I was honest with my father, but should I have been? If only for his sake, I should have seemed more caring, said something like, “Don’t worry, Dad, I’ll pack my suitcase and go to the airport. I’ll take the next plane to New York. You should have called me sooner. If I’d known she had cancer, I would have come.” But I didn’t say any of that, nor did it cross my mind that I should have.
Not ten minutes later, my phone began to ring again. My grandfather James’s number was on the screen. I didn’t answer the call and chose to keep drinking.
How much did I drink that night? I don’t know, but it was more than I could handle. I wasn’t even able to put myself to bed. I collapsed on the sofa and that’s where I stayed. It wasn’t until ten in the morning that my phone’s insistent ringing woke me.
“Have you died? No, of course you haven’t. Take a shower and come in as soon as possible. Mark Scott’s been expecting you in his office for two hours and you’re not doing yourself any favors by keeping him waiting. Oh! And your father and your grandfather have called at least ten or twelve times. It seems…Well, have they told you that your mother isn’t well? Thomas? Can you hear me?”
Maggie’s voice was cutting a path through the thick fog the alcohol had left in my brain. But I was still drunk and the words seemed reluctant to leave my mouth.
“Thomas! Listen, stop this nonsense and get going. I’ve reserved you a seat on the flight that leaves for New York at six. You’ve just about got time to come in and speak to Scott and get to the airport, so you’d best bring your suitcase with you.”
I looked around and found myself lying on the living-room floor next to a couple of empty whiskey bottles and a broken glass. The ice bucket was on the floor too, and there were splashes of water and whiskey everywhere. My right hand felt sticky and as my senses returned I became aware that I smelled of sweat, vomit, and stale alcohol. I needed to get up but my head hurt too much and my arms and legs didn’t want to obey me. In the end I dragged myself to the bathroom and managed to get myself into the shower.
My phone rang incessantly, and this helped me remember that Maggie had called me and told me something important, but what could it have been?
When I got out of the shower things still weren’t entirely clear to me, nor did I feel better, but it seemed that I could walk without my legs giving way. I fell onto the bed wrapped in a towel, trying to get my mind in order.
I made an effort and found a couple of aspirin, which I swallowed with a gulp of water. I don’t know how I did it, but I succeeded in making myself some strong coffee and putting a slice of bread in the toaster. It was half past one when I left the apartment with the worst hangover of my life.
Mark Scott hadn’t yet come back from lunch. Maggie warned me that he was angry and had seemed to calm down only when she told him that my mother was sick and I needed to fly to New York.
“Tell the team I want to see them,” I instructed Maggie.
Cathy and Richard were the first to arrive. I was surprised to see Cathy looking as fresh as if she had just stepped out of the shower. Nor did Richard show any signs of fatigue. Only Janet McCarthy and Philip Sullivan, who arrived soon after, seemed to have any trace of tiredness on their faces.
“Right. Tell me how things are going. I assume you spoke nice and calmly to some of the head honchos this morning. I don’t remember whether it was Mark or Denis who called me yesterday to say that it was necessary to restructure the electoral department and that we would talk today. This is a sign that we haven’t been doing at all badly.”
They listened to me without much interest, as if they weren’t really present. In spite of the hangover I realized that I was the one who was missing something.
“Is there something I should know? You’re quieter than usual.”
“Haven’t you spoken to Mark yet?” Cathy asked with a smile that surprised me.
“I just arrived…Last night…Well, I spent last night drinking.”
“Right…Well, it would be best if you spoke with Mark as soon as possible,” said Richard.
“Why don’t you tell me what’s going on? You seem very content, Cathy. Have you managed to coax Mark into making you head of the electoral department? I’ve always said there’s nothing a good pair of legs and a nice set of tits won’t get you.”
I thought Cathy was going to hit me because she got up and stood right in front of me, but she didn’t. She smiled before speaking.
“You’re disgusting, Thomas. You look terrible and your breath…phew! You stink. But you’re not just disgusting because of that, but because you’re made of shit and there’s not a single centimeter of you that’s not made of the worst kind of shit. You’re an opportunist; you’ve got no talent to offer other people. The good thing is that this is something that quickly becomes obvious. All it takes is a couple of conversations with you to work out that you’re a miserable bastard. Didn’t your parents love you when you were little, Thomas? Is that why you’re a son of a bitch?”
“Come on, Cathy, leave it.” Richard took her by the arm and pulled her back into her seat.
Janet was pale. And Philip Sullivan looked at me in shock.
“Ooh, rebellion among the ranks.” I didn’t have time to say more because Maggie came in to tell me that Mark was back from his lunch break and was waiting for me.
“And I’ve booked a taxi for four o’clock. It will give you time to get to the airport and catch that plane to New York. I promised your grandfather, such a charming gentleman.”
Mark Scott had a sour look on his face when I entered his office. I was uncomfortable.
“It’s not very professional to turn up to work and…well, to turn up to work in this state. You look a mess.”
“Yes, I got drunk. I drank until I collapsed to the floor senseless,” I replied in a challenging tone.
“Denis and I have been thinking about making some changes. We think Cathy is the right person to head the electoral department. She’s got class, she’s discerning, and she’d never bend the rules of the game. Do you understand?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mark, all I understand is that you’re giving me a kick up the backside. Is that right?”
“Denis spoke to a couple of his friends in Westminster. I won’t say we didn’t hear the rumors two years ago but…in the end we weren’t diligent. We should have moved you out of the electoral department and not let…”
“What, Mark? What shouldn’t you have let happen?”
“You used highly unorthodox methods to ensure that your friend Roy won in his constituency.”
“Really? Who says that?”
“No one can prove anything, but…it’s difficult to believe that Roy’s opponents just happened to be struck by scandals right before the elections.”
“Oh come on! You’re telling me this two years later. So it seems I’m responsible for the fact that Frank Wilson was a hypocrite, one of those men who preach one thing and practice quite another. He was the one visiting a brothel, not me. And Jimmy Doyle, the honorable Labour candidate who liked to charge gifts for his wife to the party donors and spend money he didn’t have on extravagant fripperies. Was that my fault too? Roy Parker won because he didn’t have skeletons in his closet. It was that simple. But your friends from the Conservative Party and the Labour Party can’t stand people from outside the system taking their seats. So they’ve dug around in the past and decided to ask you for my head, and you’re going to give it to them. How brave you two are!”
Mark seemed to hesitate. I’d defended myself well and he was a decent man, so perhaps he was wondering whether he might be treating me unfairly.
“We’re not going to sack you, Thomas. We’re just going to give you a different role. Cathy knows the ins and outs of British politics better than you—when all’s said and done, you’re American. But we want to keep you on board. Maggie’s told me that you need to go to New York, that your mother…well, she told me that she’s dying. You go
and see her and don’t worry about anything else but her. Work can wait. You take all the time you need.”
“I’ll do that, Mark, I’ll do that.”
I didn’t want to go to New York, but I couldn’t come up with a better option just then; it was preferable for me to absent myself for a few days. In the meanwhile, I would come up with something, either to get rid of Cathy or to get myself a new job if I didn’t like what Mark and Denis had to offer.
“You haven’t brought a suitcase.” Maggie scolded me when I got back from Mark’s office.
“Yes, I know, but it doesn’t matter. I’ve got clothes in New York. I don’t need to take anything with me,” I said without conviction.
“Rich kid. The taxi’s waiting. Will you come back?”
“Why wouldn’t I? Don’t assume I’m done for,” I replied grumpily.
“Right. Give my regards to your father and grandfather. They really did seem like lovely gentlemen.”
“That’s got nothing to do with me.”
“Yes, I can believe that.”
I left the agency like a robot. I could still feel the effects of the alcohol. My head hurt and I couldn’t think clearly. “I don’t think I’ll go to New York,” I said to myself, but the doorman opened the door of the taxi and I found myself on the way to the airport.
“They told me you need to catch a plane at six. I’ll do my best to get you there in time,” said the taxi driver.
I was about to protest, to tell him to take me to my apartment, that I had no intention of boarding a flight. But I didn’t because at that point I felt so tired that I didn’t care about anything.
I fell asleep and the taxi driver woke me when we got to Heathrow.
“If you hurry you’ll catch that plane.”
I was suddenly aware that if I went into the airport I would end up flying to New York. I didn’t want to have a debate with myself or even to think. I was tired, my stomach was heaving, and the only thing I wanted was to sit down and go to sleep.
I went to the British Airways business check-in. They gave me my boarding pass and urged me to hurry. “All the passengers are already on board except you. We’ll let them know that you’re going to board, sir,” an airline employee told me with all the friendliness she could muster, though obviously my lateness annoyed her. But I didn’t bother running. I didn’t care whether I caught the plane or not.
I fell asleep as soon as I sat down and gave no sign of life for seven hours. The flight attendant shook me gently to tell me we had landed.
I didn’t have a single dollar on me, just some pounds sterling and my credit cards. I had to change some money to pay the taxi driver for the ride to my parents’ apartment. That was when I got angry about being there, for letting myself be carried along and boarding a plane I didn’t want to take due to a strange inertia caused by the alcohol.
I was exhausted and the last thing I wanted to do was see my mother. But that’s what I was there for.
María, the old nanny, opened the door and made an exclamation that wasn’t exactly one of joy.
“You’ve come! For the love of God…I’ll let your father know. The doctor is with your mother. They’re giving her oxygen.”
She left me alone in the hall. I felt strange being in the home that had once been mine. If Jaime hadn’t appeared at that very moment I think I would have left.
“Thomas! Thank God you’re here! Come on, come on, it would be best for you to see Mama as soon as possible. She never stops asking for you. We had to call the doctor because she was drowning for lack of oxygen. Dad’s with her. He must have told you there’s nothing they can do…” Seeking consolation, Jaime threw his arms around me.
“I should take a shower first…I’m not exactly presentable.”
“No, no, you need to see her right away. She’s worried about dying without saying goodbye to you. She’ll feel better when she knows you’re here. Dad said that you might not be able to come because of work, but I told him you’d never forgive yourself if you let Mama die without hugging her first.”
That’s how Jaime was. He thought that the rest of humanity shared his goodwill. He seemed determined to ignore how much of a dick I was.
“Where’s your suitcase?” María had reappeared.
“I didn’t bring a suitcase.”
“Right. Well then…?”
“I assume there’re still some clothes in my wardrobe. Or don’t I have a bedroom or a wardrobe anymore?”
“Your mother never let us do anything to your room. It’s just how you left it,” María replied grumpily.
That day, when Jaime opened the door to my parents’ room, I learned that the arrival of death is preceded by a special odor.
My father was talking to the doctor in a low voice by the window. My mother had her eyes closed and behind the oxygen mask I could see how hard it was for her to breathe. A nurse was standing beside her.
Jaime pushed me toward the head of the bed without giving me time to greet my father. My brother wasn’t prepared to wait a single minute to fulfill our mother’s wishes.
I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t recognize my mother in that thin body with the hair shot through with gray and skin like old leather. It seemed to me that my mother wasn’t in that lump of flesh.
She opened her eyes, and just then I saw a spark of what she had once been in her gaze. She didn’t smile at me, but gave me a slight nod of recognition.
“Take her hand,” Jaime told me in such a low voice I could barely hear him.
But I didn’t. I didn’t want to have her hand, which at that moment seemed unknown to me, between my own. It seemed like her fingers had grown thinner and her nails were so short it was difficult for me to believe they were the hands of my mother, whose hands were always neat, with painted nails.
I felt her eyes studying me. I held her gaze. Jaime pushed me again and I almost fell onto the bed. I felt one of her hands on my arm.
“How are you?” I asked, for something to say.
She made a move to take off her oxygen mask but the nurse stopped her.
“Please, Mrs. Spencer! Wait awhile; I’ll take the mask off for you as soon as your breathing’s back to normal.”
The doctor had left the room and my father was behind me.
“It’s a relief to have you here. Thank you, Thomas. It’ll do both your mother and us good to know that you’re here.”
We stayed by her bed for some time, looking at her without saying anything, which made me nervous. I was tired, I needed a shower, and I didn’t like the role of prodigal son.
My mother seemed to have fallen asleep and the nurse suggested we let her rest.
“Her most recent morphine injection is taking effect. She’ll sleep peacefully knowing that her eldest son is here.”
My father gestured that we should go to his office. Up to then he’d made no move to embrace me; he had barely spoken to me.
“Well, it seems like you still have a tiny bit of conscience left” were his first words.
My father had never spoken to me with such anger, although perhaps there was more disappointment than anything else in his voice. He finally seemed to have realized and accepted what a bad person I was.
I shrugged my shoulders. My brother intervened, ready to avoid any confrontations.
“Dad, the main thing is that Thomas is here and that will help Mama. This is not the moment for recriminations.”
“Your grandfather and I had to beg your secretary to convince you to come,” my father complained, paying no attention to Jaime.
“Yes, you must have been very convincing because she practically put me on the plane herself. The truth is, I don’t understand why my mother’s so anxious to see me. We’ve never got along well and…I don’t know if we’ve ever loved each other.”
“How dare you say that?” My father had stood up. He was shaking and he seemed on the verge of hitting me.
“Dad! Thomas! Please! Mama is dying. The only thing that�
��s important is that she dies in peace. That’s the only thing we can do for her. She’s always been aware of everything. If we get embroiled in arguments she’ll know it. Can’t you make her happy in her last few hours?” begged my brother.
“You sound like a priest,” I told him disdainfully.
“I don’t care what you think of me, Thomas. Say what you like, but I am going to ask that you don’t make Mama suffer. The doctor says it’s a matter of days or even hours.”
“I’ll take the first shift tonight. I’ll wake you at four,” my father said to Jaime and left the office.
“We divide the time between us so that one of us is always with her. Grandma Stella and Grandpa Ramón come first thing in the morning. They spend all day here, but they’re old and Dad insists they go home to sleep. Uncle Oswaldo comes as soon as he gets out of work. He’s very upset. I imagine that you’ll want to take your turn to be with Mama.”
“Right now I’m going to sleep. I’m tired. And we’ll talk tomorrow. I assume María’s got my room ready.”
“Knowing her, that seems likely,” Jaime replied.
If they hoped to see me sad, they were mistaken. I still didn’t know why I was there and I wasn’t yet sure I wouldn’t decide to return to London tomorrow, as soon as I’d gotten my head together after sleeping.
I woke early, at six o’clock. Plagued with nightmares, I hadn’t slept well. After taking a bath I went to the kitchen, where María was making breakfast.
“There’s toast and coffee,” she told me without enthusiasm.
“And who’s this tray for?” I asked, watching María put a coffeepot, a creamer, and several slices of toast on a tray.
“It’s for Jaime. He’s been with your mother since four. He needs to eat breakfast.”
I poured myself some coffee and ate two slices of toast with butter and bitter orange marmalade while I thought about whether to go to my parents’ room or busy myself doing something else. I had no desire to act as nurse.
“What about the nurse?” I asked María.
Story of a Sociopath Page 26
