The Home for Broken Hearts

by Rowan Coleman

  And as the morning rolled into the afternoon they had talked over ideas, Allegra painting plotlines in the air with a sweep of her hand and Ellen suggesting historical figures and events that they could weave into the plot.

  Finally, Allegra held up her hand.

  “You must forgive me, Ellen, I’m not as invincible as I used to be. We missed lunch and I fear I must eat something soon or perish.”

  “Oh no!” Ellen looked at her watch; it was just after three, and before she knew it Charlie would be ambling through the front door. “How awful!”

  “Not at all, it was rather wonderful, actually.” Allegra’s smile was warm. “Let’s finish now. Today we laid the foundation. Tomorrow we will write.”

  As Ellen had shut Allegra’s door behind her and headed for the kitchen, she realized that she hadn’t felt so excited, so optimistic, or such a part of something in a very long time. It was almost as if she had only just started to exist.

  Charlie had bowled into the kitchen as Ellen had been making a smoked-salmon salad for Allegra, one of the components of her eating plan that had been delivered by the supermarket earlier that day along with Earl Grey tea.

  “That stinks,” he said, peering over Ellen’s shoulder briefly.

  “So what did you get up to at school today?” Ellen asked.

  “You know, the usual,” Charlie said, ripping open the packaging of a new loaf of bread even though there was still a third of a loaf left in the bread bin.

  “No, I don’t know, because you never tell me anymore.” Ellen turned to face her son as he slathered the slice of bread with butter. “When you were a little boy I couldn’t shut you up, you’d tell me about what you’d learned, the games you played—you’d skip home holding my hand and talk and talk.” She smiled at him, seeing that tousle-headed little boy who’d once been her best friend. “Now I can barely get two words out of you half the time. I know you’re growing up, and changing, but—well, I’m still your mum. Come on, something must have happened today.”

  Charlie crammed a bite of bread into his mouth and observed Ellen while he chewed.

  “Not really,” he said on a swallow. “Oh, wait—James Ingram asked Emily Greenhurst out and she said no.”

  “James asked a girl out!” Ellen felt unsettled. “Really, you are all asking each other out now, are you, getting girlfriends and things?”

  Charlie looked gratifyingly horrified at the idea. “No, not all of us—just James. Most of the girls at my school are right skanks. James likes Emily because she’s in this band and she’s cool and not like the other girls, you know—she doesn’t just giggle and talk about crap. She has opinions and she’s funny, and she’s got long hair sort of like the color of honey right down to her waist and… well, anyway—James likes her but she knocked him back. It was funny.”

  “James likes her.” Ellen smiled, reeling from the longest burst of conversation she’d had out of her son in a long time. It took her some effort to ask him exactly how he felt about this mysterious Emily Greenhurst.

  “Yes,” Charlie said. “He was gutted. It was really funny.”

  “So you gave him lots of friendly sympathy then?” Ellen asked.

  “No! We told him he was gay for liking girls in the first place.”

  “I think that’s probably a contradiction in terms.” Ellen smiled.

  “A what?” Charlie looked at her.

  “Never mind—so you’re not planning on asking any girls out just yet, then? Not this Emily, for example?”

  “God, no, Mum—I’m not gay!” Charlie exclaimed in horror before scrambling up the stairs, no doubt to find his DS, leaving Ellen alone with her salad, wondering exactly when and how “gay” had started meaning the opposite of… well, “gay.” And she wondered if she had been sticking her head in the sand a little, determined to still think of him as her little boy. Clearly he was becoming interested in girls, even if he wasn’t ready to admit it. If Nick were alive, it would have been simple. Nick would have guided him along the rocky road of adolescence, helped him find his way from boyhood to manhood. But, as Ellen had to keep reminding herself daily, Nick was not here—she was all Charlie had in the way of guidance, and she was only too aware of her inadequacies. She barely knew anything about being a woman, let alone how to be a man.

  Later, when he had reappeared for fish fingers, his eyes still glued to his video game, Ellen had tried to talk to him.

  “Charlie, you and I have never really talked about… well, about the things that you are beginning to be interested in.…” She slid the plate of fish fingers garnished with ketchup toward him. “The thing is, you are learning to grow up and turn into a man, and I’m learning, too, learning how to be the mum of a young man. But you know, if you ever want to talk to me about those things, then of course you can, and I will try and help as best I can.”

  “Things?” Charlie looked up from his DS. “Are you talking about sex again?”

  “Yes, I suppose I am. When you talked about it the other day, I don’t suppose I took you seriously enough. But you are growing up, there are things that you will want to know, and, well—I’m just saying that you can ask me. I won’t mind.”

  Charlie had picked up his fork and stabbed it into a fish finger. He looked at Nick’s empty chair and said, “I wish Dad was here.”

  Before Ellen could respond, Matt arrived with a packet of fish and chips, and, after ruffling Charlie’s hair, he promptly plonked himself down in the one vacant chair. Nick’s chair.

  “Just gonna dash this down, then I’m off again, got a date,” Matt told an immobile Ellen as he unwrapped his takeaway. “Girl from the chick magazine downstairs, she lives round here, so I’m meeting her down the road. … What?”

  Finally, Matt realized that he was being stared at.

  “It’s just that—,” Ellen started.

  “You’re sitting in my dad’s chair!” Charlie bellowed.

  “Am I?” Matt jumped up, spilling greasy chips into his lap, looking around as if he fully expected to find that he’d been sitting on a dead man’s lap. “I’m really sorry, mate, I didn’t know.”

  “You don’t just come in here, move in, and sit in my dad’s chair,” Charlie shouted, sliding his plate off the table with a sweep of his hand, sending it crashing onto the tile floor.

  “I hate you!” he shouted, and Ellen wasn’t sure whether it was her or Matt or his absent father he was talking to. In a second he was gone, thundering up the stairs, slamming the door behind him.

  Matt stood there for a second, trying to work out what had just happened.

  “Oh, fuck, I put my foot in it, didn’t I?” he said, squatting on the floor next to Ellen and beginning to pick up the spilled food.

  “No, you weren’t to know. I was going to mention it, but I didn’t really know how… it’s not something you just drop into conversation after all. You know, we’ve all got special chairs—and by the way, please don’t sit in my late husband’s. I suppose Charlie and I just fell into our little ways over the last year… we forget other people won’t know what they are.” Ellen took a breath, retrieved the dustpan and brush from under the sink, and knelt down beside Matt, sweeping up the pieces of the broken plate. “Besides, it was my fault, I put him on edge, trying to talk to him about ‘becoming a man.’ I didn’t know he’d be so sensitive about it; it only seems like yesterday that he was obsessed with Power Rangers and took his teddy to bed.” Ellen bent her head, letting her hair curtain her face as she struggled not to cry. “And it’s not as if he’s got a dad to talk to or learn from anymore.”

  “Eleven, nearly twelve, it’s a weird time for a boy,” Matt said, leaning back on his heels. “Everything’s changing, you know—your body, the way you feel—the way you speak, even. It’s all up and down, and no one understands. I remember when I discovered…” Matt paused, popping a chip he had just picked up off the tiles into his mouth.

  “Discovered what? Girls?”

  “In a manner of spea
king.” Matt’s smile was rueful. “When I discovered—you know, the pleasure of my own body.”

  “Oh, I see.” Ellen put the dustpan and brush down, feeling suddenly exhausted. “But you were much older than twelve, weren’t you?”

  “Not so much,” Matt said, breaking the news gently. “Anyway, it’s difficult for us men, you know. We’ve got to work out what it all means, how it all works, even how to walk down a road like we’ve got control of all our arms and legs, and we try our best to do it without anyone noticing, especially not our mums.” As they both sat on the kitchen floor, he reached out and tucked the curtain of her hair behind an ear, chucking her under the chin like he might a chubby child. Even at that moment, sitting on the floor among debris, Matt felt comfortable with Ellen. There was something about her that was enticingly familiar, as if he’d met her before and couldn’t remember where, only that he was glad to see her again. “It’s nothing personal, Ellen,” he assured her. “It’s not anything you’re doing wrong. It’s something he has to get through on his own, and for what it’s worth, by the time I was his age my dad was long gone and I turned out all right in the end.”

  Whether it was his touch or the softness in his voice, Ellen didn’t know, but the tears that she had been battling broke free and rolled down her cheeks.

  “He must miss his dad so much,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “And I’m not enough, I’m not nearly enough to make up for him.”

  “He does miss his dad,” Matt said quietly, wiping away her tears with the ball of his thumb before stretching a hand out to Ellen as he rose, helping her to her feet. “And it hurts him like hell and he’s angry and confused. And so are you. Look, I know I barely know you, but for what it’s worth, it looks to me like you are doing an amazing job. You are a bona fide role model.” Matt shrugged. “My dad left home and my mum spent the rest of her life in the bottom of a vodka bottle. You’re keeping it together for Charlie, and once all this settles down, once he sees the light at the end of the tunnel, he’ll realize that, I promise.” Matt ran his fingers through his hair and winced. “What a fuckwit I am, crashing in here, treading all over your feet. I’m sorry I sat in your husband’s chair. But look, don’t cry, yeah? Give us a smile. If you don’t smile for me now, it’s going to be nearly impossible for me to enjoy my date with a leggy blond associate editor who works on the mag downstairs.”

  Despite herself, Ellen complied. “I’m quite sure that a weepy middle-aged woman is not going to enter your head once,” she told him.

  Matt shrugged. “First of all, you’re not middle aged, and second, contrary to popular belief, I’m a sensitive guy. It’ll ruin my night if you don’t stop crying by the time I go out.” Matt paused for a second, his eyes roaming over Ellen’s face as he thought. “I know—there’s this secondhand furniture shop down the road from work. How about if tomorrow I go there and get myself a chair, just for me? Save any further confusion.”

  “There is a distinct lack of chairs in here,” Sabine said, joining the conversation with a smile as she entered, back from work a little earlier than usual and laden down with an armful of files.

  “Exactly,” Matt said, nodding at Nick’s chair. “And for the record, that one’s off bounds, too. I could pick three or four if you like, and then we will all know where we stand. Or rather sit. And Charlie will have one less thing to worry about.”

  “Really?” Ellen asked. “You’d do that?”

  “A man’s got to have a place to sit and eat chips.” Matt nodded. “I’m sure I’ll be able to pick up a cheap set.”

  Sabine crossed her arms and tipped her head to one side, appraising the vacant chairs that huddled around the table. “No, Matt, that will not do. These chairs have personalities, too. If you buy chairs, you must buy three different ones, one each to represent Ellen’s three lodgers—isn’t that right, Ellen?”

  “Oh well—that’s why we have these chairs, but you don’t have to go to that trouble,” Ellen said. A glow of warmth began to spread through her chest. It touched her enormously that people she barely knew were making such an effort to make her feel at home, when she was certain it should be the other way around.

  “Cool,” Matt said, chuckling. “So, some sleek European design for Sabine, something irresistibly attractive and comfortable for me, and… something velvet and sexy for Allegra?”

  “Young man, you know me so well,” Allegra said, appearing in the doorway. “Don’t mind me, I have just come for a glass of water, this heat is unbearable.” Allegra went to the sink and let the cold tap run for a few seconds. “New chairs, wonderful idea—what clever person thought of that?”

  “Matt,” Sabine said, taking a bottle of wine from the fridge and a glass from the cupboard. “He pretends to be a player, but you see, deep inside he is a sensitive soul,” she teased Matt gently.

  “Oh yes, it’s written all over his beautiful face,” Allegra agreed. Carefully carrying her glass, she walked across the kitchen, obviously at pains to hide any signs of frailty. “You can never hide a romantic disposition, no matter how much you might try.”

  “Hang on, ladies, don’t let anyone else hear you talk like this, you’ll damage my reputation!” Matt laughed.

  “My husband also has a reputation,” Sabine said, opening the door for Allegra, who went back to her room. “For being an arse. Now I am off to drink this wine and catch up on some work.” Sabine regarded Ellen as she stood watching the cast of unfamiliar characters revolve around her. “Smile, Ellen,” she said softly. “You are not so alone here anymore, you see? Now you have people to buy you chairs.”

  Alone with Ellen again Matt glanced at his watch; he was going to be very late for his date, and he was surprised that a considerable part of himself didn’t want to go out at all. He found that he enjoyed bringing a smile to Ellen’s face.

  Ellen wiped her eyes with the heels of her hands and looked at him. “There, temporary relapse over with. Feel free not to give me a second thought. Honestly, I’m quite sure that you didn’t imagine moving in here would include comforting your landlady in the rent.”

  “Well, it wasn’t specified in the Time Out ad.…” Matt grinned. “Look, I like Charlie, he’s a good kid. Maybe next time I’m in I’ll get him to link our DSs and play Mario Kart or something.” Ellen looked blank. “What I’m saying is, maybe, if he likes, him and me can be mates. And maybe if there’s any guy stuff he’s worried about, then maybe he’ll talk to me. I am, after all, an expert on guy stuff. I’ve got a column to prove it and everything.”

  “Yes, your column—I’d like to read it sometime.”

  “Er… I don’t think you would.” Matt looked bashful. “I mean it’s not exactly my finest work. And it’s probably not exactly your cup of tea. But anyway, like I said, me and Charlie, we can hang sometime.”

  “You don’t have to do that.” Ellen shook her head.

  “I know,” Matt said simply. He looked down at his grease-stained trousers. “But Sabine is right, you and Charlie are not alone anymore—whether you like it or not. And as you are stuck with us, you might as well let us do something for you. I know I could have done with someone to talk to when I was his age. Anyhow, I’d better leap in the shower and get changed. Don’t want the associate editor thinking I’m a takeaway-eating slob; I told her I’m into fine dining and that I love to cook.”

  Ellen had waited until Matt went out before checking on Charlie, who was watching TV in his room with his headphones on, at first resolutely refusing to acknowledge her.

  Ellen hovered for a minute; she considered turning off the TV but then decided to sit beside him on his bed in silence. After a minute or two he sighed and ripped off the headphones, flinging them onto the bed.

  “Matt didn’t know,” Ellen said. “I should have told him, but I didn’t exactly know how to…”

  “Well, put up a notice or something,” Charlie said. “That’s Dad’s chair, Mum!”

  “I know, I know… We’ve sorted
it now—Matt felt terrible about it. He’s going to buy some more chairs tomorrow. Special ones, for him, Allegra, and Sabine.”

  Charlie glanced at her. “Really? That is quite cool, I suppose.” He turned back to the TV, and Ellen watched him for a few seconds, drinking in the outline of his profile, which was slowly evolving into a carbon copy of his father’s.

  “Look, Charlie, how are you?” Ellen reached out and smoothed her thumb over his scowl, as she used to when he was a little boy. To her relief, Charlie didn’t flinch at her touch.

  “I’m okay,” Charlie said, looking up at her. “How are you, Mum?”

  “I’m okay,” Ellen said. “I even think that I might be… good.”

  “Do you think you’re starting to feel better?” Charlie questioned, watching her closely. “Not so sad?”

  Ellen hesitated, uncertain of how to answer.

  “Because it’s okay, I mean if you felt better, I’d like it,” Charlie told her.

  Ellen looked at him, pressing the tips of her fingers to her mouth. “Oh, you poor boy, have I been awful to live with these last months?” she asked.

  “No, not awful, just not you. It’s almost like you’re not really here,” Charlie struggled to explain. “Like you’re fading away. You get up, you feed me, you wait for me to come home, you feed me, I go to bed, and the next day is the same. I like it that there are people here, that you have things to think about. I even like Matt. I want you to be more like you again, like you used to be before Dad died. We used to do stuff… go places.”

  “I know,” Ellen said. “But I do think that I’m feeling a bit better, just a little bit. I think it will be good to have people in the house and a new job. It’s not that I don’t miss your dad terribly, but it is good to have something else to think about.”

  “Yeah, it is,” Charlie said carefully. “So maybe soon we might do stuff again, go places?”

  “You really want to go places with me?” Ellen asked, gently skeptical.

  Charlie shrugged. “As long as no one I know sees me.”