More Than a Mum

by Charlene Allcott

  18:21. Two people were arguing along the hall – a man and a woman. The woman told the man how useless he was. She was screaming with rage but still listed his failings methodically. I remembered doing the same, storing my misgivings and releasing them when offered the right trigger. The man began by defending himself but quickly fell back on petty insults. He spent some time describing the way her stomach hung over the waistband of her jeans. I moved quietly to the door and closed it.

  19:48. I decided to sleep – sleep would make the time pass faster. I thought that maybe when I woke Frank would be there. He’d apologize; we’d comfort each other and start our new lives. I turned over one of the mattresses; the stains were worse on the other side. I covered them with the new sheet, and pushed what might have caused them to the very back of my mind. My body resisted sleep. I thought back to when I first met Frank, journeying through our relationship, how sweet the stolen moments had been. It was like a lullaby.

  21:20. When I woke the house felt emptier than before. The neighbours were quiet and I sort of missed them. The wine had a cork and I didn’t have a corkscrew.

  22:35. My alerts kept chiming. I looked only to check if they were from Frank, but none were. I didn’t read the messages from Dylan; I knew what they would say. I knew him. The neighbours started up again. I couldn’t make out the words but I could hear the rage and sense the resentment. Then I heard crockery breaking and wondered if I should intervene – ask if she needed help or call the police. I decided that if I could still hear them in ten minutes I would go out. After eight minutes there was silence; the silence was scarier.

  22:47. I sat in the dark room holding my phone as the battery died.

  00:56. I understood. He wasn’t coming.

  34

  I WOKE UP WITH no recollection of falling asleep; confused as to where I was. As I became familiar with my surroundings, the disorientation remained. My stomach ached angrily; I knew it was hunger but it felt like an internal representation of my anguish. I went to the kitchen for water. The grubby glass looked out on to a row of balconies. A man stepped out on to one from the flat opposite mine; he wore briefs and a ripped Guns N’ Roses T-shirt. He stretched and then wiggled a finger in his ear, completely oblivious to the world outside his balcony – I wanted to be him. He raised his arms above his head and yawned, his blank expression uninterpretable. I couldn’t stop watching; something about his ease was mesmerizing.

  My phone was dead, and I sat on the floor beside it to wait for enough charge to make a call. As soon as it came to life, I quickly tapped out his name. I needed to speak to the only person who wouldn’t criticize me.

  ‘Please come. I can’t be by myself,’ I said when he answered.

  ‘Sure, sis, you at home?’

  ‘No. Sort of. I’ll send you the address.’ Tears fell on to the screen as I typed; I wasn’t sure I would ever stop crying. I called Frank again, even though I knew he wouldn’t pick up. As I listened to the phone ring over and over with no interruption, it gave me no satisfaction to be proved right. I sent him a series of messages – in the first I told him never to call me again and in the last I begged him to get in touch. I lay on the mattress and tried to pinpoint where I had gone wrong, what it was about me that I had failed to keep hidden long enough. In a sad way, it was understandable – I ruined good things, it was only a matter of time.

  There was a knock at the door and I sat up. For one beautiful second, I thought it could be Frank. It was a brief but wonderful moment, and when it was gone the sadness that returned felt heavier; it took all I had to walk to the door.

  ‘Nice digs,’ said Henry. He was wearing a tie-dye T-shirt and a beanie and holding a frozen pizza; it was such a comforting sight. I fell into his arms and cried. The snotty, untamed tears left me feeling weak. Henry supported me to the sofa. ‘Minimalist. I like it,’ he said, looking round the room. He waved the pizza in my direction. ‘Let me put this on and you can tell me about the relocation.’

  ‘I don’t want to eat,’ I said. My stomach did feel empty but I knew food wouldn’t fill it.

  ‘It’s stuffed crust,’ said Henry, before disappearing to the kitchen. He returned with the wine and took a swig before handing it to me.

  ‘How did you open this?’ I asked, sipping tentatively.

  ‘Little trick with my key. See, I come through when it’s really necessary.’

  ‘Thank you, Hen.’

  ‘Any time. Wanna tell me why you’re hiding out on the wrong side of town? Have you done something dodgy, is this like a police safe house?’ He couldn’t help looking excited.

  ‘Henry, it’s not a game. I’ve fucked up, I’ve seriously fucked up.’ I felt like crying again but my eyes remained dry. Henry patted my arm. In other circumstances I would laugh at how uncomfortable he looked. Maybe he wasn’t the best emergency contact but he was all I had. ‘I’ve left Dylan.’ Henry’s eyes widened. ‘I know, it was a shock to him too.’

  ‘You’ve been a bit miserable the last few years, I mean more miserable than usual, but I thought that was just you.’

  ‘No, there’ve been problems – nothing huge but it hasn’t been right … I think.’

  ‘He cheated?’

  ‘I did.’ Henry looked a little impressed, and beneath my sorrow something stirred, a small spark of satisfaction that I had managed to surprise him. ‘But it didn’t really feel like cheating. I mean, I know it was but it felt like maybe I’d met the right guy at the wrong time.’

  ‘Who was this guy?’

  ‘His name is Frank. Frank Molony.’ Henry pulled a face.

  ‘What does that mean?’ I demanded.

  ‘Nothing, it … well, it kinda sounds like a fake name.’ It kind of did, and for all I knew it was. It was the name on his books, but authors use false names all the time. Only when it was too late did I consider how little I knew about him.

  ‘What’s so special about him?’ asked Henry.

  ‘Everything and nothing, really. I mean, he’s impressive. He has a great career and stuff, but it wasn’t that part I was attracted to.’

  ‘You must have been a bit attracted to it.’

  ‘Well, of course it wasn’t a bad thing, but I mean that wasn’t why I … why I wanted to be with him.’

  ‘Not even a little?’ He poked me in the arm.

  ‘That hurt,’ I scolded.

  ‘Good, you know you’re still alive.’

  ‘Barely,’ I whispered. ‘I honestly do love him … did? It really wasn’t about what he had.’

  ‘OK.’ Henry nodded slowly. ‘I know you’re not like that.’

  ‘It really wasn’t,’ I said again, because I doubted myself.

  Henry served the pizza on the cardboard box it came in. He had found a mug somewhere and allowed me to use it for the wine. He let me talk without interruption, and even though I was full of questions he didn’t ask any more. When I had exhausted myself, he slapped his thighs.

  ‘Now we sort everything out,’ said Henry. I felt far from convinced. It was usually my job to sort everything out and I didn’t have a clue where to start. ‘Give me your phone,’ he demanded.

  ‘It’s in the bedroom.’ He moved quickly – I’m not sure I’d seen him move with purpose before. Even as a small child he navigated the world in an indifferent, dreamy manner. His energy made me feel anxious. He handed me the phone.

  ‘Unlock it,’ he said.

  I wordlessly followed his direction.

  ‘Right.’ He had an officious tone I’d never heard from him. ‘Who’s your boss?’

  ‘What? You can’t tell Carter this!’

  ‘Carter, thanks.’ He busied himself on the screen, and when satisfied lifted it to his ear.

  ‘Please, no,’ I begged. Henry shook his head, briefly placing a finger on his lips to silence me.

  ‘In case you hadn’t noticed, you’re supposed to be at work today. Hi … Yes … No it’s not Alison, I’m calling on her behalf … I’m her husband … Yes, thank y
ou, you too. Alison won’t be coming in today. It’s unlikely she’ll be in this week actually … She has a very extreme case of endometriosis and complications mean she will need a lot of rest … Yes, she’s had a lot of treatment and sadly the only thing she can do is ride it out … Yes, I will. Thanks for understanding.’ Henry ended the call with a flourish.

  ‘I’m impressed,’ I said. ‘What the hell do you know about endometriosis?’

  ‘Not a frickin’ thing, but it sounds good, right? I used to use it when I worked in that bar. Now – furniture.’ He sized up the empty room.

  ‘Oh, no,’ I said. ‘Frank might bring some.’ Henry crouched down beside me.

  ‘You know he’s not coming, sis?’

  ‘He couldn’t come yesterday but—’

  ‘He’s not coming.’

  ‘You don’t know that. He—’

  ‘I know.’ I knew too. It’s why I felt empty, like my soul had fled and I’d woken up a ghost.

  ‘I can’t stay here.’

  ‘Where else are you going to stay?’ I lay down and stared at the yellowing paint on the ceiling. I wasn’t emotionally prepared for logic; trust now to be the time for Henry to start employing it.

  ‘I can’t afford it,’ I said, although it felt like the least of my problems. Henry passed back my phone.

  ‘Landlord,’ he said. I complied.

  ‘Call the agent. He’s called Tim,’ I whispered as I handed it back. Henry rose and began to pace as he listened to the rings.

  ‘Hello,’ he said, after what felt like hours. ‘Is this Tim?’ His voice was louder than usual, strong and consistent in tone. You could believe he was a person in control of his life and not someone wearing a hat with flip-flops. ‘Yes, there’s been something of a crisis I’m afraid … No, no the flat is fine. Very nice place. A hot commodity … No, no, sadly Frank has been sectioned.’ I was suddenly awake. I moved towards him but Henry held out his palm. ‘There was an incident with a tin opener in Budgens … I’m afraid I can’t share the details … Yes, it’s unlikely they’ll be able to fulfil the contract. There’s a lot of organizing to do … I understand, but I wanted to come to an arrangement with you. Clearly if it was back on the market it would be snapped up.’ That part wasn’t a lie. Grotty as it was, the place would be claimed by some eager young professionals in a heartbeat – we had all come to accept so little. Henry was silent for a couple of seconds before saying, ‘So grateful for your help.’ He threw me my phone. ‘He’ll keep the deposit and you’ve got it for a month.’

  ‘Henry! Frank knows his uncle. Why did you tell him that?’

  ‘He won’t find out. He won’t even speak to them. If there’s one thing I know about, it’s running away from a situation.’ I knew that was what he was doing, but the thought of Frank – confident, capable Frank – fleeing from me, made me wonder how horrendous I was.

  ‘Frank paid the deposit,’ I said. The words sounded hard to believe; it was only a few days ago he wanted to take care of me.

  ‘He owes you.’

  Henry and I went to get food. I told him I didn’t want to leave the house but he insisted. He said he was afraid to leave me alone, but I think he wanted my purse. It helped to move; seeing people going about their everyday business was a gentle reminder that the earth was still turning. Henry wouldn’t let me buy any more alcohol; he told me half a bottle of wine was probably enough for one morning.

  ‘You need to stay clear headed, in case he calls,’ he told me as we walked back with the bags.

  ‘Do you think he will?’ My heart forgot to beat for a second.

  ‘Nah,’ he replied.

  Henry helped me push the sofa back to the corner of the room and made us breaded chicken and oven chips. I used to make it for us when we were kids. We ate with our fingers on the sofa.

  ‘How’s it going with the girl you’re seeing?’ I asked.

  ‘I finished it,’ he said, as he picked up an escaped breadcrumb with his last bite of chicken. I started to sob. I felt so much pain for this woman I didn’t know. I knew she would be questioning herself and that, even though it meant nothing to Henry, she might be changed irrevocably. The crying exhausted me and I slept again.

  The sound of the doorbell woke me up. I opened my eyes to find Henry standing over me.

  ‘I called back-up,’ he said. ‘I have to go to work.’

  ‘You don’t work,’ I said, my voice stiff from sleep.

  ‘Yeah, I do – delivery for the veggie place. I have to, I don’t have my big sister to bail me out any more.’

  ‘I don’t need a babysitter,’ I whispered. Henry didn’t respond. He squatted down next to me and let his lips brush my cheek. Henry had to leave to meet his commitments and he had come through for me when I needed him. It was like waking up in a parallel universe.

  ‘I don’t know much but I know that this dude, whoever he is, is a complete and utter arsehole, and that you will fix this – you always do.’ I closed my eyes because I felt like crying again and I didn’t think my tear ducts could take any more. I opened them when I heard Henry speaking to the person at the door, and closed them again as she walked into the room. She was the last person I wanted to see.

  ‘Alison.’

  ‘Mum.’

  ‘I brought vodka.’

  ‘I love you.’

  She didn’t just bring vodka; she also had tonic, lime wedges and cut-glass tumblers. Mum might be an alcoholic but she’s a classy one. She sat down on the sofa and poured two drinks. Henry, she explained, had given her the blurb on what had unfolded; she surprised me by not seeming surprised. She was angry.

  ‘You stupid, stupid girl. What were you thinking?’ My head started throbbing so badly I was sure I could hear it. The rant Mum delivered wasn’t making it through. ‘… everything. You have everything and you’ve chucked it all away to live in this piss hole. What even is this place? It’s like some sort of drug den …’ Then I couldn’t hear anything because she was right, and when my mother is right, something is very wrong. I pulled my knees up into my body and wrapped my arms around my head. I wanted to be small, so small it might feel like I wasn’t there. When I felt her arms around me it was awkward, but still comforting. Mum patted my shoulder before letting go to reach down for the drinks. She encouraged me to start mine before saying, ‘Tell me about him.’ She was not the audience I imagined processing the details of my affair to, but she was the right one. She didn’t judge me, she couldn’t. I told her about my plan. How I had secretly imagined that over the summer we could develop our relationship and rebuild our families; we would create something elaborate and unconventional but still beautiful.

  ‘He came out of nowhere, really. The whole time I’ve been with Dylan, I’ve never been attracted to anyone else.’

  ‘Well, that’s a lie.’

  ‘It’s not!’ I felt panicked. Did I no longer know the truth? ‘I promise it came out of nowhere.’ Mum looked unconvinced; I guess my promises didn’t mean much.

  ‘Where did you meet him?’

  ‘At work.’ She nodded; the story was as she expected. Her nonchalant response was like finding out the diamonds I had been wearing were glass. ‘He made me see … made me think that there was something else out there for me.’ Mum patted my hand.

  ‘That’s what they do.’

  ‘But maybe there is? Mum, please don’t take this the wrong way, but all I wanted was something different from what we had. I wanted my kids to live in the same house all their life. I wanted them to eat hot dinners in the evening, every evening. I didn’t want them to have to worry about me or about anything. I think I got so focused on that, I forgot about myself. Is that stupid?’ Mum reached over and ran her hand down my face.

  ‘They fuck you up,’ she said softly. ‘You need to speak to Dylan, darling.’

  ‘I don’t know what to say.’ Mum sighed. It was so heavy it couldn’t only be for me.

  ‘Why did you trust this man, Ally?’

  ‘I had
no reason not to. He seemed trustworthy. He has such lovely forearms.’ Mum shook her head.

  ‘He has a penis, darling. He’s not to be trusted.’ An animalistic noise escaped me, the sound of hurt and grief and humiliation. ‘Too soon?’ I nodded. ‘You need to see Dylan,’ she said. She waited, confirming my attention was focused before continuing. ‘Go whilst the girls are still in school.’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘You have to.’

  ‘But I can’t. I don’t know if I—’

  ‘What are you going to do, hide in here for the rest of your life? Try that and it will be a short one.’

  ‘What am I supposed to say?’

  ‘The truth.’

  ‘I fell in love, or I’d gone crazy.’ Perhaps they are the same thing. My mind caught on a memory of a homeless guy who sometimes sat on a bench opposite the office. I didn’t acknowledge him for my first year in the job; maybe I was too distracted, but more likely I didn’t want to be tainted by association. I was eager to present an image of success and fearful of anything or anyone that might damage what I knew to be a fragile position. The second summer I was slightly less fearful. I’d found my feet, found Bettina, and one afternoon I offered the man a cheese-and-coleslaw sandwich. He declined it politely, and I remember feeling embarrassed that I had assumed he would need anything from me. It was because he had surprised me that I examined him closely for the first time. His suit was worn and dirty but fitted him perfectly; it had clearly cost someone a good chunk of money at one time.

  ‘I’m waiting for my brother,’ he said. ‘He works in the factory but he’s undercover. He works for the government.’ I think I looked shocked or scared or a combination of the two, because he said, ‘Don’t worry, he’s one of the good ones. I shouldn’t tell you that but you have a nice face.’ I heard him whistling as I walked away. I felt incredibly sad, and not because he was alone or unloved or that he was clearly very mad, but because he was clearly very mad and had no idea that was the case. I drank my vodka.

  ‘OK, let’s not go with the truth,’ Mum said, in an uncharacteristically instructional tone. ‘Tell him you made a mistake and you realize he’s the best thing that ever happened to you, and you’re very, very sorry.’ She poured some more vodka into my unfinished drink. ‘For courage. He’ll take you back. What other option does he have?’ I’d always seen myself as the parent in my relationship with my mum. She was the one who would get caught up in the fun or lost in fantasy, and I had to be the person to hold on to her sleeve and keep her anchored to the ground; yet here she was urging me to retrace my steps. I could tell she was sincere in wanting to alert me to what she saw as my folly, and the horror of this was enough to spur me into action.