The Strange Year of Vanessa M

by Filipa Fonseca Silva

  “You really think I’m only going to decide now? The decision was made a long time ago.”

  “So?”

  “So what?”

  “What’s the decision?”

  “I can't tell you. We still have this session to do.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Of course, I’m always serious. So, Vanessa, what have you got to tell me today?”

  Vanessa sighed. She was going to have to sweat it out for another fifty minutes.

  “Well, Doctor, I’m nothing new to tell you since last week, really. The shop’s still going well, I’ve already got some orders for Christmas parties, my boyfriend is still showing every sign of being normal…”

  “Define normal,” her analyst interrupted.

  “Well, normal is a well-balanced person, who doesn't have mood swings, who accepts the rules of society, and tries to integrate and contribute, to society. A person with a job or at least with some ambitions in that direction, that lives in a house, has a group of friends and... What else? Someone who isn't a pervert and hasn’t got phobias.”

  “So someone with claustrophobia isn't normal?”

  “Of course they are, that’s not what I meant. I was thinking about psychopaths, murderers, paedophiles, and rapists. That sort of thing.”

  “Do you think you’re a normal person, Vanessa?”

  ‘”Yes, I do. I sincerely do.”

  “So what have you been doing here for the last ten months?”

  “Proving it. No?”

  Her analyst smiled and scribbled in his stupid notepad, except lately it didn’t look so stupid. For some time now Vanessa had been imagining that he didn't actually write anything in that notepad but simply drew naked women in it as he listened to the rambling monologues of his patients. It stopped Vanessa from getting so annoyed with it, anyway.

  “The thing is, Vanessa, I don't like that word normal. But let’s not go into that just now. I prefer to view people as mentally healthy. And in my opinion, Vanessa, you are and always have been mentally healthy. You were confused; you had a mild depression, but nothing that ninety-nine per cent of the inhabitants of the Western world don't have. And most importantly, you’ve managed to turn things around with just a few sessions of psychotherapy. That’s what I’m going to write in my assessment to the court.”

  “Seriously?” asked Vanessa, jumping in her chair.

  “I already told you, I’m always serious.”

  “What about the medication?”

  “What medication?”

  “Don’t I have to keep taking my medicine?”

  “No, Vanessa, you’ve been on a placebo for the last three months.”

  “Seriously?”

  “There you go again.”

  “Sorry, Doctor, so what now?”

  “Now I’m going to submit my assessment to the court, send an authenticated copy to your home address, and after that you’re free.”

  ”Free…”

  ”Yes, free, but there’s still some time before the session ends. We can talk, or you can ask me questions.”

  “Ah, all right then, first question: are you married?”

  “I can't talk about my private life you know that. I meant questions to do with your case.”

  “Then this isn't a conversation, it’s a monologue.”

  ”Yes.”

  “Forget it then. I’m in no mood for more monologues about my life and I’ve nothing to ask. When I do, I’ll know where to look for the answers.”

  “Splendid.”

  Goodbye, Doctor.”

  ‘”Goodbye, Vanessa, and good luck with the cakes.”

  Vanessa smiled and closed the door behind her. She said goodbye to the receptionist and walked out brimming with confidence. She was making an excellent advertisement for the other patients in the waiting room. Looking at her and thinking, ‘This doctor must be really good.’

  At the street door, Vanessa stopped to look for her car keys. She pressed herself to the wall, trying in vain not to get in the way of the people entering and leaving the building. Shoving and elbowing, saying sorry, her hand rummaging in her bag, groping every object in the hope of feeling the metal of the key or the suede of the key fob; mirror, coin purse, lipstick, tweezers, spectacle case, dark glasses, wallet, mobile phone, pills. More shoving, more elbowing, but nothing that could undo her smile and, of course the key was in the pocket of her overcoat.

  December

  1.

  This was a crazy Friday. She’d woken at six in the morning to finish her orders and the cake for Mimi’s Christmas party. Mimi had enthused so much about her mother’s creations that the school ended up ordering a cake from Vanessa for the big day, an enormous cake for over a hundred children and parents. It had to be gluten-free, nut-free and liqueur-free because of all the allergies and foibles of the younger participants. Vanessa had decided to make it in the form of a snow globe, with Father Christmas on his sled inside. The glass of the snow globe was an upturned fishbowl and the base was in the form of an enormous, brightly wrapped gift. A masterpiece thought Vanessa as she examined her finished work. She loaded the cake alongside her other orders into her delivery van, which she’d recently purchased in a part-swap for her car, and set off on a three-hour delivery round. It seemed like everyone was having a Christmas party. She only just made it to Mimi’s party on time.

  The party included a play performed by the different classes, and this year it was an adaptation of Dickens’ A Christmas Carol. The whole thing would last about three hours, what with parents arriving late and the problems involved in keeping such a large company of children occupied. The engineer had insisted on coming with her. Now that he’d met Mimi and they’d got on well together, he wanted to assert his presence. Vanessa had been delighted that he was coming, not least because she knew Sheila would be there too – not only as Vanessa’s ex-husband’s new partner, but also as the mother of two children from the school. They met at the door, where Vanessa was struggling to lift the cake out of the back of the van while simultaneously pleading with an impatient security man that she wasn’t going to park there. She sighed with relief when she saw him. No matter how much a woman tries to be independent and do everything on her own, sometimes it feels great to have a knight in shining armour come to her rescue, to park her van, in this instance.

  Inside the auditorium they struggled to find two places in the middle of dozens of parents, grandparents and aunts and uncles anxious to see their offspring shining on stage. Others seemed anxious only for it to end quickly. As she squeezed past a row of legs and people who didn't think it was necessary to get up to let others get past to a vacant seat, Vanessa looked towards the stage, where little heads were peeping between the curtains, anxious to make sure their parents were there. One of these little heads belonged to Mimi, of course. Vanessa felt hurt at the thought of all those parties where Mimi had peeped between the curtains, anxious and expectant, and not seen her, and later she’d pretend to believe her mother had been there from the start instead of only appearing right at the end, when the cast was taking its curtain call.

  She drove these thoughts out of her mind and squeezed her boyfriend’s hand, reminding her that this was real; this was the present moment, and the life she’d chosen and which was making her happy. Relatively. No point in beating herself up about past decisions and past depressions. And yet she couldn't help looking for her ex-husband in the crowd. She hadn't seen him for some time now. They had been spending less and less time together since the divorce. Usually, when she went to collect Mimi, her daughter was already waiting at the door, ready to jump in the car; Vanessa didn't even switch the engine off. They occasionally talked over the phone to discuss details of their daughter’s life, but little more.

  She finally spotted him in one of the rows in front of her. She felt a quiver in her belly. He looked handsome. The sad expression, the sallow complexion, was gone. He was slimmer. Vanessa found this curious, as she’d lost weight
too and had started exercising again. Why is it people start looking after their health after a separation? Like marriage was a two-way slob pact. As if it was no longer worthwhile maintaining a certain vanity. We assume our partner will like us no matter how we look or act. What’s the point of spending two hours in the gym? Women forget to wax; men stop trimming their nostril hair. Women stop worrying about their grey hairs instead of rushing to the salon and men start to loosen their belt a hole or two instead of doing anything about their expanding paunch. Growing old together shouldn't be like that. Two people who love each other should bring out the best in each other, not drive each other into a downward spiral of slovenliness.

  When the play finally ended, some of the parents left the auditorium right away to go and smoke a cigarette and get away from the shouting; others went backstage to help the children get dressed and make sure no one left their jacket behind. As it happened, both Vanessa and her ex-husband went to help Mimi. The little girl jumped into her parents’ arms, happy and bubbly as ever, before running back to the changing rooms where she’d left her satchel. They waited for her at the door together, without exchanging a word, each pressed against the wall to let gangs of hyper-excited children past. Vanessa found herself squeezed up against her ex-husband and inebriated by his scent. He’d been using that scent since they’d known each other, an aroma of wood and citrus fruit. Vanessa closed her eyes and breathed in the smell. It had awoken an intense longing in her. With her eyes closed, a bump from a five year-old was enough for to make her lose her balance momentarily and fall into the arms of her ex-husband. He gripped her firmly. Vanessa turned to him to apologize, and their gazes met and held. For a few moments all the excited shouting of the children vanished and Vanessa felt as if everything was moving in slow motion as their faces drew close together and their lips touched and came together in a kiss.

  Mimi’s voice brought them to themselves, and they pulled away from each other quickly, acting as if nothing had happened. But Vanessa was unable to hide her flushed complexion and when she came to the engineer she had to invent some excuse that being in the changing rooms with dozens of children was almost like being in a sauna. She took a deep breath to calm down. There was still the food and drinks to come. She sneaked off to smoke a cigarette with the excuse that she had to get her phone out of the car. Her heart was racing. What exactly had happened in there? How could she look these two men in the eyes now? Worse still, she was going to have to introduce them to each other. She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned around, alarmed.

  “What’s this then? Having a fly smoke?” her boyfriend asked.

  “What a fright! No, it’s because I don't like smoking in front of Mimi. I only began smoking after my separation and I want to quit before she realizes,” she said.

  “They’re calling everyone inside to cut your lovely cake.”

  “Ah… so let’s go then,” said Vanessa, increasingly nervous at having to face her ex-husband after that kiss.

  It turned out it wasn’t as difficult as all that. Her ex-husband was obviously as embarrassed as she was and didn't stay long, saying he had to get back to the office to catch up on some work the weekend Mimi was with her mother, and took off. Without saying goodbye to Sheila, as Vanessa noted with a certain satisfaction. On the way home, she made an enormous effort to concentrate on what Mimi was telling her. But her thoughts kept flying back to that sinful kiss. She invented a massive headache to get rid of her boyfriend, and after putting Mimi to bed; she stood there at the window, watching the tempestuous winter sea, how it resembled her emotions.

  2.

  The rest of the weekend was one long culinary disaster. Vanessa burned several batches of cakes and biscuits, overturned various phials of colouring and had to redo icings because the lettering was shaky. Mimi was laughing. She thought her mother’s clumsiness was funny, but had no idea why. On Saturday, Vanessa decided to close up early and go to the cinema with Mimi, and on Sunday she didn't even enter the kitchen, despite the Christmas orders that were piling up. Instead, she went for lunch with her aunt, who silently hugged her and smiled when she heard about the episode of the kiss.

  “Haven’t you anything to tell me?” whispered Vanessa, with one eye on her daughter to make sure she wasn't overhearing.

  ”No.”

  “But what do you think it means? What do I do now?”

  “You speak to him.”

  “Which him?”

  “Your ex of course, you need to speak to him. When you go to drop Mimi off, ask him what happened.”

  “I know exactly what happened, and so does he. What I don't know is how I feel about it.”

  “Darling, you’ll know that as soon as you look at him.”

  “You think so?”

  “I know so.”

  Vanessa’s aunt chubbed her cheeks and carried the food to the table, where Mimi and Frank were having fun with an improvised game of Mikado, using their cutlery for sticks. Vanessa remained leaning against the cooker. The fact was she didn’t even have to look at him. She knew exactly what she was feeling. When she took Mimi home at the end of the day, instead of driving on as she usually did Vanessa parked the van and accompanied her daughter to the door. Mimi gave her father a hug and ran into the living room, where her favourite programme was about to start on TV.

  “She’s all yours. She’s been as impeccable as ever.”

  “Thanks,” he answered, as nervous as Vanessa. “Do you want to come in?”

  “All right then,” she answered, surprised at the invitation.

  They went into the kitchen, where Vanessa noticed that everything was the same. He hadn't changed a single cup, moved a single object, not even the things he was always losing his temper with. The last time she’d been there, the morning after that night, she hadn't noticed these details. She’d been too fixated on Sheila’s presence and how it had dashed her hopes of a rapprochement.

  She heard the door close behind her and turned round. There he was. His eyes sweet and gentle like before. Vanessa screwed up her courage to talk to him about that kiss, but before she could get her first syllable out he was kissing her again, and even more passionately this time. If their daughter hadn’t been next door in the living room, they would have done it right there on the worktop.

  “Stay and have dinner,” he asked, kissing her neck.

  “You’re crazy,” Vanessa sighed, making no effort to struggle free.

  “Come on, we’ll speak once Mimi’s gone to bed,” he insisted.

  “I don't think it’s a good idea.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because we know where it’s going to end, and there are two other people who don't deserve this.”

  “But we’re married.”

  “Were married.”

  “We still are as far as I’m concerned, I don't like being divorced,” he said, holding her tighter.

  “Stop that,” said Vanessa, gripping him with all her strength.

  “Stay…”

  “All right…”

  After dinner, once Mimi was sound asleep, the inevitable happened. They made love with a passion that Vanessa hadn’t felt for years. They made love with fury, with anguish, as if their bodies were finally saying everything their mouths had been unable to utter. Why did you do that? Why did you let me leave? When did you lose sight of me?

  Vanessa said goodbye at four in the morning with one more kiss and hurried out, afraid that some early riser in the neighbourhood would see her. She wasn't going to get any sleep now, and she had so much to do. And her adrenalin was still pumping. That was easily the best night of sex she’d ever had in her life. But as for her feelings, she’d have to lock those up in a drawer for a few hours until they’d settled down and she could reason through everything that had just happened.

  The following week, Vanessa was tempted to switch her phone off. On the one side she had her boyfriend insisting that he come round or they go out for dinner, on the other she had her husband
sending her horny text messages. She couldn't manage the situation, what with all the orders that were coming in for Christmas and the New Year. But it was easier to shake her boyfriend off than her husband, who on the following Friday appeared at the shop at closing time and practically raped her over the counter.

  “Where’s Mimi?”

  ‘”She’s sleeping at a friend’s house.”

  “When are you going to collect her?”

  “Tomorrow lunchtime.”

  “You have to leave here before I open the shop.”

  “We still have twelve hours... But you can drop by the house tomorrow night, once Mimi’s sleeping.”

  “No way!”

  “Oh go on…”

  “What about Sheila?”

  “What about your engineer?”

  “I’m going to talk to him tomorrow.”

  “Are you going to tell him?”

  “No. I can't bring myself to.”

  “You’re like me, then.”

  “This has got to end…”

  “Why? Aren’t you enjoying it?”

  “Immensely.”

  “So stop thinking about it. It was you and your over-thinking everything that got us where we are.”

  Vanessa knew this wasn't true. It had nothing to do with thinking too much or too little. She also knew it wasn't in her nature to be unfaithful, and to all intents she was being unfaithful to her boyfriend. They hadn't been seeing each other for long, true, but this was no way to start a relationship. She had no idea how long these meetings with her ex-husband would last, or if she wanted them to continue, but she didn't feel good about the situation. And then there was Sheila. And Mimi. And so many reasons for not making waves; now that life finally made sense. One thing at a time, thought Vanessa. And the first thing was to cancel her next date with the engineer. Poor man, he believed every ridiculous excuse Vanessa gave him. It was impossible for her to be with him at this moment. It wasn't fair on him. But just now she was with her ex-husband and it was so good. The engineer could wait until tomorrow, yet again.