“But Joseph, I didn’t do this,” I confessed.
“She told me you’d be modest, but you can’t lie to me. This has been the best day of business we’ve ever had and it’s because of you. I thank you, from the bottom of my heart. Today, I don’t even mind Michael, eh?”
I smiled but felt no less confused, and then I saw her: Elle.
Fuck.
I was in no way equipped to have an actual showdown with this woman. I knew I couldn’t grab Arthur and make a bolt for the door without seeming like an utter shit and she was already making her way from the counter towards me.
“Hiya, Princess,” she said as she raised her right hand. All I could do was brace myself for the slap across the face, but it never came. Instead, I was bundled into my second hug of the morning.
“What do you think?” she asked as she gestured to the women around the room.
“I’m confused as to what is going on right now. Have I been in a car accident and this is all some comatose scenario?”
“You really do just jump into the dark stuff, don't you? Come over and sit down with me, I think we should have a chat.”
She led me to the lumpy, old sofa – which was fast beginning ‘my spot’ in the café – and I waited to hear an explanation of what was going on.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
I was completely caught off guard, I never imagined that I would be the one deserving of an apology.
“What’s going on with me and Keith isn’t your problem. I shouldn’t have just landed you with that, especially with a hangover. I know I’ve come across as some mad bint who is desperately trying to change you, but that’s really not the case. I like you, Amy. I like you broken and a bit of a mess. In fact, I don’t think you’re anywhere nearly as messed up as you think you are, you just need a friend.
“I thought if I could have you as my little pet project and make you see exactly what kind of awesome person you are, it would take my mind off the crap-heap that is my own life. I guess that’s why I’ve been so pushy. I didn’t mean to scare you off. This was my way of an apology.”
“What is this exactly?” I asked as I gestured to the café full of people.
“I offered everyone in my boogie bounce classes a ten percent discount if they came in for coffee straight after the class, I know it was cheeky but I don't really know how this marketing or PR stuff works so I thought it was start?”
“As long as Joseph is happy, I’m happy. Thank you.”
I confessed to her I had no clue how I was going to turn things around and I was really a fraud. This man was putting a lot of trust in a woman he met for a half hour once and the pressure was a little daunting.
“Were you good at your job?” she asked.
“At one time, yes,” I admitted.
“Then everything else, every excuse you’re coming up with is bullshit. You can do this Amy, I’ll have faith in you until you’re able to prop yourself up.”
I was touched, more than touched. I had been the one in the wrong in backing away from this friendship and instead of being a complete bitch about it, she took my cowardice as a blemish on her character instead. Joseph was happy with me – although this had nothing to do with me nor was it down to any type of PR. I had to say something.
“I’m a wuss,” I blurted out. “I was just hoping to disappear and not have to run into you again instead of just texting you and letting you know I was scared about getting in too deep with this friendship.”
“I get that, although you are making this seem more like a dodgy relationship than just two women hanging out.”
“Yeah, I realised that as soon as it came out of my mouth. I don’t know how to make friends now, I’m pretty useless at this. I am sorry, though. I want you to know that, and you certainly didn’t have to do any of this.”
“I know, but I take four classes a week and that lot are always going on about never being able to find a decent cup of coffee. I figured I might as well push them in the direction of somewhere nice. I told them it was like a haven for fuck-ups who just need a good caffeine hit and some time to zone out.”
Suddenly, I was hit with a lightning bolt of inspiration.
“That’s it!”
“What is?” she asked, confused.
I explained that we could market the cafe as a haven for the ‘fuck-ups’ of the parenting community. I wagered that the two of us couldn’t be the only ones that didn’t fit in with the Smug Club brigade, and anyone else who felt that way could find their tribe (and get a nice coffee) within these walls.
“We can change the layout a bit. Give over more room for the kids to play, safely, in their own space and parents – or whoever – can come relax over here. It’s not exactly reinventing the wheel but it’s a start,” I said.
“I think it's a great idea,” replied Elle. “Anyone that needs a place to just ‘be’ can come here and have zero judgment about their lives and how they're raising their family.
“I’ll start getting the word out, today, but you’ll have to convince Joseph to be prepared for a lot more chaos around here.”
“We could even have an official launch party and invite all the regulars that will start coming in. Stressed parents can pretend they have a social life again,” I added, enthusiastically.
I wasn’t looking forward to selling this idea to Joseph but thankfully, Elle was on board. I was mostly relieved to finally have an idea to present to him.
To say that Joseph wasn’t enamoured with my plans would be an understatement. Feeling deflated, I told him to have a think about it and we could discuss it another time.
I was already starting to doubt that I could pull this off but Elle was on hand to stop my spiral in its tracks.
“Look here, Joe, are you going to trust my girl or not?” she demanded.
He was a little taken back but before he had the chance to reply she continued.
“All these people are here today because of her and there will be more tomorrow and the next day. She’s a smart cookie, with a good head on her shoulders, and if she says this place can work as a haven for fuck-ups then we’ll make sure every parent in town – that doesn’t already have their head stuck up Mrs Clunting’s arse – comes through your door to buy coffee.
“Parents need this. We need a place to come to so our kids will leave us in peace for twenty minutes, but we also need a place for us to relax in too. We're all losing our minds trying to be decent bloody parents and emotional compasses to these little turds, and all we’re asking for is a child-friendly café with a decent coffee.”
“Decent? There is no ‘decent’ coffee sold here, only the best,” he replied.
“Right on, Joe, it’s epic. Look, you’ve already opened your doors to the two of us and we’re basically as bad as it gets. The calibre of customer is only going to get better.
“Now, tell me you’re in and we can all get to work freeing the fuck-ups from the terrible instant coffee they’ve been subjected to at home because they’re stuck there with their horrible children.”
“Alright, I’m in,” he said, with a clap of his hands. “You do this, Amy, I trust you.
“Michael,” he shouted. “We’re going to free the fuck-ups.”
“Is that a new recipe?” asked Michael, as he popped his head out of the kitchen.
“No, stupid boy! See? This is why I keep him in the kitchen.”
Joseph left the conversation in order to help his son-in-law finish prepping for lunch, and insult him some more.
Elle put her arm around my shoulder and hugged me tightly.
“We’re going to free the fuck-ups, Amy. Get your excited face on.”
I really hope that catchphrase doesn’t stick, there’s no way I can market that.
Chapter 15
In the weeks to follow, Elle’s help was invaluable and our friendship blossomed. I opened up little by little about my miscarriage and how I was spent my energy running away from ever having to think about it
, as well as avoiding Ben’s attempts to get me back into therapy.
Despite my attempts to get her to share her tales of woe or update me on her relationship with Keith, she managed to side-step my interrogations.
We were both avoiding the realities of our home lives and Joseph’s provided the cover that we needed.
She was unbelievable at word-of-mouth promotion and knew people from all walks of life. They were all sold on the idea of a new place to escape to with (or without) their kids and they couldn’t get enough of the bizarre-looking garden gnomes and grass for wallpaper.
I was busy with the social media end of things and trying to put together some sort of presence in the business scene. The local papers had been contacted, telling them about this newly opened haven for parents to get away from their daily stresses – and for those who just appreciated a good coffee. They were reluctant to run anything without advertising but I managed to persuade one journalist to come and see for herself what made this place something entirely different. My big selling point was Joseph. His welcoming nature, his genuine interest in every customer’s story and his ability to make you feel at ease, within moments of coming through the door. Elle coached him before the interview to make sure our message was drummed into him.
“We need to let those lot at Smug Club know that the average, rubbish parent is coming for them,” she said.
“I will not incite violence, I just want to sell coffee,” Joseph firmly responded.
“I’m not asking you to start a gangland war here, Joe. Now is the time for the slummy mum to fight back! The mum who tries her best every day and the dads who do just as good a job but get completely overlooked because they didn’t birth the kids themselves. Parenting is a damn privilege but there’s no one right way and we are here to help them realise they’re doing a bloody brilliant job. They don’t need the Smug Club seal of approval.”
“Amy?”
“Yes, Joseph?”
“I don’t want to curse like that woman. Do I need to in order to sell the coffee?”
“No, Joseph. You just be you and she will love you.”
She sat with him for over an hour and was sold. Her feature appeared the next week over two pages, filled with pictures of all the oddities and wonderments that the café held, along with a smiling Joseph. The story welcomed all who appreciated a good cup of coffee and wanted a place to belong.
It was perfect. He was presented as a hero of the people and with that, more and more customers began making their way to this little coffee shop of chaos. They came, they got their coffee, they shared their stories and they stayed for as long as they needed. Joseph was happy, which meant Michael was happy, Elle was happy because she felt like every time the chimes of the door went it was another two fingers up to the Smug Club - and me, I was happy to feel part of something again.
Despite the success the café was experiencing, I was getting the cold shoulder at home. Once the feature came out there was no denying that I was part of this little band of parenting mutineers. Joseph talked about Elle and me several times throughout the interview. I had to come clean.
“Why didn’t you just tell me?” Ben asked.
“Because you were so happy when I decided to leave work and all the stress of it behind; I didn’t want to worry you about this.”
“I don’t think that’s true. I think you prefer to shut me out.”
“That’s not fair, or true. You know everything.”
“I didn’t know you were part of some anti-mum-club gang.”
“Ok, but now you know everything. I promise. I'm proud of this, I've helped someone with their business and in turn, he's helping a lot of isolated people feel like they have a place to be on crappy days. There are community groups and all sorts getting in touch. They want to rent a space for proper weekly meetings, I’ve even convinced him to turn one of the junk rooms at the back into a type of function room for things like that. I did this. Elle and I did this. I feel like I’m a functioning member of society and, more importantly, I don’t feel like the weak link of the family.”
“How can you think that? You’re the most important part of this family. We don’t function without you. That was the point of taking this break from work. Really being here for the kids and taking the pressure off.”
“No, Ben. This wasn’t taking the pressure off, this was me hiding. I had a very public, very traumatic breakdown and I was ashamed. I don’t want to be ashamed of me anymore. I might not be the best mum in the world, but I’m trying, and part of that is me being involved with a project like this.”
“It’s too much. You can’t handle this again. It’s just too soon,” he said.
“Who do you think you’re speaking to here? You don’t get to decide this for me. This is my life.”
I know he meant well, I know this was all coming from a place of kindness, but right now he just seemed like the enemy, so we stopped speaking to each other after that.
It’s exhausting not speaking to the person you love. The first few hours were ok, I mean I quite enjoyed the quiet, but after the second day, it was really wearing thin. Unfortunately, we are as stubborn as each other and there was no end to this stalemate in sight.
Internally I was in a constant state of rage. I didn’t understand how he refused to see how much better I was doing, it felt like I was always going to be the fragile little woman he had to protect. I couldn’t bear the thought of that. I decided I would just have to keep going and show him I can handle it.
I’ll show him. I’ll show them all.
I didn’t know who they all were but I felt like that was a nice dramatic way to end that train of thought.
If my home life was bad, Elle’s was much worse. I would get snippets of information on how the separation was going.
“Shite,” she said. “It’s really shite.”
She was nothing, if not succinct.
“Before this, when we would fight, I used to daydream about being a single parent. I felt like they had the right idea. They didn’t have to stay with each other for the sake of the children, had a few nights off when the other one had the kids and then got to be a good parent when they were back because they missed them. It’s not like that at all. I’m just sad when the kids are gone. Who wants to party with a sobbing mess? I don’t even want to party with a sobbing mess. I’ve even set up another evening art class to have something to do when they’re away. I’m offering them the same discount as my bouncing babes, by the way.”
“I can’t even draw a stick man, I’ve always wanted to be able to paint,” I mused.
“Come tonight then. It’s better than sitting in silence with Benny boy, isn’t it?”
“I’ve just said I can’t draw.”
“So, what? You can wash the brushes or something. Just get out of the house.”
She was right; I don’t think I could stand another evening of silence with Ben.
When I told him he’d have to sort bedtime on his own, this evening, because I was starting a painting class he didn’t even look up from his plate. He mumbled under his breath and I decided not to rise to the bait.
This act of restraint lasted about twenty seconds before I shouted, “What? Have you got something to say about this as well?”
“I didn’t say anything,” he replied, still keeping his eyes fixed on the food in front of him.
“Can you stop this, please? I don’t see what the big problem is, you wanted me to meet people and get involved with something outside of the house. I’ve done all that and it’s still not the right thing.”
“Is that what you think this is about?”
“What else is there to be fighting about?”
“This is about you not trusting me enough to share how you’re really feeling. It’s terrifying to think you’re keeping secrets again. I thought we were past all that and now you’re interested in painting? I don’t even know you these days.”
“It’s a beginner art class; it’s not a big d
eal. Elle is the teacher. I thought I might as well go, saying as we are all picture, no sound this week.”
“It’s not about the class.”
“Then for goodness sake Ben what is this actually about?”
“I’ve been trying to tell you what it’s about. We are drifting away from each other and you’re not helping by keeping chunks of your life a secret. I don’t remember the last time we kissed let alone had sex.”
And there is was: sex.
“That’s what this is about? Seriously? You just want sex and we can feel like we’re one entity again? Well drop your trousers then and let’s get this over with.”
For a second I thought he was seriously considering it, but then he shook himself out of his train of thought.
“Look, I was trying to give an example of how things haven't been quite right between us. It was the first thing that came to mind,” he said, sheepishly.
“I’m late for class, we’ll talk about it later.”
I gave the boys a kiss goodnight on my way out the door and ran away from the house, as quickly as I could. I knew there was no way in hell I was going to talk about this with him later. He’d pretend to be asleep by the time I got home and I would let him.
On the way to the class, I was lost in my own thoughts, about how I could deal with this new bump in the road.
It’s not like I didn’t want to have it, it was always fun I just hadn’t really felt like it. They warned me it could be a side effect of the antidepressants and I accepted that.
I could deal with non-existent sex life, as long as the tablets kept me from throwing myself into a lake again.
It seemed like a fair compromise. Up until now, I thought Ben understood that.
Apparently not. Did he really think all this could be sorted by a roll in the sack? What a funny creature.
My life was becoming a poorly executed balancing act. Once I’d got one aspect of it off the ground, something else would fall spectacularly off a cliff and catch fire. This particular fire, however, couldn’t be ignored anymore.
Amy Cole has lost her mind: The perfect laugh out loud, feel-good comedy (The Amy Cole series Book 1) Page 12