‘It just happened. It doesn’t mean anything.’
‘Of course it means something. It means everything. And I want to know why.’
‘There’s no reason.’
‘Of course there’s a reason.’
‘Well, maybe it’s private.’
‘What’s private?’
‘Maybe this is the reason, Mum. Because I never know when you’re going to fly off the handle. I never know what you want from me. I never know when you’re going to throw a big emotional scene and when you’re going to ignore me. Maybe I didn’t want the grief. Maybe what I didn’t want was exactly this, exactly what’s happening right now.’
‘That’s very unfair. That’s cruel, Paul. This has nothing to do with you coming out to me. This isn’t about that. This is about me and your father.’
‘THERE IS NO YOU AND MY FATHER. YOU’RE DIVORCED! There’s me and him, and there’s me and you, but there’s no you and him. And I’m not willing to be the you and him, which is what you always want me to be, which is why you’re blowing up now. If you want to speak to him, ring him up. But what goes on between me and him is none of your business.’
‘How often do you see him?’
‘Mum, stop it.’
‘But . . . I just want . . .’ She couldn’t continue. What she wanted was Paul’s love; she wanted him to love her more than he loved Larry. For him to favour Larry was such an outrage, such an injustice. Did Paul not even realise that, for the first five years of his life, she had done everything? She had been his universe, while Larry barely changed a nappy and, she was sure, delayed his return from work until bath and bedtime were over, professing to be upset to have missed a goodnight story while walking into the house smelling of the pub. He had been so offhand, and so lazy. Even after that, he had barely done any more than the minimum. Helen had poured years of her life into Paul. She had sacrificed as much of her time and energy and love as any human being could sacrifice for another, while Larry had treated fatherhood as a hobby he might turn to after he’d read the paper. For him to be favoured over her now was simply intolerable. But what could she do? What could she say? That she deserved more love? More gratitude? That Paul ought to be fair?
‘What?’ said Paul, impatiently. ‘What do you just want?’
‘I don’t know. I want some more wine.’
Paul topped up her glass, and his own. He put an apologetic hand on her shoulder.
‘And I’d like to stay for a few days.’
‘I’m sorry?
‘I brought an overnight bag. I thought it might be fun to stay.’
‘Er . . .’ Paul’s mouth went dry, his brain blank. ‘Fun?’
‘Yes, where can I sleep?’
Helen wasn’t going to give up. Much as she wanted to slope home, defeated, back to Clive, she resolved not to allow herself to cave in. She wouldn’t leave until there was some kind of positive outcome. This visit was a drastic measure: kill or cure. If she allowed herself to walk away from Paul without a remedy for their faltering relationship, she’d regret it for ever. This was her last chance to claw back for herself any meaningful role in his life. If she left now, that would be it. He’d just think of her as a peripheral, unpredictable, overemotional annoyance, until she let him off the hook by dying.
‘Why didn’t you mention this when you arrived?’
‘Did I forget? I’m sorry.’
‘Are you sure it’s a good idea?’ said Paul, so taken aback by her proposal that he found himself unable to mount a decent defence against it.
‘Unless you refuse to have me. If it’s too much to ask . . .’
Helen let her voice tail away. She watched her son squirm, with something that looked like panic spreading over his features as he rifled through his mental filing cabinet of family etiquette, searching for the folder labelled POLITE WAYS TO FORCIBLY EJECT YOUR MOTHER FROM YOUR HOUSE and finding it empty.
Paul eventually sighed and stood. ‘I can sleep in Andre’s room. I’ll change the sheets on my bed.’
With slow, heavy footsteps, he walked out of the room and up the stairs, wondering as he did so why it was that being with his mother always felt like losing at chess.
Gillian and Daniel
we’re splitting up and you’re thinking about sex
It wasn’t just his mother’s snoring, resonantly audible through the bedroom wall, that kept Daniel awake. In the last few weeks, he had woken almost every night at around four in the morning and been unable to get back to sleep. More often than not, according to his bedside clock, it was precisely 3:53 when his eyes opened, as if some internal alarm had been set for this exact time.
Now, at 4:11, he began the nightly ritual that kept him occupied for the remaining hours until dawn. It had become a compulsion. The more he tried to resist, the less he could stop himself doing it. He even thought his brain might be deliberately waking him up to make him do it, over and over again, in the hope that eventually, with enough repetition, the outcome would be different.
The ritual was simple. He rehearsed in his mind, night after night, his final argument with Erin.
‘Why?’ said Daniel.
‘I’ve told you why,’ said Erin.
‘Say it again.’
‘Why do you want me to say it again?’
‘So I can understand.’
‘What don’t you understand?’
‘Anything. Everything.’
‘It’s simple. I want you to leave,’ said Erin.
They had been arguing from the moment they sat down to Sunday lunch, and it was now late afternoon. It felt as if they had been arguing for weeks. Neither of them could remember what kicked off this particular bout, but the pattern was familiar enough. It was probably something Daniel had done, or had forgotten to do: something domestic, something trivial, but a convenient launch pad, nonetheless, for another trawl through everything that was wrong with Daniel’s behaviour and with Daniel and Erin’s relationship.
Their arguments were like a favourite CD played on shuffle. Each individual track was familiar, but Daniel never quite knew which one was coming up next. Increasingly, though, it came back again and again to the title track: ‘When Can We Have a Baby?’
Daniel thought he knew the whole CD by heart, but on this occasion he’d been amazed to find Erin introducing a hidden bonus song he had never heard before: ‘I Want You to Leave’.
‘But why?’ he said.
‘I’ve told you.’
‘Tell me properly.’
‘What do you mean, properly? We’ve been over it a hundred times and I’m sick of it, and you never budge an inch, and now I’m telling you to go away and not come back until you’ve decided.’
‘This is ridiculous, why can’t we just talk about this like adults?’
‘This is adult. I’m asking you to move out. It doesn’t get more adult than that, Daniel.’
‘Calmly, I mean. Talk it through calmly. Instead of these . . . ultimatums.’
‘I AM CALM. I’M PERFECTLY CALM. AND I WANT YOU TO LEAVE!’
‘You don’t sound calm. You sound angry.’
‘OF COURSE I’M ANGRY. I CAN BE ANGRY AND CALM. IT’S PERFECTLY POSSIBLE TO BE ANGRY AND CALM!’
‘So why are you shouting?’
Erin stood up sharply from the kitchen table, her chair clattering to the floor behind her, and, without picking it up, walked out of the room. Daniel righted the chair and followed her into the sitting room, where he found Erin curled on the sofa, her feet tucked under her and her arms wrapped around a cushion.
The moment he entered the room, she began speaking. ‘That’s typical. That is just so 100 per cent typical. I’m telling you that unless you change your mind, our relationship is over, that you have to move out, that I don’t want to see you, that from today nothing is ever going to be the same again, and do you want to talk about that? No. You want to discuss whether or not I’m shouting. Brilliant.’
‘I don’t want to discuss whether or n
ot you’re shouting. I’m just trying to get you to stop shouting so we can talk about all those things. But you don’t want to talk about them. You just want to shout.’
‘I’m not shouting. I’m talking, quietly, and I’m asking you to go.’
Daniel sat beside her on the sofa, as close as he could get, but her knees and elbows were angled to keep him at a distance. He tried to catch her eye, but her gaze was fixed rigidly on her own hands. ‘What do you mean, you don’t want to see me?’ he said. ‘You never said that.’
‘Well, I don’t! Not if you’re going to be like this.’
‘But if I’m not like this you do want to see me?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Well, how do you want me to be? What’s the "this"? I don’t understand what I’m doing.’
‘The this is this. It’s this. It’s arguing the toss. About everything. Just . . . missing the point about everything and arguing on and on about some tiny thing that isn’t the thing. That’s what it is!’
‘What – so the thing that’s annoying is asking questions to try and understand what you mean?’
‘No!’
‘But that’s what you just said.’
‘It isn’t, Daniel. It isn’t.’
‘I’m not arguing, I’m asking. I’m trying to understand what you want. I’m asking you to explain. Just . . . tell me what it is.’
‘Oh, Daniel. I’ve been trying all afternoon. I’m so tired. I’m so tired of all this.’
‘Well so am I! You’re chucking me out of my home and all I want is an explanation. It’s not a lot to ask. I’m not running around smashing things. I’m not weeping and wailing. I’m not bullying you. I’m just asking to know why.’
‘You are, though.’
‘I am what?’
‘Bullying me.’
‘Bullying you? I’ve never laid a finger on you!’
‘This! All this! It’s bullying! On and on, talking and talking, arguing and arguing, never giving me a chance to say in a normal way what I’m trying to say. You never let me say anything. It’s always you, bullying and bullying.’
Tossing her cushion aside, Erin stood and walked to the window, where she stood, looking down at the bus stop below their flat.
Daniel leapt up and stood behind her, addressing the back of her head. ‘What was the last thing I said? I said, "Tell me what it is." I didn’t interrupt you. I’m not shouting at you. I’m asking you to tell me. All afternoon I’ve been asking you to tell me. It’s all I want. I just want a proper explanation, and now you’re telling me that I don’t let you speak! It’s ridiculous!’
‘You don’t let me speak normally. You don’t let me explain.’
’SO SPEAK! EXPLAIN!’ said Daniel.
‘I can’t.’
‘Why?’
‘Not like this. Not with you shouting at me,’ said Erin, spinning round, glaring at Daniel, her eyes glossy with tears.
‘I’M NOT SHOUTING!’
‘You are. You’re shouting. That was a shout.’
‘OK! THAT WAS A SHOUT! BUT THE ONLY REASON I’M SHOUTING IS BECAUSE I’VE BEEN TALKING FOR HOURS AND HOURS, SOFTLY SOFTLY, ASKING YOU AGAIN AND AGAIN TO EXPLAIN TO ME WHY IT IS YOU’RE CHUCKING ME OUT OF MY HOME, AND THEN, FINALLY, AFTER A WHOLE AFTERNOON OF TRYING TO BE REASONABLE, I RAISE MY VOICE FOR TWO SECONDS AND YOU TELL ME THAT YOU WERE ON THE BRINK OF EXPLAINING, BUT NOW YOU CAN’T BECAUSE I’VE SHOUTED. YOU’RE CRAZY. YOU’RE FUCKING CRAZY!’
‘See? This is it. This is exactly it. You don’t want to hear. You act all reasonable, but somehow you make sure that when it comes down to it you never have to listen to me saying what I want to say.’
‘This is amazing. Now I’m the unreasonable one.’
‘I’m so tired, Daniel. I’m so tired of all this.’ Erin dropped her head, raised her hands and covered her face, as if she was crying, but no sound came out and her body remained still. He was close enough to reach out and hold her, but he remained motionless, staring at the back of her hands.
Eventually, Erin spoke again, her voice muffled by her palms. ‘There’s no point,’ she said.
Daniel put an arm on her back and gave a gentle rub with his thumb. ‘No point in what?’
‘Why are we doing this?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Daniel, pulling her into an embrace. ‘And you’re not the only one who’s tired.’
Reluctantly, Erin removed her hands from her face and draped her arms limply around Daniel. They held one another, still and silent. He listened to Erin’s breath close by his ear, as it slowed from short, shallow gasps of air to deep, slow waves of inhalation and exhalation. Out of the window, he saw a bus disgorge a boisterous herd of teenagers: a group of boys and a group of girls, engaged in a noisy, flirtatious row, which continued as they walked away in different directions. The bus shelter slowly accumulated more people; another bus came and went; and still Daniel and Erin stood by the window, holding one another, not speaking.
Daniel drew back his head to catch Erin’s eye. She blinked at him, her huge green eyes, even now, after all these years, surprising him with their beauty. He still could not quite believe that she was his, that he was the one she wanted to hug, that those stunning eyes never gave out to anyone else the flashes of love that occasionally came his way.
A corner of her mouth lifted: part grimace, part smile.
‘Let’s have a nap,’ said Daniel. ‘Let’s go upstairs and have a nap.’
‘A nap?’
‘Yeah.’
Erin took a step back and brushed away a strand of hair that had stuck to her wet cheek. ‘Daniel, are you trying to have sex with me?’
‘A nap! A nap, I said.’
‘I can’t believe you’re thinking about sex. We’re splitting up and you’re thinking about sex.’
‘You’re the one who’s talking about sex.’
‘You’re ridiculous.’
‘It might be nice, though,’ said Daniel. ‘Now you’re suggesting it.’
‘Was I suggesting it?’
‘Come upstairs.’
‘Daniel . . .’
‘Come upstairs. I love you.’
Daniel reached for her waist.
‘Stop that. Get off me.’
‘Post-argument. It’s always the best. And it was a big argument. Think about it.’
‘Daniel – you’re the most exhausting man in the world.’
‘So take the weight off your feet. Have a lie-down.’
With one arm around her back, and the other under her knees, Daniel scooped Erin into the air and began carrying her towards the bedroom. She shrieked and pinched him on the arm, but did nothing to wriggle free.
‘Daniel, you’re going to drop me.’
‘It’s fine.’
‘Ohh . . . this is so stupid.’
‘I love you,’ said Daniel.
‘Why am I such an idiot?’
‘I’ll tell you after.’
Daniel tossed her on to the bed, unbuttoned her jeans and pulled them off. She lay still, watching him throw her trousers aside, an unreadable expression on her face. Daniel took off his own jeans, holding her gaze, then knelt on the bed and crawled towards her. Just as his lips were about to touch hers, she pushed him on to his back, pinned him down by the wrists, and began to kiss and bite his neck.
Soon, they were naked under the duvet. ‘Get a condom,’ whispered Erin into Daniel’s ear, her hair falling across his face.
‘What if we don’t?’ he mumbled, taking her head in his hands and kissing her once, gently, on the lips.
‘You serious?’
‘Let’s not,’ said Daniel.
Erin pulled away. ‘You mean that?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘You want a baby? You’ve changed your mind?’
‘I do know what happens . . .’
‘We’ve been arguing about this all afternoon. Are you just giving up?’
‘It’s not a competition.’
‘I d
idn’t mean it like that. I just . . .’
‘What?’
‘I just . . . want to know why. What’s different now, compared to an hour ago? Compared to all the times we’ve talked about this?’
‘Can we have this conversation after? My brain isn’t getting much blood at the moment.’
‘This is important, Daniel. I need to know.’
‘Er . . . there’s this. This is different.’
‘Your erection?’
Erin suddenly leapt from the bed and began searching the bedroom floor for her knickers.
‘Don’t say it like that. It’s not a disease. Erin? What are you doing? Come back. What have I said? It was a joke.’
Erin stood, and roughly pulled on her underwear. ‘It wasn’t a joke. That’s the amazing thing. It’s amazing enough that you could think it, but that you could say it!’
‘Say what? It’s just a joke. It didn’t mean anything! Why are you so touchy?’
‘It’s incredible. It really is. I just . . . I mean . . . people say men are shallow, and sometimes you think it’s just a stupid cliché, then suddenly you’ll say something and I’ll realise that your brain isn’t . . . it isn’t connected up like a proper brain. It’s like half of it has been unplugged.’
‘Are you going to tell me what you’re talking about?’
‘For you, conceiving a baby isn’t about creating a person you’re going to love and care for and look after for the rest of your life, day in day out; for you, it’s . . . it’s about fucking without a condom.’
‘That’s ridiculous.’
‘There we are, on the point of making the most important decision you can ever make, and you’d think we’d be going through the same kind of thought process, but it turns out that actually I’m thinking about the next thirty years and you’re thinking about the next five minutes. That was your profound insight into the future.’
‘Erin, I’m so tired of this.’
‘Oh, so you’ve got the energy to take on being a father for the rest of your life, but it’s too much to ask that you might talk about the decision for a couple of minutes.’
Now fully dressed, Erin strode out of the room and into the toilet. Daniel, naked, followed her. She sat and peed.
‘It was a joke, Erin,’ said Daniel. ‘I know it was a joke, you know it was a joke, and what I’m tired of is your hysterical arguments that just come out of nowhere, over some tiny, meaningless comment.’
Otherhood Page 9
