Together Forever

by Siân O'Gorman

  ‘Red phoned,’ she said. ‘I told him you were out, like you said.’

  I didn’t respond, just stared at the intricate flower patterns on the wallpaper, the curls and curlicues, the swoops and sweeps of colour. Rosaleen had chosen it before it became my room. It was in her colours, the greens and the turquoises.

  ‘He sounded really upset,’ she said. ‘In tears.’

  The feel of the ruffle on the pink bedspread against my face, the sound of the starlings gathering in the tree in the churchyard behind the house. The nothingness, the emptiness, the deadness in my belly.

  *

  Where do you start, how do you even tell you daughter this thing that happened? How do you put it into words that she might understand, that might explain who you are to her but will certainly make her feel differently from you?

  ‘Rosaleen was ill for at least a year before she died,’ I began. ‘She was diagnosed with cancer and initially she didn’t tell us. We noticed she was getting thinner and paler. And she stopped going swimming. She’d head down to the Forty Foot, get changed and then just stand there, on the top step, and let the sea wash over her feet. “That’s enough,” she said. “I don’t think I’ll go any further,” as if she was talking about her own life. But then when Nora and I were told, we assumed she’d get better, as you do. We were certain she would be fine because Rosaleen always was. Somehow. Anyway, Red and I had both finished our teacher training…’

  She sat up a bit. ‘Red, as in that man Red? Who brought the book round?’

  ‘Yes. As in that man Red.’ I half smiled at her.

  ‘You were going out with him? I thought it was a bit of an odd thing to do, bring a book to a stranger’s child.’

  I nodded. ‘There you go…’

  ‘And you never told me? I didn’t know any of this!’ She was half-shocked, half-thrilled with this previously classified information.

  ‘Ro, I didn’t tell you then but I’m telling you now… So Rosaleen was dying, but I was meant to be going to San Francisco with Red so I stayed just to see her back on her feet again and I would join him later. But her dying, well, it kind of put a spanner in the works…’

  ‘You were going to live together?’ Rosie was delighted with this idea of her mother. ‘You and Dad didn’t, did you?’

  ‘Red was different, okay? It was an entirely different relationship.’

  ‘Obviously,’ she said.

  ‘Rosaleen was chatting to all her friends at the Forty Foot. She hadn’t been in the water all year. And everyone was so happy to see her back and I had to wait for her for ages before she finished talking to them. But I didn’t mind really because the sun was out.’

  *

  I stopped speaking for a moment, thinking of Rosaleen and me. We walked home, my arm in hers, because she wasn’t able to cycle, her asking me all about the phone call I’d received from Red. He’d found a place for us. Haight Ashbury. Not luxurious, he’d said. But it was perfect. Perfect for us. I hadn’t told him my secret. I thought I’d tell him when I was there. It might mean coming home to Ireland sooner than we’d thought. Or we could stay there. I imagined us, our lives together, getting jobs and buying a house. Bringing up a little American child. Who would never know the delights of Cadburys or Tayto crisps but would race home-made go-carts and have lemonade stalls. I’d walked home in the sun, thinking that I could never be this happy again. I’d see Red next week and I’d tell him and… and…

  ‘So, Rosaleen and I went home, together, talking all the way, about San Francisco and my plans. It’s funny because I always thought she and Nora were chalk and cheese but Nora is so like her in so many ways. Maybe I’d just never noticed and she always was. Or maybe it’s just getting older. Anyway, when we got inside, we had a cup of tea and I told her…’

  ‘Told her what?’

  ‘That I was pregnant.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Pregnant. I mean, it was an accident, it wasn’t meant to happen but I wanted it. I mean, I loved Red and I knew he loved me. I wanted the baby.’

  ‘Oh my God…’

  ‘But she died that day. Granny Nora and I organised the funeral, got everything organised… but I hadn’t told Red about the… you know… the baby.’

  ‘Did Granny Nora know?’

  I nodded.

  ‘But why didn’t you tell Red? It was his baby too.’

  ‘I know. But it was going to be a surprise and I thought I’d wait and then… well, sometimes you don’t think straight… Anyway, I was still meant to be leaving right after the funeral. I was determined to go. And then I would tell him. It was only a week. And even all that week, being so sad about Rosaleen, the baby kept me going. My lovely baby… it was like I knew him or her – I never knew which – it was as though we already knew each other.’ Rosie’s face was full of sympathy.

  ‘I thought about what he or she would be like,’ I went on. ‘Would they look like me or Red, or be entirely their own self? I couldn’t wait until I was able to bring my baby to the Forty Foot and swim there, just like Rosaleen and I used to. So, the morning of the funeral, I woke up and for some reason I wanted to go swimming. It was the one place which I most associated with Rosaleen. But…’ I stopped, not wanting to cry or do anything that might upset Rosie.

  ‘Go on…’

  ‘Well…’ I could still feel the cold instantly leeching into my skin, soaking my bones, so cold, it made me gasp as I paddled around, trying to get warm. ‘Well, I lost the baby. And I thought it was because I went swimming. I thought the water had done something, like it was powerful.’

  ‘Really?’ Rosie’s eyes were wide-open, as she tried to make sense of everything. ‘Oh Mum…’

  It was devastating. Red and I were over. Life shifted entirely in a different direction. Permanently altered, forever scarred, I thought I was an entirely new Tabitha but it was only recently, since Red had come home, that I had realised that she was still there. She’d just been hiding.

  Before

  Me, floating on my back, feet sticking up out of the salty blue of the sea. I put my hands on my belly. I don’t feel any different. Or wait… was that a flutter? The shift of a million cells working day and night to create this new life, this baby inside me. ‘I can’t wait to meet you,’ I say to myself, to my baby. But when I turn over and plunge again under the water, I gasp with the shock, my body immediately numb and a strange feeling in my stomach, cramp gripping my insides, cold settling into my bones. Eventually I pull myself out and shiver while I get dressed, my body getting colder and colder on the cycle home.

  Later Nora and I stood in the church together, my body frozen, teeth chattering under Red’s old winter jumper I’d pulled from my wardrobe. I thought of Red in the warmth of San Francisco. I’d be there too, just as soon as Nora and I organised everything here. It would do me good to get away. I didn’t want to be in this house without Rosaleen.

  But it was later that evening when I began to feel really unwell, when the pains in my stomach began to jar, causing my legs to wobble. Eventually, I fell onto my bed, the pain making me double up. I knew what was happening, but even when I saw the blood, I didn’t believe it. I didn’t want to believe it. And I lay there, quiet in that moment, when no one could tell me for sure that everything wasn’t okay. I had lost my grandmother and my child in one day. Lying on my bed, the house dark, writhing in agony, too much in pain and too confused to turn on the lights. Knowing I should go to hospital but that would make it real, official and all I wanted was a few moments longer with my baby. I was still a mother. In that space between life and death, between fantasy and reality, where a tiny part of me could still pretend that everything was all right.

  *

  Rosie was holding my hand. ‘Who looked after you?’ she said, quietly.

  ‘Nora. She… well, she was amazing. Stayed with me for months afterwards, refused to go down to West Cork,’ I said. ‘Which itself was a miracle, knowing that a tepee in Mizen Head was waiting for her. And
a vat of something unspeakable involving lentils…’ I was desperately trying to make light of what happened. I didn’t want to burden Rosie. I didn’t want her to worry about me as well. ‘Yes. I remember she brewed me some kind of tea, involving liquorice root. She says it had healing properties. She was wrong. It just made me think I could never have a sherbet dip-dab ever again.’

  Rosie very nearly laughed.

  ‘The thing is,’ I went on. ‘I didn’t think I’d recover, really. I had never thought that losing a baby, someone you had never met, something that was an accident, not planned, could mean… could mean so much.’ I managed to keep my voice steady, well aware that I didn’t want to freak Rosie out too much.

  ‘And that’s why you never swim there?’

  I nodded. ‘I can’t. I just can’t.’

  ‘The point of all this, Rosie, why I’m burbling on, is that I do understand. I know what it’s like when you don’t know what’s coming next and you feel overwhelmed…’

  ‘That’s how I feel. I’m scared.’

  We were still holding hands.

  ‘We all feel like that. Life is scary. The trick is just accepting that. Feel the fear, but know that things do get better. After all, I had you.’

  Chapter Nineteen

  Early the next morning, I rang Michael’s phone. I hadn’t slept well and had laid in bed wondering and worrying, thinking of my past and Rosie’s present and our future, wondering what it looked like. Michael needed to know what was going on in Rosie’s life and the fact that she very well might not be sitting her Leaving Cert this year and the sooner I told him and prepared him for disappointment the better. He was in Brussels as far as I knew.

  ‘Tabitha?’ He sounded half-asleep. It was eight a.m., surely, there was some kind of high-powered breakfast meeting he should be at?

  ‘Hi Michael,’ I said. ‘How’s it going?’

  ‘Pretty good,’ he said. ‘Just checking something. This thing is saying I slept for nine and half hours. No, sorry, nine and three-quarters. I could sleep longer. Getting ready for my big presentation tomorrow. And then there’s the vote at the end of the week. I’m not so much up to my eyes but am submerged.’ He paused. ‘So why are you ringing? Is there something wrong? A fuse gone? Your mother arrested?’ He laughed at his own joke.

  ‘Michael, this is actually pretty serious.’

  ‘What? She has been arrested. Listen, I can’t pull any strings. It would be against SIPL. If she is in some cell somewhere justice will have to be seen to be done.’

  ‘It’s Rosie,’ I said, ‘it’s about her exams.’

  ‘Tabitha,’ he said. ‘Anyone would think she was the only person who’d ever done an exam. It’s you, it is. Fussing. Just let her get on with it. She does so much better when you are not hovering around looking worried.’

  ‘Michael!’

  ‘Well, sometimes it has to be said. I’m not being personal, it’s just mothers. They’re rather suffocating at times. I mean, look at mine.’

  ‘It’s Rosie,’ I said, keeping my voice calm. ‘Just to let you know that she’s not going to be doing her exams. Not this year anyway. I’ve been thinking and thinking and maybe she can start again next year, this time with different expectations and goals.’

  There was a noise that sounded like Michael falling off the bed. ‘What?’ He was muffled, and then clearer as he wrested back control of his phone. ‘Of course she’s going to do her exams! How can she not do them? It’s what you do. It’s what we all did.’ You could practically hear the whirring of his brain, as he tried to assimilate this new information. ‘You are born, you go to school, you learn how to read and write and then you do your exams. It’s how it’s been done for millennia. Unless you are mentally incapacitated or the academically disinclined and, as far as I am aware, our daughter is neither.’

  No one witnessed my eye-roll. Michael was on another planet entirely.

  ‘She hasn’t been working,’ I said. ‘She’s been far too anxious.’

  ‘Anxious? It’s called the Leaving Cert. It’s supposed to make you anxious. It’s no walk in the park, you know. It’s not like Who Wants Be A Millionaire. Nice easy questions and phone a friend!’

  ‘She’s been having panic attacks,’ I pressed on. ‘Remember at your mother’s party?’

  ‘That was nothing. The room was too hot and she was being forced to talk to Imelda Goggins. That would induce panic in any right-minded person. I’ve spent my life perfecting disinterested interest and a healthy internal world when talking to people like her. Rosie just needs a bit more practice.’

  ‘Michael, listen to me.’ I could feel myself getting annoyed. ‘Rosie hasn’t actually done any work.’

  ‘But every time I ask, you say she’s up in her bedroom. Working.’

  ‘I was wrong.’

  ‘Wrong? I leave my daughter in your care and this happens!’ He blustered. ‘I am off trying to make Europe a better place for our citizens. And upholding standards in public life. And supporting the dairy farmers of Ireland and you take your eye off the ball…’

  ‘Michael. Just stop this. Okay? It’s no one’s fault. We’ve just got to look after Rosie…’ But then I heard his voice break. A wobble? Michael never wobbled. He was Teflon.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, dropping his voice so low I had to strain my ears. ‘I’m under a great deal of pressure, that’s all,’ he whispered into the phone. ‘This couldn’t have come at a worse time for me.’

  ‘What do you mean? It’s not about you. I think, Michael, that it might be a good idea if you…’

  ‘It’s just… I’ll talk to you later. Okay?’

  ‘Are you going to call Rosie, tell her that it’s okay, that you understand and that you love her despite her not going to college? Well, not this year anyway.’

  ‘She knows that anyway. She knows that I support her whatever she does. Even if she doesn’t…’ He stopped, as if the enormity of what he was contemplating was hitting him for the first time, his voice cracking at the horror and enormity, ‘even if she doesn’t go to Trinity.’

  ‘It’s disappointing, I know,’ I said.

  ‘I won’t be able to go back to sleep now,’ he said. ‘I may as well get up…’

  ‘And phone your daughter!’

  *

  After I’d put down the phone, I heard Rosie come downstairs. ‘Morning, sweetheart,’ I said. ‘I’m making pancakes.’

  ‘Oh God.’ She began to cry. ‘You’re trying to be some mum in an American sitcom.’

  ‘Oh Rosie…’ I went over and gave her a hug.

  ‘But no one made you pancakes when you had your… your miscarriage. I’ve been thinking about you. That was horrible. You were so young. I can’t believe you were so young.’

  ‘It happened. It was really sad. It changed my life, yes. But I’ve no regrets. People have miscarriages and I do think of the baby and wonder about it, but it wasn’t meant to be. You were meant to be. And everyone needs someone to make them pancakes.’ I placed one in front of her, not wanting her to realise that I had thought about the baby I lost every single day since. ‘There we go. So tell me, how was your night? Did you sleep?’

  If she had, then she was the only one of us who had slept that night. I had lain awake thinking about her, about what had happened and why, how much of it was my fault (pretty much all of it) and where we would go from here.

  ‘Not really,’ she admitted. ‘But I feel a bit better. Like the alien is shrinking. Just a bit.’

  I smiled. ‘Glad to hear it. You know why?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because you’ve started talking about it. You’re not alone with what you might think of as your shame. Once you start telling people, the shame – or the alien – is exposed. It has no power.’ I took a deep breath. ‘This is where it ends right now, okay? This is where this stops. We have to work out what kind of help and support you need…’

  ‘But I don’t want to leave the house. Not ever. It scares me to t
hink about going to the shop. What was I thinking that I would be able to go to college? Or inter-railing. Or anywhere. I am seventeen years old and I just want to stay with my mum. Isn’t that crazy. I’d die if anyone found out. Every time you left the house lately I’d be scared that you wouldn’t come back, but if I just stayed in my room, doing nothing, it was as though I could control that tiny part of my life.’

  ‘I always came back though, didn’t I?’

  She nodded.

  ‘And I always will. Sweetheart, you don’t need to leave the house. Not until you’re ready.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘But we do need to get some help, okay? I’m going to call the school in the morning and tell them what’s been going on and talk about a few options. I think you need to talk to someone…’

  ‘It was as though I was the only person in the world,’ she said, tears forming in her eyes. ‘Every time I went out, I could just see faces, you know, people everywhere all doing things, being functional and normal and happy. And there was I, all weird and strange and not normal. I thought something might happen, like another panic attack, or worse, that I might die, you know, from not breathing. Staying inside was safest…’

  ‘I wished you’d told me.’

  ‘I couldn’t… I was just trying to manage it. Anyway, I didn’t want to let you down…’ She almost smiled. ‘I made everything worse, didn’t I?’

  ‘No.’ I took her hand again and I kissed it. ‘No you didn’t.’

  ‘I just want to be normal, Mum? Everyone else I know is normal, they are all working so hard. What is wrong with me? Why can’t I do this? Every time I tried, every time I sat down at my desk, I could just feel this horrible feeling inside me, rising up, like some kind of wave that I could actually taste. It was disgusting. And it was like that was who I was, who I am, this horrible disgusting person who can’t be…’ she began to sob once more… ‘who can’t be normal.’

  ‘You are normal…’ I was crying too now. ‘You are normal. This is normal. What’s happened is normal. Panicking, feeling scared, things going wrong are normal. What’s not normal is the way other people present themselves to the world as if there’s nothing wrong. Everyone is scared, everyone makes mistakes and no one is perfect. But life is not crap forever. It’s not ongoingly crap or awful. But without crappiness, you don’t get the happiness.’