Up on the Roof

by A. L. Brooks

  “Yes,” her mother said crisply.

  “Where do we sit?” her father asked, looking perplexed.

  Lena almost laughed, but knew it would be a mistake to let it out. “I only have those two cushions. Otherwise you will need to stand.”

  Her mother tutted loudly. “So,” she said, “it is as bad as we thought. She cannot even afford furniture.”

  Lena’s father shook his head. “Leelawati,” he said, and never in her life had she heard her name expressed as such a disappointment. Her heart lurched.

  “Wait, that’s not true,” Lena retorted. “I have only just moved back in. There was a storm. The roof came down, and I had to move out.” She was talking quickly, determined to get her side of the story in before her mother had a chance to let loose any more sarcasm. “I have the insurance money now and I can replace the sofa very soon.”

  “And this is precisely why we are here,” her father said, turning a stern gaze onto Lena. “When your sister told us that your flat had been destroyed and that you were homeless, we knew it was time.”

  Wait, what? Madhu had told them about the storm? What the—

  “What do you mean, time?” Lena asked, folding her arms across her chest.

  “Time to make you finally see sense!” her mother snapped. She walked closer to Lena, who barely resisted the urge to take a step back. “You have made bad choices in your life, Leelawati, and this is the price you are paying.”

  Now the anger started to come through, and it was like hot acid churning in her stomach. “What on Earth are you talking about?” She glared at her mother, who glared back. “I am—”

  “Your life is a mess, Leelawati! You make that silly announcement about being a les…one of those women, you leave your home, where you were perfectly well looked after—” Lena snorted, and her mother’s face scrunched even deeper into its frown “—and a perfectly good job at the council.” Her voice rose in volume. “You had plenty of opportunities to meet the right man and make a proper life for yourself, a decent life. And now look at you,” she said, gesticulating with her hands at the half-furnished room. “You cannot even offer your own parents a seat.”

  Her mouth pulled into a sneer. “You were homeless, begging off the favours of strangers, when you could easily have come home and given up all this…this nonsense. You have no…partner, and your job cannot be paying well if this tiny place is all you can afford to rent.”

  Each word stuck like a dart in Lena’s mind and in her heart. She knew her mother was aiming to hurt, but that didn’t lessen the pain. Lena wanted to refute her mother’s wildly untrue statements, but as she gathered herself to respond, her father stepped forward.

  “Leelawati,” he said, somewhat gentler than her mother. “We only want what is best for you. We always have.”

  Lena did laugh this time. “Oh, Dad. No, you don’t. You want what is best for you, what you think a daughter should be. You don’t want me to be me, and that is what would be best for me.”

  Her mother gasped. “Always so selfish. Always.” She glared at Lena. “How can you stand there, knowing what you have done? You have disgraced our name, brought shame on us for long enough.”

  Ah, now they came to the crux of it. Lena had wondered if that’s where this was going. For one brief moment, in her mother’s earlier tirade, she had dared to hope the rant came from genuine concern for Lena’s wellbeing. Now she knew the truth. There had clearly been talk, and if there was one thing Lena’s mother wouldn’t tolerate, it was being the subject of gossip. Oh, she could dish it out, definitely. But she hated being on the receiving end.

  “You don’t care about me at all,” Lena said quietly. “This—” she waved a hand between herself and her mother “—is all about you and your position in our community, isn’t it?”

  “Leelawati, don’t speak to your mother that way,” her father interjected, but his stern words and tone couldn’t scare her anymore.

  “In my home I will speak to her any way I like,” Lena snapped. She stared at the pair of them as they stared back. They looked at her as if she were an exotic animal in a zoo, a creature they had never seen before.

  Her mother’s eyes narrowed to hard flints. “This is your last chance, Leelawati. Come home, to where you belong, and save yourself. Regain some respectability. Get—”

  “No.” Lena announced the word, clearly and loudly.

  “Leelawati,” her father pleaded, for the first time looking genuinely concerned that his eldest daughter was slipping away from him.

  “No, Father. I-I can’t.”

  “Then we have wasted our time,” her mother spat, and turned on her heel and headed for the stairs.

  Lena’s father gave her one last, beseeching look. Although it pained her to do so, she shook her head. His shoulders slumped, but he too turned away and followed his wife to the stairs. Lena walked slowly after her parents, a few steps behind. They let themselves out of her front door and stepped into the communal hallway.

  Her mother turned back, one last time, and for the briefest of moments, so brief Lena almost thought she imagined it, her mother’s hard expression dropped away, and her eyes reflected something…else. Pain? Love? Lena couldn’t tell, but whatever it was, it wasn’t anger. Then the moment passed, the wall came down, and the hardness was back with a vengeance.

  “Good-bye.” The word had a hard finality to it that wrenched at Lena’s insides.

  “Mum…please,” she said, tears pricking at her eyes. Her mother turned her back and headed down the main staircase.

  Lena turned to her father, who lingered at the top of the stairs. “Dad?” Tears streamed down Lena’s face. The reality of her parents’ departure was fully sinking in. This could well be the last time she ever saw them.

  Her father’s eyes were glistening. He raised one arm and made to reach for Lena, but then dropped it in the next moment as his wife issued an imperious, “Come!” from a few steps below.

  He turned and lumbered down the steps to meet his wife at the bottom. Neither of her parents looked back up at her as they pulled open the main front door and left the building. The door closing behind them sounded awfully loud in the empty hallway.

  Chapter 28

  Megan placed a latte and a scone in front of her mum.

  “Oh, lovely,” she said.

  Megan put her own drink down and flopped into the armchair opposite her. They were in the Starbucks near where Megan worked. She was on an hour’s break between clients and her mum had texted to say she was in town, shopping. Arranging this little meeting had taken no effort at all.

  “So, what have you bought?” Megan asked, pointing at the three bags at her mum’s feet.

  She grinned and rattled off an impressive list of purchases—all for herself. “Your dad gave me some cash, told me to go get something new for the holiday next month.” She beamed. “I was not going to say no to that.”

  Megan chuckled. “Definitely not.” She sipped her cappuccino. “How’s everyone?”

  “Everyone is good,” Rosie said, lifting her latte to her lips. “But worried about you,” she offered after she took a sip of her drink.

  “Worried? What about?” Megan was baffled.

  “Well, no one’s seen or heard from you since Christmas, pretty much. I mean, you and I have talked a couple of times, but even then…” She pursed her lips. “You’ve been different. Too quiet. Like there’s something you’re not telling me.” Leaning forward, her face scrunching into a frown, her mum asked, “Megs, are you in some kind of trouble?”

  “No! God, no, Mum. I’m not in trouble.” Megan sat back. She thought she’d done a pretty good job of hiding all that had been going on with Lena so that she didn’t have to face her mum’s scrutiny, but it seemed in doing that she’d only acted in a way that freaked her out.

  Maybe now was a good time to share, espe
cially with Lena moving out that morning. It had given Megan an ache deep in her chest, waving good-bye to Lena, fighting the urge to kiss her because she didn’t want to put any pressure on her. Knowing when she got home her place would be all her own again. And not liking that idea one bit.

  She took a deep breath. “So, okay. There has been something going on. I didn’t want to tell you before, until I knew how serious it was. And now, well, I guess it’s serious. At least, I think it is.”

  “For crying out loud, Megs, spit it out!”

  Megan blushed. “Sorry. Okay, well, here it is… I’m dating Lena.”

  Her mum’s mouth dropped open.

  Over the next half an hour, Megan told her mum everything. Some of it not in that much detail—this was her mum, after all—but enough for her mum to understand why Megan felt the way she did about Lena, and why she was now worried that Lena was going to disappear on her.

  “Are you in love with her?” her mum asked bluntly, once Megan had finished her tale.

  Megan nearly choked on her coffee. “Um, God. I don’t know. Not quite. But I guess I could see me getting there sometime soon.”

  Her mum sat back, one finger rubbing slowly up and down her own chin, a clear sign she was deep in thought.

  Megan let her be, knowing her mum was gathering what she wanted to say, and how to say it.

  “She’s a lovely woman,” her mum said eventually.

  “But…?” Megan prompted, knowing there was one there.

  “But…I’m worried she’s another Julie. And look where that got you.” When Megan made to speak, her mum held up a hand. “I’ve listened to you talk about Lena and tell me how things have developed between you, and all I’ve heard is how hard you’ve worked to make something of this, and how little she has worked in return. I worry that you’re repeating your old mistake, always giving, giving, giving, and not getting anything back.”

  Her mum leaned forward and placed a warm hand on Megan’s knee. “You have a heart of gold, love, and that really shouldn’t be something to criticise, but I’m scared you’re being walked over, quite frankly.”

  Megan blinked a couple of times. “You think people walk over me? That I let them?” Her tone was harsher than she’d intended, but her mum’s words had stung.

  “Oh, Megs, love. I didn’t mean to upset you. But, well, yes. Sometimes I do think you’re too kind for your own good, and people take advantage of it. And, sometimes, you can’t see that.”

  Honesty had always been the best policy in the Palmer household, for as long as Megan could remember. But this level of honesty was a little hard to take, even when she knew her mum meant well.

  “Megan?” Her mum’s voice held concern.

  Megan waved a hand vaguely in the air. “I’m…okay. A bit hurt by what you said, but I guess I understand why you said it.” She blew out a breath. “The thing is, even though I have worked hard with Lena, since Christmas it’s really felt more even between us. And she’s changed, so much—really come out of her shell. The more she does that, the easier it gets.” She stared intently at her mum, trying by sheer willpower to get her to understand.

  “Okay, but how long do you wait for her to catch you up? You say you’re worried she’ll retreat from you, now that she’s moved out.” She shrugged. “If she does, how long do you give her before you’re the one doing all the work again? Before you’re the one who has to walk away because she’s not giving anything back?”

  Megan slumped back in her chair. She didn’t have any answers to those questions, and that niggled at her.

  There was a small patch on the bedroom ceiling, just above the door to the small en-suite bathroom, where it looked like the builder’s paint roller had scuffed. It wasn’t a big patch, and it presumably only showed from a certain angle—like this one, lying flat on your back gazing around the room. But now that Lena had spotted it, she couldn’t take her eyes off it, and it was annoying her.

  Or, rather, she was annoyed already and the patch only made her annoyance run deeper.

  Her parents had left an hour ago. When she had climbed back up into the living area of her empty flat, she had simply turned left into the bedroom and flopped onto the bed. Her energy was depleted, both physically and emotionally. Repeated snatches of her mother’s diatribe rattled through her brain. As did images of her father looking so disappointed in her.

  The words and pictures carved through her like knives, and although she tried to use her anger at their impromptu visit and harsh words to shield her, it was no good. Her defences were down, and the tears that fell from her eyes onto the duvet below took a while to ease.

  Now all she had the energy for was to lie staring at her ceiling. She felt battered, and bruised, and…unsure. Her mother’s vitriol was, on the one hand, just that—poison intended to hurt, which it had. But… She hated the way her brain kept going back to key words and phrases, and wondering if there was a kernel of truth in them.

  She had been homeless and she had had to accept the comfort and help of relative strangers to get her a place to stay. If she hadn’t left the bosom of her family, she would have had a much wider pool of resources to call on. But then, if she followed that line of thought back to its origin, she never would have needed them anyway, because she wouldn’t be living in London and renting this tiny—she’d preferred to call it cute up until now—flat with a dodgy roof. And she wouldn’t be living free, as herself, able to pursue a future that would make her truly happy.

  While her mother had suggested she was partnerless, that bit wasn’t entirely true either, was it? She and Megan hadn’t given themselves a label, like girlfriends, or partners. But they’d been on a few dates, and they’d nearly slept together so they weren’t exactly nothing to each other, were they?

  She shook her head against the pillow. Damn her mother for planting all these seeds of doubt. Lena had already been feeling confused and fearful about everything, especially regarding Megan, with that dreadful attempt at sex the week before and Lena’s own inability to shake that off and move on. She’d wanted to focus on the feelings that led to that intimacy and pursue those, even if she wasn’t ready to be so intimate again. Now all she had careening around her head were even more questions and fears. She could do with talking to Madhu, but she was too mad at her for not warning Lena about letting out whatever she’d told their parents that had sent them down to London in the first place. She’d call her later, when she’d calmed down, and let Madhu tell her side of the story.

  She managed a weak smile—it was bound to be a good one, knowing Madhu.

  When Megan had first moved out of home, her mum had been adamant that she get a landline wherever she lived, with a proper answerphone, not simply a service.

  “If your mobile runs out of battery, or you lose it, I want to know you can still get in contact with us. I also want to know I can leave a message for you and a little red light will tell you it’s there,” her mum had said, handing over the box containing the machine.

  The same machine had been used everywhere Megan had lived since that time. She rarely had messages on it, in fact, as her family—her mum included—always used her mobile.

  So when she walked into her flat a little after six in the evening—her empty flat, she noted with a sigh—the flashing red light on the answering machine was the first thing she noticed. She peeled off her coat and scarf, kicked off her sneakers, and walked across the room to where the machine sat on the TV stand.

  She hit play and her eyes widened as the message boomed out into the room.

  “Leelawati Shah, stop ignoring me! I know you said to only use this number in emergencies, but if this isn’t one, I don’t know what is. Call me. Please.”

  Megan stared at the machine, trying to figure out who had called when the phone itself rang, loudly, nearly parting her from her skin as she jumped at least six inches in the air. Grabbi
ng the handset, she managed to squeak a “hello” as she rubbed her chest, trying to calm her pounding heart.

  “Lena?”

  “No, this is Megan. Lena—”

  “Is she there? Tell her I’m not hanging up until she speaks to me. She can’t hide forever.”

  “Wait, is this Madhu?”

  “Oh. Yes. Sorry, Megan.” Madhu sounded sheepish and chuckled. “Sorry, is my sister there? I can’t believe she won’t return my calls.”

  “Um, Madhu, I’m guessing you haven’t spoken to her since yesterday?”

  “No, why?”

  “She doesn’t live here anymore.” The words, said out loud, caused a strange jolt in Megan’s stomach, and it was deeply unpleasant.

  “What?” Madhu’s voice went up an octave.

  “She moved back to her own flat this morning. It was all a bit of a last-minute thing with the builders. I guess she didn’t get a chance to tell you.”

  “No, she didn’t. Oh, no, does that mean she had to deal with them on her own?”

  “Who, the builders?”

  “No, our parents!”

  “What?” Megan’s head hurt. This conversation was getting weirder by the minute.

  “Oh, this is bad. This is so bad.”

  “Madhu,” Megan said, with all the patience she could muster, which wasn’t much, “what the hell are you talking about?”

  Madhu groaned. “Ugh, this is a nightmare.” She took a deep breath. “Okay, this morning my parents came around to see the baby, have breakfast and so on.”

  “Oh, yeah, how is the baby?”

  “Fine, but seriously, Megan, focus.”

  “Sorry.”

  “So, they turned up way earlier than I was expecting. Sunaina hadn’t slept well, I’d been up three times in the night to feed her or cuddle her, so I was knackered. Then my mother starts in on me, five minutes after she’s walked in, criticising every way I’m raising my child already. Anyway, I’m still not really sure how it happened, but at some point she said something like ‘I can’t believe my only daughter already has her first child’.”