‘So this show is a big deal and may lead to prime-time TV?’
‘Exactly.’
‘What’s the show about?’
‘Kids with eating disorders.’
‘Yes, I got that part, but what happens? Do you watch people throwing up all day?’
‘You do see the odd puke, but it’s basically a group of teenage girls – although they usually throw in a token boy or two – who are food-averse and they send them to this camp with nutritionists and psychiatrists and fitness trainers to tryto help them.’
‘So the winner is the one who puts on the most weight?’
‘Yes.’
‘How much did the last winner put on?’
‘Well, she got a bit carried away and put on four stone, so she’s now going to be starring in Get Fit Camp. The kids on the show can’t be badly an orexic or bulimic because they’d be in hospital on drips if they were. This is for kids in the early stages of eating disorders. It got really good viewing figures last time, almost as many as Celebrity Dancing on Roller Skates.’
‘No wonder you’re excited. So you’ll be going back to London soon?’
I nodded. ‘Fiona finishes her treatment next week, then she and Mark are having an end-of-treatment plus Derek’s twenty-seventh birthday dinner on the Saturday night. I’ll head back on Sunday or Monday.’
‘I don’t mean to be a kill-joy, but what if she’s not in remission?’ Tara asked.
‘She will be,’ I said.
‘But what if she isn’t?’
‘She has to be, Tara. I can’t even contemplate it, if she isn’t. Life can’t be that cruel and, selfishly, I don’t think I can do another eight months as a surrogate mother. I want my life back.’
‘Of course you do. It’s not selfish, it’s normal. I’m sure she’s really grateful for all your help. You were there when she needed you, and that’s what matters.’
Yes, but what if she needed me again? Could I do it? I really didn’t know that I could. I was so looking forward to having my own place, job and income again. I felt lost and useless without it. I blocked the thought out. It wouldn’t
happen. She’d be fine.
‘Any word from Sam?’ Tara asked.
‘Not since the disastrous texts.’
‘Does he know about the new job?’
‘There’s no point in telling him. He doesn’t care about my career – he thinks I’m a selfish cow.’
‘Are you sure you want to give him up?’
‘That’s just it. I don’t have to give him up. If he’d meet me half-way it would all be fine. What’s the big deal about commuting?’
‘It’s just putting off the inevitable decision that one of you will have to move,’ Tara said gently.
‘Only if the relationship works out,’ I reminded her.
‘Do you honestly think it wouldn’t?’
‘Not if we really gave it a go.’
‘Can you do that while you’re living in two different countries with separate lives?’
‘Lots of people do.’
‘Like who?’
‘Posh and Becks. When he first went to play in Spain she was still in England.’
‘Until she moved over to save her marriage,’ Tara reminded me.
‘I can’t let this opportunity go. It’s a really big deal. I’ve been working towards it for years.’
‘Look, Kate, it’s your decision and it sounds like a great job, but you should really think about the bigger picture.’
‘What d’you mean?’
‘What do you want to be doing in five or ten years’ time? Do you want to have a successful career and no private life, or a relationship with someone you love, kids, a house and to be near your family and loved ones?’
‘I want it all. I want the guy and the job and maybe the kids.’
‘Life is about compromise,’ Tara said.
‘Why does it have to be my compromise? Why can’t he get a job in England?’
‘He loves his job. His mum and sister live here. His whole life is about Irish sport. Why does he have to give it up to move over there when the only thing keeping you both in London would be your job?’
‘I’ve looked into getting a job here but there are none going.’
‘Something’s bound to come up.’
‘When? And in the meantime what am I supposed to do?’
‘If you go back to London you’ll lose yourself again, and it’s been so nice having you around.’
‘I’ve enjoyed being back, but I’ve had enough.’
‘He’s a really great guy, Kate. They don’t come along very often. Think very seriously about it before you jump on the plane.’
Kerrie started to bawl again so I took my leave, and spent the rest of the day trying to figure out how to have my career and Sam.
38
Over breakfast the next day, Dad reminded Derek that he had only a few days to get a record deal or the game was up. ‘Your twenty-seventh birthday will be a turning point in your life. Reality will finally reveal itself to you in all its glory and you’ll understand and appreciate hard work,’ said Dad.
‘There’s no need to gloat over the fact that my dream is about to be shattered into a thousand pieces. Besides, a lot can happen in a few days.’ Derek began to rap:
‘It ain’t over till I’m one year older
And you can sit there and be all smug
About working real jobs and pullin’ the plug
On my financial assistance but don’t y’all worry cos
I got me a plan B cos entertainment’s in my blood, see?’
‘Very nice, son, get it all out of your system now, because there’ll be no need for any of that lark when you come to work for me.’
‘What plan B?’ I asked, hoping he wasn’t referring to his suggestion that he and Gonzo move in with me.
‘All will be revealed on Saturday night. If there’s anything to reveal, that is,’ he added.
‘I won’t hold my breath so,’ said Dad.
‘Hey, Dad, who won the Oscar for Best Original Song in 2003?’ Derek asked.
‘That eejit you think is so great who named himself after a chocolate bar or something.’
‘Eminem for “Lose Your self”. And his old man didn’t believe in him either.’
‘Very apt title,’ said Dad. Then, turning his attention to me, he asked, ‘What was wrong with you last night? I heard you pacing at three in the morning.’
‘Couldn’t sleep,’ I said.
‘Are you stressed about the new job?’ Derek asked.
‘Pah,’ muttered Dad, from behind his paper.
‘Do you have something you’d like to say, Dad?’ I inquired.
‘A programme about girls who won’t eat – I never heard such rubbish in mylife. I don’t see why you can’t stay at home with your family and get a decent job.’
‘Thanks for the support, Dad. It’s a big deal for me.’
‘Non sense. You need to settle down with a nice lad and have children. That’s what life’s about. Not filming girls being sick. I never heard the like.’
‘Gonzo wants to know if he stops eating now can he be one of the people on the show?’
‘No,’ I said.
‘I hope that wasn’t your plan B,’ said Dad, as Derek walked off in a huff.
Later that day I was in Fiona’s kitchen, helping her tidyup after the boys’ dinner. I handed her a plate to put away and she dropped it.
‘Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuuuuuuuuuuuck!’ she shouted.
The twins, Teddy and I almost jumped out of our skins.
‘Jesus, are you OK?’ I asked, looking for blood on her hands.
‘No, I’m not OK. I’m not fucking OK at all,’ she sobbed, dropping to the floor as her body shook with grief.
The twins, shocked to see their mother crying so violently, began to get upset. I ushered them out and put on the TV to distract them.
Then I came back in to mysister and sat down w
ith her on the floor among the bits of broken plate. ‘What’s up? Was it a favourite plate?’
‘I don’t care about the stupid plate!’ she cried, as Teddy licked her face. ‘I just can’t keep it in anymore. I’ve tried so hard to be calm and in control during chemo and radiation and I’m sick of it. I’m sick of being sick. I’m sick of trying to pretend everything’s OK, I’m sick of having my body ravaged by drugs and burnt by radiation. I have cancer. I’m a cancer victim. Mum was a cancer victim and she died. God didn’t give a shit about leaving her three children with no mother. He took her anyway. Why should I be any different? Why should I be luckier than Mum? Why should my boys be luckier than we were? I could die – I really could actually die – and not see my boys grow up. Never see them become the wonderful human beings I know they’ll be. Never see them get married and have children of their own. They’ll be the poor Kennedy twins, just like we were the poor O’Brien kids. It’s not fair, it’s not bloodyfair, and I’m furious. I’m furious with life and Fate and God and everyone. I hate having this disease inside me. I want to rip it out and smash it into little pieces. I don’t want my boys growing up without a mother. I can’t bear that.’ She covered her face with her hands.
‘Fiona, please listen to me,’ I begged. ‘What’s happened to you over the last eight months is unspeakable. You’ve been so brave and wonderful. I’m in awe of you. The way you’ve handled it is incredible. You’re always so cheerful around the boys, making sure their lives were disrupted as little as possible. You’re an amazing mother and an inspirational person. I believe, with everybone in mybody, that you’re going to be OK. You’ll be around till you’re ninety, I know it.’
‘How?’
‘Because you deserve to be.’
‘So did Mum.’
‘That was really bad luck and, besides, the treatments then were nothing like they are now. I know you’ll be fine, I promise.’
‘You can’t promise that, Kate,’ she said sadly, patting Teddy as he nuzzled into her.
‘Yes, I can,’ I insisted.
‘No, you can’t. No one deserves to die of this horrible disease. Some get lucky and most don’t. It’s a lottery. There are no guarantees. The thing that really scares me is that, if I die soon, the boys won’t remember me. They won’t have a clue what sort of person I was or how much I loved them.’
‘Of course they’ll remember you,’ I said.
‘Does Derek remember Mum?’
‘I’m sure he does.’
‘Do you?’
‘Yes.’
‘You don’t really, Kate, you’ve told me so before. You said that the worst part of Mum dying young is that you don’t remember what she was like.’
Typical! Me and my big mouth, and Fiona with her elephant memory. She was right, though. I didn’t really remember Mum. I was eight when she died, and although I have some memories of her, they’re blurred and I don’t know if they’re real memories or if I think I remember things because I’ve heard Dad tell the stories. It was awful to lose my mother so young: I had felt a gaping hole in my life for as long as I could remember. I would have given anything for one conversation with her, one hug, one kiss.
I looked at my poor sister and felt a pang of anguish. ‘Come on, Fiona, the statistics are really good for your recovery.’
‘Kate!’ she snapped. ‘Let me be miserable. I need to let this out. I need to feel the fear of death. I’m sick of being upbeat. I want to be allowed to wallow and rant and rage against the world. I might die and you can’t change that. Even if I do go into remission now, there’s no guarantee it won’t come back in a couple of years. It’s a life sentence.’
‘It’s so unfair,’ I said, unable to stop myself getting emotional. ‘I wish I’d got the cancer, not you. I swear I’d take your place if I could. It should have been me.’
‘Oh, don’t be so melodramatic,’ said the woman who’d just had a nervous breakdown over a broken plate – well, OK, over cancer, really, but it had started with the plate.
‘I mean it,’ I said, insulted. ‘Your kids need you, I’m not leaving anyone behind. In fact, apart from my family no one would notice.’
‘Well, instead of feeling sorry for yourself why don’t you do something about it?’ said a recovering Fiona, dishing out advice as she cleared up the plate shards.
‘Like what?’
‘Like stop messing about and give your relationship with Sam a go. You love him, it’s as plain as the nose on your face and no job should stand in your way. If I’ve learnt one thing from this stupid disease it’s to value what matters in life and that’s people, Kate, not things. No one wants “Here lies Kate O’Brien: she had a successful career” engraved on their headstone. It’s sad and soulless.’
Before I had a chance to answer, the twins came in with Mark, who had just arrived home.
‘Is everything all right?’ he asked, taking in the two blotchy red faces and the broken plate. ‘I found the twins gawping at Baywatch.’
‘Kate and I needed to have a heart-to-heart,’ said Fiona.
‘Are you OK?’ Mark asked his wife, putting his arm around her. ‘The boys said you were upset.’
‘Fine, thanks. I just needed to blow off steam.’
‘What happened to the plate?’
‘She threw it at me for being melodramatic,’ I said, laughing when Mark looked shocked.
‘She’s joking. I dropped it and it set me off,’ Fiona admitted. Then, as the twins appeared, she said, ‘Mummy’s better now, boys. I’m sorry if I scared you. I got a fright when I dropped the plate.’
They snuggled into her, glad to see her back to normal.
‘Did you get a fright too?’ Jack asked me.
‘No, honey. I’m sad because I’m going back to London soon and I won’t see you every day,’ I said, as Fiona tried frantically to stop me.
‘I haven’t prepared them for this,’ she hissed.
Their little heads snapped around. ‘Going back? But you live here now, with Granddad,’ said Bobby.
Damn. I’d assumed they knew it was only temporary.
‘I was staying with Granddad for a few months while Mummy was sick. But now she’s better I’m going back to London.’
‘But I don’t want you to go,’ said Bobby, and burst into tears.
‘Me neither,’ said Jack, coming over and hugging me.
‘Stay with us, Auntie Kate. Don’t go,’ said Bobby, as I struggled to control my self. I hadn’t thought they’d care. They had Fiona back now, their mum, the love of their lives.
‘But you don’t need me now. Mummy’s better.’
‘Mummy, don’t let her go back to horrible London!’ pleaded Jack.
‘I’m sorry, sweet heart, I want her to stay too, but that’s where Kate wants to go,’ she said pointedly.
‘But who’s going to watch Shrek with us?’ asked Bobby. Mark looked surprised: Shrek was not on his list of appropriate viewing.
‘Who’s going to take us to the zoo and buy us ice-cream?’ said Jack, thankfully remembering the fun part of that day rather than the splitting-his-head-open bit.
‘I’ll be back all the time to see you,’ I said.
‘No, you won’t,’ said Bobby. ‘We never saw you before. I hate London.’
‘I hate London too,’ said Jack, and kicked the table.
‘Don’t leave us,’ begged Bobby.
But that was exactly what I did do: I ran out the door, tears streaming down myface.
I drove down to the seafront and parked the car. What was I doing? Why was I running back to London when everyone I loved was here? Was my career that important? Could I make it work in Dublin with no job? What if Fiona got a bad result? Would I come back? Was I mad to give up Sam, the only man I’d ever loved? Could it work out?
I rested my aching head on the steering-wheel. I felt completely drained. The last eight months had been an emotional rollercoaster. What was I going to do?
My phone rang, and suddenly eve
rything seemed clearer.
39
In honour of Derek’s twenty-seventh birthday and as a thank-you to the family for helping out during her treatment, Fiona and Mark were having us all over for dinner. As we were getting ready to go to their house, Gonzo called in.
‘Hey, Mr O’B, just calling in to see my man Derek,’ he said, as Dad opened the door.
‘OK. Be quick about it – we’re off to dinner in Fiona’s and don’t be making any more music plans. That part of Derek’s life is over as of now.’
‘It’s a sad day for music lovers world wide to lose a poet like D-Rek.’
‘I’ve a sneaking suspicion they might get over it,’ said Dad.
‘Get over what?’ I asked, walking into the kitchen.
‘Derek getting a real job.’
‘Maaaaaaaaaan!’ said Gonzo. ‘You look fine.’
‘Thanks.’ I smiled.
‘Steady now, the pair of you, I don’t want any more shenanigans like there were the other night,’ said Dad, with a wink.
‘If only,’ sighed Gonzo.
‘’Sup?’ asked Derek, shuffling in.
‘Just saying to your old man that it’s a sad day for the rap industry.’
Derek shrugged. ‘At least we tried.’
‘Can’t say we didn’t follow our dream,’ agreed Gonzo.
‘Fun while it lasted,’ said the poet.
‘It’s been an honour,’ said Gonzo.
‘Couldn’t have asked for a better wing man,’ said Derek.
‘Means a lot,’ said Gonzo, thumping his heart.
‘Keep it real,’ said Derek.
‘So long, partner,’ said Gonzo, handing Derek a bag.
‘For God’s sake, he’s not going the electric chair. He’s going to work down the road – you’ll still see him every day,’ said Dad.
‘’S not the same, though,’ said Gonzo.
Derek pulled a T-shirt out of the bag and put it on. ‘Dude, I’m speechless,’ he said, as Dad and I read the words.
Across the front in red letters it said, ‘Talent will triumph. Keep the faith.’
‘There may be more than one poet after all,’ said Dad, snorting into his tea.
In My Sister's Shoes Page 26
