The Things I Should Have Told You

by Carmel Harrington

  ‘I am. I’m good,’ I say. ‘Cheese makes me happy.’

  ‘I’ll remember that,’ Mae laughs.

  ‘I’m good too,’ Jamie declares. ‘Super-good.’

  ‘And how about you, Evie? Are you super-good?’ Mae asks.

  Evie’s smile is the answer. ‘Luke posted a picture of us both on Facebook. Look.’

  We look at the picture of them both in front of Sleeping Beauty’s castle. They look young and carefree. And indeed, super-happy.

  ‘Check out the couple auditioning for a toothpaste commercial,’ I joke.

  ‘You look beautiful,’ Mae tells Evie, who looks chuffed with the compliments.

  ‘Should I share it too?’ Evie asks Mae. ‘I’ve not posted anything for ages.’

  I watch her looking at Mae for guidance, her nose scrunched up as she doubts her next move. Mae takes the phone and looks at the photo again.

  ‘This picture is way too cute not to share,’ Mae nods her approval.

  ‘What will I say?’ Evie asks, but she is beaming. ‘What if Martina or Deirdre makes a smart comment?’

  ‘Just say, had great fun with Luke in Disney,’ Mae advises her. ‘Keep it simple. And if I may, I have a suggestion to make.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Remove them as friends from your Facebook page,’ Mae states and I cheer my approval.

  ‘But they’ll know I did that. What would they think?’

  ‘Who cares what they think?’ I say.

  ‘Life is hard enough, pet, without having those kind of toxic “friendships” in your life. They made your life hell for the past year. Remove them. And I bet by doing that, it will make it easier to move on.’

  She looks down to her phone and flicks away at the screen for five minutes. ‘They’re gone. And three others, too, who’ve been horrible.’

  Mae picks up her glass and makes a toast, ‘To detoxing negativity from our lives.’

  And we all raise our glasses and chink them and I try not to whoop when I see the smile that is lighting up my daughter’s face.

  I marvel at my wife once again. Every day she proves to me once again how much the children and I need her. She said last week that she didn’t feel needed. Well, I better change that.

  We go for a quick stroll to work off the plum tart we shared after our meal. Then we fill Nomad up with the cheapest diesel we’ve yet to buy on this journey and head back to the motorway.

  ‘It says here we’ve another 221 km to go. We’ll be there around four,’ Mae says, looking at Captain Kirk.

  I check the mirrors and see that Jamie and Evie have both fallen asleep. And when I look at their contented sleep-filled faces, innocent and pure, I feel tears prick my eyes again. It’s another lucky bastard moment.

  ‘We make good kids,’ I nudge Mae, pointing to the kids.

  ‘Yes we do. Pretty perfect.’

  They awake with perfect timing just as we arrive in Koblenz. Pops has booked us into a campsite south of the town. We start to climb a steep hill, where we find the campsite right at the top. A few weeks ago this hill would have bettered me. I feel a sense of achievement that it doesn’t even cause me to break out in a sweat. I park Nomad up and we all climb out, glad to stretch our legs after the long drive.

  When we walk into reception, there are two elderly ladies watching us. I smile as I approach the reception desk and say in my best German, ‘Sprechen-sie Englisch oder Franzozisch?’

  I’d practised in Nomad with Mae, because I’d read it was rude to launch straight into English. So I half expect a round of applause for my efforts. Instead they throw daggers my way and one of them says, ‘Ich spreche Deutsch.’

  I’ve got nothing.

  ‘Englisch?’ Mae rescues me and bestows on them one of her dazzling smiles. Why the hell does it work for her? Fräulein Grumpy, who was so terse to me, can suddenly understand and speaks English to Mae. She gives us a map with directions to our allocated pitch, I pay her the deposit and we make our way to our new home.

  ‘Wow look at that,’ Mae says as we pull into our pitch. We have an amazing vantage point and can see the whole town twinkling below us. On one bank there is a castle and on the other we can see the reflections of lights on the River Rhine.

  ‘You know what I fancy right now? A cold beer.’

  ‘Then you shall have one,’ Mae says. ‘Let’s get set up, then we’ll sip a Kronenbourg as we take in this stunning view.’

  ‘I’m knackered.’ I realise I haven’t felt this bone-tired in a long time. I think between my emotional breakdown this morning and the drive, I’m fit for nothing.

  ‘Let’s stay in the campsite tonight. The kids can explore, I’ll cook and we’ll have an early night.’

  I like that plan and start my ritual of getting Nomad set up. Each time, it seems easier to master. I made sure the tanks were half-full this morning when I left, so I can leave that job till the morning. Awning up, groundsheet down, satellite hoisted and within twenty minutes I’m sitting in a chair relaxing. Mae and the kids have gone off in search of essentials.

  Then it starts to rain. It’s funny, two weeks of sunshine and I’ve forgotten what it’s like to feel rain on my skin. All four of us are slightly stunned to see its return. Mae cooks pasta for dinner as we hear the rain pelting down on the roof of Nomad. I like the sound of it, like drums, serenading us.

  We all tease her about not embracing her courageous palate in Germany, as she plates up our food.

  ‘Ein sauerkraut bitte,’ I say to her.

  To which she responds by throwing a tin of tomatoes at me.

  ‘Your mother has a violent streak in her. You all saw that,’ I say to the kids, who start threatening to call the police.

  After dinner, we switch on the TV and settle down on our couch to watch Independence Day.

  ‘If aliens come here, I’ll punch them in the nose too,’ Jamie declares as Will Smith heroically knocks out a green being from outer space. ‘Hit pause, I’m going to the toilet.’

  ‘Dad, Mam …’ Jamie screams from the bathroom. We jump up and find him standing in a pool of water. The toilet is overflowing, flushed water splashing onto the floor.

  ‘I didn’t do anything,’ Jamie swears.

  Mae grabs some towels and starts to mop up the water and I investigate. Fucking blocked. That’s all I need.

  ‘Who put something in the toilet?’ I feel the remnants of my earlier good mood disappear.

  Nobody answers me, but I notice Evie looking shifty. ‘I’m gonna have to go check the tank. See what’s clogging it all up. I told you all, nothing but pee down here, unless it’s an emergency.’

  ‘I hate you. I hate this stupid camper van and I want to go home!’ Evie shouts and walks into our bedroom.

  ‘What the …?’

  We follow her and her body is heaving with sobs, she’s crying so much. I never said a fecking word to her. What the hell is going on?

  ‘I want to go home. Mam. I want to go home.’

  ‘Ssh. Come here. It’s okay.’ Mae ushers me away.

  ‘Dad …’

  ‘Not now Jamie,’ I say, trying to hear what’s going on behind the door.

  ‘Dad …’

  ‘I said not now.’

  Then I hear crying and turn around to see Jamie with big fat tears splashing down his face and a puddle of pee at his feet. ‘I couldn’t hold it any more.’

  How did we go from watching a bloody movie to me standing in a pool of piss? I mop up the mess and strip Jamie, getting him into fresh pyjamas, telling him that it’s all okay, then head outside to investigate the blockage.

  It’s pitch dark and the area around Nomad is uneven. As I step down, I land in a hole, full of rainwater. ‘Fuck!’ I swear as I twist my ankle, go down in a heap. And then a stench hits me, the putrid stench of shit. I look down and realise that my hand is in a pile of dog shit.

  That’s it. I have fucking well had it! Damn it to hell. Piss and shit all over me now. I try to scramble up, but th
e ground is wet and I slide back down again. And then I see her, Mae, standing in the doorway, laughing her ass off. I swear to God, I’ll kill her.

  Then she says in between snorts of laughter, ‘Are you quite alright?’

  And the red mist disappears and I’m laughing so hard my stomach hurts as I remember Pops and me at the funeral, him on his ass.

  ‘You okay now?’ Mae asks.

  ‘The best.’ And I stand up and walk to the blocked toilet tank like a boss.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  OLLY

  A full morning listening to the pelting rain bang on the roof of Nomad and I’ll be honest, I’m not hearing drums any more. I’ve a bloody headache from it. Tension fills our home, corrupting the air around us. We’re getting on each other’s nerves.

  It turns out that a tampon was the cause of the blockage last night. Evie’s, hence the tears. She won’t even look at me and I can feel her embarrassment and dissatisfaction bouncing off the walls. Mae has been great, whispering soothing words to her. As she said to me, she’s mortified. I’m not going to say one word to her. Poor kid.

  ‘I’m bored,’ Jamie complains. I feel for the lad, he’s been stuck inside for too long now. The rain just won’t let up. He needs to burn some energy.

  ‘I’m over this rain now,’ Evie says. ‘It’s sunny at home. Ann is going to the beach today.’ She sighs long and loud, just in case we’ve not cottoned on to the fact that she’d rather be at home.

  ‘We got spoiled in France with that glorious sunshine,’ Mae says. ‘I think we have to accept that we’ll not be doing any go-karting as planned today.’

  ‘Don’t make me go see another castle,’ Jamie says, pretending to fall asleep at the thought.

  ‘Let’s go do some shopping, then check out the recreation room here,’ Mae says.

  An hour later we are unpacking groceries from a trolley directly into the kitchen of Nomad. ‘The true definition of pack and go,’ I say.

  ‘There’s a lot to be said for it,’ Mae agrees.

  ‘I’ve got Wi-Fi!’ Evie shouts, looking more animated than she’s done for two days. ‘At last! Can we stay here for a minute? I want to check my messages.’

  ‘Oh never let it be said that we came between you and true love! Happiness is … free Wi-Fi,’ I joke.

  ‘Ha ha, very funny, Dad,’ Evie says, in a tone that says I’m anything but.

  I spy a coffee shop, so head to get Mae and I lattes, leaving my family with their heads down in their phones and iPads.

  Coffee, patisserie and various electronic devices in hand we kill an hour in that car park.

  ‘Read us the letter again, Dad,’ Jamie asks, when he eventually looks up from his game.

  I reach for the atlas and pull out Pops’ most recent missive. The kids, unlike me, loved the letter.

  ‘Pops is funny,’ Jamie laughs.

  ‘Ja,’ Mae replies.

  ‘How early do we have to be up tomorrow for the cruise?’ Evie asks.

  ‘Six,’ Mae replies. ‘By the time we pack up Nomad and get going, we’ll need every bit of the time. Boat sails at seven thirty a.m.’

  We opt for another quiet night, this time with the movie Thor, Evie’s choice. After snacking on some hot-buttered toast and mugs of tea, I head to bed early, leaving them to their movie.

  Mae follows me into our bedroom, ‘You okay?’

  I shrug. I feel out of sorts, but I can’t put my finger on why. ‘I’m still feeling a bit off. Sorry, Mae. I can’t shift it. I’m not trying to be a killjoy. Maybe it’s this bloody weather. It feels like I’m stuck in this fog and no matter how hard I try, I can’t get out of it.’

  Mae walks over to me and climbs into my arms, hugging me. ‘You’re grieving. We all are. It’s only been a few weeks since Pops died.’

  ‘I’ll snap out of it,’ I say.

  ‘You don’t have to snap out of anything,’ she tells me. ‘You are allowed to mourn the death of your father. Truth is, we all have good and bad days. Don’t be so hard on yourself.’

  I kiss her forehead, grateful for her words. ‘I’m glad we’re back on track, though,’ I say to her, smiling.

  Something flashes across her face.

  ‘We are okay?’ I ask her and am annoyed with myself at how desperate I sound.

  ‘Yes. Sure,’ she replies, but I don’t believe her. When she lies, she always looks away from me and she’s now fidgeting and her eyes dart from one side of Nomad to the other.

  I pull her to face me and make her look me in the eye. ‘I thought we were happy.’

  ‘We are. The past week has been wonderful. But you have to admit that it’s like a holiday romance, a fun, sexy, happy romance. But we’ve got to go home again. And all the issues we had back there are waiting for us, that’s what worries me,’ she says.

  ‘It feels real to me,’ I say.

  ‘Let’s not do this now,’ Mae says. She stands up to walk away, but then stops at the doorway. ‘Things were pants at home, Olly. I was unhappy and so were you. We can’t ignore that. Because if we do, we’ll go home and two weeks later we’ll be back in the same trouble. I don’t want that.’

  I know she’s right. But knowing something and accepting it are two different things.

  She walks to the door, smiling at me. ‘Sleep well, I won’t be long. I’ll just get the kids settled once the movie is over.’

  I feel like a condemned man who has been granted a last-minute reprieve from the governor. Our big talk averted for now. But I’d still rather bury my head in the nice sand and ignore everything that I know a ‘talk’ will bring.

  As for it being like a holiday romance, how bad is that? We’re having sex. A lot of it. I think of Mae’s face over the past year at home. Sad, lonely, angry, unhappy. I don’t want to see that again. I want to bring home the happy, carefree wife that I have now. The old Mae. My Mae. So I’ve got to find a way to bring our holiday romance home.

  I know that I need to work some stuff out. Like what I’m going to do with my life. I’m forty and I’ve no job and no matter how much I try to make myself into the perfect stay-at-home dad, I miss work.

  But my breathing starts to feel shallow whenever I think about starting again. I’m on holiday. Fuck work. It can wait.

  I pull open the drawer that holds the urn of Pops’ ashes. When and where are we scattering these, Pops? What do you have in store for us next? I feel exhausted; every bone in my body aches and I’m done.

  Next thing I know, I hear a noise, shrill and persistent. But I roll over and ignore it. ‘Wake up!’ Jamie’s voice is in my ear, impossible to ignore as is the pain as he shoves my shoulder.

  ‘Would you stop?’ I grumble, then register my phone that is beeping away. How on earth are Mae and I sleeping through the alarm? I bolt upwards and shout, ‘Quick, get Evie up and get dressed both of you. We need to be out of here in ten minutes!’

  Mae is half-dressed when I run outside and get Nomad ready for the off. We’ve paid in advance, so we can just go. I don’t know how we do it, but somehow, within ten minutes, we are driving out of the campsite, bang on time.

  ‘A lot to be said to this lark of living and sleeping in your getaway car!’ I say over my shoulder to Mae. She is putting some moisturiser on, sitting in the back with the kids, who are eating cereal at the table.

  I’d found the cruise ship departure point the day before and with no issue or drama, within the hour, we are on board, Nomad parked up, and ready to find our cabins.

  ‘We’re in the belly of the ferry again, Dad!’ Jamie says and we all laugh.

  It’s an old, small ship, as cruise liners go, but clean and the smiles of the staff put us all in a good mood immediately. I can’t wait to get to our cabins, because I have a surprise for Evie. The booking was for two cabins, one for the kids, one for us. But I rang the liner yesterday and managed to get a further cabin for Evie. With its own bathroom. Some much-needed privacy for twenty-four hours, at least for her. And I’m rewarded by the b
iggest smile on her face. It was worth the exorbitant fee they charged.

  Jamie’s cabin interconnects with ours; Evie is across the hall. We are all pleasantly surprised at how big they are.

  ‘Maybe, our expectations have changed, because of Nomad,’ Mae ponders and she could be right. Had we gone straight from home to here, we would have found them cramped. But now, they look more than adequate.

  The captain announces that we will be departing shortly, so we decide to head up to the deck to wave goodbye to Koblenz. It’s early still, not quite eight thirty a.m., so the sun hasn’t come out yet and a slight mist hovers over the Rhine.

  ‘I’m so glad we didn’t miss this,’ Mae murmurs and she clasps my hand tight.

  As I stand on the deck, I can’t help but think about the journey to France only a few weeks before. We stood side by side then, much like now, but we were a thousand miles apart. But we’re taking little steps closer to each other every day. I have to believe that it’s working, my fight to save our marriage is working.

  As the day goes on, I realise that the fog hasn’t just lifted from the day, but also from my head. I feel more like myself. The wine-tasting Mae and I partook in Mannheim may also be playing a contributing factor in my renewed good mood.

  Soon it’s time to dress for dinner. We’ve been informed that shorts are not allowed. It feels strange to put trousers and a shirt back on.

  ‘It’s nice to get dressed up,’ Mae says, smiling as she pulls on a red strappy dress. Her skin is dark and tanned. My breath catches as I look at her.

  Don’t be careless with her, Pops once said. Never again, Pops, never again.

  ‘All you are missing is a flower behind your ear and you could be a flamenco dancer,’ I say, touching her hair lightly.

  She spins around and says, ‘Olé!’ and I pull her in to me and kiss her long and hard.

  ‘We’ll be late for dinner,’ she says, but she’s only half-heartedly protesting. I continue kissing her and trace my hand down her spine to the small of her back.

  ‘We can be quick,’ I say and I feel like she is drugging me with every touch of her hand on my body. The sex is quick and for those few moments of desire, I forget everything but the hedonistic feeling of Mae.