by Alex Coleman
“Right. The other driver –” “Yes.”
“It all makes sense now. This was another thing me and Chrissy used to talk about. We couldn’t work out how you two could get in such a mess over Granny and Granda’s whatchacallit, estate. I mean, they weren’t exactly rich, were they?”
“No. They sure weren’t.”
He reached for a beer and took a hefty slug. “That must have been hard on you too. You used to be so close. But you and her seem to be all right now. You’re staying there and all …”
“Yeah.”
“So whats with the sudden thaw? Did she just forgive you out of the blue?”
“Not only has she not forgiven me out of the blue, I don’t think she’s forgiven me at all. We were doing OK for a few days, yeah. But it went horribly wrong this morning. Things were said.”
“What kind of things?” “Just … things.”
He waited to see if I would add anything else and when I didn’t, said, “Ah, don’t sweat it. I’m sure you’ll make up tonight.”
I didn’t feel like getting into the uncertainty of my sleeping arrangements. But he had given me a thought. Melissa would be my next stop.
“Maybe you’re right.”
“Course I’m right. She knows you’ve been through a lot.
She’ll come round.”
“Maybe … Robert, I have to ask you something.” “Yeah?”
“Yeah. How come you’re not angry? Are you only pretending not to be? Because there’s no need. Shout away. I deserve it. I know I do.”
His eyes twinkled at me. “Maybe I’ll get angry later, when I get over the shock. For now, I’m just … relieved. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not congratulating you on any of this. But at least now I know there was a reason for you turning on me. It’s a fucking ridiculous reason, but it’s better than nothing. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry I gave as good as I got.”
That last bit was almost too much for me. “Don’t you be apologising for God’s sake,” I told him. “I feel bad enough.” “Yeah,” he said with a mock frown. “You’re right. I take it back. Why should I –” He was interrupted by a knock on the door. “Bogie. Will I send him away again?”
This conversation had gone better than I could have dared to hope. Here was an opportunity for me to get out while I was still ahead.
“Let him in,” I said.
“Come in!” Robert roared. “It’s open.”
Bogie entered. He was laden down with crisps and chocolate bars, enough for a children’s party.
“Am I too early?” he said. “I can go out again.”
“No,” I said, getting up. My legs felt like hollow tubes. “I’m off now. I’m sorry I turfed you out. Family business.”
“Nil desperandum,” he said. “Here, lookit, I got you a Snickers. You look like a Snickers kind of girl.”
I took the bar. This is a dream, I thought. You’ll wake up in a minute. “Thanks.”
“I’ll walk you out to the car,” Robert said. “No need. You stay here.”
“Sure?”
“The beer’s not going to drink itself.”
He stepped over to me. Our hug went on for quite a while. “Nice,” said Bogie.
* * *
It had just gone nine thirty when I arrived at Melissa’s.
Colm answered the door.
“Jackie!” he said, more startled than delighted. “Hi.”
We looked at each other for a moment. And then he seemed to suddenly remember where he was. “Come in, Christ, come in.”
I followed him into the living-room where Melissa was sitting on the sofa. Niall was draped across her lap, his eyes half-closed, his mouth fully open.
“Hello,” I said quietly.
“Hiya.” She didn’t look at all surprised to see me. I guessed that she’d heard me at the front door and had used the warning period to compose herself.
“He’s up late,” I said, nodding at Niall.
“He had a bit of an episode,” Colm explained. “He got upset when he realised you’d gone and he set himself off.”
“But I said goodbye earlier. He seemed all right then. Actually, he looked like he couldn’t have cared less.”
“Well, he did care,” Melissa said sharply. Then to Colm: “And we’re not calling them episodes any more. They’re tantrums, that’s all.”
Niall’s legs twitched. And then, without further warning, he sprang to life. His eyes flew open and with the agility of a gymnast, he launched himself into a sitting position. Melissa issued a muted “Ooof!” as the wind was knocked out of her. Niall looked around the room as if he’d never seen it before, finally settling his gaze on me.
“You came BACK,” he said hoarsely and then threw himself off the sofa. He hit the ground running and had wrapped himself around my knees before I could even say hello. There was just no reading that little boy.
“Come on,” Colm said to him. “Let’s go and get all tucked in.”
“NO!” Niall hollered. “I want to stay UP!” Melissa groaned. She looked exhausted.
“Tell you what, Niall,” I said. “If you go up with your daddy now, I’ll come and read you a story in a few minutes. Little Red Riding Hood – isn’t that the one you like?”
He looked up at me, gravely insulted. “No. I HATE that one.”
I was thrown, but not for long. “Okay, then. No story.”
He thought it through. “Maybe that one then. Maybe your one.”
I smiled at him and only just resisted the urge to ruffle his hair. “Great. See you in a few minutes.”
Without another word, he sped off into the hall and went thumping up the stairs.
Colm said, “Don’t worry, you won’t have to do it. He’ll be asleep in seconds.”
“I don’t mind,” I said. “Really.”
He smiled and left, closing the door behind him.
“Sit down,” Melissa said. It was somewhere between an invitation and an instruction.
I took a seat in an armchair. “Sounds like you’ve had a hard day,” I said.
“So-so.”
“You must be knackered.” “Sort of.”
So much for small talk, I thought. “Melissa, listen. I want to apologise. About the Nancy thing. You were right, I should have called you. Texting was … insulting.”
“Yes.”
Evidently, she had no intention of making it easy for me. “And, apart from that, I shouldn’t have stayed over there last night. Not without talking to you properly first.”
I thought I’d done quite well there, but she obviously disagreed. Before she even spoke, it was obvious from the narrowing of her eyes and the sudden Desperate Dan-ation of her jaw. “Oh?” she said. “Not without talking to me first? And what would you have said?”
In the silence that followed, I noticed for the first time that the television was on. The volume had been turned almost all the way down. Some British politician was saying that this was just a side-show and he wanted to concentrate on the real issues. I knew how he felt.
“I’ll start again,” I said, feeling faint and disembodied. “You were kind of right this morning when you said that I probably wouldn’t have come here if Nancy had been around.”
Melissa sniffed dismissively. “Knew it.”
“But I didn’t come here thinking you were, I don’t know, a poor substitute. I came here with the best of intentions.”
“Is that so?”
Overhead, something fell to the floor with such violence that the light-fitting shook. The thump was followed by a giggle. The giggle was followed by a raised voice. The raised voice was followed by a short screech. Then all was quiet.
“Yes,” I said. “I did. I could have gone somewhere else, you know.”
“I’m supposed to feel privileged, am I?” “I didn’t say that. I’m saying …” I paused.
This, I imagined, was the sort of feeling that bungee- jumpers got when they climbed up onto the rail of the bridge. I closed my eyes and a
sked myself if I really wanted to do this. The answer came back Yes and no. Mostly no. But I did it anyway.
“I’m saying I came here for a reason. I came here because I wanted things to get better between us.” For the first time, she looked me in the eye. I hurried on, seizing the moment. “And I’m not telling you this because I’m proud of it. Just the opposite. I’m embarrassed – I’m ashamed – that I thought of using Gerry’s behaviour as – I can’t think of anything to call it but an excuse . . . I’m ashamed that I thought of using Gerry’s behaviour as an excuse to kick-start our relationship. But that’s what I did. And I want you to know it.”
She blinked at me. “Kick-start? What do you mean?” “Oh, come on.”
“What?” “Melissa …”
She said, “What?” again but with a strange click in her voice that told me she was already losing faith in her ability to keep up the pretence. I let the word hang in the air for a second to underline the silliness of her response.
“You know as well as I do,” I said then, “that things have been bad between us since Mum and Dad died.”
I waited for a response. But she made none. If she’d been lying down instead of sitting up, I would have assumed that she had died. Her eyes had turned to glass and all traces of expression had vanished from her face. It seemed that I had no choice but to keep talking.
“And the reason’s pretty obvious. You’ve never forgiven me for driving drunk.”
Again, I waited and again, it was in vain.
“We should have talked about it,” I went on, “but we never did. And it just got worse and worse. You can’t deny it. So, yeah … I came to stay with you for a reason. I thought that in all this mess with Gerry, we might … pull together.”
Her face reanimated. “And what, you’re saying now that I let you down? I pulled plenty, let me tell –”
“No, Melissa, Jesus. You’re so defensive … I’m not saying you haven’t been good to me. You’ve been very good! I said so this morning too. There’s only so many times I can repeat it. I’m just saying … we should talk. That’s all.”
“And what if I don’t want to?”
I was surprised by this line, as, apparently, was she. Her eyebrows briefly came together as if she’d spotted a strange and possibly dangerous object on the floor between us.
“I really think we should,” I said uncertainly. “I mean, it can’t hurt, can it? I’ve just been over to Robert and I had a talk with him that I should have had a long time ago too. And I’m glad that I did. Very glad.”
“What was all that about then?” she said. “You and Robert?”
I looked at her, surprised by her sudden chirpiness. She wasn’t really interested in me and Robert. It was obvious. She was trying to change the subject, that was all. And I wasn’t having it.
“That’ll keep for another day. It’s you and me that I want to work on now.”
The chirpiness disappeared as abruptly as it had arisen. “Work on? Christ. Should I get a notebook? Will there be an exam later?”
That tore it. “Melissa,” I said thinly. “Why are you being like this?”
“Like what?” she bristled.
“Like that. All prickly and defensive.” “I’m not being any such thing.”
“Yeah, you are. And you know you are.”
She fumed for a moment and then sat back. “All right. Go on then if you’re so …. Go on. What do you want me to do?”
“It’s just a conversation, Melissa, I know you’ve had them before. I say something, you say something … You’ll get the hang of it.”
It was hardly the time for sarcasm, but I couldn’t help myself. She folded her arms. “All right,” she said gruffly. “Start.”
The door opened then and Colm stuck his nose in. When he saw Melissa’s posture and my frown, he went into reverse, calling out in a fake-cheery voice, “He’s out for the count. Anyone for tea?”
“No, thanks,” we said together. “Grand, so.”
The door closed again.
“OK,” I began. “First of all, I suppose I should say again that driving drunk was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”
Melissa’s lips twitched. “You suppose?”
I ignored that. “And I know I could have killed someone. You don’t have to point that out. I already regretted it before Mum and Dad died and, believe me, I’ve regretted it a hell of a lot more ever since. I think about it every single day. And I understand why you were disgusted with me. I was disgusted with myself. I hated myself. But what was I supposed to do? Curl up and die? All I could do was learn from it and never make the same idiotic mistake again. Which I never will. What do you want me to do or say, Melissa? It wasn’t me who killed Mum and Dad? You already know that. But still, you won’t … you won’t give me a break.”
I braced myself for her response. It was a while in coming. A series of expressions took turns on her face while she was thinking. I thought I saw traces of anger, fear, and sorrow, amongst unidentifiable others. She considered her response for so long that I eventually began to wonder if she’d decided to give me the silent treatment and was simply waiting for me to lose heart and leave. Then she raised her chin and primly gathered herself together.
“Well,” she said. “You’ve certainly …” But she ran out of steam immediately.
And then I saw that her bottom lip was beginning to tremble. I was knocked off balance completely.
“Melissa? Are you all right?”
She brought one hand up to her mouth and used the other to steady herself on the sofa, as if she was in danger of keeling over from the sitting position. I shifted my weight, ready to get up and go to her, but she was on her feet before I made it to mine. She walked off – ran, really – in the direction of the kitchen. I stepped after her, unable to believe how quickly things had unravelled.
“Leave me alone!” she wailed as she disappeared around the corner.
I stood still and ran my hand across my brow, wondering what the hell had just happened. Colm was in the kitchen. I heard him speaking in a tense whisper but couldn’t make out what he was saying. Then Melissa produced a sort of groan and took off again, this time down the hall and up the stairs. Colm followed – I heard their footsteps thumping past. Then she shouted at him to leave her alone too. Not knowing how else to proceed, I sat down again. After a few seconds, the door to the hall swung open and Colm crept in. He gave me a weary smile and heavy sigh combo, then took the seat that Melissa had occupied not two minutes earlier.
“Is she all right?”I asked. “I mean, obviously not, but –” “Dunno,” he said. “She wouldn’t even tell me what the problem was.”
“We were just talking,” I said, “and she suddenly got all upset. Legged it before I knew what was what.”
“Hmmm.”
“It was my fault. I brought up the subject of … Mum and Dad.”
That was as far as I was willing to go for the moment. I wanted to see how he would react. The answer to that one was: slowly. He didn’t say or do anything at first. And then, ever so gently, he started to nod his head. The movement was almost imperceptible at first. By the time I’d realised that he was doing it, he’d stopped. There followed a lengthy silence. And then, at last, he spoke.
“That might not be good,” he said. I stared across at him. “Oh?”
He shook as head with no more vigour than he had nodded it. “No.”
“Why do you say that?”
“She’s very … sensitive about all that.”
“Yeah. I know. That’s why I brought it up, I suppose. We can’t keep pussyfooting around the way we have been. I mean, you know about all it, don’t you? The way it’s been between us? And why?”
“I know you’ve had your problems,” he said noncommittally.
“We sure have,” I agreed. “And I want them to stop. You know what I really hate about all this? She makes me feel like I should be defending drunk driving. You know? Saying ‘Oh, get over it, it was no big d
eal’. When it was a big deal. Christ, I know that.”
I realised that my voice had risen and flashed a half-smile at Colm to show that I wasn’t about to lose my temper entirely.
“It must be hard for you,” he said. And then he stared at his knees for a moment. “Has she, eh … Has she ever talked to you about her own feelings? Her guilt? About her … role? As she sees it.”
“Sorry?”
“That night. When your Mum and Dad died.”
“Guilt?” I squeaked. “Role? What role? She didn’t have a role.”
“No,” he agreed. “She didn’t. But it’s hard to convince her of that sometimes.”
“I don’t follow you.”
He puffed out some air. “There’s nothing to follow. It doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. But they were coming back from our house, weren’t they? Your parents.”
I waited for him to come to the point. And then I realised that he already had. My eyes widened. “No!”
“Yeah …”
“No! You’re joking me! She feels guilty because –” “Because –”
“– they were killed coming back from visiting you?” “Yes. Yeah. Yes. That’s about the height of it.”
“But that’s ridiculous!”
“I know that. Try telling your sister.”
“They could have been coming home from anywhere. Or been on their way to anywhere. She can’t possibly think –”
“She does, Jackie. I know she does. She hasn’t mentioned it in a long time. But there was a time when it was all she talked about.”
“You’re joking me.” I knew I was repeating myself but I found it hard to stop.
“I wish I was. She was very hard on herself for a long time. Back then. Months. And months. If you ask me, she’s never really allowed herself to get over it.”
“But I’m the one she gives the hard time to. Why does … I don’t see … Right, I’m going to talk to her.”
I got up but Colm followed suit and with a nimbleness that I wouldn’t have credited him with, intervened between me and the door I was heading for.
“Please don’t,” he said. “But I have to try to –”
“I’ve tried. Dozens of times. It doesn’t work. She won’t listen.”