Her Revolution

by Gemma Jackson

  In jeans, sneakers and a T-shirt, Finn was feeling like a new woman. The clothes were so comfortable.

  “Your regular hair stylist was good enough to call me. I couldn’t believe what she told me. There are photographs of you – my wife – pasted up in the windows of a tattoo parlour for God’s sake! What the hell is wrong with you?” He’d made his displeasure with her new look very plain before he left. He’d ordered her to change back into the Nuala Brennan he’d created. How dare she disobey him! “What if someone we knew had seen you looking like that?” The gesture with his hand was meant to bring her to her knees in mortification.

  “I love my new haircut.” Finn pushed her hand through the short soft feathers of red hair on her head. She thought Patrick would have a heart attack. There was practically steam coming out of his nose.

  “I have a position in the community to uphold, you know that!”Patrick was shouting now, his voice not quite so wonderful, no one to impress here. “While I’ve been touring the country working my fingers to the bone for this family you’ve been letting the side down. I cannot believe you could be so selfish. You know how something like this could reflect badly on me?”

  One of the things the new Finn planned to learn was how to be selfish – and here standing in front of her was the very person to take selfishness lessons from. Why hadn’t she realised she’d been living with an expert for years? She didn’t have to wonder about how to live life for herself. She would copy Patrick – after all, he’d been selfish all of his life.

  Starting as she meant to go on, Finn ignored Patrick. She walked around him and made for the stairs.

  “Ronan, you boys are probably hungry – use your fingers and telephone for some Chinese take-out,” she said calmly over her shoulder. “Order enough for everyone. You can use your father’s credit card. I’m sure he’ll be delighted to pay for the meal.” She ignored the clearing of a throat and outraged muttering. “I’ll be down directly.” She fought the urge to stick out her tongue.

  She had a quick shower, knowing the nearby Chinese take-out would have the food delivered quickly. She was hungry and would enjoy food prepared by someone else. She examined the clothes inside the wardrobe. She had packed very lightly for her time away, hoping to live in shorts and T-shirts. She’d discovered a lilac dress she’d never worn, because Patrick disliked it, stashed at the back of one of the attic wardrobes. She pulled that dress on now. The glazed cotton dress was long, down to her feet, and flowed like water down her body. The computer screen showed Ronan accepting the delivery of Chinese food. She shoved her feet into purple crocs and started downstairs.

  Patrick, Ronan, and Oisín stood like three lost lambs in the dining room. The table wasn’t set, she noticed. This was her fault. She had completely spoiled them. They would never think of setting the table. That was her job. She felt their eyes boring into her back while she took utensils and dishes from the dining-room sideboard and set one place only at the table. She was determined to prove to her sons at least that she meant what she said. She was not their servant. She turned back for ebony chopsticks and still in silence set them by her plate. When everything was in place, she walked past them to fetch a bottle of white wine from the chill box. She took out a single glass and poured white wine for herself. She could almost feel their indignation on her skin.

  “Am I the only one eating?” She sat at the table, raised her glass and sipped.

  “Oh, for God’s sake Nuala, how childish can you be?” Patrick spat out before beginning to set the table for himself and the boys.

  “See, I knew you could do it if you tried. It’s not at all difficult, is it?” Finn asked sweetly.

  Her two sons began to help their father. Finn gave them a slow handclap. She couldn’t remember the last time any one of them had even offered to set the table.

  “OK, tell us what the hell is going on, Nuala?” Patrick demanded as soon as the meal had been served. He tried to keep his eyes away from her. That hairstyle was a disgrace, as was a woman of her age wearing jeans and hippy dresses. Who did she think she was?

  “There is not a great deal going on as far as I know,” Finn said.

  “Nuala, I am not in the best of moods!” Patrick spat out. “I don’t have the time for any of your stupid games.”

  “My name is Finn,” she said calmly, using her chopsticks with expert ease. “It was Finn when you met me and that is still my name.”

  “Is it the menopause – do we need to take you to see a doctor?” Patrick looked at her as if she were a bug that crawled out from his prawn salad. How dare she age? She was over ten years younger than he. He wasn’t old. He was a man in his prime.

  “I doubt it’s the menopause although I’m no expert.” She wasn’t really sure, but no way was she admitting that.

  “Will you tell me what in the name of God is going on?” Patrick roared.

  “It’s not complicated.” Finn was tired of this situation. She supposed she owed him an explanation. She hadn’t explained how she felt to him. “I have resigned as a wife and mother. I have had the thankless job for over twenty years and feel I need a change.”

  Ronan and Oisín were ploughing the food into their mouths as if they hadn’t eaten in months. Their ears were wagging though. They didn’t want to miss a word of this conversation. They had known their mother planned a trip but they had not expected to be present when she told their father of her plans. It was uncomfortable but they wouldn’t miss it for the world. Their mother was really taking a firm stand this time.

  “You’re an idiot!” Patrick bit out over his king prawn salad. “Resigning from the job for God’s sake! What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Exactly what it sounds like, Patrick. I have moved your belongings to the green guest bedroom. You pass through this house like a lodger anyway. I am going on a short vacation. If you want Angie’s company to clean for you, you need to contact her.” Finn waited for the storm to break over her head.

  It wasn’t long in coming. She couldn’t continue to eat as she listened to her husband rain abuse on her head.

  A piercing whistle broke through the shouting. It was Oisín. The boy could really make a noise when he wanted to.

  “So you’re determined to go, Mum?” She had told them she was going to visit her father – well, he supposed that would be fathers, wouldn’t it – oh, to hell with it, who cared.

  “I am. I’m going to take the ferry to France. I talked to my dad this morning, but I didn’t tell him I’m coming to see him. It’s been a while since I visited him. I plan to surprise him, spend time with him.” Finn was careful not to mention her two fathers in front of Patrick. She’d learned to keep the peace in that area of her life. She looked at her sons. “I need to step outside of my role as a wife and mother.” She was terrified that she’d step back into her role of unthinking slave if she stayed here. “I have discussed with you how I resent the way you both have treated me. I realise that you have both followed your father’s example. You are both young adults now and must admit he is not the greatest of husbands. I don’t think he’s been a very good father either. But it is up to you two to judge his efforts in that role.”

  “I object!” Patrick was red about the gills now. “Nuala, how can you possibly say that I’m not a good father? I love the boys and they love me!”

  She noticed he made no mention of his standard as a husband.

  “Is this about your birthday still?” Patrick demanded. “All this fuss because we forgot a stupid birthday?”

  “It was also our wedding anniversary.” She had thought it so romantic when he insisted they marry on her birthday. To celebrate the two greatest events of his life in one magical day. Oh, God, this was more painful then she’d ever imagined.

  There was an awkward moment of silence which Oisín broke.

  “This is getting us nowhere.”

  Finn noticed that the conversation was not putting anyone off their food.

  “It really is very sim
ple. I’ve already said I am going to visit my father and think about my future. When I return we will continue to share a roof. However, I will not wait on you three hand and foot as in the past. You are all responsible for yourselves. At no time need you be concerned about me or what I’m doing. Since we have been living in this fashion for years anyway, the only change will be that you no longer have a free, willing domestic slave. Talk among yourselves about that and figure out what you want to do.”

  Chapter 11

  “Nuala …”

  The tone was definitely Patrick at his most beguiling. Shit – she’d forgotten to lock the bedroom door. He probably thought a few words from his talented lips would change her mind. The man himself followed his dulcet tones into the bathroom.

  In the past she would have been mortified, wondering how her sagging breasts and child-scarred abdomen could be hidden – now she didn’t give a damn. She’d earned her wrinkles and scars. She accepted herself, wrinkles and all. If he didn’t like it, he could look away. This was her bath and no-one had invited him in here.

  “You always did like a bath ‘to soak your troubles away’.” He took a seat on the closed toilet. “We need to talk. I deserve more of an explanation than your mythical resignation, don’t you think?”

  He really did misunderstood male very well. She should never have given him the advantage of the bathroom – all of those mirrors for him to admire himself.

  “Patrick, dear, first let me congratulate you,” she said, running the natural sponge over her raised arm. “That makes it several times in one evening that you’ve managed to call me by name – albeit a name not my own. How sweet.”

  “There is no need to be sarcastic. I have always called you Nuala. We agreed from the beginning that Finn was a ridiculous name for a woman. Why are you only objecting now?”

  “I thought it was wonderful when you coined a special name for me. I was young and foolish. I even thought it was sweet when you constantly referred to me by a term of endearment. That was until I realised that you did it in order to keep the females in your bed straight – pet names eliminated the possibility of calling one of us by the wrong name.” She continued to sponge her skin, not even bothering to look at him.

  “You are being ridiculous,” Patrick blustered.

  “Could we, for once, have an honest conversation?” she bit out, wishing she’d thought to bring a strong drink into the bath with her. “Our marriage is over – no, don’t interrupt.” She held up one wet hand as he seemed ready to rise in righteous indignation. “I asked for honesty. Is that too much to request?”

  “I have always been honest in my dealings with you, my dear, you know that.”

  He was all bruised male dignity now. How long had she been letting him get away with this posturing? Did he really believe all he had to do was smirk his way out of this?

  “God,” she groaned, looking at him now with eyes wide open, “the tragedy is that you probably have, in your own way.” Why had she never realised that he believed his own lies?

  She wanted to cry – the end of her life as a wife and mother was about to come about with a damp splash – no fire, even in this.

  “I want to get out now,” she said, standing and reaching for her towelling robe. “If you insist on having this conversation, go and get a bottle of wine. We can at least toast the end of our life together. That seems fair. It will be the first time in years you’ve actually taken the time to listen to anything I have to say.”

  Patrick checked his watch impatiently. “I’d love to, really, but I have a previous engagement. It’s business, you understand.”

  He left the steamy bathroom.

  “Of course I understand.” She watched him almost run from the room. “Haven’t I always been an understanding wife?”

  The pain under her ribs would go away eventually. It was hard to bury an ideal. Her dream had been dead for a very long time. She had just not noticed.

  “Where the hell are my clothes?”

  The roar came from the bedroom. Why was she surprised he hadn’t listened to a word she’d said to him downstairs?

  “I told you.” She walked into the bedroom, belting the robe around her waist. “I moved you into the green room. You should be very familiar with that room as it seems to be a favourite of yours for your little rendezvous with the slappers you’ve been bringing into our home.”

  “I have no idea what you are talking about.” He pushed her none too gently out of his way and hurried from the room.

  “I would appreciate it if you found somewhere else to fornicate!” she shouted after his disappearing back.

  She was going to have to do something about Patrick’s little love nest. She would not tolerate the insult to her.

  “Right, no more wallowing in self-pity – I swore I was going to take charge of my own life and by God I am going to!”

  She started when she saw Ronan and Oisín standing in the open door of the bedroom. They didn’t speak – their faces said everything. They knew this was serious – the first time she had ever removed their father from the bedroom.

  “Are you two going out this evening?” she asked.

  “We ...” Oisín looked at Ronan and, getting a nod, he continued. “We would like to talk to you. If you have time?”

  When was the last time, if ever, they had asked for her company?

  “Let me put some clothes on and I’ll join you downstairs,” she said over the sound of Patrick cursing and kicking from the green room. “Please put the kettle on, Oisín. Ronan, see if you can find something to nibble on. That Chinese food doesn’t stay long with you, does it?” She would not allow anyone or anything to change her mind.

  Finn joined her sons in the kitchen. They were beginning to accept the fact that their world was changing more than they had thought possible. From the looks of them, they weren’t happy about the situation.

  “I hope you enjoy your time with Grandfather and Uncle Rolf.” Oisín brought the teapot to the table, which was already set. “Give them our best.”

  “It’s been years since you took us with you to visit them.” Ronan had put cheese and crackers out.

  “You two grew too tall to fit into my little car.” Finn was fighting tears. Patrick had bought the little run-around for her – better for town driving, he’d said. By doing so, he’d achieved his aim of keeping her sons from her fathers – and she’d never noticed. “You both complain bitterly whenever I drop you off at the studio. You have to almost fold your legs into the space available.” Patrick refused to allow her to use his expensive model.

  “I’d like to do more travelling.” Oisin passed her a cup of tea. “I’d love to see the world.”

  “It must be in the blood.” Finn accepted the cup.

  “Was the start of all of this really because we forgot your –”

  She saw the word stupid form on Ronan’s lips before he bit it back.

  “– birthday and anniversary.”

  “Being ignored and alone on my special day was simply the straw that broke the camel’s back.”

  Oisín was staring at his mother as if seeing her for the first time.

  “I won’t be away long.” Finn watched them flinch. In spite of the conversation they had shared, they were still astonished that she hadn’t changed her mind on the spot because they were unhappy. She decided not to prolong this conversation. “I’ll be leaving very early in the morning before you’re awake so I’ll say goodbye now.”

  She left them staring at her back while she walked from the kitchen. She could feel their eyes follow her from the room. It was the first time in years that she knew she had their full attention.

  Before sleeping, Finn doublechecked her papers. She had everything she needed: passport, driver’s licence, credit cards, reference number to pick up the tickets she’d booked. It occurred to her that Patrick could cancel her line of credit. If he thought of doing that she was in big trouble. The ticket was paid for, but she would need cash for
unexpected expenses. She’d stop at a cash machine in the morning and get Irish money. Then, as soon as she arrived in France she’d find a cash point and draw out enough French francs to see her safely over the holiday. She didn’t think Patrick would stop her credit but it never hurt to be prepared.

  Chapter 12

  Finally on the road, Finn began her journey to Rosslare. She planned to stop along the way for something to eat. She rolled down the car window and prepared to enjoy the drive. She had done it often in the past. This time she actually missed the little voices screaming from the back seat. She had forgotten about the battles fought over every little thing. There was no one kicking the back of her seat demanding attention. She was nuts to miss all of that – wasn’t she? This was her time. She was on her way, alone, off on an adventure. She wished she could say it felt great, but truthfully, she was more scared then she’d ever been before in her life.

  “I wonder if this really is a mid-life crisis?” Finn said aloud to the empty car. “Is all of this because I turned forty? I don’t think so. Life is so strange.” She hoped any passing motorist would think she was talking on her mobile phone. No need to advertise the fact that she was losing the plot. “I spent my early life being envious of people who had secure homes. I never knew where I was going to wake up. Dad would load me into his van and away we would go. He did that all the time and I hated it. I felt so deprived, so alone. I envied the kids we drove past. They had everything I thought I wanted. Those kids had houses and school and friends. I had Dad and Uncle Rolf. I longed for a normal life.” Finn shook her head in sorrow over her old self. “I never appreciated the love and attention that was showered on me. I never appreciated the adventure of it all. I was too busy feeling sorry for myself. Some things never change.” She laughed. “I’m even talking to myself, how tragic is that? I don’t have a friend to call and cry on her shoulder. Is that my fault? Of course it is. I made Patrick and the boys my entire world.”