Eve’s still staring straight ahead, her eyes seemingly fixed on nothing at all in the present. She emits a breath heavy with the burden of confession and continues to speak.
‘I went to the hostel and got myself a room – I remember it so clearly, as if it were yesterday, that stark, bare, brown room – and I remember thinking that it wasn’t humanly possible to feel more lonely than I did right then. Hardly anyone had mobile phones so it wasn’t as though I could text my friends for support and school had finished so I didn’t even have that for comfort. I spent a couple of days on my own, locked in that room, in a sheer state of panic about what I was going to do. Then it finally dawned on me that I had two choices: to give up or to take care of myself. So I started looking for work and that’s when I really landed on my feet. I got a job in a café run by a gay couple and, looking back, it was Russell and Nick who really saved me. They kept me employed full-time all summer, helped me find and furnish a bedsit, made sure I always had enough to eat – I’m sure I ate double my wages in café food alone – and let me carry on working there part-time when I went back to school in the autumn to start my A levels. I can’t see that I’d have survived without them. When I went to university I did the same thing: got myself a job waitressing five nights a week and all day Saturday and supported myself for three years. And the rest you sort of know.’
Max strokes Eve’s hand. She looks exhausted. So does he.
I feel overcome with guilt. And a powerful need to apologize to someone who doesn’t even know I still exist.
‘I can’t believe you had to go through all that. I can’t imagine how resilient you must be to have supported yourself like that.’
‘Oh, I don’t know. I think it’s just that you find out what you’re capable of when there aren’t any other options. It’s such a binary choice: either you find a way to survive or you don’t. And I don’t think the latter was ever really an option for me.’
Eve has recited all this matter-of-factly, as though it’s the script to someone else’s life, but I can see from her face how much the revelation has cost her.
‘And what about your parents now? Are they sorry for what they did, can they see now how terrible that was?’
‘I’ve no idea. I haven’t seen or spoken to them for fifteen years. The last time I saw my mum was in the kitchen that day she told me to leave. I can’t bring myself to contact them – not after what they did – and they’ve never tried to find me as far as I know, so I can’t see how or why that’s ever going to change.’
Max takes a deep breath as if to inhale the full emotional impact of Eve’s confession.
All this time, for all these months, I’ve been desperate for Eve’s fatal flaw to be revealed, to discover the imperfection that would make me feel just a little less inadequate in her virtual presence. But I hadn’t counted on her having a secret quite so profound, quite so critical, a secret that would bring any woman unimaginable pain. A secret with an impact that may yet alter the course of Max and Ellie’s lives in ways they haven’t begun to envisage.
‘Eve, I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine what that must be like. I can’t imagine my parents ever doing that to me, or me to Ellie. No wonder you never want to talk about them. I’m so sorry about those times I’ve pushed you to tell me about them. If only I’d known …’
‘I haven’t wanted to keep secrets from you, Max. I’ve just never been able to trust that other people wouldn’t react the same way my parents did. It’s why I’ve never told anyone any of this before.’
‘You’ve never told anyone at all?’
‘No. It sounds crazy, doesn’t it? Other than Russell and Nick I’ve never told a soul. I think I’ve always felt too humiliated, not just about what I did, actually not really about that at all – I’ve managed to forgive my fifteen-year-old self for those mistakes now. But I feel so ashamed of what my parents did to me. What does it say about me, after all, to have descended from people who can behave like that?’
‘It says that you’re remarkable to have dealt with it and to have become the amazing person that you are. God, I can’t believe you’ve been carrying this on your own for fifteen years.’
‘I suppose I just haven’t been ready to face it all. It’s why I’ve never wanted anyone getting too close because I know that somewhere down the line this has to come out and that’s always felt like a sacrifice too far. I wasn’t being coy when we first … you know … got together. I really don’t make a habit of having people stay over.’
Max looks at Eve as though seeing something new in her for the first time.
‘I never thought you were being coy. I found it pretty endearing, actually. And it wasn’t as if I was in possession of my Casanova credentials either, was it?’
Eve’s half-smile and her gently reassuring squeeze of Max’s hand tell me more than I want to know about the private events I’ve been spared from witnessing these past few months.
‘You know this doesn’t change a thing, don’t you? Except I’m possibly even more in awe of you than I was before. You are incredible, Eve. To have accomplished everything you have, under those circumstances, is nothing short of extraordinary. I really want you and me to make a go of this, to make a go of us. I honestly think it can work.’
I look at Eve expecting to see the relief of someone who’s just been issued with the reprieve she was seeking. But Eve’s face shows no signs of a woman who’s just been reassured by a man she might be in love with that he’s definitely still in love with her.
‘It’s not that simple, though, is it? It’s not just about you and me. It’s about the children we could never have together even if we wanted to, even if you thought that’s where we might be heading before I told you all of this. It’s a huge sacrifice for anyone and it’s not one I want you to have to make.’
Eve drops her head and she can’t hold back the fifteen years of tears breaking through her barrier of self-protection. I watch her cry and hear her pain and I can’t imagine that she’ll ever be able to stop.
Max takes her in his arms and rocks her gently back and forth.
‘Hey, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay, I promise. It’s heart-wrenching for you, I know, but it doesn’t affect my feelings for you in the least. Really.’
‘But I know that’s not true. Your mum told me, that first time I met her, about how you’d always wanted lots of children. You’ve already lost one person you thought you could have a big family with. It wouldn’t be fair of me to deny you that again.’
Max laughs, kindly but loudly, and I suspect it’s not the response that either Eve or I were anticipating.
‘That was when I was eleven. I’m all for consistency of beliefs but I don’t think I should have to honour the childish fantasies I had before I’d even hit puberty. I had no idea what I was talking about, much less clue about what was involved in actually having children. God, the thought of having five kids now freaks the hell out of me. It’s utter madness.’
Eve manages a wistful smile and wipes her face free of tears.
‘But you did want more than one?’
‘Yes. If we’re being totally honest, I did. But after all that’s happened I’ve learnt to be grateful for what I do have, and I couldn’t be more inordinately grateful for Ellie.’
My mind is racing with stories of lives the three of them may never lead. The siblings Ellie may never play with. The son Max may never take cycling. The child Eve will never give birth to. Of all the futures we think may lie before us, the one we end up with is invariably not the one we ever imagined.
‘Ellie’s wonderful. I’ve loved getting to know her a little bit today. But I suppose she’s part of the reason I panicked tonight. I’m not sure I’ve got the strength to immerse myself in another family only to be rejected again.’
‘You’re not going to be rejected, Eve. I don’t know how to convince you other than to tell you again and again that I love you and that I can see us having a future together.’
&
nbsp; Max pulls Eve towards him and kisses her with such tenderness that I can’t imagine her emerging from his embrace with a single doubt still in place.
‘I can’t believe you’re being so calm about this. I honestly thought you’d send me packing. It’s quite a lot to deal with. I’m not sure it’s baggage anyone should have to take on board, really.’
‘And you haven’t had a lot of my baggage to deal with? Eve, everyone brings baggage to a relationship. Everyone.’
‘I know they do. But I think mine’s heavier than most.’
‘Heavier than mine? Do you really think so?’
‘At least yours wasn’t of your own making.’
‘Neither was yours, Eve. Not in the slightest.’
Max looks intently at Eve and I can see a decision stealthily working its way across his face.
‘Okay, you’ve confided your deepest secret to me so it’s only fair I do likewise. When Rachel first died I genuinely thought about ending it all. Not just an ambient flirtation with an idea that seemed easier than the reality I was having to deal with. But bleak, dark thoughts, coming from places I hadn’t even known existed. And it really scared me because I never believed that was something I’d even think about, let alone seriously contemplate. It scares me even now, just remembering it, to be honest. It’s pretty frightening when you discover something about yourself that you really wish you hadn’t.’
It’s frightening, too, to discover something about the person you love that you really wish they hadn’t endured. I’d known Max had been depressed in those early months, but I hadn’t known how severely. I can’t bear the thought of him having gone through that alone.
‘I’m so sorry, Max. It must have been such a terrible time. I can’t really imagine what you must have suffered or how you came through it.’
‘To be honest, when I look back on that period, I’m not sure how I got through it either. But like you said, you just do. Something else kicks in and you’ve no idea from where or how but it does and it saves you from yourself, however much you might not want it to at the time.’
They both fall silent and I suspect I’m not the only one to be reflecting upon the ways in which each of us have – and haven’t – been saved from ourselves.
‘So what pulled you through? Or don’t you know?’
‘That’s easy. It was Ellie. Having a young child makes the decision for you. Well, it did for me anyway. I needed to find something or someone to fill the gap that grief had left behind and Ellie was there, the whole time, waiting patiently and perfectly in the wings.’
There’s another silence, more loaded than the last, and I wonder to what extent Max’s confession has exacerbated Eve’s sadness.
‘I think I know what you mean. I’m not suggesting they’re comparable, but I think the grief of losing my fertility has been filled to some extent for me by teaching. I remember when I first became aware, in my early twenties, that I needed something to fill the maternal void. I felt that I’d been robbed of the one consolation, the one comfort shared by every parent on the planet; that when they die, their lives will carry on through their children. It’s the ultimate immortality project, isn’t it, having children? And it’s been the one thing I knew I’d never have for almost as long as I can remember. So I had to find another way of trying to achieve that, another way to make sure I left something behind, another way of exerting an influence which might outlive me.’
‘And that’s what you get from teaching?’
‘I think so, yes; it gives me the proximity to young people that I’ll never otherwise have and it allows me to have some impact – however small – on their lives. Sometimes I’ll be talking to a student and I imagine that one day they might share whatever it is I’ve taught them with their children or with their nieces and nephews or with students of their own. And that seems pretty remarkable to me, that fragments of knowledge I pass on now might find their way unexpectedly to people I don’t even know, through however many degrees of separation, at some unknown point in the future. I like to think of it as ripples of influence and experience pulsating from one generation to the next and I think if I could manage that just a handful of times, with just a handful of students, then it will have been worth it. Does that sound really stupid?’
I can’t remember when I last heard something that sounded less stupid.
‘It doesn’t sound stupid at all. In fact, it might be one of the wisest things I’ve ever heard. Do you know, I’ve never really sat down and thought about why I chose teaching over every other profession on offer, but what you said makes total sense. Maybe that’s what all jobs are, in one way or another; some attempt to leave an imprint on the world, however small.’
‘I think that’s right. And I suppose, for me, in the absence of having children of my own, teaching’s become my personal immortality project. Although I’ve yet to see quite how effective it might be.’
Eve laughs and Max does too and in their laughter is the catharsis of collective confessions.
‘So now we’ve shared our darkest secrets, you know there’s no way out? You’re stuck with me for the foreseeable future whether you like it or not.’
‘Really, Max? Are you sure? I don’t think this is a decision you should rush. I want you to sleep on it and mull it over and we can talk in a few days.’
Max shakes his head, smiling with confident reassurance.
‘I don’t need a few days. It’s simple. I love you and I want us to make a go of this.’
‘You love me in spite of everything I’ve told you?’
‘I love you in spite of and because of everything you’ve told me. I’ll make a deal with you, Eve: if you have the courage to jump into this relationship with me, I promise always to be honest with you and never to spring any nasty emotional surprises on you. Deal?’
Eve smiles and pulls Max’s face towards her.
‘Given that I love you too, Max Myerson, I don’t see how I could possibly refuse.’
They both laugh and then they’re kissing and I know that my time here, today, needs to come to an end.
I close my eyes firmly and count to a hundred and when I finally open them again, Max and Eve have disappeared, replaced by the empty white world that once was a cause for fear and loneliness but which is increasingly a source of solitary comfort.
I think about the declarations they’ve made to one another today and I’m reminded of the time Max first said those three decisive words to me, on that long, deserted beach in Norfolk, the wind blowing a near gale, his declaration being swept out to sea so that I wasn’t sure whether I’d heard him correctly. The words I had to ask him to repeat and when he did I reciprocated, surprised by my own certainty there and then that I’d never need any other man to say them to me again. The words that I’ve spent over a decade believing would only ever be spoken romantically by Max to me. Words for which I’d give anything to hear Max or Ellie say to me one last time.
I think about Ellie, my own perfect little immortality project, and about the fact that all I want, all I’ll hope for from here on in, is that she’s as happy and safe and loved as she deserves to be. Because as imprints on the world go, she’s about as good as it gets.
DEPRESSION
Chapter 21
I hear the hubbub of overexcited children before I see anything, and as the chatter becomes gradually louder and the clouds dissipate I see that I’m here, I’m exactly where I want to be, for the first time since I died.
Ellie is wearing a calf-length, short-sleeved lilac dress, the delicate netting of its full skirt covered with sequins, the sweetheart neckline perfectly framing her cherubic face. Her hair is bouncing effusively below her shoulders, just a small strand either side clipped to her head with purple, fairy-shaped grips, giving her the appearance of a woodland nymph. She looks beautiful. I’d say that even if she weren’t my daughter. The party appears to be in full swing, a game of musical statues currently entertaining Ellie and a dozen of her friends, with Co
nnor in charge of iPod proceedings.
I take stock of my old sitting room to see who else is here. In the far corner, by the kitchen door, are Harriet and my mum, whispering collusively like naughty school-girls, failing – if, indeed, they’re even trying – to conceal the evident topic of their conversation, given that every few seconds one or other of them looks over to the opposite end of the sitting room, where Eve is standing chatting to Joan and Ralph. I’m grateful for their loyalty, but I don’t want anything to sour Ellie’s day.
Eve, of course, looks stunning. She’s wearing a floral-print bias-cut silk dress, the kind of dress I might have seen hanging up in a shop window and, in a moment’s self-delusion, taken to the changing room to try on under a spell of naive optimism, until I’d look in the mirror and remember, again, for the umpteenth time, that curvy hips and bias-cut dresses were never going to be the best of sartorial friends. She’s accessorized with nude kitten heels and a simple diamond solitaire necklace, the soft waves of her hair flowing serenely across her shoulders. To be fair, if I was in Mum or Harriet’s position, I’d probably find it hard not to skulk in a corner and gossip about her too.
There are other people I know here too, a couple of other parents from school and a few friends of mine and Max’s from way back, most of whom have children of their own now, all of whom are used to the weekend birthday party drill. Max is standing just behind Eve, talking to one of his old university friends and her husband, and I see him interrupt Eve’s conversation with his parents to introduce her to Rebecca and Mark. I’m unable to resist a pang of envy, knowing that this is their first public outing together, their first joint hosting, clearly Eve’s first encounter with many of the people who populate Max’s life. The people who used to populate my life too.
I know I should be grateful just for being here. It’s what I’ve wanted more than anything else during the past few weeks, after all. But I can’t deny it’s hard, watching Eve and Max in the midst of the social and familial group that less than two years ago was mine and his, not his and hers.
The Dead Wife's Handbook Page 23