Until Next Weekend

by Rachel Marks

  ‘I’m surprised you can remember.’

  Dad tries to secure eye contact with me. ‘I remember everything.’

  He pours hot water into the three mugs and, standing in the silence, wanting equally to wrap my arms around him and punch him in the face, I wonder if I can do this.

  ‘And is that your girlfriend?’ Dad continues. ‘She’s very beautiful too.’

  I nod.

  ‘I’m glad. I was really sorry to hear about you and Kate. I always thought you two were so well-suited.’

  ‘We were. But there’s only so far you can push someone before they break, you know? I drove her away.’

  It sounds more pointed than I mean it to. Or maybe I do mean it to sound that pointed, I’m not sure.

  ‘Well, I’m sure it wasn’t all your fault. Try not to be too hard on yourself.’

  Is he excusing himself? Or just being kind to me? Either way, I feel myself bristling and try to breathe it away. I didn’t come here for a fight, but at the same time it feels like this forced politeness isn’t going to get us anywhere. That I’ll just walk out feeling the same resentment, the same rage. I wonder if Dad feels it too – the need to face the elephant in the room – because he says, ‘I’m sorry that I wasn’t the best dad, Noah. And that I just left after your mum died. I thought you boys were better off without me. That you hated me, resented me for what happened to your mum.’

  I take off my glasses, cleaning them with my sleeve, hoping the everyday action might calm me. ‘I think I should go.’

  Dad reaches out to touch my arm but I move out the way. ‘Don’t go. Look, I’m just trying to explain.’

  I put my glasses back on and look directly at him. It feels weird really looking at him after all this time. The ways he’s changed. The ways he hasn’t. ‘Better off without you? Our mum had just killed herself. We needed you.’ It’s hard to say this last bit and the words catch in my throat a little.

  Dad lets out a long breath. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say. I didn’t know how to cope with the grief. I felt guilty all the time. I felt like I’d failed you, failed her; because I’d buried myself in work, I’d not been around as much as I should’ve been, but I didn’t know how to help her. How to make her happy. And then when she died, I just wanted to hide away.’

  ‘So you just left us there? To take care of ourselves?’

  ‘You were nineteen, Noah. Ben was twenty-one.’

  ‘So you’d done your job, had you? A pretty shitty one, but we were grown up. You’d served your time. Time for us to stand on our own two feet?’

  Dad leans against the worktop, as if he’s struggling to stand on his own. ‘It wasn’t like that. I thought I had nothing to offer you. That I’d done enough damage as it was. But I came to my senses, Noah. I tried fighting for you boys but you wouldn’t have me.’

  ‘Do you blame us?’

  ‘No, I don’t blame you for anything. Not a single bit of it. I deserve every second of the heartache and loneliness and regret that I have endured all these years. But I can’t change the past, however much I want to. All I can do is try to be a good dad now. A good granddad. But it’s up to you if you want to let me.’

  The reason I came is because I thought that I could, it felt like I was ready, but now I’m here I’m not so sure. I still want to. But it feels like the past has got its arms around me and it won’t let go.

  ‘Let’s just go and play a game with the boys. We can talk about this another time.’

  ‘OK. Except I don’t really have any games. Sorry. Ben usually brings stuff with the girls.’

  ‘It’s fine. I’ve probably got some in the boot. I’ll have a look. You go and have a chat with the boys, if they let you get a word in edgeways.’ I try to lighten the mood, but the air still feels thick and heavy, like it does just before a storm.

  Dad smiles, but it feels a little forced. ‘Thanks. I’d love to.’

  We take the drinks through to the lounge and then I leave them and go out to the car. It feels good to inhale a deep breath of fresh air and I take my time walking to it. When I get there, I open the boot and prop myself on the edge, allowing myself to take a moment before going back inside. I wonder what the boys are making of Dad, what he’s making of them. Then I notice Mimi out of the corner of my eye and she comes over and sits beside me on the edge of the boot.

  ‘Gabe’s got your dad playing hangman.’

  ‘Sounds about right. Are they OK?’

  ‘They’re having a lovely time, giggling away.’

  A strange mixture of emotions fills my chest – relief that they’re all getting on, sadness for all the years they’ve missed.

  ‘I’ll come back in in a second. Just needed a breather.’

  ‘Of course,’ Mimi says, standing up.

  ‘I didn’t mean for you to go.’

  She sits back down. ‘OK.’

  I let out a long breath. ‘I’m not sure I can do it.’

  ‘Don’t be silly. You’re here. You’re doing it.’

  ‘But how do I forgive him? Even now I’ve accepted that it’s not all his fault, that Mum hurt me just as much, more, even. I still feel so angry with him for abandoning us – not just when she died, but for not being around more when they were still together, for not helping us with her.’

  ‘So tell him that. Tell him how much your mum hurt you. And that you’re sad that he let her.’

  It’s not that easy, but I know that sitting on it all isn’t doing me any favours either.

  ‘Come on. Let’s go back in.’ I grab Uno and Jenga and Mimi follows me back to Dad’s house. He and the boys are gathered around a piece of paper, Gabe jumping up and grabbing his forehead every time he guesses a letter wrong and Dad draws the next bit of the hangman. When Dad sees me, he looks up.

  ‘Is hangman OK? The boys wanted to play it.’

  He looks frailer than I remember him, not so much physically, but less sure of himself. He always seemed so confident when we were growing up, like whatever he said was gospel and we had no right to question it. But now he seems desperate to seek my approval and I’m not sure if I feel flattered or sad.

  ‘Of course. It’s one of our favourites, isn’t it, boys?’

  The boys don’t respond to me, whispering in each other’s ears about which letter to guess next, so I sit down on the sofa and let them get on with the game.

  We stay for about an hour. The boys teach Dad how to play Uno and have lots of fun correcting him when he gets things wrong. We all play a fairly competitive version of Jenga, Mimi being the one to eventually cause the tower to collapse. And for a while it seems normal, a typical family get-together, but then I start to feel tired and decide it’s time to leave.

  When we’re at the door ready to go, I avoid any over-emotional goodbyes or physical affection by loading myself up with the boys’ games and promising to come back and see Dad again soon. I don’t yet know if I will but it’s definitely not out of the question either, which is progress of sorts, I suppose. The boys do hug him and I notice he holds on longer than would be expected for a casual goodbye, perhaps scared he’ll never get to do it again. Then he kisses them both on the tops of their heads.

  ‘It was so brilliant to see you,’ he says to them, his face beaming. Then he looks at me. ‘And you.’

  I nod.

  ‘And if you could send me a photo of the boys, that’d be great. Or bring one over. Or I could come and see you.’

  He looks like he’s trying to be casual about it, but I can sense how much he wants to see us again and I wish I could give him a guarantee.

  ‘We’ll sort something.’

  Dad’s shoulders fall but he nods, seemingly accepting that I’m not ready to commit to anything just yet.

  Mimi leans in and kisses Dad on the cheek. ‘It was lovely to meet you, Mike.’

  ‘You too, Mimi. I hope to see you again soon.’

  Mimi smiles and then I start the procession down the path, unable to ignore the
sadness I feel at walking away, pressing on my throat like a swollen gland. When I turn back to shut the gate, Dad is still standing at the door and he waves, and I wave back and manage a half-smile, and then Finn starts hassling me about having one of the cakes in the back of the car, but I’m too distracted to respond.

  ‘Go and tell him,’ Mimi says, her hand placed gently in the small of my back.

  I look at her, contemplating what she’s said, and then I hand her the car keys and she leads the boys to the car whilst I walk back to Dad’s door, knocking on it firmly, despite my hand shaking.

  When Dad opens, he looks surprised. ‘Did you forget something?’

  ‘Can I come back in for a second?’

  ‘Sure. Come on through.’

  We go back into the lounge and I sit down on the sofa, Dad sitting beside me, looking slightly scared.

  I take a deep breath and then begin, because if I don’t say it straight away then I’m going to end up not saying it at all. ‘When she shouted at us for nothing, or made us feel guilty for having friends, when she told us we were useless, that it was our fault she was so miserable …’ I swallow down the lump in my throat. ‘Why didn’t you stop her?’

  Dad puts his head in his hands and then rubs his eyes before looking up. ‘I did try. I did talk to her about it but she didn’t get it. I’m so sorry, Noah.’

  There’s no point trying to stop the tears from coming now. It’s beyond my control. ‘I loved her so much but I always seemed to disappoint her … I never understood what I’d done wrong.’

  Dad puts his hand on my cheek and it feels like something inside me is breaking down. ‘Oh, son. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m so sorry I let you go through that.’

  Dad wraps his arms around me and I don’t resist. I hug him back, feeling like a kid again, needing the strong arms of my father to make me feel safe.

  *

  On the way home, at the boys’ request, we take their bikes on to the Downs. Once we’re out the car, Gabe cycles off ahead and Mimi patiently helps Finn, holding on to the saddle and running alongside him.

  ‘I’m doing it, I’m doing it,’ I can hear Finn shout as I trail behind them all.

  When he starts to lose his balance, Mimi runs in front of him and grabs the handlebars, helping him to stop safely and climb off. I catch up with them and shout Gabe back, and he starts pedalling towards us at speed.

  ‘I was riding on my own, wasn’t I? You weren’t holding on to me,’ Finn says, his face beaming, his voice out of breath.

  ‘You were,’ Mimi lies and I reach over for her hand and squeeze it.

  When Gabe returns, he throws his bike to the ground and slaps Finn on the back.

  ‘Hey,’ Finn says, his face scrunched. ‘Daddy, Gabe just hit me.’

  ‘I’m playing tag,’ Gabe says, although we all know he just wanted a free shot at his brother. ‘Come on, Finn, you’re it. Are you playing, Mimi? Daddy’s always too slow.’

  ‘Right,’ I say, grabbing him and just about managing to pick him up and dangle him head first above the ground. ‘I’ll show you.’

  I gently place him on the ground and he, Mimi and I run off whilst Finn chases after us. We play tag for a while, and then when I’m worn out, I suggest we find an ice-cream van, so Gabe cycles off in search of one and we follow behind, me pushing Finn’s bike and him holding Mimi’s hand.

  When we reach the ice-cream van, we join the queue, whilst the boys chase around nearby. Mimi links her arm through mine and rests her weight lightly on me.

  ‘I’m really proud of you for today. In fact, I feel like a proud teacher watching my student graduate.’

  I smile. ‘Because it was all down to your excellent guidance?’

  ‘I’d like to say I played a part.’

  I kiss the top of her head. ‘You did. A huge part. Thank you.’

  Once we’ve finally reached the front and bought the ice creams, I call the boys over and we sit on the grass like a row of skittles, Mimi and I in the middle with one boy either side of us. The sun is out and there is only a gentle breeze. In fact, it is a perfect late spring day. Summer always feels time-pressured, like you have to make the most of it because you know it’ll soon be over and the sky will return to its usual soul-destroying grey. But spring is full of anticipation, of hope. If it’s hot, it’s a bonus, you can just relax and enjoy it. So that’s what we do. My two boys and this woman who feels a lot like spring herself.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Kate and Jerry have invited us over for dinner. Kate decided it would be nice for the boys to see us all together so we could show what a happy, united extended family we are. I’m not entirely convinced. There’s no way I’m ever going to be friends with Jerry. Not because I’m bitter that he’s now married to Kate. In fact, I haven’t thought about Kate in that way for ages now. It’s just that he’s a boring fart who only wants to talk about sport or gadgets, like his new lawnmower that, guess what, mows lawns. But here we are. And despite having to endure Jerry’s fifteen-minute demonstration of how to use his new egg peeler, I’m actually having a pretty good time.

  The boys have got pizza on their laps in the lounge and are watching a film, so they think it’s the best party ever. Jerry has cooked steak and chips (very manly) and I hate to admit it tastes great. Of course he can cook to restaurant standard, unlike me, who struggles not to ruin a microwaveable meal.

  ‘This is delicious,’ Mimi says. ‘I can see why you left Noah for Jerry, Kate.’

  Kate and Jerry start wetting themselves and Mimi looks over at me (I’m not laughing).

  ‘Too soon?’ Mimi gives me a cheeky wink and I can’t help but smile.

  ‘I like you already,’ Kate says to Mimi. ‘I told you she was a keeper, Noah.’

  ‘You were right,’ I say and, when I look at Mimi, she looks like a kid whose teacher just told them that their work was the best in the class.

  ‘So what else do you like to do when you’re not cooking delicious meals, Jerry?’ Mimi asks, charm personified.

  ‘Oh, I’m a simple man. Football on a Saturday, beer and a take-out, a walk followed by lunch in a country pub. That sort of thing. Noah thinks I’m a boring bastard.’

  ‘I don’t know where you get that impression.’

  ‘Probably because every time you saw Kate for the first year we were together you said, “ What are you doing with that boring bastard?”’

  I glower at Kate.

  ‘A relationship can’t work without honesty. Sorry, Noah,’ Kate says with a shrug.

  And there it is – the recurring pressing guilt. It’s been about a month now since the kissing Emma incident and things with Mimi are going fantastically, but it’s often there, niggling at me like a tickly cough. Sometimes I wonder if I should just tell her and be done with it. But things are going so well that I don’t want to complicate them. I’m finally happy. And I’ve been unhappy long enough to know that this isn’t something I want to jeopardize.

  ‘So which team do you support?’ Mimi continues. ‘I can’t believe Noah’s not into football. I tried to take the boys for a kick-about when we first met but they were having none of it.’

  Jerry laughs. ‘Sheffield United. It’s my hometown. And, I know, they must be the only two boys in the world who don’t like football. I always find it fascinating, the whole nature versus nurture thing. Shows nature wins out, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Except I nurture them too, Jerry. So it’s not exactly nature versus nurture, is it?’

  ‘Oh, I know. Of course you do,’ Jerry says, waving his hand. ‘I just mean them spending the majority of their time with me doesn’t seem to have had an effect, that’s all.’

  Kate starts clearing the plates and pouring us all more wine, clearly picking up on my slightly sour feelings at being pushed out as the minority parent. ‘Dessert, everyone? I cooked this bit, so it’ll probably be terrible. That’s one trait Noah and I share, so the boys’ll probably be shocking cooks, their poor wives.�
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  Whilst Kate is away from the table, we all tuck into our wine, and then she brings over a chocolate cheesecake, greeted by oohs and aahs around the table. As Kate serves up, Jerry takes a bottle of Shloer from the fridge and pours some into Kate’s wine glass.

  It takes me a while to take it in, to process it, and what I’m suddenly fairly sure it means. I know that Kate sees me staring at her glass and then at her even though she avoids eye contact, because when our eyes do meet, she’s unable to hide the truth in hers.

  ‘Well, thank you, Kate,’ Mimi says. ‘This is delicious too. Trust me, you’re a much better cook than Noah.’

  Kate’s eyes plead with me and I can tell she thinks I’m about to start catapulting my chocolate cheesecake across the room.

  Instead, I raise my glass. ‘Well, I suppose a toast is in order.’

  Mimi and Jerry look over at me, confusion crinkling their features.

  ‘Congratulations. Looks as though you might get your footballer after all, Jerry.’

  Mimi glances at me and then at Kate, and I can tell she’s beginning to join up the dots. ‘Oh, congratulations. That’s wonderful news.’

  Jerry taps my glass with his. ‘Well, thanks, Noah. I didn’t realize Kate had told you yet.’

  ‘She hadn’t. I worked it out.’

  Kate puts her spoon back into her bowl. ‘Excuse us. Noah, please can we go and have a quick chat outside?’

  ‘Honestly, Kate. I’m really happy for you.’ I smile at her so she knows I mean it. I think I’d be inhuman if it didn’t sting a little, the thought of this new adventure my boys are about to embark on that I’m no part of, but it’s all part of moving on, I guess. And I’m OK.

  ‘I’d still like to have a chat alone for a minute, if that’s OK with you, Mimi?’

  She turns to Mimi, who is trying her best to look like she’s perfectly fine with it, but I’m not so sure that she is.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’ I place my hand on Mimi’s shoulder and then follow Kate outside, grabbing my jacket on the way. We sit on their swing chair on the decking.