Heart of Us

by Emma Browne

  I sighed as my heart ached for him. He had failed himself, Mum, and me in loads of ways, but it hurt to hear him talk of himself as a failure.

  ‘I will always wish I had been there for you and Lisa when she was sick.’ He shook his head. ‘At the time, though, I couldn’t. Being sober then was torture. And though I’ve had some sober periods since then, it’s been a long time since I’ve been properly sober.’

  I reached out and touched his arm. ‘I’ve been thinking about that. Can we talk about what happened?’

  ‘Aye.’ He went to run his hand through his hair but remembered about the stitches and stopped himself with a sigh.

  ‘You know I love you, Dad, eh?’ I waited and gave him a gentle smile when his eyes met mine.

  ‘I know, Mir-maid,’ he said gruffly. ‘And I love you, too.’

  I sharpened my eyes, and struggled to keep my voice in a nice tone as I said, ‘How on earth did you end up in a knife fight?’

  He snorted and looked away. ‘Ah, Mir, you know what it’s like… violence comes closer once there’s alcohol involved.’

  ‘So, you’re saying you sat around drinking, and all of a sudden someone takes out a knife?’

  ‘No, not exactly.’ He gave a dry chuckle. ‘Matty was there, and he’s been being harassed by this guy, Raz.’

  ‘Raz is the scary guy with the tattoos and the glass eye, right?’ Some of Dad’s friends had been around for a long time.

  ‘Uh-huh.’ A twinkle came into his eye. ‘I wouldn’t call him scary, exactly.’

  ‘What would you call him, then?’

  He sniggered to himself. ‘I think I might have called him a wimpy bully.’

  I stared at him. ‘You called him a what?’

  ‘He was putting Matty down. Again. And Matty’s only little. Can’t defend himself.’ He shrugged. ‘So, when he started calling Matty’s girlfriend names, I called him out.’

  I took a deep breath. ‘And then what happened?’

  ‘Nothing happened then. He laughed and then left a few minutes later. But then he came back later in the evening. He knocked on the door, and this time he wasn’t laughing. He got me to come out, and then it’s all black.’

  ‘Uh-huh.’ I put my head in my hands, rubbing my forehead as I tried to process the situation.

  ‘But the police got him, didn’t they, and I’ll be fine.’ He smiled and wiggled his eyebrows. ‘Might even get some compensation.’

  I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping the situation would have changed when I opened them again. It hadn’t. Dad still seemed pleased with himself, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I stood up and turned on him, gesturing in the air and raising my voice. ‘Your face looks like a patchwork quilt, and you might lose your ear. You’re lucky to be alive! But sure, you might get some compensation, so it’s all worth it?’

  He winced. He seemed smaller than before when he looked at me with kind, remorseful eyes. Eyes that wouldn’t hurt a fly. ‘I’m sorry Miranda.’ He held a hand up and tilted his head. ‘I don’t mean to make light of it. But what’s the point in dwelling on all that?’

  ‘The point is that you can’t keep living like that.’ I took a few steps away and tried to calm down. It was like he didn’t realise how much it hurt me to watch him go through all this. Part of me wanted to tell him, but the other part knew it would only heap shame onto him. And shame had never helped anyone get their life sorted out. I took a deep breath and tried to soften my voice. ‘What are you going to do with whatever compensation you might get?’

  He shrugged. ‘Well I have a bit of debt, so…’

  ‘Yeah, so you settle your debts.’ I nodded. ‘And if there’s any money left over, I want you to consider going to rehab. If you don’t get any compensation, or there isn’t enough money, I’ll work out how to pay for it.’

  ‘Yeah, maybe. I spoke to John about it earlier.’ A small laugh escaped, but he quenched it before looking at me again. ‘Being knifed has a way of jarring you awake, and I’ve been thinking that maybe I need to sort myself out a bit again.’

  ‘This whole situation is exasperating.’ I sat down and reached for his hand. ‘But most of all, it scared me. I don’t want to lose you, you know?’

  ‘I don’t want you scared.’ Eyes sad now, he gave my hand a squeeze. ‘I can’t stay here much longer, Miranda. But you can speak to John, and we’ll talk about what’s next.’

  I bored my eyes into him. ‘You’re staying here another night, and don’t you even try to say otherwise. You’ve got to keep taking your medicine, so you’re staying. Next week I’ll come collect you from your flat, and we’ll go to the doctor to check your ear together. You’re going to be sober for that appointment, you hear?’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  His legs twitched, and I knew I was pushing too hard. I reminded myself that he was an adult and had to be allowed to make his own choices. Softening my tone, I said, ‘I mean, it would make me feel better if you would please do those things for me.’

  He gave a wry smile and put his arm around my shoulders. ‘I’ll do my best.’

  Chapter 42

  Miranda

  Dad stayed that night but left after breakfast. He told me he wanted to go back and sort things out at home, and as much as I wanted him to stay, I knew he had to make his own choices. I sent food home with him, and he told me he would make sure to take his medicine.

  ‘You keep your phone on so I can reach you, and…’

  ‘Aye, don’t you worry about me. I’ll be staying in my flat, keeping away from people.’ He sniggered. ‘Wouldn’t want to scare any children with this face of mine.’

  ‘Well.’ I grimaced. ‘I wouldn’t enter any beauty contests just now if I were you.’

  He grinned as he put his arm around me and squeezed.

  I hugged him back, careful not to hurt him. ‘Be safe, okay?’

  ‘Ha. Safety is overrated.’ He winked at me and opened the door, raising his hand as he stepped outside. ‘See you next week, Mir-maid.’

  Once Dad had left, I considered going in to work, but decided I could do with another day off to recover from the emotional upheaval I had just been through. So, I spent the rest of the morning cleaning, and had just started pulling vegetables and hummus out of the fridge for lunch when Jack knocked on the door.

  ‘Hey?’ I answered. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days, but still he looked so… good. His hair was ruffled, but his blue eyes were sharp. His collar was turned up to his ears, but his coat was open, as were the top few buttons of his shirt.

  ‘Hey.’ Jack said, and I felt how his eyes swept over my face. ‘Um… Is Jimmy here?’

  I shook my head and tried to find my voice. ‘He left this morning.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Do you want to come in? I was just about to have lunch.’ I stepped back from the door and gestured toward the kitchen.

  He looked away and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. I thought he was about to tell me he had to go when he said, ‘Yeah, okay. I could eat.’ Toeing his shoes off, he followed me into the kitchen, shrugging out of his coat and hanging it over a chair.

  I got out a plate for him, put another pita bread in the toaster, and cut up more vegetables. ‘You not at work?’

  ‘Huh?’ He seemed confused, then shook his head as he sat down at the table. ‘I had some annual leave to take before the end of the tax year.’

  ‘Oh.’ I brought the last bits to the table and sat down. ‘So… what have you been up to?’

  ‘Not much.’ He reached for some food and dipped his pita bread in the hummus. Looking up at me, he said, ‘You?’

  His eyes seemed to pierce my soul today. I cleared my throat. ‘Just working on Project Cup stuff.’

  He nodded and kept eating.

  Not sure what to say, I put food in my mouth too. I glanced at him and noticed his hair was longer than usual. Also, if the size of his shoulders was anything to go by, I guessed he had made use of his gym membership in the last
couple of months.

  ‘… okay?’ Jack’s question broke through my thoughts.

  ‘Uh… Yes.’ I squeezed my eyes shut as I tried to shove my speculations about Jack’s muscles out of my mind. What was the question? ‘I mean, no.’

  He frowned. ‘Right?’

  ‘Right.’ I nodded decisively, still having no clue what I had just said an adamant no to.

  ‘No?’ Jack seemed confused. ‘I mean, which is it? Is he okay or not?’

  ‘Oh!’ I smiled with relief as I gathered Jack had asked about my dad. ‘I mean yes, he thinks he’s okay.’

  He raised his eyebrows and looked at me expectantly. ‘Okay…’

  ‘But he clearly isn’t okay. He’ll be drinking again by tonight, forget to take his medicine, and end up losing that ear.’ I shrugged as though it was no big deal. ‘We talked about him going to rehab again, though, and he said he is open to that, so…’

  ‘I guess that’s positive, right?’ Jack bit the inside of his cheek as he studied me.

  ‘Right.’ I avoided his eyes and kept eating as the silence stretched out between us. When I couldn’t handle it any longer, I said, ‘I don’t know if I said, but thank you for staying with Dad yesterday when I was out.’

  ‘No problem. I haven’t seen him in ages; it was nice to catch up with him.’

  I glanced at him. ‘Before Mum died, she told me Dad would need me to remember who he is, and to remind him. Most people look at Dad and see a drunk – and he is a drunk – but there’s more to him than that. And it meant a lot that you spoke to Dad the person, instead of Jimmy the drunk.’

  Jack nodded. ‘I wonder how life would be different if we gave up pegging people as drunks, or mentally ill, or whatever job we have, or whatever bad decisions we once made, and instead thought of ourselves and others as people.’

  I studied him. ‘Yeah…’

  Jack’s eyes were determined as they fixed on me. ‘I reckon pegging people as only being one thing is the lazy way out.’

  He wasn’t talking about Dad anymore, but I wasn’t sure what he was getting at. ‘Sure…’

  Squeezing his eyes shut, his thumb and index finger pressed at the bridge of his nose. Then he shook his head. ‘Never mind.’ He had finished eating and took his plate to the counter.

  Watching him, I gave a weak smile. ‘Are you okay?’

  He glanced at me. ‘Sure. You?’

  I gave a quick nod. ‘Uh-huh. Yeah, of course.’

  ‘Of course.’ Jack snorted. He stared at me as though he wanted to say more, but held back. Reaching for his coat, he seemed sad as he said, ‘I’ll be going, then. Thanks for lunch.’

  ‘Right.’ I stood up and followed him into the hall. He was pulling his shoes back on and my heart lurched as I realised that he had come to see Dad, and now that Dad wasn’t here, there was no knowing when Jack might come back again. When I might see him again.

  When he stood up, he was closer than I had anticipated, and, drawn by something I wasn’t comfortable defining, I stepped in even closer and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

  Taken off guard, he let one hand fall around my waist, and I dropped my forehead on his shoulder as his other hand stroked my head. His smell was both a comfort and a reminder that he wasn’t mine.

  Realising what I was doing, I pulled back and cleared my throat as I ran my fingers over my face. ‘I’m sorry.’

  He pulled a hand through his hair as the other reached for the door. ‘Right.’ Opening the door, he glanced at me. ‘I’ll see you around, I guess.’

  The door closed behind him, and he was gone, and I was left alone to work out what had just happened.

  Chapter 43

  Jack

  After leaving Miranda’s, I wasn’t sure what to think. Everything inside was in knots and nothing made sense. After wandering around the flat aimlessly, my guitar seemed to call my name, so I took it out for the first time in months. I had never been good with lyrics, but the music came back to me as I played, and though it brought me no answers, I found there was something comforting about playing. Hours passed as I let the music flow out of and into me – the old familiar melodies soon giving way to new tunes that seemed to come from somewhere within me.

  I went for a run that evening – my first one outside that year. It was cold and dark and wet, but the icy rain on my cheeks made me feel alive, so on I ran. I thought about how awkward lunch with Miranda had been. I had wanted to see Jimmy again, and I should have left when she had told me he wasn’t there. I wondered briefly why I had stayed, but all the reasons that came to mind made me feel uncomfortable.

  Instead, I wondered how Miranda had handled all the awful things she had been through. Jimmy being an alcoholic, Lisa dying from cancer, and being all alone with it and having a miscarriage – it seemed like too much for one person to bear. And now she was caring for her dad, who she had almost lost in a fight.

  None of it seemed fair, and as my anger rose inside my chest, my instinct was to blame God. But after my recent conversations with my counsellor and other people about God, I wasn’t sure I could blame him for any of it any longer.

  And that annoyed me, too. It might be nice for God if he weren’t to blame, but if he was powerless and out of control in these kinds of situations, then what was he good for?

  Liz’s words came back to me: I don’t know much about love, except that it takes a strong heart to love, but it takes an even stronger heart to continue to love after it’s been hurt.

  Had I been looking at it all wrong? Was God powerful not because he could do anything he wanted, but because he would keep on loving no matter what?

  I slowed down as I reached the beach at Portobello. Though it was dark and raining, there were people walking their dogs on the beach and children riding their bikes along the prom. It was too cold to stop, so I ran down the prom towards Joppa. I filled my lungs with the sharply cold sea air, and I felt my head clear as I ran.

  When I had started going to counselling in January, I had told my psychologist, Alison, that I didn’t have a handle on my life. I needed to work out how to live again. Over the following weeks, I had shared about how powerless I had felt when Josie died. I had felt so out of control as I watched the world crumble around my family. Nothing I did could bring Josie back, and the more I cared, the harder it was to handle my powerlessness.

  I had shared about my teenage relationship with Miranda. We had been in love, but I hadn’t been able to let myself care about the things she went through, because if I did, then I would feel powerless again. And when Lisa got her terminal diagnosis, I panicked and left the country because I couldn’t handle the feeling of being out of control and powerless.

  And I had told Alison about how if Miranda would have told me about the miscarriage back when it happened, it would have been more of the same. I would have felt so out of control and powerless when faced with Miranda’s sadness and the grief of losing the baby. I would have closed myself off to her, and maybe even blamed her.

  Alison was probably the least judgemental person I had ever met. Nothing I had shared with her seemed to phase her, yet shame still filled me as I came to realise that I had spent my life trying to protect myself from feeling powerless and out of control. I had put distance between myself and others, thereby hurting them. And by sheltering myself from other people’s feelings, I had become an island. I had decided that relationships weren’t worth the pain they caused.

  Alison had pointed out that maybe I was a little risk averse.

  That had surprised me at first. I had thought of myself as a risk-taking adventurer. I moved to Hong Kong and lived there for several years. I had travelled all over the world on my own. I took big risks at work. But as I thought about it, I had come to see that she was right. My time in Asia had been more about avoiding the people and possible hurt at home than it had been about throwing myself into an adventure.

  ‘It’s okay to be risk averse,’ Alison had said, looking me straight in the eye. ‘B
ut if you want to live a life where you’re not afraid of the possible hurt you might experience, then you might want to consider taking a different approach.’

  As my feet pounded the pavement now, it struck me that God’s approach was the opposite of mine. Where I avoided people to protect myself, and tried to care less about people, he continued to choose to put himself into the mess of the consequences of our choices, and to love us even though our pain must be almost unbearable for him. Even though it technically could be within his power to take charge and force his will on people, he chose the messy, loving way of respecting people’s choices.

  Liz’s words, I don’t know much about love, except that it takes a strong heart to love, but it takes an even stronger heart to continue to love after it’s been hurt, ran across my mind again as I turned around and ran in the direction of home.

  Maybe she was right. Maybe God’s strength was that he continued to love, even when it hurt him.

  When I had been in counselling in Hong Kong, the psychologist had asked me why I thought I would be more able to handle life if I never felt powerless and out of control. At the time, I hadn’t understood the question. But now, I wondered if he had had a point. Maybe the way out of the mess with Miranda was to face the pain instead of running from it. And maybe it wasn’t just about facing the pain and suffering that life brought, but also about facing the powerlessness that came along with it.

  Don’t throw love away if you’ve found it. Jimmy’s words echoed in my head. Choosing love appeared to be equal to surrendering to being powerless. But if God and Jimmy were to be believed, it might be worth it.

  Chapter 44

  Miranda

  I had sent enough food with Dad that he should have had enough to eat for the week, but I knew he would forget about food if he was drinking. Therefore, I made a point to text him at lunchtime every day. The evening before he was due to go back to hospital, I called him.