Indecision

by Caragh Bell

  ‘What are you doing here?’ gasped Lydia, suddenly feeling very exposed in her flimsy robe.

  ‘I just used the restroom.’

  ‘No, I mean, why are you in our flat?’

  ‘Craig invited me along for dinner.’

  Oh, he did, did he? thought Lydia angrily. Whose flat was it anyway?

  ‘Sam knew,’ continued Luca, sensing her anger. ‘I thought they’d tell you.’

  ‘No, they didn’t.’

  Exactly on cue, Samantha appeared. ‘Hi, Luca! Oh Lyd, he’s joining us, is that okay?’

  Lydia nodded curtly and ran into the bathroom. Minutes later she was standing under the stream of piping hot water, trying not to think about their guest. She had planned on putting on her pyjamas and chilling out with the lovebirds. Dammit, she would still do that. She didn’t care what he thought.

  Luca stared unseeingly at the TV. He could just imagine Lydia in the bathroom, naked, the water coursing down her body. Her hair would cling to her back. She had been so embarrassed in her little bathrobe thing. Knowing that she was naked underneath it nearly drove him wild. He drained his beer. She was taking forever.

  Keeping his eyes on the TV, he at last saw the door open in his peripheral vision. He saw her emerge, pink-faced, followed by a huge cloud of steam. She darted to her room and banged the door.

  ‘Lydia! Dinner!’ called Samantha.

  ‘Coming!’ was the muffled reply.

  He got to his feet and walked into the kitchen area. Craig was busy setting the table.

  ‘Forks on the left, Craig!’ Samantha shook her head in exasperation.

  Craig waggled a fork at her back. ‘Blah blah,’ he mouthed, making a face, and Luca grinned.

  ‘So what are we eating?’ he asked conversationally.

  ‘Fajitas,’ said Craig.

  ‘Enchiladas, actually.’ Samantha plonked a baking tray on the table. ‘They look a bit burned, I’m afraid.’ She bit her lip. ‘Why does this always happen? I mean, if it were Lydia I’d understand but –’

  Lydia arrived at that very moment, wearing her fleecy pink pyjamas and her fluffy socks. ‘If it were Lydia what?’

  ‘Oh nothing.’ Samantha took a seat. ‘Help yourselves to salsa and guacamole.’

  Craig leaned over and kissed her tenderly on the lips. ‘It looks lovely, Sammy. Thank you.’

  Luca spooned some salsa onto his plate. ‘Nice threads, Lyd,’ he said, putting his head to one side.

  ‘I know. They’re so comfortable.’ She sat down.

  Samantha laughed. ‘You look gorgeous, Lyd.’

  Luca piled guacamole onto his plate. What she wore didn’t matter to him. He was more interested in seeing her without clothes.

  ‘Can you pass the salsa?’ Samantha motioned towards the bowl on Luca’s right.

  ‘Sure.’

  They ate in silence for a while, all four of them ravenous.

  ‘Beer?’ asked Craig, opening a bottle and proffering it to Luca.

  ‘Sure man, thanks.’

  ‘Wine?’ said Samantha.

  Lydia nodded.

  A Christmas CD played in the background.

  Craig groaned. ‘This music is driving me simple.’

  Samantha winked. ‘It’s just for the festive season, hon, you’ll survive.’

  After dinner they all retired to the living room. Craig and Samantha curled up together, leaving room for Luca to sit to their left. Lydia positioned herself on the armchair, her legs folded beneath her elegantly.

  ‘Nice tree,’ observed Luca, taking in the festive decor.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Lydia proudly. ‘It took us ages.’

  ‘I love Christmas,’ sighed Samantha. ‘The mince pies, the crap TV and the hangovers.’

  ‘Me, too,’ agreed Lydia, hugging herself. ‘I can’t wait for my mum’s turkey.’

  ‘Mom never cooks,’ announced Luca. ‘Mimi always invites us to her place.’

  ‘Who’s Mimi?’ asked Samantha.

  ‘My grandmother.’

  ‘Does she cook turkey with all the trimmings?’ Lydia took a sip of her wine.

  ‘Not really. She’d do duck or goose, stuff like that. Then this chocolate log, known as the bûche. Man, that’s pretty nice.’

  ‘It all sounds very French,’ said Lydia. ‘Do you have a big French extended family?’

  ‘Sure. Not in the US though. They live in Paris.’

  Samantha switched TV channels. ‘Sounds very chic.’

  ‘Not really.’ Luca took a swig of beer. ‘French people can be kind of uptight, you know?’

  Craig jumped to his feet. ‘More beer, Luca?’

  Luca shook his head. ‘No, man, I’ve got to split. Thanks for the food, guys.’

  Lydia bit her lip. Why was he leaving? Where was he going? Probably to meet some girl.

  So what? said a voice inside her head.

  Still, she couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling as he waved goodbye and the door slammed.

  ‘He’s really cool,’ observed Samantha.

  ‘Luca? Yeah, he’s a legend.’ Craig grabbed the remote. ‘Now please can we watch Whale Wars?’

  Lydia and Samantha stared at each other in horror.

  Chapter 21

  Tara Jacob arrived into Shannon airport on a cold, sunny morning. Slinging her Louis Vuitton bag over her shoulder, she walked towards the terminal building. The cold air was invigorating and gave a healthy glow to her naturally pale cheeks. The customs official smiled as he checked her passport. She cut a striking figure as she walked towards Baggage Reclaim. Activating her iPhone, she texted Luca while she waited for her suitcase.

  The conveyor belt went round and round. No sign of her bag. No reply from her son either. Running her hand through her hair in exasperation, she noticed two men in suits staring at her.

  Tara was used to male attention everywhere she went. It drove her husband crazy but what could she do?

  Finally, her bag popped out onto the belt.

  ‘Let me help you with that,’ said one of the suits, jumping in front of her outstretched hand to grab her bag. ‘You in Ireland for long?’

  She couldn’t place his accent. Chicago maybe?

  ‘Thanks,’ said Tara, looking at him from under her lashes. ‘But I got it from here.’ She relieved him of her bag. Activating the pulley handle, she walked towards the Arrivals gate without looking back.

  Luca was nowhere to be seen in the crowd that had gathered by the gate.

  Tara bit her lip in frustration. He had inherited his tardiness from her, that she could not deny, but it was irritating nonetheless. Activating her phone, she dialled his number.

  No answer.

  Drat.

  Might as well get a coffee, she thought. Glancing behind her, she saw the suits approaching.

  Luca! she thought. Where the hell are you?

  Her eyes scanned the crowd and suddenly focused on a blond head pushing through.

  Her only son burst out of a group of teenagers, to sweep her up in his arms.

  ‘Mom!’ he yelled, twirling her around. ‘God, I’ve missed you!’

  Tara breathed in his familiar smell and for a second flashed back to his first day of school. He had burst out of a crowd of kids, his knees grubby, and catapulted himself into her arms. She remembered holding him tightly, like she never wanted to let him go. Her baby…

  ‘Mom, you look awesome.’

  Luca grabbed her bag and, linking arms, they walked towards the door.

  ‘Thanks, honey. You too. How are we travelling?’

  ‘Craig is outside in his car waiting.’

  They walked out into the sunshine.

  ‘Are you making all your lectures?’

  ‘Sure, sure I am.’

  Tara didn’t look convinced. ‘Luca, you know you must study hard and do well. It’s expected.’

  ‘Chill, Mom. I’ll be fine.’

  They arrived at Craig’s car.

  ‘Et voila, our ride.’

&nbs
p; Craig hopped out of the car as soon as he saw them.

  ‘Tara! It’s been years!’

  ‘It sure has!’ said Tara, laughing as they hugged.

  She pulled back from him, holding him at arm’s length.

  ‘Let me take a look at you!’ she said. ‘So like your father. How old were you when I last saw you – when I came for that exhibition?’

  ‘About thirteen.’

  ‘Well, you’ve certainly changed!’

  ‘And you haven’t changed at all.’

  ‘You’re so gallant.’

  He laughed as he said, ‘Let me take your bag.’

  ‘I got it,’ said Luca, throwing it into the boot.

  Soon they were heading down the hill to the city, Tara in the passenger seat, Luca in the back surrounded by football boots, empty Lucozade Sport bottles and law books.

  ‘How’s your study going, Craig?’ Tara asked.

  Craig shrugged. ‘It’s okay – I can’t wait to be finished, to be honest.’

  ‘Not long now.’

  ‘How’s Mimi?’ Luca changed the subject. ‘I miss her.’

  ‘She’s great. She misses you too.’

  Soon they were pulling up to the house.

  Tara gazed out of the car window.

  ‘Am I staying here?’ she asked, her eyes wide.

  Luca grinned. ‘It’s lovely inside, I promise.’

  Craig laughed. ‘If I were you, I’d book into Jury’s.’

  Minutes later, they were standing in the sitting room. Tara laughed. ‘This reminds me of the place I was living in when I met your father.’

  ‘No wonder you married him,’ said Luca drily.

  ‘So, will I sleep on the couch?’ she asked.

  ‘No way, Mom. I tidied my room in your honour. You’ve got the penthouse.’

  ‘That sounds promising.’

  Luca grinned.

  ‘Tea?’ Craig switched on the kettle.

  She nodded.

  ‘So, what’s the plan?’ She flopped down on the couch. ‘I only have four days – let’s make the most of it.’

  ‘I want you to meet my friends,’ Luca said. ‘And there’s an art exhibition in the Crawford Gallery that you might like.’

  Tara smiled. ‘That sounds great. And I need to go to Macroom some afternoon and catch up with my cousins.’

  ‘Want me to come with you?’ asked Luca, rubbing her shoulder. He knew Tara found going home hard. ‘I’ve been intending to go there to meet them but haven’t had time yet. We can get Craig to drive us, hopefully.’

  ‘Good idea’, said Craig.

  Tara had been orphaned at eight years old when a truck had driven into her parents’ car and they were killed instantly. An only child, her spinster Aunt Betty had taken her in. Deeply religious and strict, she did not know how to deal with a young girl. Tara had had a frugal childhood, filled with penance and prayer. Betty ran a tight ship and even though she fed and housed Tara, she didn’t know how to love her. Consequently, Tara misbehaved at school, trying to gain the attention she so desperately craved. She answered back, skipped classes, gave Sr. Benedicta the finger and got caught smoking behind the bicycle shed. Betty, horrified and appalled, punished her severely. Leaving for America at seventeen was the best move Tara ever made.

  Years later, when Luca was three, Aunt Betty died. Tara flew home for the funeral. She watched the coffin being lowered into the ground with mixed emotions. She couldn’t deny that Betty was good to take in her brother’s only child. Especially after the tragic accident that had claimed her parents. Still, that was no excuse for being such a total bitch. Throwing a rose into the grave, she grasped Luca’s little hand and walked away. Betty was the last of her father’s family – her mother’s twin nephews, one of whom was Craig’s father, were the only relatives left.

  ‘Cork is so cute, Mom. You never told me.’

  Tara smiled. ‘To be honest, I don’t remember much about the city, honey. We seldom came here and, as you know, I left Ireland when I was seventeen.’

  ‘Let me take you for a walk tomorrow. I want to show you the market and the college and everything.’

  She smiled at her son. He was like an excited child. Coming over to visit was definitely the right move.

  ‘Sure, pet, we can do that. Craig, no milk in my tea, please.’

  ‘Righty-oh.’

  Luca got to his feet. ‘Back in a sec. I’ve got to make a call.’

  ‘Lyd?’

  ‘Hi, Luca, what’s up?’

  ‘My mom is here!’

  ‘That’s great.’

  ‘I was thinking of taking her down town tomorrow. Will you come with us?’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Yeah, you. It’ll be fun.’

  ‘Um, I have an assignment to do.’

  ‘Please, Lyd, it’s just for a couple of hours.’

  ‘Okay, okay, I’ll come. What time?’

  ‘Say half ten? We could grab some pancakes in the Liberty Grill. My treat.’

  ‘Cool. See you there.’

  The next morning, Lydia checked her appearance for the twentieth time. There was no doubt that Tara Jacob would be glamorous. She definitely wanted to make an impression – she wanted to look elegant and stylish.

  Straightening her short red woollen dress, she added a final touch of gloss to her lips. Her long hair fell in a smooth sheet down her back. Her long legs were accentuated with black tights and black boots. She circled her eyes with black kohl and wrapped a green scarf around her neck.

  The wind blew as she walked into the city. Pulling her jacket tightly around her, she quickened her pace. Of all the things that annoyed her about the world, feeling cold topped the list. She loathed having icy hands and feet. Dominic would always tease her when they were in bed about her inability to warm up. She couldn’t help it. It was probably bad circulation or something.

  The Liberty Grill, situated on Washington Street, was a popular diner in the city. Always busy, it was commonplace to have to wait for a table. Lydia pushed open the door and to her delight noticed a table of four getting ready to leave. A waiter swept up to her.

  ‘How many?’

  Lydia unwrapped her scarf. ‘Three, please.’

  ‘Follow me.’

  The table was cleared and cleaned in record time. Lydia sat down and surveyed the occupants of the restaurant. Men in suits (probably lawyers as they were so close to the courthouse), ladies who looked like they lunched or brunched every day and students with their files and multi-coloured clothes.

  The door pinged and a sharp wind blew in. Turning around, Lydia was confronted with the sight of one of the most stunning women she had ever seen. Her long red hair fell in waves around her face. Her slender frame was dressed stylishly in a cream woollen jumper and brown suede pants. Her blue eyes, Luca’s eyes, were warm and friendly.

  Luca beamed when he saw Lydia.

  ‘Lyd!’

  She got to her feet. ‘Hello,’ she said shyly to Tara.

  The older woman shook her hand warmly.

  ‘My son has told me a lot about you,’ she said, sitting down. ‘It’s really nice to meet you.’

  Lydia opened her mouth and shut it again. What had Luca been saying to his mother?

  She decided not to dwell on it. She had accepted his invitation; she had to go with it.

  ‘When was the last time you were in Ireland?’ she asked conversationally as she and Luca sat down.

  ‘It was 2002 – I was in Dublin for an exhibition around then – and I came down south for a few days – to Macroom, where my family are.’

  Luca grabbed a menu. ‘Let’s order, I’m starving.’

  Lydia laughed. ‘You’re always starving.’

  Luca punched her playfully in the arm. ‘Shaddup.’

  The waiter arrived on cue.

  ‘I’ll take the pancakes and bacon and a coffee.’ Luca snapped his menu shut.

  ‘Same for me,’ said Lydia.

  Luca laughed. ‘I love a
girl who eats.’

  Lydia made a face. ‘I like my food, what can I say?’

  ‘No, I mean it. I love it. I’m used to girls who pick at their food and hide stuff under their lettuce.’

  Lydia looked horrified. ‘I don’t get that at all.’

  Tara watched their exchange in silence.

  The waiter cleared his throat.

  ‘Oh, I’ll take a coffee and a Danish.’ Tara smiled her megawatt smile.

  The waiter blushed and scribbled down the order.

  Lydia turned to the older woman. ‘So, Luca says you’re a painter.’

  ‘Yeah, I also sculpt. It’s a great career if it happens for you. I’ve been very fortunate.’

  The waiter arrived with three coffees and a moreish-looking pastry.

  ‘I’d love to see your work,’ said Lydia. ‘I can’t draw to save my life but I appreciate art.’

  Tara smiled. ‘Sure. I have a website. I’ll get Luca to show you.’

  Lydia looked over at Luca who was adding milk to his coffee. ‘He’s talented too. I’ve seen his drawings.’

  Tara nodded. ‘He has an eye but I don’t think his heart is in it. Luca likes to mess around ... with everything.’

  Her son gave her a look. Tara reached out and ruffled his hair then turned back to Lydia. ‘So, what are your passions?’

  Lydia shrugged. ‘Writing. French. Poetry.’

  ‘Wow.’

  ‘Yeah, but where will I end up? It’s not like medicine or teaching. I don’t know what career to follow.’

  ‘You like to write? So write.’

  ‘Is it that simple?’ Lydia took a sip of her coffee. ‘Dad wants stability. He wants me to find a dependable job that pays the bills.’

  ‘I get that. He wants to protect you. But you must follow your dreams.’

  ‘I suppose.’

  Luca put his hand on each of their arms. ‘It’s so great being here with my two favourite ladies.’

  Lydia blushed. ‘Luca,’ she said warningly.

  Luca laughed. ‘I love when she gets angry, Mom. She’s always mad when I flirt with her.’

  ‘Luca! Stop.’

  Tara looked confused.

  ‘I have a long-term boyfriend,’ Lydia explained. ‘As you said, Luca likes to mess around.’