by Nancy Barone
He pulled at my shorts, licking my skin once it had been exposed to the cool summer night. My body responded as he resurfaced, whispering really naughty stuff into my ears, and before I could help myself, I lay naked under him and groaned, ‘Oh, Connor, love me…’
And then, he suddenly stopped as if I’d hit him over the head. What was happening? Why was his lovely body not on top of mine anymore?
I sat up, more dazed than confused. ‘Connor…?’ I whispered, but he moved aside, pulling his jeans back on.
‘I’m sorry, I can’t.’
What? Weeks of dreaming this very moment, of dreading doing the wrong thing and talking myself in and out of it over and over, and now, he couldn’t do it? What had I done wrong? I tried to retrace my steps, but all I got were flashes of hands on naked flesh, and shallow breathing teamed with whispered naughtiness.
He gently pulled me up, bundling my naked body into the throw I’d had wrapped around my shoulders. But I wasn’t about to let him dump me like a sack of potatoes.
‘Let me down,’ I said.
He hung his head and let me slide down his body, which was still aroused. So what the hell had happened between us? If he still wanted me, why didn’t he want me?
‘Let me help you to your room at least.’
Help me to my room? Was this a joke?
‘I can walk, thank you,’ I snapped as I reached down to retrieve my clothes, conscious of my naked butt. Just what had I done wrong? And then it hit me. I had said Love me, Connor. I hadn’t meant it that way. I mean, I had, of course, but only physically. I hadn’t asked him for anything else. Better make it clear to him. But how? I couldn’t just say: I only wanted the sex, which you didn’t want to give. As much as I’d wanted him, and still did, I didn’t want to seem that needy.
As I flung my arms into my shirt, he took a step closer, caressing my cheek with his index. ‘Forgive me,’ he whispered. ‘But it’s better this way.’
Better for who, the woman you came here for but actually never talk about? I wanted to snap, but instead I shoved my feet into my shoes with an embarrassed ‘Goodnight’ before I fought my way back inside and up the stairs, struggling to keep my breath even as tears streamed down my face. My dream of having found a man like Connor had ended once and for all.
*
The next morning, I woke up as the dawn birds were singing. When I caught sight of myself in the dresser mirror, wild-haired and puffy-faced, I wanted to die.
The house was silent, and by the time I’d showered and dressed, I was certain that Connor was holed up in his room due to the embarrassment of last night. But when I checked the drive for his Jeep, it was gone.
14
Because You Thought You’d Figured Him Out
In the cold light of day, I realised that if he was still with the other woman, then I had been about to be the other woman, and stopping himself had been the right thing to do. Perhaps not many men would have had the decency to stop. If only Neil had behaved similarly with his little bit on the side. But none of this had any bearing anymore, as I now knew what my place was, i.e. Connor’s landlady for another few months. I wondered how I was going to be able to look him in the face for the duration of the rest of the lease. Or if he’d have the decency to find somewhere else to live. Which would mean that I wouldn’t see him anymore, not even as a friend, or a friend to the twins.
At that idea, I pushed down a stab of panic with a surge of dignity instead and forced myself to think of something else – anything else – and made a mental list of my chores for the day. Only my duties towards the girls and my mother would get me out of bed.
So I peeled myself off the mattress, washed my face, brushed my teeth and hair, all the while avoiding looking at myself in the mirror, lest my reflection said to me: I know what you did. And then I dragged myself downstairs and to Mum’s bedroom.
‘Good morning, Mum. Did you sleep all right?’ I asked as I opened all the windows wide, catching sight of the garden where I’d made a fool of myself.
But today her mood was no better than mine.
‘Ready for your ablutions?’ I asked, trying to inject as much cheer as possible into my voice. ‘I’ve got your favourite flowery dress ready, and after breakfast we can take a walk around the grounds. Your leg has healed nicely now and you’re doing very well. What do you say?’
I needed this. I needed Mum to cooperate today of all days in order for me to stay absolutely and totally upbeat to avoid falling apart completely. At least for today. Tomorrow, we’d see.
Mum sat up and stared at me as if I’d fallen straight into her bedroom via the roof.
‘Who the hell are you?’ she demanded.
I looked at her in dismay. Please, Mum. Not today. Please recognise me. I need your support and the kind words that you have managed to unearth after so many years. I need you to be the mother that you never have been. I need you more than ever now.
I sat down on the bed next to her and took her frail hand. ‘I’m your daughter Natalia, Mum.’ Do you not remember me? Please try to remember.
‘Natalia?’ she whispered, searching the depths of her cavernous mind.
I nodded. ‘Yes, Mum, remember me?’ I bit my lip as I’d read to never use that phrase.
‘Of course I remember you. You’re my little baby.’
I smiled. Better than nothing. At least she was kind again now.
‘You are my pride and joy,’ she added, and I realised she thought I was Yolanda again.
She tapped her finger in my direction and smiled. ‘Ever since the day we brought Yolanda back from the hospital and you took her into your arms so tenderly, I knew that you had a heart of gold. You have always been special, Natalia.’
I stared at her. And swallowed. She remembered me after all.
‘And where’s Giovanni?’
I sat back. ‘Giovanni?’
‘My son,’ she said, disappointed that I wouldn’t remember.
I shook my head. ‘Mum, there is no Giovanni. You don’t have a son. You have two daughters, Natalia, the eldest, and Yolanda.’
‘Yolanda…’ she said, searching again.
‘That’s right, Mum. Natalia and Yolanda.’
‘For Christ’s sake, stop calling me Mum,’ she said. ‘I don’t even know you.’
*
‘I’m afraid she won’t be getting any better, Natalia,’ Dr Simpson informed me when I finally managed to get him on the phone. I swiped away my silent tears. I knew I was being a big baby, but I still needed my mother, however cold she had been with me.
‘She is creating false memories to fill in the gaps that she can’t account for,’ he explained.
‘It’s so strange,’ I said. ‘She can remember stuff from the distant past. She can even still play the piano.’
‘That’s because she learned it when she was a girl. That part of her brain hasn’t shrunk yet.’
‘Shrunk?’
‘Sorry, it’s terminology my colleagues and I use when discussing patients.’
‘I understand,’ I said.
‘Nat! Nat!’ my mother called.
‘I have to go now, Dr Simpson, she’s calling me again,’ I said.
‘Be strong, Natalia. And be patient, above all.’
‘Thank you. I will,’ I promised, and hung up to go to her room, but before I got there, I found her in the hall, frozen, clutching at the walls, as if afraid to move. She should not have got up without my assistance, she knew that, but had forgotten once again.
‘What is it, Mum? Did you hurt your ankle?’ I asked, gently taking her by the elbow.
‘Where’s the bathroom?’ she said.
‘Here, let me take you,’ I offered, but she shook me off. ‘I don’t need your help.’
‘But you’ll fall,’ I insisted. I knew I had to humour her in everything, but I couldn’t let her fall and break her other ankle as well, could I?
Eventually we got to the bathroom and back to her room, where, exhausted, she
collapsed into bed and fell asleep immediately.
I turned off her bedside lamp and sat on the edge of the bed for a while, just to make sure she was all right. Of course it would be much easier if I hadn’t had to bring my poor mum here rather than let her stay in the comfort and familiarity of her own home.
*
The next morning I quickly dropped the girls off at school, leaving Mum, technically, on her own to watch her morning show, as I was effectively avoiding asking Connor for anything. In fact, I hadn’t actually seen him for two nights and a day now.
‘Mum,’ I said. ‘Would you like to come and sit in the garden? It’s a lovely morning.’
But she simply stared at me, and before I could do or say anything, she reached out and clawed at my face, poking my eye and scratching my cheek, and suddenly, I’m ashamed to say, everything came to the fore: Connor refusing me, Octavia’s impossible demands, Yolanda’s complete washing her hands of her own children, Mum’s estrangement from reality and even Neil’s obvious disdain of my life choices.
‘Mum, you’re driving me nuts!’ I hollered in exasperation and she simply stared at me as if I was the one who’d lost her marbles. I wiped the blood away from my face and reached for a tissue. The scratch was deep and hurt like hell, but I just dabbed at it as I realised that I had committed the unforgivable sin.
I had lost it. She didn’t know she was ill. She couldn’t connect the dots between her bouts of incoherence. To her, she was just fine. I was the one not making any sense to her in her poor, poor mind. This fragile old woman was just a shadow of her strong self – a faded, incomplete memory. A husk. And I had shouted at her. It wasn’t her fault.
Everything else in the past had been. She’d been a terrible mother to me. She had been completely indifferent while I, a small child, had needed her love and attention. And I’d suffered in silence for years, watching while she doted on Yolanda.
But now that our mother needed care and attention herself, Yolanda was nowhere to be found, whereas I was. And I resented it. I also resented myself for this, feeling the lowest of the low.
I immediately sank to my knees before her chair.
‘Oh, Mum! I’m so sorry!’
But she just looked at me, and not vacantly like before, but exactly like when I was growing up and she’d caught me doing something very naughty. I wasn’t expecting that, not anymore, and it had come as a shock, an unexpected window on the way she had been until only a few weeks ago. But that woman, no matter the look on her face now, was gone forever.
‘Please forgive me, Mum…’
I remained on the floor, my head in her lap, clutching her hands, and bawled my eyes out. I cried for the mother that she’d been, for the one I’d instead wanted, and the one I’d never had. I cried also because I was resentful that it had to be me and only me dealing with this. Yolanda always emerged from the dung heaps smelling like a rose, nothing ever touching her. I resented the turn our lives had taken, and how I was having to put all her needs before mine and my own family’s when she had never done the same for me. And because Yolanda was very similar to Mum, I cried for the twins, and their future. I also cried for Sarah’s broken heart, and my own.
‘Hey…’ came Connor’s kind voice at my side, his warm hand on my shoulder as he gently pulled me up.
When he saw my blood, he started. ‘What the f— Did Neil do this to you?’ he demanded fiercely but at the same time gently putting a finger under my chin so I had to look at him while wiping the rest of the blood off my face with my tissue. ‘Where is he? Did he just leave…? I’m going to fucking kill him—’
I took his hands. ‘No, please, it wasn’t him. It was my mum. She took a sudden swipe at me and I didn’t see it coming.’
My mother looked back and forth between us and shrugged as if to say, I don’t know what the hell she’s talking about.
His eyes widened and he turned to look at her in surprise. ‘We’ve got so much to learn about this,’ he said, caressing my face. ‘But it’ll be okay, Nat. I promise you.’
It would have been nice to let him put his arms around me, but I couldn’t afford that anymore. Not after he’d so harshly pushed me away. It turned out he wasn’t Mr Right after all. He was the last person I needed to see right now – the personification of my shortcomings and thwarted desires.
‘Go away,’ I sniffed, swiping my cheeks. ‘I’m fine.’
‘No, you’re not, and I know part of it is my fault.’
At that, I shrugged. What could I say about that? Yes, you broke my heart because I’m madly in love with you, even if you’re a huge, selfish jerk?
‘Cry if you need to, Nat. But know that it’ll be okay.’
I blew my nose and checked my face in the mirror to make sure my eye was still there, all the while refusing to look at him. ‘How do you figure that? Everything is falling apart.’
‘No, it only seems that way right now because you are exhausted,’ he said, taking my hand. ‘Come on, let’s get that pretty face of yours cleaned up before the girls see you. Besides, it’s just a moment. In a half hour you’ll be stronger than before. Women are like that.’
‘Did your ex-wife tell you that? Or your new girlfriend?’ I asked as he poured some disinfectant on a cotton ball and gently dabbed at my face, blowing on it to relieve the sting like you do to little children.
‘Okay. For the record, I don’t have a girlfriend.’
‘What? Promise?’ Crap, I shouldn’t have said that.
He grinned, and after hours without seeing him, it was like the sun had finally come out. ‘Promise. There you go, honey. Good as new.’
Honey. He’d called me honey. No one had called me that in a long time. Shame that it was just a word.
*
The halcyon days of the summer were rapidly fading for me personally and privately, leaving nothing but a bitter aftertaste in my mouth. The memories of golden sunlight and happy picnics and late-night whispered chats were good and gone, along with my slowly blossoming happiness that had frozen like a flower caught in the frost.
Neil had been right about one thing – Connor did end up hurting me, even if it was all my fault for being such a naïve dolt who had jumped at the first sign of affection. I was an idiot. A needy, weak idiot who had way too much confidence in everyone, including myself.
Perhaps I’d been too happy, too soon, about my divorce. Perhaps, rather than jumping straight to the happiness and raring to get on with the rest of my life, I should have hung back and grieved a little, like most people do.
But divorcing Neil had actually energised me, making me realise how much love, affection, respect – and good old sex – I’d missed out on, because I had only really had Neil in my life, all my life. So after him, I had not wanted to miss out on a thing, and Connor had seemed to me like the refreshing gift from above that I’d deserved after twenty years of misery.
But it had all been a mistake. So I continued to dedicate myself body and soul to the twins, my mother and my column. At the end of each quasi-silent meal, I no longer lingered at the table for a chat with Connor. And when the girls were out, the entire house took on a subdued atmosphere, instead of the joyous, boisterous one it normally had.
All I wanted to do was hide under the duvet all day – actually, make that all week – until I found the courage to look him in the eye again.
All this time I’d basked in the warmth of his kindness and the complicity we’d built together, day after day. I had always had doubts about that other woman, but our growing attachment had made me think that he actually had deeper feelings for me, and that I actually had had a chance at love. That night had been a lesson for me.
*
The next day, I went for a quick grocery run, leaving my mother with Sarah who was working from home that day. But when I got back and arrived at the end of Abbot’s Lane, I found a squad car parked out front. I still don’t know how I even managed to walk the distance from my car to the kerb as my legs turned to rub
ber, my mind rushing to catch up with events. Was it Amy? Zoe? Did they get knocked down in the street? Did Sarah collapse? Did Mum have a stroke?
They were all in the living room: the agents, Connor, Sarah… and my mother, pale and shaken with a robe wrapped around her. Beneath that, she was only wearing a slip. I dropped my bags.
‘Mum – what happened?’
She looked at me, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Connor was holding her hand. ‘I tried calling you, but you’d left your mobile at home.’
‘We found her wandering the streets,’ one of the agents said.
Wandering the streets?
‘I wanted to go home!’ she bawled. ‘But I got lost. Why did I get lost, Nat? Why can’t I remember my way home anymore?’
I knelt before her. ‘It’s okay, Mum. They’ve changed the streets a little bit. Everyone is getting lost now, you know? It’s not just you.’
She looked up at me, hope opening her face. ‘Really?’
‘Of course,’ I said. ‘Yesterday I had to ask someone the way. Everything is so different now. But we’ll get used to it, Mum. I promise you,’ I lied, biting my lip, fighting to keep the tears behind my eyes.
‘It’s all my fault!’ Sarah cried, slapping her hands to her cheeks. ‘You told me to be careful, but I only left her in the garden for just one moment. Just one moment, and when I came back, I found her dress on the grass, and her walking stick was gone!’
‘It’s not your fault, Sarah,’ Connor said. ‘If anything, it’s mine. I must have forgotten to look the back gate.’
At that moment, Neil arrived through the open door. ‘Sarah? I got your message – what in God’s name?’
He practically threw himself at my mother’s feet, checking her for fractures. ‘Mum? Are you all right?’
‘Who the hell are you?’ she demanded, kicking him in the thigh. He winced, and opened his medical bag and began checking her blood pressure.
‘It’s okay, Mum,’ I said, stroking her arm. ‘This is Neil, a friend of ours. And he’s also your doctor.’