by Jenni Ogden
I made it out of the rain and into the door by five o’clock, with a weekend’s worth of everyone’s favorite food weighing me down: two varieties of pasta for Lara, spicy spare ribs for Finbar, and exorbitantly fresh scallops for Adam. The house felt forlorn. In the kitchen the only bright point was the light flashing on the phone. Just one message.
“Me here. I’m having a few drinks with some friends so I might be a bit late home tonight. Lara, you’re in charge of Finbar ’til your mother gets home. If you need me for anything, call me on my mobile.” That was it. No message of affection, even for his children. How the hell could I talk to him about my last session with Sarah if he was never home?
Dumping the groceries on the kitchen bench and my bag in the hallway, I dragged myself up the stairs. Lara's door was wide open, her unmade bed and a chair piled with clothes looking like props for a crime drama. No Lara. Even her computer looked despondent, sitting silently on her paper-strewn desk, its black face filmed by a layer of dust. I knocked on the opposite door, pushing it open to Finbar’s grunt. He was crouched over his laptop like a little old man. I laid my hand on his back. “What are you working on? Stop stooping like that; you’ll end up with a hunchback.”
“Hi Mum.” He straightened up. “I need a stand to sit my laptop on. Max has got one and it’s ace. But then I’ll need a separate keyboard and mouse as well.” He let out a sigh worthy of a film contract.
He and Lara should join forces. They might come up with the next award-winning TV crime series. “That’s an excellent idea,” I managed, keeping the smile off my face. “How much will they cost do you think?”
“I dunno. A hundred bucks probably.”
His gloomy tone made me want to laugh and weep at the same time. Still my kid. “Check it out. I’ll pay for them. Cheaper than paying to have your spine straightened later.”
Finbar twisted around, his grin transforming him into a junior version of Adam. I returned his High Five and felt a smidgeon better.
“Do you know where Lara is?”
“Nope. She hasn’t come home while I’ve been here. I think she’s got netball practice today.”
“I’d forgotten. Shouldn’t she be back by now?”
“Perhaps she’s gone to Amber’s. She probably told Dad.”
I frowned. Damn Adam, leaving Finbar alone like this. “Didn’t you hear the phone? Your father left a message on the answer machine to say he’d be late home. He’d obviously forgotten Lara wouldn’t be straight home after school.”
“Oh. I did hear it ring but by the time I get downstairs it always stops so I don’t bother. Can we get pizza for dinner?”
“I’ve bought some scallops for a seafood pasta. Will that do?”
“Yum.”
Finbar’s grin worked its magic again, and I smiled. “Let’s hope your dad gets home soon. Scallops are his top favorite.”
Finbar’s grin disappeared and a crease appeared between his fair eyebrows. “I could make an apple crumble for pudding if you like? Dad loves that.”
“That’s a lovely offer, sweetheart. Let’s hope Lara appears soon.” I bent over quickly so Finbar wouldn’t spot the moisture in my eyes, and kissed the top of his head. The slightly sweaty smell of his thick hair tickled my nose and I straightened up, my tear ducts behaving themselves again.
“I quite like cooking actually,” Finbar said, turning off his computer. “Lara's useless. All she can make is toast.”
“I tell you what, if she appears in time to eat our efforts, she can clean up afterwards.”
I eyed the table set for four, complete with flowers and candles, their flickering lights sparking off our best crystal wine glasses. “Where are they? So much for our nice dinner. We’d better go ahead without them.”
I jumped as the backdoor slammed and Lara burst into the room, her face flushed from the cold night air.
“Lara, thank goodness. Where have you been?” The ball of tension in my chest shrunk a little. “Look at the time; it’s almost eight o’clock.”
“What’s it to you? I’m not a kid. I don’t have to get your permission just because I’m a bit later home than usual.” Lara dropped her bag and jacket on the floor.
“If you don’t want to be treated like a child, stop behaving like one. You know you should call home if you’re going to be late. Why couldn’t we get you on your mobile?”
“So the battery was flat; it does happen occasionally, you know.”
My relief morphed into annoyance. “I’ve been phoning around your friends to try and track you down. I was beginning to think you must have been in an accident.” I tried and failed to keep my voice level.
“Jeez, Mum, you’re tragic. How could you? How totally embarrassing.” Lara's pretty face was distorted with rage. “Where’s Dad?”
“He’s out with friends. He won’t be very pleased when he finds out what time you got home.”
“He won’t care. He’s probably out enjoying himself with his Irish girlfriend.”
“Shut up Lara.” Finbar glared at his sister.
“Shut up yourself you little snot. What would you know?”
“That’s enough,” I said, my words about as effective as my parenting skills.
“Julia, Julia,” said Lara in a singsong voice.
“Lara,” I warned, “Stop teasing Finbar. Adam's out with friends from work.”
“Yeah, I bet. Julia was panting to go out with him when she was around here the other day.”
“Don’t take any notice of her, Mum,” Finbar said, kicking the rocking chair and sending it into a frenzy. “Julia’s a friend of Sonja and Mike’s. She gave Dad a ride home from work, that’s all. She came in to borrow a book from him.” He stuck his tongue out at Lara. “She’s nice.”
“Just because she pretended to like your childish little computer game,” Lara sneered.
“It is not childish.” Finbar gave his sister a shove. “Lots of adults all over the world play it, so there.”
“Enough,” I snapped. “Quiet, the pair of you.”
Lara collapsed into the rocking chair, and as Finbar turned away I saw his mouth wobbling.
“So where have you been, Lara?” I repeated. My head was swirling with images of Julia in her mink.
“Out with friends that you don’t know. And there’s no way you’re going to know them either. I’m not having you phoning them every time I’m five minutes late.” Lara narrowed her eyes as she stared at me.
I felt the blood drain from my face as I looked back at her, this stranger who vaguely resembled my daughter. “Don’t speak to me like that, and apologize to Finbar for being so mean.”
Lara got up and pushed past me, her face flushed. “I will not, and you can’t make me.”
“In that case, go to your room and stay there until you decide to apologize to both of us. And until you do, you can forget about going out in the weekend.”
Lara flung herself around and screamed in my face, “Why should I apologize to you? You’re the one who should be sorry.” She stamped her foot. “I’ve had it up to here with you and Dad and your stupid problems. Why should I have to hang around and put up with your fucking moods?”
Jamming my hands in my pockets, I counted silently to ten before I dared speak. “I’m unhappy you feel like that, Lara, and I know things have been difficult around here. But that doesn’t excuse your rudeness, and it doesn’t mean that you can stay out whenever you want without our permission. Surely you can see you’re only making things worse?”
“Since when did it matter what I did? It’s not going to make any difference to you and Dad, so why can’t I get out of your hair and leave you to work out your own shit?”
“Perhaps you could show a little understanding. What we need from you now is love, not aggravation,” I said, forcing my tone down a notch or two.
“Ha, ha. Don’t see much understanding and love between you two. No wonder Dad doesn’t want to hang around here anymore. If you’re going to split
up, I don’t know why you don’t get on with it and stop drawing out the agony.”
A ball of nausea jammed in my throat. “Why do you say that? We’re not splitting up.”
“Why are you having therapy then?”
“You know why. I’m trying to get over some anxiety attacks.”
“I thought Dad was a shit-hot psychologist? Why doesn’t he sort you out?”
“This is getting us nowhere, Lara. I think you’d better go and cool off in your room. Finbar can bring you up some dinner.”
“Yes, go on Lara. I’ll bring you some tucker in a bit,” Finbar said.
“Don’t worry, I’m going. And forget the food—I couldn’t eat it if it were the last meal on the planet,” Lara hissed, disappearing up the stairs.
I sank down on the couch, my whole body shaking.
Finbar patted my arm. “You OK, Mum?”
“Not really, but thanks sweetheart.” I covered his hand with mine. “I’m sorry you had to witness all that.”
“Don’t take any notice of Lara, Mum. It hasn’t been as bad as all that. She’s just a drama queen but she’ll get over it.”
“Perhaps, but it’s not OK that she even thinks that things are so bad between us that we might split up. Do you think that as well?” I swallowed but it didn’t sooth my need to vomit.
“No, not really, though how would I know? We’re just not used to you two bickering and not talking about stuff.”
“Oh Finnie, I’m sorry. I’ll talk to Adam tonight. We’ve got to get past this; it’s not fair on you two.”
The phone shrilled and Finbar picked it up. I listened to his brief answers, my stomach churning.
“But Mum’s made a special dinner and we’re waiting for you.” Silence while Adam said something else. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk to Mum? She’s right here.” More silence. “OK. I’ll tell her. Bye Dad.”
Finbar’s voice was gloomy. “Dad said he was sorry but something came up that he really had to deal with tonight, and he can’t be home for dinner. He said not to wait up for him.”
I sat very still, trying to compose myself. “Oh well, all the more for us! Where was he?”
“He didn’t say, but I think he might have been in the car—his voice was breaking up a bit. He did sound a bit weird, though.”
“What do you mean, weird?”
“I don’t know; a bit upset, I suppose. Perhaps you could phone him back?”
“No, I don’t think so,” I said, my voice strangled by the ache in my throat. “I hope he’s OK.”
“He will be, Mum. He’s probably got some old meeting or something. Can we eat now?”
“Yes, let’s pig out!” I grinned at him, wondering how I would swallow even a scallop without choking.
I’d given up trying to read hours ago. Slumped in the big chair by the kitchen window I listened to the rain pouring down outside the dark room and fought my irrational thoughts of car crashes or affairs with Julia and her laughing Irish eyes. The clock ticked towards midnight. Why hadn’t he phoned?
When at last I heard his key in the lock I froze, my heart thumping, as Adam tiptoed into the kitchen, his shoes in his hand.
“Where have you been? I’ve been worried about you.” My voice echoed harshly in the dark space.
Adam jumped, his shoes crashing to the floor. “Christ, you gave me a fright. What are you doing sitting in the dark?”
“Waiting for you.”
“I left a message on the answer machine, and I phoned, so I don’t know why you were worried,” Adam shot back.
“You didn’t bother to say who you went out with, so anything could have happened to you and we wouldn’t know where to look or who to call.”
“Come off it, Georgia. You just want to control everything I do. One rule for the goose and another for the gander. You are forever disappearing for hours without telling me, and if I question you, it’s apparently me just hassling you again. Now you know what it feels like,” Adam said, his low voice not disguising his fury.
I thought about getting up but my limbs were too heavy. “What am I meant to do; just go to bed and see you in the morning, all forgiven?”
“That’s apparently what I’m meant to do, so why not you?” Adam said. “And what do you mean, forgiven? What do you have to forgive me for? I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Who were you with tonight?”
“What’s that got to do with you?” Adam's voice rose.
“It’s got everything to do with me, if you insist on keeping it a secret.” Hauling my miserable body out of the chair I reached over to switch the light on. The glare was blinding and Adam's face loomed white, raindrops sparking off his hair and raincoat.
“I don’t see that it’s any of your business who my friends are. I do have some friends of my own, you know,” he said, two spots of red burnt into his cheeks.
I collapsed back in the chair. “Christ, Adam, let’s stop this. Lara’s being a nightmare. This tension between us isn’t helping her or Finbar.”
“Of course it’s bloody not. But it’s hardly my fault. You’re the one who comes home from therapy looking like hell and pushing me away.”
“I don’t push you away. I’ve been trying to talk to you all week but you’ve been so distant I couldn’t.”
“Distant? What about you? We haven’t made love in weeks. I can’t remember the last time you actually kissed me. That feels as if you’re pushing me away. And Lara is struggling with the whole Danny business. I overheard her talking on her phone to someone—one of her girlfriends I suppose—about him the other day; saying something about how she was thinking of leaving school and going to New Orleans to find her long-lost family.”
“Oh god. What did you say to her?”
Adam looked at me, his face shadowed with something that looked almost like dislike. “Nothing. I didn’t want her screaming at me about listening in on her private conversations. You need to talk to her. Tell her something, anything to give her some hope that you’re on her side. That you haven’t decided to keep her in the dark forever.”
“Even in therapy it’s hard to talk about what I’m remembering. Given the way Lara’s behaving, how can I talk to her?” I gripped the arm of my chair. “I don’t know what else I can do to help her understand that I’m doing my bloody best.”
“Well, nor do I. But if you don’t do something soon, I don’t know what Lara will do. I wouldn’t put it past her to leave school as soon as she can and go to New Orleans.”
“Shit. Did you know that she thinks we’re splitting up? How can she think that? Are we that bad?” I looked up at Adam, still standing, still a long way from me. “Is that why you stayed out so late tonight?”
Adam was silent.
“Tell me. Is that why you were out so long? Because you can’t stomach being here with me?”
“I’m lonely. I wanted to feel as if someone cared about me again.” Adam’s voice was too quiet.
“What do you mean? Who were you with?”
Adam moved over to the chair opposite me and sat down, his head in his hands.
“Tell me.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”
“You were out with Julia, weren’t you?” My voice came out in a whisper, and at first I thought Adam hadn’t heard me, but then he looked up and I saw his guilt.
“How could you? How could you?”
“It was nothing. Just a few drinks and dinner, that’s all. I needed someone to talk to.”
“But her? You know how I feel about her.”
“You don’t even know her. You’ve met her once. You refused to go to dinner at their place. You’ve refused to make any attempt to get to know her and Will. Christ, we don’t see any of our friends any more. Julia is a nice person. She just wants to help. At least she cares about me.”
“And I suppose Will is happy about that,” I hissed, tears hot on my cheeks.
“Will had to go back to Ireland for a
couple of weeks and Julia’s lonely, that’s all.”
“I bet. She’s been after you since the first moment she set eyes on you. Christ, it’s after one in the morning, Adam. What have you really been doing? Dinner can’t have lasted that long.”
“We…we talked, that’s all.”
“Talked in bed you mean.” My voice sounded as if it were coming from someone else. Someone I didn’t want to be. “How could you?”
“We talked, that’s all.” Adam’s face crumpled and my anger was suddenly gone, replaced by a fatigue so dense I thought I might faint.
“I’m so miserable, Georgia. Nothing I do seems to help you. I want us to be like we were but I’ve almost given up hope. And all Lara wants is to find out about her real father. I’m no use to her either.”
“Adam, I’m sorry. Lara loves you; you know that. Danny is nothing to do with that.”
“That’s not how it feels. I’m worried about her; she’s like a different kid and I’m not sure you’ve even noticed.”
“Don’t be so cruel. I’m worried sick about her too. I’m doing my best to get through this. It’s much harder on me than you. You’ve still got your job and your pride at least. I’ve got nothing left. Just guilt that everything is my fault.”
Adam stood up and I looked up at him. His face was white. “That’s what I mean. You’re lost in self-pity. Poor you; no job, no pride. That’s all that seems to matter to you. You can’t stand the thought that people think you’re a failure; that you’re no longer the amazing neurosurgeon smashing through all the glass ceilings. Is that really what’s most important to you? Try thinking about us for a change.”
“Shush, keep your voice down.” My face was hot. “The kids will hear us.”
“Don’t tell me to shush. You shush.”
“I’m going to bed. Perhaps you’d better sleep in the guest room and we’ll talk in the morning when we’ve calmed down.” I got up, my heart hammering, and started for the door.