By ten, I decide to get up and face the music downstairs. If possible, I will slip quietly out of the front door and thereby avoid Peri, the terrible twins, and Jack. I’m so embarrassed by our near-kiss situation…
“Hi, Emma, you want some breakfast?” Jack calls from the kitchen. He sounds very cheerful.
He sounds like old Jack.
He is not nearly-kissed-me Jack anymore, and just for a moment I am overwhelmed with regret that he will never be nearly-kissed-Emma Jack again.
“I’m making bacon and eggs for Peri and the boys. You want some?”
“Oh,” I say as I pause at the kitchen. “Er, no thanks, Jack. I have stuff to do…”
Jack looks fabulous. Although wearing a faded T-shirt and cutoff shorts, he looks well rested. This is not fair, because (a) it means he didn’t obsess all night like I did, and (b) he slept on the sofa. How can he look so great when I feel like shit. How?
“You must eat,” Peri says, pressing a cup of coffee into my hand. “You look ill. Doesn’t she look ill, Jack? Are you okay? You don’t look okay. You definitely need to eat.”
“She looks good to me,” Jack tells me, flashing me his old-Jack friendly grin.
This is a bit of a relief, but would it hurt him to show the teeniest symptoms of disappointment about last night?
“Thanks, guys,” I say, eyeing the twins, who are eating messily with their fingers. This is enough to put me off food for life, but at least they are marginally well-behaved when stuffing their faces with food. It is the only time they are quiet.
“I have stuff to do. I think I just need some fresh air,” I say, putting down the coffee cup and heading for the door. “See you later.”
It is very cowardly of me leaving Jack with Peri and the boys, but she is his sister…I think I’ll go smother my sorrows in one of Rufus’s banana-granola muffins.
As I reach for the door handle of the deli, I pause because I see Tish inside. She is seated at a table, and she is not alone. Rufus is sitting with her, and they are actually talking to each other. In fact, Tish is flirting with him. I can tell by her body language, plus, she’s wearing that sexy little red fuck me dress. And Rufus is laughing and leaning closer to her.
Okay, they do not need me to play third wheel. I think I’ll go see Rachel instead.
You go, girl, I think, sending silent, encouraging vibes to Tish.
When I reach Rachel’s apartment, I ring the doorbell and am startled when a man’s voice answers. Oops, this must be her new man. I don’t want to interrupt. Okay, so this is not a good time for Rachel, either.
“Oh,” I say. “Sorry. I’ll come back later.”
“Hold on. Are you a friend of Rachel’s?”
“Er, yes.”
I can always go and play third wheel with Tom and Katy instead—at least, I could play with Alex so that they can go back to bed for more hot sex.
I really must do something about my lack of sex. I think it’s having a strange effect on my brain.
“Well, come on up,” he insists, pressing the door-release buzzer.
I’m curious, so I get in the elevator, and as I reach Rachel’s door, I am shocked by the man who opens it and smiles at me, because never in a million years would I have placed him as Rachel’s type.
He is in his late thirties and is several inches shorter than Rachel. He is also rather cuddly (but in a nonfat way) and has a beard. He smiles, and his blue eyes crinkle nicely. He has a kind face.
“Hi,” he says, holding out his hand. “I’m Hugh. Come on in.”
Well, knock me down with a feather. This is Hugh?
“I’m Emma,” I say, shaking his hand and grinning like an idiot.
“Rachel won’t be a minute, she’s just getting dressed. Come in, come in, I’ll get you some coffee.”
“That would be great,” I say, following him into Rachel’s kitchen. Her cats know instinctively that I am allergic to them, because they immediately start rubbing themselves around my ankles, and I sneeze.
“Bless you,” Hugh says. “They have the same effect on me. I’m doomed to weekly allergy shots in my butt. The things we do for love.”
Oh. That’s interesting.
Oh God, talking of love, what if they were, you know, having sex when I rang the doorbell?
“You sure I’m not interrupting…anything…?” I tail off, because it sounds like I’m suggesting that I’ve just interrupted a bout of hot passion. Because that’s exactly what I’m suggesting.
“No, not at all. We weren’t in bed.” He grins and I blush a little, but grin back. He really does have the kindest face.
“It’s good to meet one of Rachel’s friends,” he says. “I was beginning to think you’re all figments of her imagination. Or that she’s scared you’ll tell me all her secrets, because she won’t let me come to Chez Nous on Sunday nights. Or that you’re all embarrassingly odd. But you look lovely—not an oddness in sight.”
“Why, thank you. So do you.”
“Do not listen to this man,” Rachel tells me from the bedroom door. “He’s an idiot.” She kisses me.
And she is glowing with that rosy hue of someone who’s getting a lot of great sex. I can practically smell the pheromones oozing from her pores.
“Er, hi,” I say. “I’m sorry I missed yoga this morning, I can come back later. Or maybe I should call you.”
“Oh, I missed yoga, too, because—” Rachel pauses, and blushes. They were having sex.
“No, don’t stop on my account, honey,” Hugh tells her. “I’ll leave you two girls alone, then you can talk about me in peace. I’ll call you later, Rachel,” he says, then he grabs her and kisses her very thoroughly. “Nice to meet you, Emma.” His blue eyes twinkle. “Maybe she’ll let me meet her other friends, now. I’m really well housetrained.”
“I’m sure you are,” I say, and I cannot help but smile back at him. He’s just really, really infectious. “Nice to meet you, too.”
As soon as the door closes behind him, Rachel turns to me.
“What do you think? Do you like him? Don’t you think he’s cute?”
“Rachel, he’s lovely,” I say, because he seems lovely. “But how did you guys get it together? I thought you hated him.”
“Oh no, I never hated him. Not hated him, exactly.”
I do not remind her of all our telephone conversations regarding motherfucking, bastard Hugh, because obviously love has given her a selective memory.
“He just sort of—I don’t know. Broke down my barriers, wouldn’t take no for an answer. He’s really clever, you know, he has a doctorate, and he’s kind and good-looking….”
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, I suppose.
“Anyway,” Rachel says, blushing again. “He’s asked me to marry him. And I’ve said yes.”
18
Mother Love
TO DO
Buy tampons.
Tell Jack to buy condoms.
Sleep with Jack (after all, will only be following motherly advice as all good daughters should).
Friday, August 30
God, is it really only a week since Peri and the boys arrived? It feels like longer.
It feels like an eternity.
Last night, when I got home from the gym (I spend as much time there as I can at the moment so as to arrive home after the boys are safely asleep), Peri was waiting for me.
“Emma, darling,” she says as she places steak and fries in front of me. “You’re so late. I was worried about you. Are you really busy at work?”
I mumble a feeble excuse, but Peri isn’t really listening.
Ugh. Peri, bless her, cannot cook anything except steak or burgers and fries. Does she know what red meat does to your veins? Still, if someone takes the trouble to cook you a meal (despite the fact you’ve told them you’ll grab something at the gym), the least you can do is try to pretend to eat it.
I pretend to eat a soggy fry as Peri starts to tell me today’s tale. Because there’s
always a tale.
“You know, you must be more careful where you leave your personal stuff,” she says. “The boys were playing upstairs today and they found your tampons. But you shouldn’t leave stuff like that where little ones can stumble across it.”
“Peri, I don’t have kids,” I start. “I don’t—” need to worry about where I put my stuff, I nearly say, but don’t because Peri jumps back in.
“Yes, and that’s the problem. I know you don’t have kids, but one day you will, and then you’ll know what I mean. So kindly think about it, will you? I had to make up a story for the twins. I told them that the tampons are for cleaning makeup off your face and I think they bought it.”
“But maybe they shouldn’t, you know, be playing in my room when I’m not there,” I say, cautiously watching her reaction.
“Emma, I don’t have eyes in the back of my head,” she says with an indignant sniff, and I’m sorry I said anything.
“I only let them out of my sight for a couple of minutes, so if you could just make sure you don’t do it again, then we’ll all be much happier. Okay?”
“’Kay,” I say, pushing a bite of steak to one side.
“Good, I’m glad we got that cleared up. Where’s Jack? It’s nearly ten, is he always this late? You’d think he’d make more of an effort to come home early and see the boys, wouldn’t you? He’s just like your dad. Sorry, Emma, but he is. You wouldn’t believe what I had to tell the twins about the king-size box of condoms they found in his bathroom. They thought they were balloons—they opened every single one in the box. Anyway, I’m tired, so I’m going to get an early night. I’ll see you tomorrow. Good-night. Enjoy your meal.”
“Yes. Thank you. Good-night,” I say, then the moment I’m sure she’s upstairs, I empty the food into a supermarket bag and push it to the bottom of the trash.
A king-size box of condoms, huh? Jack obviously has high expectations, sexually speaking. This thought depresses me and I try not to think about Jack and condoms. Or sex.
But this can’t go on. I mean, I know Peri is Jack’s sister, but this is supposed to be my home. I do pay rent. Okay, so a reduced rent, but I should have some say here. Dad has got to come and take her home soon or I’ll need therapy. I grab the telephone and punch in the numbers.
“Dad, it’s me,” I say. “When are you and Peri getting back together?”
“Honey, she just won’t listen,” he says. “I do love her, you know? And I love the boys. But every time I try to explain to her that she’s setting them on a path to infantile delinquency, she accuses me of child abuse. I’m not saying she should smack them, or anything, but she lets them do exactly what they like.”
“I know,” I say, glumly. Obviously Dad is not going to be a big help here, so we finish our conversation just as Jack lets himself in the back door.
“Is it safe?” he asks.
“Yes. Although your condoms didn’t survive,” I tell him. Oh, I didn’t mean to mention condoms. Not after Friday night. I quickly change the subject before he can make a smart reply.
“Peri’s made you dinner. Bon appétit.”
“Not steak again?”
“Yes.”
“What did you do with yours?”
“Hidden at the bottom of the trash can.”
“Good plan.”
“Good-night.”
“Emma?”
Oh God, I hope he’s not going to get too personal. Although mentally harassed by the twins, he’s been back to normal this week. I like old Jack. Old Jack is safe Jack.
“Hmm?” I speak to the door.
There is a long, loaded silence, and then finally he sighs and runs a hand through his hair.
“Nothing. Good-night.”
This does not make me feel good, so I go to bed and lie awake for hours obsessing about him.
Anyway, I comfort myself, at least work is not stressing me out. This week, Adam has been surprisingly nice to me. He’s very interested in my welfare, because he keeps asking me if everything is okay. And a number of times he’s stopped at my cubicle just for a friendly chat. A kind of “How’s Jack? How did you meet him? You guys are living together then, huh? Oh, great, I’m happy for you,” kind of chat.
So maybe I did let him think Jack and me are together. I didn’t lie, or anything, Adam just assumed so I let him assume more.
Lou has kept his distance all week, which is also good. I suspect I have Jack to thank for that. Plus, I think Adam is really pissed with Lou, which is great. But earlier today, Lou was feeling brave (foolish boy—I can’t believe I let him get away with bossing me around before) and tried to get us back onto our old footing. Him Account Manager, me Humble Secretary.
I am just chatting to Angie when Lou comes to my cubicle. He stands there for a couple of minutes as Angie tells me about her plans for the weekend, and finally (but only after we’ve let him suffer), we both turn to look at him.
“Hi, ladies,” he says.
“What can I do for you, Lou?” I ask politely.
“Er, I was just thinking that maybe it’s doughnut time. I’m a little hungry, so—”
“I’d love a doughnut.” I smile. “Would you like one, Angie?”
“Sure. Cinnamon with frosting.”
“Make mine apple.” I smile sweetly. “It’s so nice of you to treat us, Lou, we really appreciate it. Oh, and I’ll have coffee, too—just milk, no sugar.”
“Very nicely done, Emma,” Angie says after Lou heads down to the doughnut store. “You learn quick. See, you just gotta apply Zen. You just gotta think how you want the situation to turn out, and make it so.”
“Angie, you should give seminars. If ever you decide to do that, I’ll sign Peri up straightaway.” And then I tell her the tale of the tampons and condoms.
God, I wonder what they’ve done today.
I open the front door to chaos. There are papers all over the floor. Jack’s papers. Bank statements, credit-card statements, architect plans…If someone told me a freak tornado had somehow only hit the inside of our house, I would not be surprised.
“Jack, you shouldn’t just leave your papers lying around any old where.” Peri’s loud voice carries from the dining room.
Jack’s home early. It’s only eight. He’s usually on his way to the gym by now. I wish I’d stayed longer, but have been feeling pangs of guilt for avoiding Peri and the boys. They are my family, after all.
“But the point is, I didn’t leave them any old where, Peri. They were in files. In the dining room. On the bookshelf.”
“But your bookshelves are too low.”
“For fuck’s sake, Peri—”
“There’s no need to use language like that. The boys might hear you.”
“Where are the little brats? No doubt wrecking the kitchen. Or my bedroom. Peri, you have got to exercise more control over them—they’re turning into monsters.”
Oh dear, maybe I should just slip upstairs to my room…
Oh. My. God.
“What have you done?” I ask, as I regard the remains of my bedroom. Every item of makeup has been tested on every available surface. My underwear is scattered over the floor. The pink vibrator is currently doing its party piece in Jack Junior’s hand, and Joe Junior has found my Goals by Thirty lists.
“Give them to me.” I lunge for Joe Junior, but he evades me and makes a break for the door with my papers in his grubby little hands. “And you.” I try for Jack Junior, instead, but he screams so loudly that I stop in my tracks. Anyone would think I’d just beaten him black and blue. While I am still stunned by the decibels he has managed to achieve, he slips down the stairs with my vibrator still vibrating.
This has got to stop. I know they’re only three. But I’m sure I didn’t do this kind of stuff when I was three, Julia wouldn’t have let me. Right, Peri has to sort this out for once and all. I’m going to speak to her. I’ll apply Angie’s Zen advice, that’s what I’ll do.
“Jack Junior, Joe Junior,” I yell as I
come running down the stairs. I want blood. But only metaphorically speaking, of course.
“Emma, don’t shout like that, you’ll frighten the twins.” Peri’s waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs. “How did Jack Junior get this?” she demands, wielding the throbbing, pulsating, vibrator (which, I have to add, I have still not used).
“Didn’t I ask you last night to put your personal stuff in a safer place?”
This is so unfair. How come they get to be naughty and I’m the one in trouble? To add insult to injury, Jack appears in the dining-room doorway holding some papers. I think they are my papers.
“You should have more consideration. They are your brothers, after all.”
“But they should have some consideration for me, too. My bedroom should be a safer place,” I protest. “Can’t you keep them out? They’ve wrecked it. They’ve destroyed every piece of makeup I possess, and my underwear is all over the place.”
“I can’t believe you’re being so difficult,” Peri says, bursting into tears. “If only you knew how hard it is bringing up two children, but you don’t, because you don’t have any—”
“Peri, what Emma means—” Jack, the peacemaker, puts an arm around her shoulders but the lady is not for turning.
“And you,” she says. “You’re just as bad. You hate them, don’t you? And you hate me. I should never have come here.”
Oh God, if this is what Dad has to go through every time he puts his foot down, it’s a wonder he hasn’t had a heart attack. But Peri, ditzy as she is, is usually lovely. So why is she behaving like a bitch to us? She knows we love the boys, and some part of her must realize that she cannot go on like this.
This is good, Emma, I tell myself, this is what you should be doing. Not looking for who to blame, but looking for solutions. I think back to what Angie said about Zen, and wonder how I can apply it to Peri. What would Angie do? What would Julia do?
As Jack tries to comfort the sobbing Peri, and as I am standing on looking, trying to think of a way to comfort the sobbing Peri, I have an epiphany, and I know what I’m going to do.
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