‘Any word from Maggie?’ Greta asked.
Sam’s wife had refused to take any of his calls since he arrived at the centre. And later this afternoon it was his turn for family therapy.
He shook his head and said, ‘I can’t say I blame her really. I don’t think she’ll ever forgive me for what I’ve done.’
‘Do you think she’ll turn up?’ Greta asked.
‘No idea. To be honest, I don’t know what frightens me more. Her turning up, or her not caring enough to come.’
Greta could understand that. Her own family session was in the not-too-distant future. Since her arrival at the centre, she’d attended several of these. Some opted to keep theirs private, but most wanted the support of their fellow residents in the room with them. And Noreen said they were learning experiences for everyone. They were always held in the afternoons, and while each one was different, they were all raw, painful and highly emotive. Only yesterday Eileen had faced her estranged husband. She listened to him, took every verbal hit he threw at her for over twenty minutes. Then she begged his forgiveness – for her addiction, but most of all for allowing that addiction to let her have sex with a stranger. The room held its collective breath as he looked at her, willing him to offer his wife something to cling to, some hope for their future.
‘I have no inclination to be married to a slut.’ His words bounced around the hall, making them all wince. ‘Are we done?’ he asked Noreen. Then he stood up and walked out of the room.
Sometimes reality bites.
‘Maybe it’s better if Maggie doesn’t come. At least that way I can hold on to hope that she’ll forgive me one day. If she comes here and says it’s over … then …’ He couldn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t know what he’d do.
In the end, Maggie did turn up. But despite a long and harrowing session, where everything was left on the floor for all to see, Maggie couldn’t forgive Sam. She refused to speak, sitting opposite her husband, her face pale, her eyes bright with unshed tears.
‘I’ll never forgive myself for what I’ve put you through,’ Sam said to his wife.
Give him something, come on Maggie.
‘I believe you mean that right now. And I love you too, Sam. But I don’t think I can ever trust you again.’
They sat within inches of each other, but they might as well have been miles apart. And a horrifying thought crippled Greta. What if her family couldn’t forgive her either …?
Chapter 10
‘Well, are we Greta or G today?’ Noreen asked when Greta walked into her office.
‘You can call me anything you want. I want to go home. I’ll sign whatever bullshit release form I have to. I’m getting out of here.’
The smile on Noreen’s face froze, and she motioned to the chair in front of her. ‘Sit down, and we can talk about it.’
‘I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t see why I can’t just go home. I can continue this programme as an outpatient or something.’ Greta paced around the office, feeling adrenalin pulsing throughout her body.
‘It doesn’t work like that, Greta. And, speaking of work, that’s what you have to put in here before you can go anywhere. And you haven’t even scratched the surface of that yet.’
‘I’ve not had a pill in over a week!’ Greta shouted.
‘But are you ready to admit that you are an addict? Because until you do, you can’t even begin to sort through the mess that is your life.’
‘My life is just fine! You don’t know anything about it.’
‘No it’s not, and don’t pretend otherwise,’ Noreen said. She pushed her phone towards Greta with force. ‘Call your parents. Go on. No one is forcing you to be here. If you don’t want to stay, then leave!’
Greta reached for the phone, held it in her hand and looked at the dial pad.
‘What’s keeping you? Go on, ring your mam and dad. I’ll give you twenty-four hours before you are out looking for pills. If you haven’t already got a stash hidden somewhere.’
Greta felt a stab of guilt. Because there was a pack of pills under a loose floorboard that was hidden under her bed. She used to hide Easter eggs there when she was a kid so that Aidan and Ciaran couldn’t rob them from her.
‘I’m right, aren’t I? You’ve another stash hiding, waiting for your return home. Admit it.’
Greta folded her arms across her chest.
‘Admit it!’ Noreen said again.
‘There’s another stash hidden under my bed.’ Greta whispered her admission.
Noreen sank back into her chair and sighed. They sat in silence for a moment, then she said, ‘Do you think that’s normal behaviour? Hiding pills? Greta, you are an addict, and it’s time you owned up to that. Why is that so hard for you to do?’
‘Well, I’m not shooting up. I’m not off my face on heroin or whiskey. I only take sleeping pills to help me sleep. I don’t think it’s fair to put that label on me.’
‘You and your labels. So quick to call yourself fat all the time. But so slow to admit a truth! Addicts come in all guises. While I was buying illegal drugs on the streets from dealers, I was teaching, parenting, being a friend. But make no mistake. I was and will always be an addict.’
‘I never bought drugs on the street,’ Greta said.
‘So does that mean you are less of an addict than me? Because you had a credit card and did some online shopping on the black market?’
Greta didn’t like how this conversation was going. Sweat began to trickle down her face.
‘If you were diagnosed with stage four cancer, would you get treatment?’ Noreen asked Greta.
‘Of course.’ The change in the direction of their conversation startled her.
‘If you had been diagnosed with stage one cancer, in the early stages, would you get treatment to prevent it from getting worse? Or just leave it as it was, saying it’s not too bad.’
There was no answer to that. Or at least, not one that helped Greta. All her excuses and lies that she had told herself began to run through her head. Could she be wrong and everyone else right?
Noreen pulled the heavy drape curtains closed behind her, switching off the lights until it was pitch dark in the room.
‘What are you doing?’ Greta asked in alarm. ‘I don’t like the dark.’
‘I want you to say out loud that you are an addict. Maybe you can find the strength to do it in the dark.’
Greta clutched the phone in her hand, and she let her fingers touch the dial pad, getting a feel for where the numbers were. She could call her parents. Tell them that she was uncomfortable with the line of therapy that Noreen was pursuing. Her dad would hate this, seeing it as mumbo-jumbo nonsense.
Yet somehow, some way, her hand quietened and made no further move.
Every fibre in her body was calling out for help.
She had spent the past year trying to numb her pain, but it hadn’t worked.
She needed help. Because … because … because goddamn it …
‘I’m an addict.’ A whisper. Followed by silence, save for the sound of her breathing as it quickened.
‘Say it again,’ Noreen commanded.
‘I’m an addict.’ Louder this time.
The silence gobbled up the words, greedily. Greta wiped the sweat from her face and took a steadying breath.
Then the lamp on Noreen’s desk flicked on, casting shadows into the room. ‘Repeat it.’
The shadows from the lamp moved towards her, laced with menace. ‘I’m an addict. I’m addicted to sleeping pills.’ Tears spilt down her cheeks, hot and furious.
And then Noreen stood up and pulled back the curtains, letting the sun back into the room. She didn’t need to ask this time.
‘I’m … An … Addict …’ Greta sobbed as her truth was set free.
She felt arms around her, catching her from falling. Noreen held her close, rocking her back and forth as her body released years of pain. Until she was done.
Noreen gently uncurled Greta�
�s fingers from the phone that she still held with a vice-like grip. She gently wiped the tears from Greta’s face. ‘I’m proud of you. I knew you were a fighter.’
Greta had not heard those words said to her in the longest time. When was it? ‘I think the last time someone said they were proud of me was when I was in the Christmas advert.’
‘Sometimes it’s up to ourselves to be proud. And today is one of those days, Greta. Because admitting your addiction is the first step, of many, many steps to come. And each of these steps will get you through this pain and help to ease it. I promise you.’
‘I’m scared that my family won’t forgive me.’
‘Remember this. It takes time to regain trust, but in my experience, our loved ones have patience. They love and forgive. You just need to have a little patience of your own. Continue doing what you’ve started here.’
She picked up the phone again and pushed it towards Greta. ‘Would you like to ring your mam, just to say hello? I think it might be a good idea. It’s been a big day for you. I’ll have to stay here while you make the call, though.’
Greta’s heart began to hammer at the thought of hearing her mother’s voice. She’d missed her so much. She punched her mother’s mobile number into the dial pad and held her breath as it connected.
‘Hello … is Greta OK?’ Emily’s voice shook.
‘Hello Mam.’
‘Oh love, is it really you? I saw Hope Crossing’s number come up on the screen. I nearly passed out, thinking all sorts.’
Greta began to cry. ‘Mam, I’m so sorry for everything.’
‘Oh love, I know you are. Are you being good? Are you doing what they tell you to do?’
‘Mam, I’m not a child any more; you don’t have to keep checking up on me,’ Greta replied, then realized that maybe she did. She’d not been very good at adulting lately. ‘Sorry. Yes, I’m being good.’ She glanced at Noreen who smiled.
‘Good girl.’
‘Is everyone OK at home?’
‘We are all grand. Wait till I tell your father you’ve called. He’s at work at the moment.’
‘Tell Aidan and Ciaran I’m sorry too. Especially about them having to see me naked. I’d say they’re still scarred.’
Her mam giggled, and the sound made Greta ache for her arms once more. ‘Mam, I’ve got to go, but before I do, can you get something from under my bed. There’s a wonky floorboard, and if you push it down, it opens. I’ve got some tablets hidden there.’
‘Greta Gale!’
‘I know. I know. Just get rid of them for me, please.’
‘You can count on that, young lady! And while I’m at it, I’ll give your room a good top-to-bottom clean. You might as well tell me if more surprises are coming my way.’
‘That’s the only ones hidden. I promise. I’ve got to go, but Mam, thank you …’
‘For what love?’
‘For not leaving me.’
‘Ah love, I could never do that. You’re part of me. So that means we’re connected to each other, no matter what happens.’
Greta felt something give inside of her and tears once again began to overcome her. ‘Bye Mam.’ She clicked to end the call.
Chapter 11
Greta’s next phone call home didn’t go quite so well. This time she was allowed to call her mother, without supervision. And it appeared that Emily and Greta had forgotten how to talk to each other.
‘It’s rained for two hours straight here.’ That, from her mother.
‘I’d say it’s been more like four hours here.’ That, from Greta.
And then they both fell silent. Greta figured that her mam, like her, couldn’t bear to talk about the weather for one more moment. They had never been that kind of a family. They had, however, always been good at avoidance.
She had to break the silence to tell her about the forthcoming family session and ask her to attend.
‘Who needs to be there?’ Emily asked, her voice filled with panic.
‘All of you. Dad, Ciaran, Aidan. Uncle Ray.’
‘Should I ask Father McBride, do you think?’
‘No!’ Good Jesus.
‘OK love. We’ll all be there. We wouldn’t miss it for the world.’
Emily made it sound like it was a day out to see Greta graduate or something.
‘What should we wear?’ Emily asked.
It took all of Greta’s self-control not to tell her to stay at home. ‘Just wear your everyday clothes, Mam.’
‘I don’t know. I think I’d better wear a good dress. The one I had for your cousin Lorna’s wedding last year. Remember the olive-green one. Everyone said it looked lovely on me that day.’
Greta vaguely remembered the dress, which came with a large flowery hat and gloves. ‘Don’t wear the hat and gloves!’
‘What do you take me for? Honestly, as if I’d do that. And I’ll get your dad’s grey suit dry-cleaned. I might buy him a new tie. Something festive, to cheer us all up. Oh, I’ll have to buy a new shirt for the boys. Your Uncle Ray will be grand. He always has a nice clean shirt in his wardrobe for special occasions.’
‘It’s not a special occasion, Mam.’
‘You know what I mean. Sure we can make a day of it. If we leave early, we can stop for lunch on the way to you. It wouldn’t do to have any grumbling stomachs in the middle of the session.’
‘Great, Mam. Gotta go. There’s a queue for the phone.’
As is always the way when you want time to slow down, it galloped along, then came to a shuddering halt as Greta waited for her family to walk through the reception doors. She’d not seen them in two weeks, but it felt like years. Greta was proud of her progress, though. She’d given up her pills. Harder than that, Greta had admitted she was an addict. She discovered that she had a problem with the Fat word and she said goodbye to Big G. Saying hello to Greta Gale was a little trickier. Despite her best efforts, she still had no clue how to find her. And Greta had finally told Noreen about her nightmares, which they were now working on in their one-to-one sessions. She just needed to get through this and then … That was the bit she was not sure about. She had no idea what would happen when she left the centre. Greta watched the clock tick-tock at a snail’s pace and was convinced that someone had messed with it to send her over the edge. Then all of a sudden the door to reception opened and in they filed.
Her mam got to her first and pulled her into her arms.
‘You wore the hat.’ Greta shook her head in disbelief.
‘It looked awful without it. The hat finishes it off,’ Emily said.
Uncle Ray pulled Greta in for a hug next, and she breathed in his familiar smell of coffee and Lynx. ‘It’s been very quiet at home without you.’
‘I’ve missed you,’ she realized the truth of her words as she said them. Ray was always there for her, their bond glued together when she was born. ‘Did you find the owners of that stray?’ She’d thought about the little dog often over the past couple of weeks.
‘I called into every house on the road, but nobody owned it. So I took it to the Dogs Trust. They’ll find it a new home. Cute little fella.’
‘That’s good. Thanks,’ Greta said.
She looked over to her dad, Ciaran and Aidan, but they remained a few feet from her, avoiding eye contact.
Caroline hustled them all towards a busy hall. Family therapy sessions were a bit like soap operas for the patients. Watching someone else’s problems play out in front of you – well, it took you out of your own for a while. Sam gave Greta an encouraging thumbs-up when she walked in. Eileen all but had the popcorn out, sitting forward expectantly.
Greta took a seat beside Noreen, and the rest of her family sat in a semicircle around them. Her mam had been to the hairdresser’s, she noted. Her hair was shiny and bouncy, in a curly blow-dry. Her family were as her mother had promised, all wearing their Sunday best. But they looked like they wished they were anywhere but here. Greta understood that feeling. Her dad tugged at his tie and his white
shirt collar, the creases from the packet it had been pulled from earlier this afternoon still crisp. Ciaran and Aidan were also in their best shirts, worn loose, their shirt tails limp and redundant on their laps, stained from their dampened hands.
A memory jolted her like a needle. The boys begging her to iron their shirts, because their parents were away for the weekend. Her telling them that she wasn’t their mammy, that she’d got better things to do than help them get their ‘pulling’ gear ready. And all of them realizing that – with that admonishment – she sounded exactly like their mammy. They’d laughed so much that day that Greta’s side hurt. The memory, so at odds with the now, brought tears, sharp to her eyes. There was no messing or teasing from her brothers here. She couldn’t remember the last time they’d had the craic like that.
Maybe the rest of her family carried on having fun, and it was just she who had stopped.
Greta tried to keep her eyes downward, but she couldn’t help sneaking glances at them to see how they were reacting to it all. Her mum was nodding enthusiastically at everything Noreen said. Her dad was stone-faced, hard to read, but listening intently all the same.
Underneath their need to do the right thing in a situation that was so far removed from anything they’d ever been in before, she saw the pain on their faces. There was something else, too. She could see guilt in their eyes. Two weeks ago, when she’d arrived here, all she’d wanted was for them to feel pain like she had. But now, she wanted to run over to them to tell them that none of this was their fault and take away any guilt that they had on their shoulders. I’m the screw-up, not you guys.
Noreen said, ‘I know that you have all tried many times to save Greta. But it’s not your job to save her. It’s up to Greta to save herself. And I’m pleased to say that she’s been working so hard here.’
Eileen clapped and cheered at this pearl of wisdom. The big lick.
Emily cleared her throat, jumping straight in. ‘I don’t understand why you started to take the tablets? What on earth possessed you?’
My Pear-Shaped Life: The most gripping and heartfelt page-turner of 2020! Page 9
