“I don't think anything, Vanessa. But you think about it and we’ll speak at the next session.”
“Shit! Is there no way we could do two-hour sessions?”
Her analyst smiled as he put Vanessa’s file away. That made two smiles. Was this a sign he thought she was better?
“Ah, I think we’ll begin to wean you off the anti-depressants, is that all right? I’m putting you on new medication.”
Vanessa’s eyes were shining with happiness. She was definitely getting better, and her analyst could see it too. She left his consulting room and felt the warm wind on her face. Life was finally taking a turn for the better. Now all she had to do was find the courage to speak to her husband, and her boss, who still didn't know Vanessa was leaving, and she’d had four days to tell him. It had been a busy post-holiday working week, and she’d always heard that bad news is best given on a Friday, so the ‘victim’ has the whole weekend to digest the tidings. She’d already told two co-workers she was close to of her plans, but only the following day, a Friday no less, was she going to inform her boss and human resources. One more problem sorted out.
2.
When she came into the office Vanessa sensed that something was the matter. She felt as if people were looking at her surreptitiously, turning away the next moment. She checked the button of her blouse to make sure it wasn't undone, her shoes to make sure there wasn't a piece of toilet roll stuck to them, and her skirt, to make sure it wasn't caught in her knickers. Then, involuntarily, she ran her tongue over her teeth. As soon as she put her handbag down on her desk, the phone rang. It was her boss, asking her to report to his office. This didn't bode well.
When she got to her boss’s office he was standing there facing the enormous panoramic window, his hands behind his back. Without turning round to greet her or returning her good morning wishes, he said, “I heard you’re leaving…”
Vanessa froze. She’d mentioned it to her co-workers yesterday afternoon, just before she left for her appointment with the analyst, and her boss wasn't even in the building at the time. Had those two bitches gone and told him? Or had someone overheard their conversation? One way or the other, he’d been informed and he’d made his displeasure clear to everyone.
“I was just coming to talk to you about that, in fact I wanted to tell you yesterday but…”
“And that’s the way you leave a company that’s been your home for ten years? Without so much as a by-your-leave?” he cut in, still facing the window.
“But what do you mean, boss? I was going to tell you today and obviously I’m going to work out my contract and stay another month here to put everything in order, copying folders…”
“Oh no you’re not,” he said, turning suddenly towards Vanessa. “You’re going to clear your desk, go to personnel to settle up and get out of here immediately.”
Vanessa stood there, open-mouthed.
“You’re not being serious, are you? So I come to hand in my notice and…”
“That’s what you think. You’re not handing in any notice. I’m firing you. There. You’re fired. Now collect your stuff and get out of here.”
“But…”
“No buts. Close the door on your way out.”
Vanessa obeyed, stunned. She went to her cubicle, ignoring the stares of her co-workers, and began emptying her drawers and shelves. Once the initial shock had passed, she felt a tremendous urge to laugh. He’s gone mad, she thought. And after all, it was actually better this way. She’d get a better pay-off and wouldn't have to stay another month enduring more scenes like these. From the other end of the office, “the Hellcat’ was smiling triumphantly. It could only have been her who snitched, Vanessa reckoned. The coffee machine was very close to her desk, so she could easily have overheard the conversation the previous day when Vanessa mentioned she was leaving. It was sick and sad. She didn't want to waste another second thinking about it. Why waste time hating little people? She had a new life in front of her, a sweet life full of chocolate brownies and lemon icing.
Before she switched off her computer for the very last time, she sent an e-mail to the co-workers she got on with to give them the news and invite them for a drink at the end of the day, a last-minute farewell party. She gave them her personal mobile number and got several text message confirmations right away. She picked up the bag containing the few personal belongings she could be bothered keeping, most of them presents made by Mimi at school, and walked towards the lift without looking back. When the lift doors opened Vanessa saw her reflection in the mirror. She looked taller and younger.
She spent her unplanned day off walking around town. She felt light-headed and slightly euphoric as she walked in places she hadn't even known before. Everyone at a certain point in their lives has wondered what it must be like to leave their job, to throw it all in and start again, but between wondering and doing was a giant step, a step that Vanessa had proudly dared to make. She ate her lunch on a park bench, sharing her sandwich with the ducks that waddled around the edge of the pond, and at four in the afternoon she went to collect Mimi from school to leave her in her father’s house. Mimi was jumping for joy. She wasn't used to surprises like these and told stories all the way home. Vanessa felt indestructible. Pity her husband wasn't at home at the time. It would have been an opportunity for them to talk. She finally felt she had the courage for that.
At six, she went back into town for her farewell party. More people had come than she’d expected, including some people she’d thought wouldn’t appear, like Johnny. Since she’d decided to give him the cold-shoulder treatment they’d scarcely exchanged as much as a glance, but here he was, saying goodbye to her. It warmed her heart. The hours passed quickly, between shop talk and the confessions people only normally make to those who are going away. ‘I wish I had your courage.’ ‘I’ve thought about it too, but with two kids I’m afraid to take the risk.’ ‘It served that dickhead right, now he’ll understand that people can get sick of him and actually leave.’ Vanessa the self-denier, the timid, the obliging one, the depressive one, was now the courageous, the determined, and the fearless one. She’d never felt this way before. She’d spent her life in the background and now, for the first time, she was the star, the example to follow. Who ever would have guessed?
Her excitement made Vanessa throw off her inhibitions, excitement and too many beers; with lots of people looking on, they urged her to make a toast and give a speech. She climbed onto a chair, which had a soft seat that made her teeter even more in her high heels, and began her speech, “Dear friends, first of all I want to thank you for coming. I wasn't expecting so many of you to give up a few hours of your Fridays to say goodbye to me, especially as I’m aware that I’ve never been your most popular colleague, or the most participative at least.” Vanessa began, unaware that she had a glass in her hand that was spilling drink every time waved her arm. “I’ve dedicated myself to this company for years without even noticing the time passing. The days, the weeks, the months all ran into one another and the years went by at the same rhythm; work, holidays, work, Christmas, new year, desires and resolutions frustrated by more work, holidays again and so on and so on. I suddenly realized I was in my thirties with a monotonous future ahead of me. I found I was unhappy, crushed by a tyrannical, incompetent boss who drives people crazy.”
Some of her co-workers began to laugh, others looked worried, and all had noticed Vanessa had had too much to drink. Maybe it was better to applaud now and put an end to the speech. But it was much more fun to watch things escalate like this. Who doesn't love it when people make a spectacle of themselves in public?
“Yes, incompetent!” Vanessa went on. “I don't know why you’re so amazed. Many of you share my opinion and have told me as much today. So get this. Besides being a mediocrity, a dickhead, our boss is an avid collector of children’s dolls!”
The company caught its breath in surprise.
“Didn’t you know then? Well my friends I’m giving it to yo
u straight, I met him in the doll shop and let me tell you that to judge by the look of the shop assistants, he was more than just an occasional client, quite the contrary. He was buying a doll to add to his already enormous collection,” said Vanessa, giggling as her audience looked on speechless. “I can just see his bed, full of dolls, like an eight-year-old girl’s. I wonder if ‘the Hellcat’ likes them too? Or does anyone still doubt he’s doing her?”
Johnny, who was still half in love with Vanessa and didn't want her to make a fool of herself, pulled her by the arm and asked her to stop it.
“Let go of me!” Vanessa shouted, spilling more beer. “And now I’m going to tell everything! You’re never going to see me again. Except the mothers among you of course, I’m counting on you for my cake business. Tell all your friends, especially the ones that are so obsessed about throwing the biggest and bestest parties for their lovely little sprogs. They’re the ones I need. And there’s so many of them, aren’t there? Like the size of the cake was proportionate to their motherly competence or their love for their children. But anyway, d’you think the boss and ‘the Hellcat’ do it in his house, in amongst all the dolls, or at her place in amongst the smell of catpiss?”
“Vanessa, please, that’s enough,” Johnny insisted.
“Leave me alone! Whassa matter, you going to tell mummy and daddy? You be careful, my lad. It’s almost nine in the evening. Isn't time you were getting off home for din-dins with mummy? Watch out, she’ll get angry like that last time…”
Johnny seized her by the legs and slung her over his shoulders and carried her off through the crowd that had gathered to hear her speech. It was more than the people from the office now, but other people in the bar who’d become curious with all the uproar. They jeered at Johnny for depriving them of the spectacle, as Johnny fought his way through the crowd while trying not to let go of Vanessa, who was waving her arms and crying for help in between fits of drunken laughter.
When he set her down on her feet a few yards outside the bar, Vanessa keeled over and began to throw up.
“I think I better go home,” she stuttered as she collapsed into Johnny’s arms.
A few minutes later, when some of her former co-workers came outside to see if everything was all right, Vanessa was snoring, her head on Johnny’s lap.
“So who’s going to take her home, then?” one of them asked.
“I can take her, but where does she live?” asked another.
“She lives out of town with an aunt of hers, but I’m not sure exactly where” said Johnny.
“Don’t worry, I’ve called her husband and he’s coming to get her,” said a woman who worked in human resources, coming up to the group. “It’s the emergency number in her file. Just as well I didn't delete that e-mail.”
“This is going to be ugly,” said Johnny, looking worried. “They’ve been separated for months! She doesn't live with him any more. I don’t even know if they’re on speaking terms.”
“Well, too bad. It’s done now. And he didn't say no,” the woman answered, curtly.
When her husband finally arrived, Vanessa was still asleep. Embarrassed, he gave his thanks to everyone who’d charitably stayed behind to look after her, then got her in the car as quickly as he could. Vanessa opened her eyes, looked at him and stammered, “Hello Darling,” then fell sound sleep.
In his rear mirror, her husband saw the group going back into the bar. They’d had one casualty, but now they were here, the party would go on.
3.
When she opened her eyes the next morning Vanessa had no idea where she was. It was somewhere familiar, she could sense that, from the smell and the touch and the consistency of the mattress, but in the darkness of the room she couldn’t make out where she was. She reached over to the other side of the bed to see if she was alone, and when she realized she was, she sighed with relief. She wasn't in the mood to face some casual lover on a hung-over morning after. She fumbled at the bedside table until she found the light switch and almost yelled with surprise when she found out where she was. Her husband’s bed, her own bed, technically speaking. How had she got there?
She threw back the sheet and realized she was wearing just her knickers and her husband’s pyjama top. Then she remembered being in his car and saying, “Hello Darling”. But that’s all she could remember. More accurately, she could remember her farewell party and how she’d had too much to drink and made some speech, and people were really enjoying listening to her and then... nothing. There was a gap between that moment and her being in the car with her husband; then there was another gap between the car and the next morning. Had they had that talk? Had they slept in the same bed? Had they had sex?
She tiptoed to the bedroom door. She opened it a little and was assailed by the smell of toast and milky coffee. It was such a homely, sweet smell that for a few moments it seemed as if her whole life from January to the present had been nothing but a strange dream. So she’d been at home all along, married, happy. She went into Mimi’s room and found it unoccupied. The bed was made, which meant Mimi hadn't slept there. Maybe her husband had taken her to his mother’s house so the two of them could be alone together. So they had had sex then, hadn't they?
She went downstairs slowly. She wanted to take a look at the house, to see if there were any traces of a party or a big argument, neither one thing nor the other. Everything was intact and in its place. As she approached the kitchen she was stopped in her tracks by a voice she knew only too well. Sheila was leaning against the worktop, sipping a cup of coffee, all voluptuous as ever. She was ostensibly helping Vanessa’s husband prepare an enormous picnic basket, but her hands were running down his back as she purred and giggled seductively. Her children were out in the garden, playing. They looked like one big happy family, getting ready to enjoy a hot Saturday at summer’s end.
Vanessa felt like throwing up. Maybe it was the alcohol, but this little scene wasn’t helping. She felt confused and lost. She went back upstairs, took a shower and looked for her clothes, which she found carefully folded on the chair beside the chest of drawers. She got dressed, fighting back the nausea that the smell of cigarette smoke in her clothes caused, called a taxi and knocked on the kitchen door on her way out, as she didn’t want just to sneak away.
“Good morning!” her husband said. “How are you feeling?”
Vanessa couldn't make out what he meant with that smile of his. Was he being genuinely nice, or was he being sarcastic to embarrass her in front of Sheila, who presumably knew why Vanessa was there?
“Fine, thanks. I’m off, now. We’ll talk later. Isn't Mimi here?”
“She’s at your mother’s house. We’re going to get her now.”
We, Vanessa noted, first person plural. They were an item now. How sweet.
“OK. I’ll see you later, then.”
“Wait!” he shouted, running after Vanessa, who was already making for the door. “Don’t you want a lift to your car? Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I don't need anything, thanks. The taxi’s already here. Sorry for all the bother. I’m not sure what happened, but sorry.”
And she rushed out, putting her dark glasses on so her husband wouldn't see she was crying. Little by little she was beginning to piece together the events of the previous night. Obviously her husband had come to get her somewhere because she was too drunk. But she didn't know whether she’d called him herself, or if someone else had, but who? The shame of it. To make matters worse she’d ruined his night; because if Mimi had gone to sleep at her grandmother’s house, it could only have been because he had plans for the evening, with Sheila, of course; a romantic evening, just the two of them, with a picnic the next day with her kids and his. And she’d been thinking of apologizing. And she’d been thinking of asking him to wait. And she’d been thinking it wasn’t too late for everything to go back to what it had been before. She was a laughing stock. She’d certainly be the laughing stock of the day for the lovely new couple. Th
ere was no going back. She shrank down in the seat of the taxi and sent him a text message. When can we meet so I can give you the papers?
She switched off her phone so she wouldn’t be humiliated by his reply. It would probably come right away. A blunt riposte, him suggesting a meeting on Monday so as not to waste any more time. She knew he was in a hurry, and she now knew Sheila was the reason.
But what Vanessa didn't know was that her husband had felt an enormous panic at the unexpected call from her co-workers; he’d taken Mimi to her grandmother’s house so she wouldn’t see her mother practically comatose from drink. That he’d felt like hitting everyone who’d seen her in that state, because she didn't deserve to be seen like that. That he’d very carefully undressed her and laid her down on the bed with her own pillow that he’d taken from the bottom of the wardrobe and that he’d laid down beside her, hugging her tightly, stroking her hair until he was sure she was all right. That he’d kissed her eyelids tenderly and left the room whispering, “Sleep well, my love.”
4.
It was Monday before Vanessa had the courage to switch her phone back on. It immediately began to beep with the sound of incoming messages, most of them from her colleagues, wanting to know if she was all right. She called one of them to apologize and to gauge the extent of the havoc her speech had caused. According to this colleague, apart from one or two people from the mothers’ contingent who hadn’t liked the way she’d described them, for most people Vanessa was their new idol. The internal e-mails were already circulating with jokes and pictures of dolls, and ‘the Hellcat’ had lost the sympathy of what few people still had time for her. Vanessa’s revelations had eased the atmosphere, in her former department at least. Every time the boss shouted at someone, all they needed to do was picture him alone at home with his collection of dolls. She also learned how her husband had come to appear on the scene, and how Johnny had been the perfect gentleman.
The Strange Year of Vanessa M Page 12