My Pear-Shaped Life: The most gripping and heartfelt page-turner of 2020!

by Harrington, Carmel

  The further west they drove, the less snow there was, and they could see more of the prairie landscape on either side of them. And with just under two hundred miles of the I70 behind them, Greta saw a sign for a Giant Van Gogh painting in a small town called Goodland. Ray’s excitement at this wasn’t necessarily shared by the others, but as they all needed to stretch their legs, they voted yes to the stop. They parked the car and walked towards the unmissable large steel easel upon which stood a replica of Van Gogh’s Three Sunflowers in a Vase.

  ‘It says here that it’s over eighty feet high,’ Ray told them.

  ‘Do you know, I must have passed this spot dozens of times over the years, but I never thought of stopping,’ Billie said. ‘Oh, look at that. The sun has just come out for us!’

  ‘You’ve made this road trip before?’ Ray asked.

  ‘I’ve taken part in a few bodybuilding competitions in Colorado. And I’ve driven to Vegas a couple of times for the weekend.’

  ‘With your mama?’ Greta asked, giggling as she pictured Susan on the slot machines. She bet she’d love them.

  ‘Nah. Mama never leaves home. Last time I made the trip was five years ago with my then boyfriend.’

  ‘Ooh, tell me more,’ Greta said, finding this far more interesting than the painting, which had already lost her.

  ‘Nothing exciting to share, really. I date. And one or two of those over the years were serious enough that we went away for the weekend.’

  Ray pretended he wasn’t listening as he took photographs of the painting, but he inched closer to the ladies just the same.

  ‘Were you ever tempted to get married?’ Greta asked.

  ‘I find it curious why people are so fascinated with that. One of the first things people always ask,’ Billie snapped.

  Greta held her hand up. Sometimes Billie scared her. She could look quite cross when she was annoyed about something. ‘Sorry, I wasn’t prying.’

  ‘Yes, you were. In answer to your question, I’ve never been interested in getting married. I’ve had two proposals in my life, but I turned both down.’

  ‘You didn’t love either of them?’

  ‘Not enough to say yes,’ Billie admitted.

  ‘I’ve never really dated anyone,’ Greta said.

  ‘You have lots of time to fall in love, to find the one.’

  For some reason, Dylan’s face popped into Greta’s mind. She shook it off. He was her friend, and that was all.

  ‘Let’s get a selfie in front of the painting,’ Greta said, and pulled Ray and Billie in beside her for the snap. She’d send it to Dylan later on. He’d get a kick out of it.

  ‘You know, I always thought Van Gogh was overrated,’ Billie said, squinting as she looked up at the painting.

  ‘I love the randomness of it. Why a Van Gogh and not a Monet?’ Ray asked.

  ‘Kansas is the Sunflower State,’ Billie said.

  ‘D’oh!’ Ray laughed. ‘Van Gogh cut his ear off, you know. Delivered it wrapped up in a paper to a woman in a brothel he was fond of. And when he awoke the next day, he had no recollection whatsoever of doing it.’

  ‘Maybe he was addicted to sleeping pills too,’ Greta whispered. It seemed like the kind of dumb-ass thing she would have done in the not-too-distant past. Not that she had ever visited a brothel. Why the hell had the hooded man come back last night? She was doing well. She hadn’t been tempted to take a pill, not even once. But this morning she had woken up again with that feeling that she’d done something wrong. Uneasy. Anxious.

  Ray looked at his niece and realized that she looked tired. Dark circles that had disappeared were beginning to show themselves again. Damn it. He’d been so wrapped up in seeing Billie again, he’d taken his eye off her for a while. And that wasn’t good enough. He moved closer to her, and whispered, ‘How are you doing? Sleeping OK?’

  ‘Well, I’ve managed to get a good eight hours’ sleep … over the past two nights.’ Greta attempted a feeble joke.

  ‘Are the nightmares back?’

  ‘Actually, yes. Last night I had quite a bad one. I just can’t seem to switch off. I’m scared that some bad habits are coming back.’

  ‘You need to call your counsellor.’

  ‘I texted her earlier. And Noreen said I need to find a NA meeting.’

  ‘Tell you what, let’s go find a diner to get some lunch. Then we can look at possible locations for a meeting. I made an Excel spreadsheet with options before I left. I’ll phone a few and see what works best for you.’

  ‘Thanks, Uncle Ray, you thought of everything, didn’t you?’

  ‘That’s the boy scout in me. Always prepared.’ He winked, then leaned in and kissed the top of her head. ‘I’m sorry for not asking you how you were doing. That’s my bad.’

  ‘You had a lot going on. And while I appreciate your help, I should call the NA centres myself.’

  Ray put his two hands on her shoulders and said, ‘I know you can. But I’d like you to let me do this for you. You’ll make me happy if you let me help. OK?’

  Greta let herself lean on her Uncle Ray once again. And, having his support, his understanding, helped.

  Ray said to Billie, ‘We reckon it’s time to find the next set of services, have something to eat. Other than Bill’s Shooting Shop over there, I don’t see a diner close by. Sound OK?’

  ‘Fine by me.’

  Within a few miles, they were seated in a booth waiting for their waitress to get their orders. Ray stepped outside to make a few phone calls.

  ‘You’ve been quiet. Are you OK?’ Billie asked.

  ‘Did Ray tell you about what’s been going on with me this past year?’ Greta asked.

  When Billie shook her head, she continued, ‘You know Dr Gale’s new book, What’s in Your Cupboard?’

  Billie nodded.

  ‘Well, my cupboard overfloweth. I’ve been a bit of a mess for the last year or so. Maybe longer, if I’m honest. I came out of rehab a few weeks before we left for this trip. Sleeping pill addiction.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear things have been rough. How are you doing now?’

  ‘Up and down. I’ve worked hard to clear my cupboard out, as Dr Gale would say. And this trip has been great, but last night I had some issues sleeping again. I get night terrors and I thought they were gone, but just as I was getting complacent … Anyhow, I need to find a NA meeting. That’s what Uncle Ray is doing out there now. Ringing a few that he thinks will work timewise, while we’re in Denver.’

  Billie looked outside, where Ray was scribbling something down into a notebook, his phone to his ear. ‘He would have been a great daddy.’

  ‘Yes, he would. Are you going to break his heart again?’

  ‘You get straight to it, don’t you. I’ll try not to. But I never asked him to find me. And I tried to send him away. You can’t hate me if I can’t give him what he wants.’

  ‘Because of what’s in your cupboard?’

  ‘Clever girl. Yeah, because of my cupboard.’

  ‘Maybe it’s time for you to do a clear-out too.’

  ‘Maybe.’ Billie jumped up. ‘I’m going to ring Mama. If the food comes, tell them I’ll be back in a minute.’

  And then Greta was on her own. She looked around the small diner, similar to several others that she’d been in over the past couple of days. It didn’t look as charming to her now. It seemed so far from home that a lump jumped into her throat. She picked up her phone and flicked through the contacts until she found her mam. She almost called her, but then she thought about her face, strained with worry. She couldn’t keep calling her mam when she was having a bad day. It wasn’t fair.

  Then her phone beeped.

  Dylan: Have you left Kansas or have the flying monkeys caught up with you?

  Greta: Still in Kansas. But not for much longer.

  Dylan: Any photos for me?

  Greta sent him the Van Gogh painting.

  Dylan: I LOVE roadside America.

  Greta: I didn’t
think I’d like it. Too kitsch. But it’s kind of charming. It makes sense when lots of stuff doesn’t. Sound crazy?

  Dylan: Not crazy at all. And seeing as today is a day of culture for you, what with your world’s largest easel and all that, I offer you a Titanic URG! Jack paints Rose like one of his French girls. URG drops the mic. Boom!

  Greta: In reality, Rose was lying there, trying to sit at an angle that hid her tummy. And no matter how good an artist Jack was, she was only looking at her wobbly bits when he showed her the painting. URG you need to pick up your mic again.

  Dylan: Jeez, you’re a tough nut to crack. I’ll find a movie yet that converts you from a cynic to a romantic. Did you watch The Graduate as I suggested?

  Greta: As it happens, I downloaded it last night and watched it when I couldn’t get back to sleep. And guess what? Another fail!

  Dylan: You are grumpy today. What’s more romantic than a guy turning up to stop a wedding? He saved her from marrying the wrong guy!

  Greta: He should have told her the day before. That way she didn’t have to have the hassle of jumping on a bus in a big dress.

  Dylan: You are missing the point! URGs are not meant to be practical. My new mission in life: as god is my witness, I’ll find a URG that you can’t tear apart.

  Greta: You are such a drama queen. My food has arrived. But Dylan … while you may have failed to prove the validity of URGs, you have cheered me up.

  Dylan: Then my work here is done. Chow down, Silver Lady.

  Greta: Are you ever gonna tell me why you call me that?

  Dylan: I think I might. Soon.

  Billie and Ray arrived back in together, smiling at a shared joke. ‘You guys look good together,’ Greta said. No harm giving them both a little nudge closer together, Greta figured. ‘How’s your mama?’

  ‘She was full of chitchat. Asking for you both too. You’ve got a new fan there, Greta: she’s quite taken with you. I know she’s in good hands with Lucy but I also know she’ll struggle without me.’

  ‘Maybe it’s a good thing then? You being away, giving her some time on her own,’ Ray suggested.

  Billie wasn’t so sure about that.

  ‘Either way, thank goodness for Lucy, then. She’s a good friend to her,’ Ray said.

  ‘The best. And one of the few who stuck by us when things were … difficult.’ She speared a piece of steamed broccoli and ate it.

  Greta looked at Ray, who shrugged in response to her silent question. Billie was keeping her cards close to her.

  ‘Do you ever just have a burger?’ Greta asked. ‘I miss burgers.’

  Billie shuddered, ‘Never! Look, the way I see it is this – low-quality food equals low-quality thoughts, and that in turn equals a low-quality life.’

  ‘I couldn’t live without the odd burger,’ Ray said.

  ‘I bet your arteries could,’ Billie said.

  Greta reached over and grabbed a chip from Ray’s plate and he edged his plate closer to her so she could steal some more.

  ‘Did you find a class for me?’ Greta asked, then added, ‘I told Billie about the NA meeting.’

  ‘Oh, good. Well, I reckon if we put the foot down, we can be in Denver by six. There’re several NA meetings downtown, depending on whether you want to go this evening or tomorrow morning. I’ve rung each to double-check that you can go and all said you are welcome.’

  They finished their food in silence, each thinking about the road ahead.

  Chapter 28

  There wasn’t much to see between Goodlands and Denver. With a full tank of gas, they just kept driving. They passed Kanorado with a cheer, as it marked their transition from one state to another.

  The terrain changed as they made their way into Colorado State. The rolling plains of Kansas made way for the Rockies. And once again they found themselves surrounded by snow. Billie insisted they stop for fuel before they tackled rush-hour traffic driving into Denver City. Once Ray had filled up, Billie demanded they all do a round of star jumps and lunges. And as people stared at them, Greta reminded herself that she’d never see them again. It didn’t really help, she still felt like a right eejit.

  Billie was right about the traffic too. As soon as they got close to the city, the highway became a car park. Inch by inch Ray negotiated his way across several lanes, as the satellite navigation directed them to their hotel. Greta was grateful for her back seat and the fact that nobody wanted her to drive. And she noticed Billie’s hand brushing Ray’s leg more than once. Things were looking more promising by the minute.

  ‘That’s one serious view,’ Greta said, snapping a picture of the stunning Rocky Mountains that formed the backdrop to their hotel on the west of the city.

  ‘Denver is nicknamed the Mile High City. Because it’s exactly one mile above sea level. It’s one of the highest cities in the US,’ Ray said.

  ‘Fascinating,’ Greta said. ‘Sorry. Don’t mind me. I’m just a bit jittery today.’

  ‘We can go with you, to your NA meeting. Give you a bit of company,’ Ray said.

  ‘Uncle Ray, I love you. But I need to do this on my own. You’ve booked us into a hotel that is central to lots of meetings. I’m going to go for a walk and see where I end up. It’s all good. Have a drink with Billie while I’m gone. You both deserve it, after that long drive today. I’ll find you in the bar when I’m done, and then we can grab dinner.’

  It was the perfect evening for a stroll. The temperatures were slightly warmer than they’d experienced in Kansas. Even so, she needed her hat and scarf. The wide streets looked quite modern, despite the Victorian buildings that lined either side of it. And they sparkled from the strings of lights that hung overhead. She walked slowly, enjoying the time to herself. The shops were closed, as it was now six p.m., but there was still a buzz in the city, as people wandered in and out of restaurants and bars. And then Greta spotted a sign outside an old church on her left-hand side.

  Narcotics Anonymous Meeting.

  6.15 p.m.–7.15 p.m.

  All Welcome

  She stopped for a moment on the steps and took a deep breath, closing her eyes. And she brought herself back to Noreen’s office, with the curtains closed, in the dark, when she admitted for the first time that she was an addict. Holding on to that thought, she opened her eyes and walked into the building.

  She followed the signs and walked through double doors into a large room.

  ‘Welcome.’ A man with long dreadlocks greeted her, ushering her in.

  ‘Is this meeting open to everyone … Mason?’ Greta asked, reading his name badge.

  ‘The only membership requirement is the desire to stop using,’ Mason said.

  ‘I’m not using anything,’ Greta said quickly.

  ‘Good.’

  ‘But I am afraid I might be tempted.’

  ‘Then you’re in the right place. Take a seat. We’ll get started in a few minutes. There’s doughnuts if you feel peckish.’

  Greta’s stomach growled. She decided that even Caroline wouldn’t want her to leave such caramel gooey loveliness behind her, so she took one and bit into it. Damn that’s good.

  Wiping her hands on a napkin, once she’d finished the doughnut, in record time, she made her way to the circle of chairs. She texted Ray to let him know that she would be back at the hotel in an hour.

  Mason cleared his throat, then began to speak in a loud, clear voice. ‘Welcome to Narcotics Anonymous. Let’s open this meeting with a moment of silence for the addict who still suffers, followed by the Serenity Prayer.’

  Greta bowed her head and as the group began to chant, ‘God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change’, it was as if she was back in Hope Crossing once again. And her heartbeat slowed down. It felt good to be back.

  Once they had finished the prayer, Mason asked, ‘Is there anyone here attending their first NA meeting, or this meeting for the first time? If so, know that you are the most important people here!’

  Then Mason invited
people from the group to speak. And this group made Eileen from Hope Crossing seem like an introvert. They were all sharers. And as she listened to each person chat about their struggles and their successes or milestones reached, she gained strength. Because she’d had her own successes too. She slept most nights, she ate healthily – most of the time – and she felt content.

  Then it was her turn. ‘Hello everyone. I’m Greta and I’m an addict.’

  ‘Hello Greta,’ everyone chorused in return.

  She looked around the group, smiling shyly in response to their bright, encouraging grins. ‘I used to think that I was different. That was back home in Ireland. You probably got that from my accent.’

  ‘It’s a beautiful accent. Reminds me of my grandmother,’ a woman with red hair said.

  ‘Thank you. Well, I told myself that I was better than the others, that my addiction was different. But it’s funny, sitting here listening to you all, I’ve realized that it doesn’t matter where we are from and what our individual stories are. We’re all the same. We’re in this together, aren’t we? Trying to get through each day.’

  ‘We are,’ a black woman to her left said.

  ‘I’ve been struggling to admit to people that I’m an addict. I’ve hidden it from my best friend,’ Greta said.

  ‘And I bet that makes you feel guilty,’ Mason said.

  Greta nodded.

  ‘You know what the biggest triggers for relapse for us addicts are? Most of them are around emotions – Stress, Anger, Loneliness, Fatigue, Hunger. And Guilt.

  ‘That’s me fecked, ’cos I reckon that just about sums up how I feel every day,’ Greta said, and they all laughed together. Then she realized that wasn’t strictly true any more. She used to feel like that. But things were different now.

  ‘I used to be a master at self-deception. All with one purpose – to prevent myself from feeling guilty,’ Mason said.

  Greta recognized that truth. All the times she’d lied to her family, deceit tripping from her tongue, covering up her addiction.

  ‘It’s time you stopped lying to yourself and to others. Tell your best friend,’ Mason said.

  ‘I’m going to ring him tonight. Thank you,’ Greta said.