‘Dad was asleep so probably didn’t hear,’ she began, ‘but I had a visit from an old friend earlier. You remember Annie?’
Ryan shrugged.
‘Well she’s invited me over for Christmas Eve; I’d like to go.’
‘What the hell you asking me for. As long as you’re back to feed the kids.’
‘I mean to spend the night.’
And then it came. That look from both of them, reserved for when something incredibly stupid had just been voiced. Zach never pulled much of an expression, but it was enough to see him actually raise his head and look her in the eyes to know that he was with Ryan on this major issue. Her brother had no such subtlety about him, however, turning open-mouthed and delaying any progress on the half-masticated portion of chicken trapped between his front teeth.
This was their culture if it can be called that. The duty to family Kath never needed a history book to know went back generations and required that family structure be respected as long as conditions required. When times were hard, which they had been since mother died – enhanced by Ryan’s whirlwind marriage and divorce – the women of the house were expected to make it their priority while the men went out and earned the money. Of course, Kath was aware of feminism and that wider society did not function so rigidly these days, but she also knew that her family couldn’t cook a decent meal to save their lives, and there wasn’t a selfish enough streak in her to step out and rebel so long as she thought the children or her father might suffer. It wasn’t that she was bullied into her domestic role but that the men in the house saw it as normal and felt no shame as to their complete lack of self-reliance.
‘And what are we supposed to do in the meantime?’ said Ryan, raising his voice and not being too careful to avoid spitting out lumps of food in the process. ‘Christmas Eve, Kath! Christmas Eve!’
‘It’s only one evening. Maybe you can get take-out.’
‘And waste my hard earned money paying those prices? No thank-you, Kath.’
‘Then what am I supposed to tell her after all this…?’
‘You’ll just have to do it some other time. Don’t let yourself be guilt-tripped into anything, Kath; honestly, just tell her straight…’
‘You won’t be going out for a Christmas Day drink then?’
‘A Christ… what’s that got to do with anything? I’ve gotta sit in the house all day have I?’
‘With your kids on Christmas Day?’
‘They’ll get to see plenty of me when opening their presents then there’ll be no noticing I’m out once they have them to play with.’
‘But I have to stay in.’
‘You’re being daft, Kath. Christmas is a time for feasting; what are we going to do, nibble on some shortbread all evening? Christmas is for family, Kath, you know that and a woman’s role comes into its own. Come on, use your brain, girl.’
Each response was designed to close the argument and getting the last word in when speaking with Ryan was like finding an Italian restaurant that didn’t serve pasta. It never happened.
Before Kath’s pointless attempt at having a life was even under way, her brother had stamped out its smoking embers and retired to the living room. Soon he would be joined by Zach to sit and silently take in the sporting highlights, conducted by flicking through multiple channels with timing so rigorously applied she often wondered how rich they would be if the pair of them demonstrated the same commitment to sport viewing as they did to raising a family.
A week passed and if Kath’s words had made any impact in the household, then they certainly did a good job of making it look like nothing unusual had occurred.
That she might go out seeking friendships when chores needed completion was an absurdity to them, but their railroading annoyed her the more time passed. Kath was afraid of disapproving looks; they tugged at her heartstrings and made her feel she was turning her back on her family in a way her mother never had. Keeping her thoughts and desires to herself had become a normal part of existence, but as Christmas Eve loomed ever closer, she found the idea refused to go away.
There was something about the meeting with Annie that still called to her through the haze, refusing to be subdued. In her quiet moments she found her mind pondering what this was and, unusually, she felt as if something urgent needed answering, though couldn’t explain why. In the middle of contemplation, all of a sudden she would realize the mental effort was making her hold her breath and she would gasp for air as if desperate to live. Those tears she had fought back on Annie’s arrival might have been painful, but she didn’t want that river bed to dry up again. She didn’t want the numbness to return and conquer. Although the return of an old friend was hardly a life-changing event, was it just possible it could be a catalyst for something more? She gasped for breath as any other living creature because she did not want to die.
Christmas Eve might be the night when miracles can happen, but people can die on that night as on any other, and Kath thought that she might. The body might linger on, but it felt like whatever life she wanted to live would end if she did not meet Annie’s request.
About town Christmas lights now shone about the street, and Kath felt like she was noticing them for the first time in many years. Since her mother died, they had been an alien sentiment that memory knew once brought warmth. Since then relegated to a show that folk made for the sake of children, who had not yet realized life would be a big disappointment.
Why was she distracted so by them as she finished the bargain shopping? This was just another chore as any other, made no more appealing by whatever lights flickered in her face. Something she could not quite grasp was upon her; something that demanded this yuletide did not pass without bringing some of its famous hope. This was absurd, she knew. All Annie wanted was to spend the odd evening together, and that would no doubt soon change once her old friend began courting again. Even with her children, Kath did not think this would be long. Annie still looked as bright-faced as she ever did and had not lost a figure that had always drawn many admirers.
Although unable to quite put her finger on what she was trying to achieve, as Christmas week came around Kath’s will hardened once more towards an attempt at extricating herself from home for one night. Nevertheless, she remained uncertain as to whether her will could see out the conversation.
Again they were around the dinner table, late on Wednesday night. Christmas Eve loomed though there was no more sign of festive cheer than two weeks ago as Kath prepared her next attempt on breaking the normality of her existence – if just for one night. This time, she waited for Ryan to finish his meal and rise to seek out the TV before making her move, hoping the distraction of sport going on unseen would work in her favor.
‘I’m going to Annie’s tomorrow,’ she announced, ‘I’ve decided.’
‘What are you talking about?’ came the response from the doorway, accompanied by Zach’s blank face once again as he paused chewing on his last meatball.
‘I told you before; it’s not my fault you weren’t listening,’ she replied. ‘I’m going to Annie’s tomorrow. I’ll be back midday Christmas.’
‘I thought we discussed this, Annie,’ came the raised voice.
‘No,’ said Kath, having taken a deep breath to draw upon what determination she possessed; the instinct to concede was threatening to take over. ‘We didn’t discuss it. I told you I was going to Annie’s, and you protested, but it didn’t change my mind.’
‘And what about the mouths to feed?’
‘I told you; I will be back midday.’
‘You’ll be…’
‘Ryan,’ she interrupted, finding volume in her voice she never knew she had, ‘I will be back to do the dishes; I will be back to prepare the food; I will be back to stick my hand up the turkey’s gizzards so you can sit picking at it from Boxing Day to New Year, as usual. I will make sure your kids don’t go hungry and rather than whingeing because I’m away one evening in six years; you should be grateful.’
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‘And what is father supposed to do for food tomorrow evening?’ came the incredulous response, after exchanging glances with Zach.
‘Well I’ve devised a Christmas adventure for you,’ Kath found herself replying, not knowing where the sudden sarcasm came from. ‘If you open a can of beans and put it on the stove, then bung some bread in the toaster, there’s a hot meal that anyone can make.’
‘Your mother would turn in her grave if she heard this, Kath.’
‘Don’t you lecture me about mother,’ she bit back. ‘You’re the one that thought we should stop going to church… and let’s not even get into your wedding vows. Now if you don’t mind, I have your washing up to do. Go and watch your stupid baseball.’
As she turned her back to him, Ryan had his mouth open to respond, but nothing else came back. She could feel him standing there looking at her with disapproval for at least a couple of minutes afterward, but he was flummoxed and eventually did as he was told. Perhaps he didn’t really believe it, but Kath knew that nothing would change her intent now. She also knew that, as angry as her words had sounded, she was also smirking as she went about washing the dishes. Standing up to her brother had felt good, and she felt far less guilty than she feared in telling them they would have to figure out how to make their own meal for one evening.
When the time came, she was as good as her word, despite the guilt trip that came her way.
Amazingly, considering it was Christmas Eve, and there were usually free drinks to be had somewhere, Ryan had made his way home early in sober fashion. Kath suspected he thought she would back down under his gaze and the truth was that if he asked nicely, she probably would. He could find no words of wisdom to help his cause, however, and so as soon as she had given the children their early dinner she bid them goodbye. After saying she would see them Christmas day she made her way out of the front door. All her father and brother gave in return were blank expressions.
Sulking was another tool of guilt, but there was also cause for feeling her general attitude hardening. Any loving brother would have walked me to Annie’s; she thought, what with the dying light.
Maybe they still thought she was bluffing, and she couldn’t help imagine how long it would take them to figure out she definitely wasn’t coming back to cook and clean. For the moment, guilt was still outweighed by anticipation, although she knew she would still need a good glass of that cheap wine Annie had mentioned before really settling into the evening.
Chapter 2
Annie’s house might have felt modest to many of Boston’s more affluent families, but to Kath, it was a vision of homely comfort. Divorce money had extended to new carpets, couches and beds and so proved quite a luxury setting in comparison to her own family’s fading abode.
Her friend was thrilled to see her and hardly stopped talking from the moment Kath knocked on the door. There was so much to catch up with and reflect on – at least as far as Annie’s life since leaving West Roxbury was concerned, but Kath had no complaints that the conversation largely avoided her own past, of which she did not have much to tell. At first she did feel a little alien to the environment and indeed the friendship; although she had great affection for Annie, the sudden change of surroundings made her feel that she was only pretending to have an interesting social life.
Pretending could be fun though, and a large glass of white wine helped her settle into the evening. Soon she was not thinking on the household chores left behind at all and actually realized she was unwinding for the first time in over a decade.
So that’s what it feels like, she thought.
There were some questions that she found uneasy answering, however.
‘Don’t you have a man in your life at the moment?’ Annie suddenly asked, after a lengthy analysis of all the reasons her ex-husband was difficult to live with.
‘Oh… no,’ Kath responded, unsure of what else to say.
‘I thought that Kevin was sweet on you, back in the day. Nothing ever come of that?’
‘No, I don’t think so. I suspect he was interested in you…’
‘What? No way!’
‘That’s usually the only reason any boys ever spoke to me; for the chance of speaking with you.’
‘That’s nonsense, girl. You put yourself down too much.’
‘You always were the confident one. Since you left no one’s paid me any attention – not that the guys on our street are much to write about.’
‘You know the only reason you don’t get guys’ attention,’ Annie went on, encouraged by tipsiness, ‘it’s not because you’re not good-looking Kath, it’s because they think you’re disinterested.’
‘How would anyone know I’m disinterested? They don’t ask.’
‘That’s the point, though; they’re not going to ask if…’
‘If what?’
‘Well, men are insecure creatures you know. Even the ones that look so confident and macho…’
‘Oh, sure. It’s not me that’s the shy one,’ Kath said, sarcastically.
‘It’s all for show, though, Kath. The most confident admirer also has an ego and doesn’t want to be knocked back. He’d as sooner not try – trust me.’
‘I don’t imagine you have any problems.’
‘Yes, but I’m a big flirt. I don’t look disinterested. If you like a man, you have to let him know you enjoy his company. Smile a bit; put some lipstick on…’
‘You can stop right there if you’re going to get on to wearing lower tops. We are going to church soon, you know.’
‘No, I wasn’t going there,’ said Annie, laughing, ‘but you’ve a pretty face, Kath. Just looks like you haven’t seen the sun all year.’
‘It’s December, what do you expect? This is my skin.’
‘So put a bit of… Hang on a min…’
As charming a friend as Annie was, she was also over keen at times and, Kath was now remembering a lot more clearly, very persuasive. The discussion had inevitably led to the notion that, before they head out to church, Kath should allow her friend to ‘make you over’ just to prove to her how pretty she was and could be if she took pride in her appearance.
Uninterested as Kath was in wearing makeup and regardless of how much she reminded Annie that they were going to church, not to some party, her friend insisted there was a difference between taking a pride in one’s appearance and looking inappropriate. Determined to prove this, Annie proceeded to treat Kath like a doll for the next hour, applying lipstick, foundation, and mascara and then even proceeding to style her shoulder-length locks with a number of electric devices that Kath did not even know the name of.
All the time Kath’s concerns that she would end up looking like a lady of the night grew and she thought she would wash all the makeup off once the big reveal had been humored – and before the midnight sermon came around. Unenthused as she was, however, when the big reveal came, and a mirror was held in front of her face, Kath could not help but gasp at what she saw. Her expectations were that her friend had gone over the top, but she had been true to her word and only applied the slightest of touches here and there.
‘You see?’ Annie said, her grin widening when she saw how astonished Kath was.
‘I don’t believe it. I look great,’ Kath admitted.
‘It just shows the world that you love yourself a little, that’s all. Where’s the harm in that?’
Kath could not think of any protest after all as she withheld tears for a second time since meeting her old friend again. After studying her features for a while and wondering whether it was the hair or the makeup that made such a difference, it suddenly occurred to her that she looked alive. Especially when the reflection smiled back at her; she had to accept that whenever she usually looked in the mirror all that came back was a cheerless expression that did not believe in itself.
‘There you go,’ Annie encouraged, ‘to be honest, if you smile and blush like that a bit more, you wouldn’t need the makeup. The hair makes all the differ
ence, though; you look fashionable rather than like a parlor maid.’
If she was touchy Kath might have taken offense at her friend’s descriptions, but they didn’t bother her. Honesty in her best interests was something she could have done with more of, and a bit of female advice was a substantial absence from her life. Annie was right; she looked pretty. Who would have believed it?
Unused to attention, Kath might have been too shy to step out of the door if people she knew were present, but hardly knew anyone outside of her family other than close neighbors. So it was that she found the nerve to step outside feeling like a different person. Snow might have been carpeting Boston’s streets, but Kath felt aglow and rather more like the sparkling lights that glittered from each residents’ window or the log fires the carol singers they heard on the way sang of gathering around.
As it was, she actually had far more memories of the past to occupy her mind with rather than trouble on the present. Kath had not really thought on the matter of church up until the St Bartholomew’s steeple was in view, troubled as she was with the task of extricating herself from her family for the night, but on approach, she realized that much would yet come flooding back.
She had not been in a church since her mother’s funeral. Before that, they had went semi-regularly and always on Christmas Eve. Her mother had been the devoted Christian and made it several Sundays a year (often joking she could have been a much better Christian), and retrospection made it clear that her religion was another aspect of Kath’s life that her father and brother’s demands had stolen away.
If she had thought more deeply on the matter, she would have imagined that meeting with a long-lost friend would prove the far more emotionally affecting experience of the night, but it turned out she was wrong. Entering the holy house amidst the Christmas Eve crowd, Kath was completely unprepared for how overwhelmed she was by untapped memory. Clearly as a child she had taken the warmth and compassion of church for granted and as an adult had never thought on how the timeless imagery within touched her very soul. Just as the putting up of a Christmas tree, or cards on the shelf, ignites a nostalgia for happier and more innocent times when gathered round the fire as a child, so too did the church inspire a sense of belonging. Whether in the altar, the aisles, the candles, the stained-glass windows, or the holy book in front of her, wherever Kath looked she was aware of a yearning. A yearning to believe that what she saw, heard, and smelt was holy; not mere imagery but something of substance, righteous gifts treasured to guide the hearts of man.
What the Heart Desires Page 22
