Resurrected
They sat in a booth in a diner, the chosen spot to meet, waiting for him to come back from the dead.
When he walked in they all took in his slightly bedraggled appearance. He was still a good-looking man but there was something pathetic and browbeaten in his demeanour and his hair was way too long.
He slid into the booth, into their lives, and looked at them curiously.
‘So,’ said the principal. ‘How have you been?’
‘Ok,’ he answered. ‘Been surfing, the waves are awesome! You surf?’ he asked his son.
Had he always had such a pronounced Australian drawl, thought the principal?
‘Cut the small talk,’ said her son with a level stare. ‘I want to know why you slept with Aunt Sophie?’
‘Huh?’ said his dad. ‘Who told you that?’
‘I told them, Mike, how else was I going to explain why we lied?’
‘Well thanks a bunch,’ he said, crossing his arms in a childish sulk.
‘Well?’ pushed his son.
‘She wanted it, I gave it to her,’ he explained simply, shrugging his shoulders.
‘For how long?’ cut in the principal, unable to stop herself, ready to know.
‘What does it matter now? It’s all in the past,’ said Mike.
‘It matters to me!’ snapped the principal, her eyes stinging with some sort of emotion she couldn’t yet identify.
‘And me,’ said their daughter, almost too quietly to hear.
‘From the beginning, since you ask,’ said Mike. ‘It was while we were dating and she would always give me the come-on. You never noticed and we only got it together a couple of times but she would want more – pissed me off! I tried to tell her I wasn’t interested – like that day you caught us, such a pisser. It was her bloody fault, stalking me, literally, as soon as she knew you were away at your mum’s, calling, texting. And I get the fucking blame, me? Hey!’ he called to the waitress. ‘Can I get a drink over here? Coffee? The waffles are awesome,’ he said to the table in general to find three pairs of eyes staring incredulously at him. ‘What?’ he asked, ‘what did I do?’
‘Do you feel the least bit bad about what you did?’ asked the principal calmly.
‘What she did!’ he corrected. ‘I told you it wasn’t my fault. I tried to tell you at the time but you wouldn’t listen – just talked me into the stupid dead thing, can’t believe I went along with it. I’m not taking the rap for this, get her here to take the blame. Get Sophie.’ He crossed his arms again. ‘Anyway, it was ages ago and the main thing is we’re together now, right? You’re over whatever weird breakdown thing you had and we should like… get some waffles then check out the surf! Move on!’ He did a wave movement with his hand to emphasise his point.
They stared at him in stunned silence.
‘You kids are looking at me like that but you should give me a fucking break, start blaming your weirdo mother, not me, it was her idea!’ He glared at them all.
‘Ok, studying medicine, as I do,’ began their daughter, ‘I’m pretty sure that what Mum experienced back then was a psychotic break, triggered by a traumatic event – such as finding your husband in bed with your sister’. She glared back at him.
The waitress put a coffee down in front of Mike.
‘Can I get some waffles?’ the son asked.
‘Sure,’ said the waitress, pad at the ready. ‘Anyone want anything else?’
‘Emmmmm… I don’t know, maybe I should have the bacon and eggs, not waffles, Mum? What you gonna go for?’
‘I’m sticking with coffee just… choose,’ she said impatiently.
He went with the waffles and Mike ordered some too.
‘Incredible! That you could blame Mum,’ continued their daughter. ‘You left us, walked away! From your mistake, blaming Aunt Sophie – you’re pathetic. Like you couldn’t say no and now you’re saying that Mum was weird and Mum was mad, that she made you lie as if you had no choice in the matter? You’re a fucking dick!’
‘Hey!’ said Mike, standing up, but not entirely straight because of the angle of the booth and table. ‘Like I need this shit!’
‘It’s all my fault,’ said the principal, the cool she managed to keep for so many years crumbling around her, yet again. ‘I don’t deserve to be a mother. I’ve failed you so badly, I’ve let you down, I can’t stand it!’ Her son put a protective arm around her.
‘Don’t you dare blame yourself, Mum,’ said her daughter. ‘She did everything for us, Dad, sent us to the best schools, gave us a wonderful house to live in, bought us nice clothes. And now I know why she could never relax or look us in the eye, now – I – know. On top of everything else she had to carry that secret. So if you want to walk out now, as far as I’m concerned, you do it, because how dare you criticise, I won’t have it.’
‘I won’t either, Dad. You don’t get to say that shit, I’ll punch you right here, right now, so you’d better think really hard about what you say next.’
There were a few beats whilst Mike looked from one to the other.
‘I’m outnumbered,’ he said. ‘You’re all against me, blaming me, I never stood a chance.’ And with that he slid out of the booth. ‘I’m seriously outta here,’ he called, as he pushed the door open and left.
‘I’ll have his waffles,’ said Emily, as the waitress put them on the table.
‘Mum, they’re both tossers,’ said her son. ‘Wipe your eyes, have some breakfast.’
‘Yeah,’ agreed her daughter. ‘Sometimes people are… lost, and you just can’t fix it, whichever way you try – at least you tried, Mum.’
How did her children get so wise?
Emily squirted syrup on her waffles and licked her lips in anticipation. ‘I’m not saying it’s not sad,’ she continued, ‘just that these waffles look gooood!’ And she pulled a face at her mum that she used to pull as a tot.
‘I can’t believe you remember that stupid fish face,’ said her mum, laughing and trying not to cry again. ‘Do you really forgive me?’
‘Weeelllll… there is this car that’s pretty cool…’ teased her son.
‘And this hands-on really expensive doctor’s course…’ continued her daughter, picking up the thread.
And it was over.
Until time and retrospect twisted and changed their feelings about it, perhaps? But now it was ok and maybe it always would be.
The kiss
The show was demanding, six nights a week, which didn’t give Clea much time to get into mischief. However, she had managed to go on some dates with an attractive guy, who she had tried sleeping with.
In the heat of the moment he had put his hand on her forehead while he pumped, almost like a one-handed press-up, unaware that it was actually quite uncomfortable for her and she had lain there wondering whether you were meant this self-aware and physically squashed during sex?
Just to make sure, she’d tried it a few times but it was the same. He always ended up with his hand on her forehead and it just didn’t feel right, so she had ended it, but at least she had experienced a bit of romance, which was a start.
She had settled into her flat with Melissa and one other, Tyrone, and was loving the friendships, feeling more at home than she ever had in her life.
Flow felt conflicted about Clea and Kim because he knew in his gut that they should probably be together. So much in common, for a start: only children, violent backgrounds, estranged fathers – and when they were in the same room you could just tell there was something between them, though he’d tried his best to deny it.
Yes, he liked Clea. She had been the only ray of hope when things had been falling apart with Jackie and that talisman was hard to let go of, even now.
He had rescued her when she had split her lip, so he felt protective and very much that he had discovered her first, but clearly she was meant to be with Kim, if she was meant to be with either of them.
He was in touch with Clea regularly by text and he had
promised to go to her show, but the job had been taking all of his and Kim’s time. First moment he got, though, he had given her a call.
Bar East
‘I asked Clea out for a drink,’ Flow dropped casually into conversation.
‘Oh?’ said Kim, quizzically.
‘We’re going to pick her up at her place, eight o’clock,’ he said.
‘What do you mean, “we”?’ said Kim. ‘And are you talking about tonight?’
‘Yeah,’ said Flow, ‘she’s performing so much of the time, it was a spontaneous kind of a thing’.
‘That you spontaneously involved me in?’ finished Kim.
‘Yeah,’ said Flow, as they exchanged one of their looks. ‘I like one of the waitresses in Bar East and I thought we should all go there… she’s working tonight.’
‘So now you’re pairing me up with Clea? Is that it?’ said Kim, pissed off. ‘Because suddenly that’s ok with you?’
‘Yeah,’ said Flow, ‘is that a problem?’ Kim considered. He wanted to see Clea again.
‘I guess… not,’ he finished, surprised at himself.
They rang Clea’s bell. Kim recalled her flying out of the door like a nervous wild thing, slamming it shut behind her, all that time ago when she had been under Hugo’s thumb.
This time was very different.
‘Hi Kim,’ she said; no trace of any feeling, had she moved on? He felt a stab of heartache and touched his scar to ground himself. ‘So this is it,’ she said, showing them around her flat. ‘Melissa… Flow and Kim.’ They exchanged introductions. ‘And Tyrone, our other flatmate, isn’t here, he’s performing. And this is my room.’
‘Nice,’ said Flow, opening and closing a wardrobe as Kim checked out the bookshelf. The Book Thief. He’d read that, incredible. ‘Where’s the loo?’ asked Flow.
Kim continued to scour the books for something to do whilst they waited for Flow and his eye fell upon a piece of paper that had his writing on it.
Clea had been following his gaze and hers, too, rested on the beer bottle letter that she had stuck between the books.
‘It’s nothing,’ she said.
‘You climbed your mum’s house and got it, didn’t you?’ said Kim, not fooled for a second.
‘So what if I did?’ said Clea.
It calmed his anxiety to have the upper hand again and he tried to conceal a smile. ‘It’s not funny,’ said Clea, her emotions raw around him already.
‘Look… could we just have some sort of a truce?’ asked Kim. ‘If you and Flow are going to be friends then… we need to be friends… ok?’
The problem was that she wasn’t sure she could cope with friends when it came to Kim and, now he’d seen the letter she’d been sentimental enough to keep, it was her personal feelings all over the table again.
His presence always connected her to a damaged part of herself, inert behind a little door, until he inexplicably flicked it open with such ease. She should never have agreed to see him again, never.
‘Clea?’ he said, seeing her downcast expression.
‘We fit to go for that drink, then?’ said Flow.
‘Can you give us a second?’ said Kim.
Flow left the room and immediately Kim was somehow close, kissing her, making up for everything, and she was enveloped. Soft and delicious, he had to break away or he wouldn’t be able to stop.
‘Now can we go for that drink?’
She nodded, dumbly.
‘No food fights tonight, ok?’ said Flow, looking from Clea to Kim with a twinkle in his eye when they were settled with their round.
‘Very funny, ha ha,’ said Clea, blushing and sipping her drink.
‘There she is, that one? Did you see her? Did she look at me?’ said Flow.
Kim and Clea exchanged a glance and tried not to laugh.
‘I’m not sure, Flow,’ said Clea, ‘she may have. I’ll keep looking and let you know.’
The waitress at Bar East was completely different from Jackie – waiflike and a bit nervous. Clea noticed that she had a lovely, warm smile; she approved.
‘Ok, I’m going to go to the loo, just watch her and see if she looks at me, all right?’
‘All right,’ promised Clea and Kim, both following Flow’s long strides with their eyes as he walked leisurely to the gents’.
‘So,’ said Kim, ‘how have you been?’ They were avoiding eye contact.
‘Ok,’ said Clea, carefully. She wasn’t going to let her guard down tonight. Maybe just once she could spend an evening with Kim and not make a fool of herself, despite the shaky start and the incredible kiss, which seemed like a dream right now. ‘I’ve been dating… nothing serious but… at least I’ve been living a little, you know?’
Kim felt a jolt of uncertainty. Why had she told him that?
‘Right,’ he said, sipping his pint.
‘You?’
‘Been concentrating on work. No time for anything else.’
‘Yeah, well, I’ve been working hard, too, the show’s going great,’ she tailed off.
‘Well?’ said Flow expectantly on his return.
They had both forgotten to keep looking.
‘Go again,’ said Kim, ‘we forgot to look.’
‘Go again? She’ll think I’m fucking incontinent!’ He reached for his drink, ‘Useless,’ he muttered. ‘Told you she was cute, though, don’t you think she’s cute?’ he said, his eyes following her as she cleared the glasses.
Somehow his presence relaxed both of them and the evening started to feel more natural.
The conversation began to flow easily, their inhibitions left, and, before they knew it, closing time was upon them and Flow was in a great mood having got the waitress’s number.
‘Shall we check out that club everyone’s always on about?’ said Flow. It was only down the road under one of the railway arches and it wasn’t long before they were inside, pumping music all around.
‘My go for the bar,’ yelled Clea over the din. They had been so generous with drinks, she was determined to get a round: lemony shooters.
‘One – two – three!’ – Drink – SLAM!
And they hit the dance floor.
Whatever good energy there was in the world, an ample spattering was with them tonight in that dank London tunnel. Everything just seemed to fit into place, to be relaxed, complete, no room for anything dark or sad as the music pulsed through them.
Their mood was infectious, people danced with them, they danced on the stage, they slammed more cocktails, they had a ball.
Eventually they staggered out, happy and laughing.
‘We have to take her to the Glass Block, Kim,’ said Flow.
‘It’s miles away – you’re mad!’
‘The kebab’s not so good around here an’ I don’t know what it is… I kinda need a Fulham fix.’
They helped Clea up the lift shaft and onto the top of the Glass Block – they could see for miles around.
‘This is our place,’ said Flow, surveying the view. ‘An’ we have this thing, Kim and I, we trust each other… so you need to get that. You get it, I know you get it. You get it? Don’t you?’ he slurred.
‘I don’t know if I get it,’ said Clea, dancing with him to some invisible song. ‘Do you get it, Kim?’ she called over his shoulder. ‘Flow needs to know if I get it!’
They sat with the breeze blowing in their faces; the sun was about to come up.
‘I’m going to kip at my mum and dad’s,’ said Flow, suddenly, and said his goodbyes.
Alone, they watched the sunrise together.
‘So,’ said Kim eventually.
‘So,’ said Clea, looking at him with a little smile. And this time, they didn’t need to stop kissing.
The end
Epilogue
Clea’s mum
It was a shame the doctor had allotted only five minutes to Clea’s mother each time she had visited his surgery. Maybe if he’d checked a bit more carefully he would have accurately diagnosed
bipolar disorder.
Fortunately, his time as a GP was coming to an end as retirement fast approached and the next doctor – younger, more up-to-date with mental illnesses and keen to make a positive difference to as many people as she could, would soon work it out.
With the right treatment, Clea’s mum was going to be a very different person.
The principal comes home
After Australia there had been a new atmosphere in the principal’s house; the demons had scarpered.
She had returned to work, getting on her usual train, a peace in her heart that she hadn’t felt for years.
She had pretended to read her paper but really she had been surreptitiously scanning the faces of everyone in the carriage, hoping and praying that she hadn’t missed her chance, that the man who had always smiled at her would be there.
And suddenly, he had been, catching her eye, only this time she had lowered her newspaper and smiled back.
The Solicitor was looking forward to meeting Clea and her new boyfriend. He was so proud of her progress since she had walked into his office the day he had presented her with the despicable letter from her father.
She had kept in touch but never overwhelmingly so, and he was extremely fond of her, pleased that she felt able to share her personal news with him.
He had invited the young couple over for a drink at his house and he had a small surprise of his own.
Since the heart-breaking death of his wife many years ago, romance, for him, had been firmly struck off; he had never even removed his wedding ring, so sure was he – yet somehow?
Yes, they both had something to celebrate tonight and he knew how pleased for him Clea would be.
‘Darling, the young couple I told you about are here,’ he called, ushering them excitedly into the sitting room, ‘would you mind grabbing the champagne?’
Clea introduced him to Kim and he immediately took to the boy. Presently, his new love came into the room, holding the chilled bottle, ready to pour into the four glasses standing proudly on the coffee table.
The Frog Theory Page 12