’.

  ‘So do you want me to drop you home after this?’

  I’ve not touched a drop of alcohol this week and it’s amazing how much brighter I feel. People always say alcohol is a depressant but I really believed it was making me feel better – now I wonder if it was a big part of what was dragging me down.

  ‘Actually, I told my dad I wouldn’t be home until the morning.’

  ‘Well, that was very presumptuous of you, wasn’t it?’

  Mimi smiles shyly, her cheeks just slightly blushing.

  ‘I’ll go and pay the bill.’

  When we finally reach the end of an exhausting week of rehearsals, I pick the kids up from school and take them to their favourite café (they love it because it has the best selection of cakes you’ve ever seen). We haven’t been for a while so I wanted it to be a treat, somewhere special to announce my ‘news’ that Mimi and I are now together.

  But when they walk in, they go straight to their usual sofa and sit down, fighting over who sits by the window.

  ‘Do you want to come and order, boys? To choose something?’

>   ‘Oh, I’ll just have a hot chocolate and a brownie, same as usual,’ Gabe says, taking a stack of Pokémon cards out of his pocket and scrolling through them.

  Finn doesn’t even bother to speak, just nods, which I take to mean he wants the same as Gabe.

  They used to rush to the counter, gaze up at the menu wide-eyed, take ages deliberating about which cake to choose. It’s like Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory in here, boys. Come on, give me something.

  I order the hot chocolates and brownies (choosing the most impressive slice of chocolate cake I can find for me, covered in Smarties and marshmallows) and take them over. That’ll show them. Unfortunately, my plan backfires as they then start arguing over my cake and I end up having to buy another piece and get stuck with a chocolate brownie.

  Once they’ve stuffed their faces, I begin my announcement, feeling unexpectedly nervous about the news I’m about to impart. At first, it didn’t seem like a big deal telling them that Mimi and I are now in a relationship. I mean, she spent a fair bit of time with them when we were just friends – the fact that we’re now sleeping in the same bed at the end of the day doesn’t really have much bearing on them. But then I realized that this is the first woman I’ve cared about since Kate. All being well, I want Mimi to be in the boys’ lives for a long time. I want her in a leading role. And them being happy about that is hugely important to me.

  I adopt the third person as a kind of distancing technique. ‘So, boys, Daddy’s got something to tell you.’

  ‘What? Are we going on holiday?’ Gabe says, eyes lighting up.

  ‘No, it’s not like that …’

  ‘Have you got us the new Aquaman Lego film?’

  ‘Well, no, I …’ Now I’m worried my news is going to be a disappointment. ‘It’s something about Daddy.’

  ‘You’re turning into a woman?’ Gabe shouts and the whole café turn to look at us.

  ‘No, no. Where have you heard about stuff like that?’

  ‘One of the boys in my class, Timmy, well, his dad said he was born in the wrong body so he’s turning into a woman so Timmy’s going to have two mums.’

  Finn screws up his face as if Gabe’s just imparted one of his particularly delightful stories about one bodily function or another.

  ‘Right, OK, well, no, I’m not becoming a woman. I’ve got a girlfriend. Like Mummy has Jerry.’

  ‘Are you going to get married too?’ Finn asks enthusiastically.

  ‘No, nothing like that.’

  ‘Oh,’ he whines. ‘I wanted another chocolate fountain.’

  ‘Sorry about that. Anyway, it’s Mimi, you know, my friend Mimi. She’s my girlfriend now.’

  Gabe looks like he’s wondering how what I’m telling him is ‘news’. ‘I thought she was your girlfriend anyway. You’re always with her.’

  ‘I like Mimi,’ Finn states, matter of fact. It looks like he’s got a beard with the chocolate icing all around his mouth.

  ‘Good. So you’re both OK with Daddy having a girlfriend? You don’t mind Mimi spending more time with us or staying at Daddy’s sometimes?’

  ‘Of course not. We’re happy for you, Dad,’ Gabe says and, for a second, I can picture him as an adult, joining me for a pint at the pub, and the thought makes me simultaneously happy and sad.

  ‘Great. Well, I think she might come over tomorrow, if that’s OK? In fact, I thought we might go to see your granddad.’

  It feels weird calling him Granddad. When you picture a granddad you visualize someone warm, cosy, with permanent sweets in his pocket. I can’t imagine my dad like that.

  ‘But I thought you said Granddad lived in another country?’ Gabe says with furrowed eyebrows.

  When Gabe reached an age where he started asking questions about Dad, saying he lived abroad seemed like the easiest lie and I’ve not really had any reason to change stories since.

  ‘I did. But he lives here now. So is that OK if we go and see him tomorrow?’

  ‘Yeah, fine.’ The boys don’t look particularly bothered either way, but I can’t expect them to understand the significance of it.

  ‘But tonight it’s film night with Daddy. I’ve decided it’s time to introduce you boys to the world of Percy Jackson.’

  ‘Finally,’ Gabe says, jigging excitedly in his chair, but Finn’s too busy licking his finger and using it to pick up the crumbs on his plate to engage in the conversation.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  The satnav says we’re only ten minutes away and my insides start churning as if I’m on a loop-the-loop rollercoaster. I’m sorely tempted to press the ‘stop guidance’ button and turn around, but I just keep following it, robotically, hoping that going through the motions of changing gear, indicating, steering will start to calm my racing heart.

  As we get even closer, it feels weird seeing the area that I’ve avoided for such a long time. We pass a shop where I’m guessing he buys his milk, his bread, his whisky. And then I hear ‘You have reached your destination’ and slow the car down until I see the number twenty-three. It has a red door. A small front garden with no plants, just gravel. The paint is chipping off the window frames. It’s quite a depressing house really.

  I sit there for a moment, in two minds about whether I want to go and knock on the door. Maybe he won’t be there? There’s no driveway, just a row of cars parked along the road, so it’s impossible to know if his car’s here. I’m not even sure what car he drives these days.

  ‘Do you want to go in?’ Mimi uses a gentle voice, as if asking if I’m ready to identify a body in the morgue.

  ‘Sorry. Yes.’ I turn to the boys in the back. ‘Come on, boys. Let’s go and see if Granddad’s home.’

  ‘Have you not called him first?’ Gabe asks, incredulous.

  It’s a reasonable question. It’s probably crazy to drive for an hour without even knowing if he’s going to be in, but every time I thought about picking up the phone, I didn’t know what to say.

  ‘Do you want me to wait in the car?’ Mimi asks. ‘I don’t mind.’

  ‘No. I’d like you to come in. If that’s OK?’

  Mimi reaches for my hand. ‘Of course it is.’

  We get out of the car and I walk, nervously, towards the front door, Mimi just behind me. The boys run ahead, pushing the metal gate open and running up the path, slamming on the door before I can tell them that actually I’m not ready for this, I want to go home. Dad doesn’t answer and I feel a strange mixture of relief and disappointment, but then the door opens and he’s standing there, in jeans and a lumberjack shirt, his hair still thick, a little greyer at the sides but mostly dark, like mine. And he’s looking at the boys with confusion, as if he’s going to shout at them for knocking on his door for no reason, but then he lifts his head and sees me, and he looks so overwhelmed with emotion that I don’t know what to say, how to feel, how to act. Finn has no such problem, hurrying straight over to Dad and hugging his legs, and I’m scared that Dad might start crying. Because if he does then I know I will too.

  ‘Please, come in,’ Dad says, his voice strained.

  He opens the door wider and the boys and Mimi go through into the small hallway. When I go past, Dad grabs my arm with both hands, squeezing it, and says, barely audibly, ‘Thank you so much for coming.’

  I just nod and Dad guides us all into the lounge. It’s bare, nothing on the walls or the surfaces except for two photos in brown frames. One of him, Mum, Ben and me at the beach when I was about six. I think I remember it, but maybe I just remember a generic trip to the beach rather than this specific one. The other photo is of Ben’s two girls – it’s the same one he gave to us one Christmas. They’d had a professional family shoot done so we all got the treat of cheesy, airbrushed photos of them all.

  Dad must follow my gaze because he says, ‘I didn’t have any photographs of your boys.’ He pauses before turning back to me. ‘I’d love one though, if that’s OK?’

  ‘I’ll see if I can find something and send it over to you,�
� I reply coldly. I so want to be OK with everything, to forgive him, to give him what he clearly needs, but the anger and resentment in my gut is so strong, so toxic, that I don’t know if I can.

  ‘Thanks, that would be great.’

  I can hear the vulnerability in his voice but can’t quite bring myself to warm to it.

  Gabe comes over to me and tugs on my arm until I bend down so he can whisper in my ear. ‘Can we have a drink and a biscuit?’

  Dad must hear him because he looks embarrassed. ‘Sorry, I haven’t offered you anything. I don’t have a lot of visitors. What would you like?’

  ‘Go and help your dad out, Noah. I’ll look after these two toerags,’ Mimi says, ruffling each boy’s hair. ‘And I’ll have a cup of tea, please.’

  I know what she’s doing. Trying to force me into a conversation I’m not sure I’m ready to have, but I reluctantly follow Dad through to the kitchen. It’s strange at first, neither of us knowing what to say. He turns the kettle on and gets out three mugs and I look in the fridge for some sort of juice for the boys. It’s odd to see the contents. A few carrots, a half-eaten tomato. The usuals – milk, bread, butter. Beer. A couple of microwavable meals. In fact, it’s not unlike mine, which is a depressing thought. I take out the apple juice and Dad passes me two glasses to put it in.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘The boys are gorgeous. Ben’s shown me pictures on his phone but they’re even more stunning in real life.’

  ‘Must take after Kate.’

  ‘I can see a lot of you in there too. When you were little.’