The Story of Our Life

by Shari Low

  I took my own advice, albeit I delivered my reply in a deadly calm, very direct tone.

  ‘Carole, I’m married and I’m in no way attracted to Vincent. We’re friends. He’s not in love with me. He’s not attracted to me and he never will be. Let’s just forget about this and I’m sure we’ll laugh about it tomorrow.’

  An Elvis sneer appeared on her perfectly plump lips.

  ‘Ha! You just answered my question. If you really don’t think he’s in love with you then you are really, really, really…’

  That words all slurred into each other.

  ‘…thick.’

  With that she stomped off and left Lulu and I open-mouthed and gobsmacked. When the shock wore off enough for my motor skills to return, I turned to look at Vincent, who was already staring straight at me, with a weird, defeated expression I didn’t recognize.

  In love with me? I’d never heard anything so ridiculous.

  Or had I just won top prize for being thick?

  29

  2016

  Balancing The Books

  I banged each button on the calculator so hard my fingers actually hurt. We were financially screwed. No matter what way I added up, subtracted, juggled or manipulated the figures, there was no way to make them balance.

  The one consolation in all of this was that now Colm was at home, I didn’t have any childcare issues or costs. Thank God. That would be the overdrawn straw that broke the bank manager’s back.

  However, even the minimum payments to the credit cards were huge, thanks to Colm’s newfound thirst for travel. ‘Creating memories,’ he called it, and he was right. Unfortunately, the consequences of those memories were now creating nightmares.

  There had been the fortnight in Disney World. The city break to Amsterdam. The week with the boys in Paris. And then, the lodge at Henley last weekend. Every time he said he wanted to do it, I’d smile, nod and then go spend two hours trying to find the most economical way of making it happen, while he went and sought out the swim shorts and the scuba set.

  I wasn’t going to say no or point out that the holidays were making a serious dent in the overdraft and credit cards. I’d done that briefly the first time, the night he and Lulu had ambushed me with the Disney idea. When we’d booked it that evening, he’d chosen five star all the way. ‘Babe,’ I’d said hesitantly, reticent to burst his bubble of enthusiasm. ‘Maybe we should look for somewhere a bit more reasonable? I’m not sure how we’re going to pay for it all.’

  ‘Bung it on a credit card,’ he’d said glibly. ‘When I get back to work we’ll pay it off.’

  Dan, the good friend that he was, had agreed to allow Colm to keep taking a basic salary despite the fact that he was off sick, but with only one income coming in to the company accounts, it came nowhere near what he’d been earning before, and even that hadn’t been great. But that wasn’t the issue now.

  I hadn’t said what I was thinking, but he’d read it in my expression. ‘And if I don’t get back to work,’ he’d countered flippantly, with more than a hint of impatience, ‘that means there will be a life insurance payout and you can pay it out from that.’ It wasn’t true. We both knew the only life insurance policy he had was a tiny one from his last job and it would only pay out a few grand. He and Dan had never got around to setting up new policies. That wasn’t the point, though. His comment injected toxic reality straight into my gut. He was going to die. My love was going to die. And whether his bravado came from denial, or bravery, or a mixture of both, the thought of him so flippantly admitting it almost broke me.

  That was the last time I mentioned money. Since then I’d made it my mission to keep on top of the finances, and with all the extra jobs I’d taken on, sometimes four or five in a day, we would have been just about keeping afloat if it wasn’t for the damn holidays. The irony was, wherever we went, I was too bloody stressed about money to enjoy it, spending half my time on the phone and online trying to drum up more work. I’d have been happy to savour every one of these days at home, in the park, just hanging with our friends But – for the zillionth time, I chided myself – this wasn’t about me.

  It didn’t matter if I was freaking out in the inside that I was going to be left with mountains of debt I had no way of paying back? Or that we could lose our negative equity home because I couldn’t pay the mortgage.

  No matter how scared I was, how sick to my stomach those thoughts made me feel, I wasn’t the one that was dying. I didn’t get a vote. Colm got to chose to spend his days wherever he wanted because he was the one that was running out of time.

  Colm wanted memories, he’d get memories, and sod the cost that would come after he was gone.

  After he was gone.

  The thought was on a loop in my head.

  After he was gone.

  When I wouldn’t have a husband.

  After he was gone.

  When Beth would grow up without her dad.

  After he was gone.

  When Davie and Joe wouldn’t have him to buy them a drink at their weddings, to teach them to drive, to see their children born.

  When he would always be in the past.

  I was suffocating, choking on my grief.

  The knot of tension in my stomach was twisting tighter and the depressingly familiar, excruciating wave of panic and pain rose until it felt like my chest, my neck, the back of my scalp were on fire.

  ‘Hey m’darlin, you coming down? Lulu’s here already.’

  I hadn’t even heard him approaching the door. My smile was on instantly. ‘Absolutely. Two minutes. Just let me get finished up here.’

  He eyed the pile of paperwork in front of me. ‘Everything okay?’

  ‘Absolutely. Two mins,’ I repeated breezily.

  That seemed to satisfy him and he padded off down the hall. My gorgeous man. The half of my heart. Everything.

  He’d be gone.

  Like a diver deprived of oxygen for several minutes, I took an overwhelming gasp and buckled over, a silent scream ringing in my ears. This is how it was. Coping. Coping. Coping. Crash. Always in private. My internal rage and sorrow building until I blew, like a pressure cooker valve being lifted to let out the steam, just in time to avoid an explosion.

  When it finally ended, it took a few moments for my hands to stop shaking and the pain in my throat to subside. Breathe. Just breathe. My mantra.

  Of course, I’d known it was going to be tough, but I could never have anticipated the conflicting emotions. The pain and sorrow. The anger. The resentment, immediately followed by self-hatred for thinking that. Admiration for his bravery. Fury over his state of denial. The overwhelming love. The gratitude that he was still here. The panic that he wouldn’t be. And – although I’d never admit it to a soul – the desperation for him to notice that I was suffering too.

  He was a man dying from cancer. But I was a woman whose husband was dying from cancer. Yes, his devastation trumped mine by a million miles, but in this new reality I wasn’t allowed to hurt. Or bring down the mood. Or moan about practicalities. I was the supporter. Get on with it. Smile on face, let’s go.

  I waited until some strength had returned to my legs, then headed downstairs, smile and light-hearted demeanour back in place.

  Lulu and Colm were already at the kitchen table, both of them laughing hysterically over some private joke. I didn’t ask. I was just glad that she was there for him, keeping his spirits up and his mind distracted by raucous nonsense and a steady stream of frivolous entertainment. I thought again how she’d really stepped up to this. I owed her.

  ‘You going like that?’ were Lulu’s opening words and they weren’t said with a softly-softly air of consideration and compassion.

  Amused and indignant, I decided that perhaps I wouldn’t bother owing her anything.

  ‘Why, what’s wrong with me?’

  I scanned my jeans, flip-flops and pale blue T-shirt and contrasted it against her slinky black dress and killer heels. We were very obviously reading
off different dress codes.

  ‘Nothing, but it’s Rosie’s big night. A bit of an effort wouldn’t go amiss.’ She was only half teasing but I let it pass. The truth was that all I wanted to do was go crawl into bed and get more than five hours sleep for the first time in months. Effort? It was taking all I had to remain upright and stable.

  Dan appeared through the back door, cutting off any retort my frazzled mind could have come up with. I saw Lulu’s eyes flicker but nothing more. I had absolutely no idea what was going on with those two now but at least they weren’t completely ignoring each other. The occasional polite but cold word passed between them.

  ‘Okay, we ready?’ Dan asked, his car keys still in hand.

  ‘Yes.’ Lulu picked up her bag and grabbed a black leather jacket off the back of her chair, then threw it round her shoulders. Effortless class.

  ‘So what do you think of the news then?’ Dan asked me. The atmosphere in the room immediately plummeted below zero.

  ‘Erm, we hadn’t actually said anything to Shauna yet,’ Lulu countered, her eyes blazing. I had a feeling I was witnessing another nail in the coffin of their marriage. But what did that have to do with me? And why was Colm suddenly looking shame-faced?

  I leaned against the wall, glad of the support. ‘Said anything about what?’

  It was Colm who eventually spoke up. ‘I’m going to go back to work.’

  There was a distinct sound of thunder in my ears and I didn’t trust myself to utter anything more than a weak, ‘What? Why?’

  ‘Because what else am I going to do, Shauna?’

  A list suddenly popped up in my head. Rest. Take it easy. Enjoy spending more time with your daughter and sons. Be here when I come home after a working day that feels like it will never end. Make love. Talk. Hold me.

  ‘I feel fine,’ he went on, an exaggeration of the truth, but I let it slide. ‘The treatment is working and, let’s face it, I know we need the money.’

  ‘We’re managing,’ I countered, stopping myself from pointing out that he was already taking a basic wage, so while going back to work might increase that in the long-term, it wouldn’t have a massive impact on our finances until he went out, found more work, brought it in, got paid. That could take months. In the meantime, I’d need to find and pay for childcare for Beth. She was at Marcy’s again tonight, but that was an occasional sleepover situation.

  He looked at me sceptically. ‘It’ll take some of the pressure off you though.’ So he’d noticed. Not enough to ask to me about it, to ask how I was coping or to sit down and talk about how this was affecting me. None of those things. He just waved me off with a smile every day and greeted me with one when I got home. All is well. We’re all fine. Shauna? Shauna just gets on with it. That was his attitude. She’s fine. Och, she’s grand.

  An internal voice screamed in my head to shut up.

  Resentment fought with bitterness for top billing and then, almost instantly, shame killed them both. That maelstrom of conflict was back. What kind of bitch was I, to have feelings like that when he was the one facing the end of his life? He was the one who was dealing with the worst scenario of all and I was the one feeling sorry for myself? Get a grip. Get a fucking grip.

  ‘I just want to go back to normal,’ he added, then turning to Dan. ‘It’s not fair that I’m taking a wage and not earning it.’

  ‘Mate, you know that’s not a problem,’ Dan interjected.

  ‘But it is for me,’ Colm argued. ‘I don’t want to feel like I’m stressing you out, bud.’

  That one brought a wave of resentment and bitterness right back. He didn’t want to stress Dan, I got that. But was I being vile by wishing he gave me the same consideration?

  His attention was back on me now. ‘I need to do this, Shauna. I need some normality.’ There was a challenge there, or perhaps it was the desperation of a man who was determined to ignore what was happening to him. Either way, I knew I wasn’t going to argue because the truth was simple. I would never stand in his way of anything he wanted to do for however long he had left.

  All eyes were still on me, waiting, expectant. Lulu took a breath, ready to say something, to make a case, but I cut her off, my eyes on Colm, an expression of what I hoped was encouragement on my face.

  ‘Okay,’ I said, hoping my tone was encouraging. ‘When are you going to start back?’

  I needed time to get things in place, arrange childcare, re-arrange my schedule. Maybe a month. At least three weeks.

  His grin was wide and triumphant. ‘Next Monday.’

  ‘Yayyyyy!’ Lulu cheered, spontaneously hugging him. Yay, indeed.

  Over Lulu’s shoulder, he met my eyes and I winked, never dropping the smile for a second. I could do this. I’d find a way to make it work. Somehow.

  ‘Right, let’s get off then or Rosie will be on the rampage,’ Dan jested.

  As it turned out, she wouldn’t have noticed. The party to launch the newly renovated Doris’s Day was in full swing, at least sixty people packed into a café that had just been extended to seat forty. Other than four cosy booths that lined the new entrance, all the chairs had been temporarily removed and the new white tables pushed against the freshly painted caramel-coloured side walls, all of them now groaning under the weight of drinks and a feast of savoury and sweet snacks. The budget didn’t stretch to champagne, but there was Prosecco, water, beer, jugs of juice, and next to them, huge cream platters of mini burgers, chicken satay sticks, salmon parcels, vegetable samosas. On the dessert table, tiny Victoria sponges, intricate chocolate éclairs, cute carrot cakes, mountains of chocolate-dipped strawberries and tiny pots of mousse in five different flavours. It looked spectacular. She came towards us, her happiness obvious, making my battered, damaged heart swell, thankful that something she’d worked so hard on had paid off.

  ‘You’re glowing!’ I told her, hugging her.

  ‘Ah, that might just be the heat in here,’ she said, deflecting the compliment as always.

  ‘Nope, it’s definitely just you. Congratulations, honey, we’re so happy for you.’

  I told her, squeezing her tightly.

  I stood back to let the others do the same, scanning the crowd for familiar faces. Over in the furthest corner, there were a few unexpected ones. ‘My parents are here. Yours too, Lu,’ I told her.

  ‘Really?’ Lu said, obviously surprised. ‘They didn’t say. But then, that’s not exactly a surprise is it?’ She had a point. I tried to remember the last time I spoke to my folks. Two weeks ago? Maybe three? Four? I had no idea. Maybe it was the time they’d come to collect Beth for that one and only sleepover at their house. Calling to check in or to enquire after our wellbeing had never been their strong point and the trifling issue of Colm’s brain tumour hadn’t changed that.

  As Rosie disentangled herself from Dan’s embrace she picked up on the tail end of our conversation. ‘Your dads have been helping me get the place finished. So kind of them. Honestly, they absolutely saved the day.’

  I’m not sure if Lulu or I was more dumbfounded but I decided to take the award. ‘My dad’s been here?’

  Rosie nodded. ‘For a couple of weeks. Both of them. They’ve been great.’

  Two thoughts. First of all, my dad had been conspicuously absent in everything we’d ever done. They didn’t show up for house moves. Or when Colm and Dan moved into the new offices and they needed decorating. Or when Beth was born and we had a room to prepare. Or when my husband was diagnosed with terminal cancer. Second thought? My dad had been just fifteen minutes away for the last couple of weeks and hadn’t popped in to see us even once. How were we? How was Colm doing? How was Beth? How were we coping with the worst thing that had ever happened in our lives? Dad of the Year trophy to the man in the salmon pink shirt.

  ‘You thinking what I’m thinking?’ Lulu hissed. ‘All these years and neither of them have lifted a finger to help us and yet this? They must be getting bored with golf breaks to Marbella.’

  ‘Absolutel
y,’ I retorted. ‘Remind me to book their services next time I’m painting the kitchen.’

  The music changed and Patsy Cline’s ‘Crazy’ oozed from the speakers. Apt.

  ‘Guys, come get drinks,’ Rosie said, taking Colm’s hand and leading him and Dan towards the buffet table.

  ‘We’ll wait here – return with wine,’ I pleaded, backing into an empty booth, aware that if we moved someone else would take our spot. I wanted to have a look around, and I should really go say hello to the parenting squad, but right now exhaustion was eating at my bones and I just wanted to sit down. Lulu slid into the red leather bench seat across from me.

  I noticed her eyes following the guys as they headed away from us.

  ‘So what’s going on with you two then?’ I asked, suddenly aware that it had been a while since we spoke properly on our own, meanwhile Dan was still in my garage.

  ‘What? Nothing!’ she shot back. Her words bristled with defensiveness.

  ‘And the architect?’

  A flicker of comprehension. ‘Oh. He’s gone. Done.’

  I felt optimism rising. ‘So you and Dan…’ I left it hanging, hoping that she’d latch on and take it to a place of happy endings.

  Instead she shrugged. ‘I don’t know. We’re… cordial. Civil. I think what’s happened to Colm has had an effect on that. Seems petty to be causing drama around him when you guys are dealing with so much more. And obviously, he’s even more motivated to make the business work, so he’s seriously putting in the hours. Between you and Dan, it’s like being in the land of the workaholic,’ she joked, but it was a reminder that Colm and I weren’t the only ones affected by what had happened to him. Our friends, Beth, we were all in this together and it was touching everyone’s lives. Except my parents, obviously. Dan was slogging to help financially, Lulu was making it her mission to keep Colm entertained, I’d come home every night and there would be fresh cakes, baked and delivered by Rosie, who picked up Beth from school every day then passed a couple of hours with Colm before I came home. The people over in the corner may be responsible for my DNA but this group was my real family. I noticed Lulu’s eyes returning to where the guys were standing with Rosie and she carried on, ‘I think we need more time before we decide what to do. Need to know for sure what I want. Or who.’