Heart of Us

by Emma Browne

  ‘I’ll come for you at ten tomorrow,’ I said.

  ‘Tha’s g’d,’ he slurred. ‘Wha’s t’morro’?’

  ‘I’m taking you to the hospital because the doctor needs to have a look at your ear.’

  ‘Ma ear, y’hear?’ He giggled at his joke.

  ‘Uh-huh.’ I sighed. ‘Maybe it’s time to have a glass of water, or a cup of coffee?’

  ‘Y’alway’ say tha’.’ He laughed harder. I imagined him shaking his head as he said, ‘A glass o’ wa’er,’ as though it was the funniest thing he had heard all day.

  ‘Right. Look, I’ll call you tomorrow morning so you have time to get ready. You’ve got to be sober for your appointment, you hear?’

  ‘I hear, m’dear.’ More giggles.

  ‘Okay, well, I’ll talk to you tomorrow morning, then.’ I hung up and rubbed my face. Why did he have to make loving him this difficult?

  Then next morning, I called at seven. When he didn’t pick up, I decided I would have to go early, as otherwise we might miss the appointment.

  When I showed up at eight thirty, I was expecting to have to drag him out of bed, so I was surprised to find him dressed and sitting on the front step of the house waiting for me. I suspected he didn’t want me to see the state of his flat, and that’s why he was waiting for me outside, but at least he was ready.

  His face looked less swollen, even though I doubted he had taken care of the wounds.

  ‘Do you want to have breakfast before we go?’ I hugged him. His jacket was too big and smelled of smoke, but Dad smelled nice. Like he had showered. ‘We have time.’

  He gave a weak smile. ‘I’ll maybe stick to coffee this morning, but I’m happy if you want to eat.’

  ‘Sure.’ We got in the car, and I handed him my phone open to my music app. He browsed through my music before putting on some Jimi Hendrix as I drove through town. I smiled as he relaxed back in his seat.

  As it turned out, Dad got to keep his ear, and the doctor was satisfied the rest of his wounds were healing up nicely. Afterwards, I took him out for lunch before dropping him off again. As I drove away, I wondered when I would see him next – and what state he would be in then.

  That night, I researched rehab options again, and emailed a few places. The likelihood of getting funding for him to go to rehab again was low, which was why I was looking at the private options. They all seemed to cost a lot, or they were faith-based. I wanted Dad to get better, but I wasn’t sure brainwashing would be a good idea, so I made a note to speak to John about the options. He had mentioned a rehab before which had sounded okay.

  Putting my laptop away, I pulled out my Bible. Ever since Dad had been in hospital, I had read the Bible every day. When I was a teenager and a youth leader had suggested I try reading the Bible, I had laughed. Whenever I would try, I would get to somewhere in Leviticus and give up. It was too dry to keep my attention. But as I read the Bible now, I found it was actually quite interesting.

  I didn’t read it in order, but picked books at random, and Sophia had suggested I read five Psalms each day – that way I could read through the book of Psalms in a month.

  I didn’t understand everything I read. Instead, I had a list of questions on my phone, which I would bring out whenever I saw anyone I thought might be able to answer any of them. My questions ranged from what the heckerino Revelations was all about, to what “promise” they kept referring to. Or what Jesus meant when he talked about taking the children’s bread and giving it to the dogs when he spoke to the Syrophoenician woman. Or whether I would have to believe in the six-day creation as described in Genesis in order to be a Christian. And though I had more questions than answers, I found that it was okay to have questions and doubts – even Jesus’ disciples had doubted him.

  Still, the most pressing questions – who was God really, and what consequences did that have for me? – were questions I couldn’t let go of. Consequently, I kept reading.

  The following Saturday, Sophia, Julia and I met up to talk about Project Cup.

  On the way there, I went window shopping in town. I tried on a pair of running shoes but decided my old ones would have to do for a while longer when I considered the price. I couldn’t afford to spend money on nonessentials. Maybe if I re-mortgaged the house, I would be able to pay for Dad’s rehab. That’s what Mum had done last time he went.

  By the time I got to the coffee shop by the Meadows, Sophia and Julia were already seated with their drinks, so I ordered a ginger tea and joined them.

  ‘When can Michael apply for indefinite leave to remain, again?’ Julia was asking Sophia as I sat down.

  Sophia shook her head. ‘He has indefinite leave to remain already, but when you get that, you still have to intend to stay married to your spouse if you’ve been on a spouse visa before. We don’t want anyone to suspects anything, so we decided we’d stay married until he has his British citizenship.’

  ‘Uh-huh.’ Julia smirked and stirred her coffee. ‘And when is that?’

  ‘I think he can apply in June.’

  ‘Oh, wow. That’s soon. Are you getting divorced then?’

  Sophia shrugged. ‘Probably.’

  ‘Really?’ I asked. I knew Sophia and Michael’s marriage was a sham, but did it have to be?

  ‘Well, there’s no reason to stay married once he’s got his passport, right?’ Julia pushed.

  Sophia cleared her throat. ‘Right.’

  ‘Huh.’ Julia caught my eyes and struggled to hide her grin at how Sophia’s head appeared to be firmly stuck in the sand. ‘Anyway…’

  ‘Yes, let’s talk about your numbers for Project Cup, Miranda.’ Sophia said, and looked at me hopefully.

  ‘Okay, but for the record: I think you should let him bring up the question of divorce. I mean, you proposed. Let him end it.’

  ‘You think?’ Sophia frowned.

  ‘Well, unless you’re in a hurry to move on…’ I had a feeling pigs might fly before Michael suggested they get a divorce.

  ‘No, there’s no stress.’ She pursed her lips.

  ‘Uh-huh.’ Julia sent me a knowing look. ‘No stress.’

  Sophia looked at her and frowned. ‘No, I mean, I wouldn’t want him to feel pressure.’

  ‘Right. No pressure.’ Julia couldn’t contain her smile anymore, and it spread across her face.

  ‘Oh, stop.’ Sophia threw a serviette at her.

  Julia caught it, laughing now. ‘What do you mean stop? I’m not doing anything.’

  Sophia tilted her head and raised her hands. ‘Whatever. Think what you want.’

  Julia kept laughing. ‘Mhm.’

  ‘Anyway,’ I said, and pulled out my laptop. Sophia seemed conflicted enough without us stirring the pot. ‘I’ve been crunching some numbers…’

  ‘Uh-huh.’ Sophia sat up straight, ignoring Julia.

  ‘And now that we’re almost out of stock, we need to decide what to do about Project Cup.’

  Julia sobered and sat up, too. ‘What do you mean decide?’

  ‘Yeah, well, this was a pilot project, right? Therefore, we need to evaluate the outcome and then make decisions as to whether it is something we want to take forward.’

  ‘Oh.’ Julia frowned. ‘Well, of course we want to keep going. It’s been a great success.’

  ‘Okay. You say that because you saw how we were able to support the girls in the school in Mombasa, but I think we need to look at a few more things before we can say it’s been a great success.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Well, I think we need to evaluate what we’ve learned about the market for period cups in Scotland, and look at our sales figures, and so on.’ I said. ‘Don’t you think?’

  Sophia nodded. ‘Uh-huh, I agree.’

  ‘Okay, fine.’ Julia relaxed back in her seat. ‘One thing that’s working well is the web shop, isn’t it, Sophia?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Sophia moved some coffee cups on the table to set her laptop down. ‘We’ve spent a bit on advert
ising, and we’re growing our social media presence, which has led to our web shop is getting more and more traffic.’

  ‘I think the website and our social media accounts look great.’ Julia smiled.

  ‘Considering that’s what my real job is, that’s a relief,’ Sophia said wryly.

  ‘Uh-huh, and that’s great,’ I agreed. ‘There seems to be a market for period cups.’

  ‘Right. If you can sell them at the Christmas Market, then they’ll sell anywhere,’ Julia said.

  ‘The thing is,’ I cut in. ‘We’ve spent most of our earnings on cups for the girls in Kenya, and that means we haven’t got much money to put toward new cups, should we decide to keep going-‘

  ‘Should we decide,’ Julia set her drink down. ‘What do you mean should we decide to keep going? We’ve come this far, haven’t we?’

  ‘Sure, but if we do want to keep going, we would need to buy new cups, and that costs money. Money which we haven’t got.’ I looked at her, trying to gather my patience and exercise it. My head hurt, and my neck was all stiff from spending the last couple of weeks worrying, and I didn’t really have the energy for a fight. ‘And though Angus and I would be happy to do a race to raise money, I doubt we could raise enough to cover what it would cost. And then it might be better if we commit to fundraising every year. That way we can support girls in Kenya directly, without having to spend all our time selling period cups here?’

  ‘I’m getting some bad vibes off you, Miranda,’ Julia said. ‘What is going on?’

  I shrugged. ‘I’m just saying if the goal is to support girls in Kenya, then maybe there are easier ways that don’t require as much of us?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Well, let’s be honest. If instead of spending the amount of money we’ve spent on making Project Cup happen, we would have just given that amount straight to the school in Kenya. We would have made a bigger difference than we were able to do by doing it this way.’

  ‘Really?’ Julia winced. ‘But we worked hard.’

  ‘Yeah, but we’ve got to be real here.’ I held up my hands. It bothered me when people tried to make up a reality that wasn’t actually based on evidence.

  Sophia looked at me. ‘Give it to us straight – what are you actually saying?’

  ‘I’m saying that if we really want for Project Cup to make a bigger difference than our occasional raising funds might do, then we would have to invest ourselves a lot more and build the business side of this up to be a proper, growing business. And we do have the skeleton in place so we could do that. But in order to do that, we would have to give more of our time.’ Waving my hand in the air, I continued, ‘I don’t want to come across as stingy here, but I don’t know that I could afford to cut my hours, or give up my job, in order to invest in a way that would really make this a viable business.’

  ‘Uh-huh. I take it you’ve run the numbers?’ Sophia asked.

  ‘Yeah.’ Of course I had. I went on to tell them how many cups we would have to sell to make our profit bigger than our spending. ‘And that’s not impossible, but…’

  Sophia sucked in a breath and winced. ‘Not impossible, but it would take a heck of a lot of work.’

  ‘Well, I’m not afraid of hard work.’ Julia said in a belligerent tone.

  ‘Uh-huh,’ I rolled my eyes. Julia’s endless optimism was starting to wear on my nerves. ‘But what I’m saying is that we probably can’t do it unless we put in more hours. And where are those hours going to come from?’

  ‘Well, we each give a couple of days a week.’ Julia held out her hands. ‘How hard is that?’

  ‘Mhm, and that would be great, but I don’t know that I could afford to do that.’ If I had to pay for Dad to go to rehab, I would be strapped for cash, even working full time.

  ‘At what point would it become feasible to pay someone to do the work here?’ Sophia asked.

  ‘I looked at that too, and – bearing in mind that paying a salary would cut into the profit – if we were to go ahead now and things were to take off, I reckon we could maybe pay a small salary to someone in about a year.’

  Julia brightened. ‘That’s good. A year isn’t that long.’

  A year was an eternity if you had to pay for your Dad to be in rehab for that long. ‘Well, that’s if everything goes according to a best-case scenario.’ I leaned back in my chair. ‘And it is my experience that most things don’t tend to.’

  Julia huffed. ‘Of course they would. This is a fantastic business. It will take off soon enough and then we’ll be laughing. Think of how many girls we’re going to be able to help. I’ve been thinking about refugee camps, and how much of a difference period cups might make there, too.’

  ‘Uh-huh, and I would love to help more people, too.’ I held up a hand and tried giving a smile. ‘Like I said, I don’t want to be stingy, but I think we need to think about this some more.’

  ‘Okay, that’s fair,’ Sophia said. ‘Let’s take a week, and then we can take it to the board and make some decisions at our next board meeting on Saturday.’

  Chapter 45

  Miranda

  The following morning, I was having breakfast when Sophia texted to ask if I was going to the Reids’ for lunch.

  I wasn’t.

  But after spending the morning looking for ways of raising funds for Project Cup, I found myself getting dressed and putting makeup on. Though I told myself seeing Jack again would just be awkward, my feet had other ideas. A few minutes later, I had been to the shop, and was knocking on John and Karen’s door and letting myself in.

  The house was already full of people, and I said hi to Sophia and Michael as I passed them on my way to the kitchen, where Karen was pouring vinaigrette over a salad.

  ‘Hey, Karen.’ I gestured at the bunch of tulips I had brought. ‘Where do I find a vase for these?’

  ‘Aw, you shouldn’t have brought me flowers.’ Karen smiled, and pulled me in for a hug.

  I took a deep breath and relaxed. I had been concerned about Karen’s reaction to hearing about the miscarriage, but it appeared Jack hadn’t told her.

  She pulled back, stroking her hands over my hair as she studied my face. ‘You look tired, dear.’

  I snorted. ‘It’s been a couple of rough weeks.’ More like months, but who was counting?

  Karen stepped back and went back to mixing her salad, as I went through her cupboards in search of a vase for the flowers.

  ‘I hear Jimmy got to keep his ear?’

  ‘Yes. He’ll have some scars, but otherwise he’ll be fine.’

  ‘Sounds like God was watching out for him that night.’ She smiled. ‘Those tulips are lovely.’

  ‘Yeah, they reminded me of you.’ I busied myself with arranging the flowers for her. Karen’s comment about God watching out for Dad grated at me.

  ‘Did you know tulips are my favourite?’ Karen asked.

  Pushing my thoughts about God aside, I smiled. ‘Maybe.’

  She laughed. ‘They remind me of spring and new beginnings. It’s never too late to start again. You know?’

  I shook my head and laughed at her obvious hint for me and Jack to get back together. Playing dumb, I asked, ‘Are you referring to anything in particular, now?’

  She raised her hands, looking all innocent. ‘Surely not.’

  ‘I didn’t think so.’ I put the vase on the dinner table and came back to see if I could help with anything.

  ‘It’s nice, though, isn’t it, how spring offers a new start?’ She tried again.

  ‘Uh-huh.’ Not taking the bait, I took a stack of plates and said, ‘It looks like dinner’s almost ready. I’ll set the table.’

  In the dining room, Michael and Nick were finding enough chairs for everyone to sit around the table.

  I set the plates down. ‘Does God protect people?’

  Nick glanced at me. ‘Sure. He protects and takes care of people. Like how it says in Matthew about how we don’t need to worry about anything because God takes ca
re of us.’

  ‘Hmm…’ Michael gave me a pensive look. ‘I don’t think it’s quite as simple as that. What are you really asking, though?’

  ‘Well, if God protected Dad when he was in this knife fight the other day, then that seems like a rather arbitrary choice. Why protect Dad from a knife, but let Mum die of cancer? Does God have favourites? But if God didn’t protect Dad, then that seems uncaring. So, I guess I wondered how it works?’ I looked at my hands as I held them in the air. ‘Does God have favourites, or is he uncaring?’

  Michael looked as though he was trying to hide a smile. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘Gah…’ I shook my hand at him in frustration. ‘I wasn’t asking what I think, but what you think.’

  ‘But what do you think?’ He pushed.

  ‘Neither option seems to line up with the Jesus I’ve been reading about in the Bible.’ I sat down on a chair and pulled my hands through my hair. ‘I’m so confused.’

  ‘Uh-huh.’ Michael grabbed a chair and sat down too. ‘What if God does care and protect, but it mostly doesn’t look like a physical thing. What if God caring and protecting us looks like our souls being safe in him?’

  ‘What?’ Nick frowned. ‘But what about how it says about the flowers or the birds and how they don’t want for anything because God takes care of them?’

  Michael shrugged. ‘Uh-huh, but sometimes there are droughts and flowers die. Or birds can’t find food, or they eat plastic stuff they find and die.’

  ‘Go on…’ Nick went into the kitchen and grabbed a bunch of cutlery and started putting them out.

  Jack and Julia came in with potholders and the salad and set them on the table. Julia found matches and lit the candles in the centre of the table.

  ‘Yeah,’ Michael continued. ‘Sometimes there’s war, or drought, or terrible poverty, and if that verse was talking about God providing materially for us, then I think there are big questions around if God plays favourites. So maybe Jesus isn’t referring to a physical need, but to our spiritual need. Maybe what he means is that we don’t need to worry about the only thing that really matters.’