A Small Part of Me

by Noelle Harrison

  Nam means devotion or dedication, Myoho means two opposites together, like light and dark or enlightenment and ignorance. Angeline says it’s the Mystic Law – life in its entirety. Renge means lotus flower, which represents cause and effect at the same time, because in the lotus the flower and seed pod appear at the same time. Kyo has two meanings – the first is teaching or sound, and then the second meaning is thread in cloth, meaning the flow of past, present and future. It’s such a pretty image. I especially love the meaning of the word kyo. Maybe it appeals to the seamstress in me, but I love the idea that life is like thread woven in cloth, and a sound which never stops.

  We took our shoes off and Angeline bent down and lit some incense, then she rang a small bell and bowed to her little bedside table with the scroll on it in the box. She rubbed her beads together and began to chant Nam Myoho Renge Kyo. At first I just listened, but then I found myself opening my mouth and the words coming out, and as we went faster and faster, it was like the sound separated from me. I was hardly aware of my mouth moving or my throat pushing the words out. I could feel my whole being lift. It was a little scary at first, but then I think I liked it because it made me feel open and at peace and all floaty, like how I feel sometimes when I’m by my tree.

  I don’t know how long we chanted for, but then she slowed down and gradually we ground to a halt. She turned and smiled then, all sleepy looking, and I felt sleepy too. And then she kissed me on the forehead.

  You have a beautiful soul, Greta, she said.

  I blushed and didn’t know what to say.

  CHRISTINA

  It was late by the time the bus pulled into the Red House Inn in La Conner. The rooms weren’t particularly cheap, but Christina was too tired to find anything else. They went upstairs and threw themselves onto the beds. Christina emptied out her handbag. There were two packets of crisps, a Hershey bar, a couple of muffins and two apples.

  ‘I’m hungry.’ Cian sat on the bed, hunched and pale. He had purple shadows under his eyes and looked exhausted.

  ‘Here, have an apple.’

  ‘I want something hot,’ he whined.

  ‘It’s too late now. Come on, we’ll have a midnight feast. Let’s get into our pyjamas.’

  Cian perked up, and she helped him get undressed. Soon they were sitting on the end of his bed with their modest feast laid out in front of them. Cian tucked into a chocolate muffin. Tiny crumbs were dropping everywhere, but Christina didn’t care.

  ‘Mammy, do trees die?’

  ‘Yes, eventually, but they can live for hundreds of years.’

  ‘So everything has to die? Everything ends sometime?’

  ‘Well, yes.’

  He looked at her, his little head suddenly serious. ‘Like you and Daddy?’ he asked.

  ‘I suppose,’ she answered awkwardly.

  ‘When are we going home?’ he asked suddenly.

  ‘Not yet. Remember, we have to find my mammy.’

  ‘Oh yeah,’ he smiled. ‘What’s her name?’

  ‘Greta.’

  ‘Granny Greta! What does she look like?’

  Christina bent down, opened her bag and took out the photograph. ‘This is very old, but it’s what she looked like when I was your age.’

  Cian took the photo. ‘You showed me this before,’ he said. ‘I thought that was Granny Angel.’ He put the picture back down. ‘Granny Greta is very tall,’ he announced, skipping around the room.

  ‘Come on, into bed with you.’ Christina lifted him up – he was still so light – and flopped him onto the covers. He crawled inside. ‘Can I have a story?’

  ‘No, it’s too late.’

  ‘Please, just a little one?’ He grabbed onto Walter, holding him fiercely to his chest.

  ‘Just one page.’ She picked up the copy of The Cat in the Hat that she had got in the airport. Cian yawned.

  ‘Mammy, why is Granny Greta living in America? Why isn’t she living in Ireland with us?’

  ‘I don’t know, sweetie.’

  ‘Does she not want to know you?’

  ‘Of course not,’ she said tightly and picked up the book again.

  He lay down in the bed, staring up at the ceiling, quiet and pensive.

  ‘Mammy, what would you do if you were a blank piece of paper?’ he asked her, yawning.

  ‘What kind of a question is that?’

  ‘But what would you do?’

  ‘You’re a nutter.’ He giggled and she leaned down and squeezed him, brushing her lips against his cheek. ‘I refuse to answer such a ridiculous question.’ She smoothed his hair off his forehead and opened up the book. ‘Now come on, let’s get settled, otherwise I won’t read to you.’

  She read for moments, Cian falling asleep before she even got past the second page. It was eleven, and her head felt so heavy, but she had to do something else before she slept. It was seven in the morning at home, and she had to ring Declan. Cian snored softly and rolled over, holding Walter tightly. Looking at her son gave her courage. She picked up the hotel phone and followed the instructions for an international call.

  It only rang once, snatched up in an instant.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘It’s Christina.’

  ‘Thank God! Where are you? I’m going mental here! Where’s Cian, is he with you?’

  ‘Yes, of course he’s with me.’

  ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing, Christina? You’re not supposed to do this. It says it in the court order, apart from being completely irresponsible and selfish.’

  ‘I don’t want to row, Declan.’

  ‘Are you mad? But yes, of course you are, because that’s why this has all happened anyway. That’s why you fucked everything up in the first place, without a thought for me or the kids.’

  ‘Just listen, will you? I’m ringing to let you know that Cian is fine and everything is okay, but I had to do this, Declan. Cian needed me.’

  ‘Bollocks. He needs you like he needs a hole in the head. You’ll just fuck him up, like you’ve done with Johnny.’

  ‘I’m going now, Declan.’

  ‘What? But where are you?’ She could hear him breathing deeply, trying to control his temper. ‘I’m sorry, okay? I’ve just been up all night ringing people trying to find out where you are. I’ve been so worried.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I felt like I had no choice.’

  ‘Christina, please come back now. I’ll take the day off work, we’ll sort something out, we’ll talk.’

  ‘I can’t, Declan. I’ve left. I’m not in Ireland any more.’

  There was silence, then he hissed, ‘You bitch!’ She could hear him spitting down the phone. ‘Jesus! What are you telling me here – are you telling me that you’ve abducted my son?’

  ‘He’s my son too.’

  ‘Yes, but you’re an unfit mother, Christina. You have no custody rights to Cian any more.’

  She was crying now, and angry. She knew she should get off the phone, but she had to fight back.

  ‘Where were you the day your precious son was born? When I was screaming in pain, Declan, and your child turned blue and he nearly died? Where were you then?’ She couldn’t stop herself from flinging the words out. ‘Oh yes, I remember, off on one of your precious jobs. You loved your horses more than you loved me.’

  Seconds ticked by. ‘Just come back, Christina, and I won’t say anything and you’ll still have access and maybe we can sort something else out,’ he said quietly, his voice icy cold. ‘But if you don’t, then I’ll find you and you’ll lose again, and this time you’ll never see them again. I won’t let you.’

  She slammed the phone down, shaking.

  You’ll never see them again…I won’t let you…you’ll never see them again…I won’t let you…

  She glanced at Cian; he was still fast asleep. She crept out of the room and walked down the motel corridor. The pile carpets softened her thud so that she could hear her heart all the louder. She got into the lift and went down to the bar. I
t was empty. She slumped into a bar stool and ordered a beer. No, she needed something stronger.

  ‘Can you change that to a whiskey, with ice?’ she asked the bartender.

  The door of the bar opened and a tall man came in. He sat at the other side of the counter and stared across at her. He had longish dark hair and a wide face. She looked away. The last thing she needed was someone talking to her. But he didn’t speak, just kept looking at her. Then he took up his glass and drank a pint of clear liquid in three large gulps. He got up and went as suddenly as he had come.

  I hope that wasn’t vodka.

  The thought brought a smile to her face, if only for a second.

  She sipped the whiskey. It burned her mouth but gave her courage. She had pushed things right to the edge. There was no going back now. She picked up a bar mat and shredded it slowly. The small white squares of card reminded her of confetti.

  She ordered another drink. She was sitting up on high, looking down at the story of her marriage. It replayed again and again like a cheap video, and she wondered how it had come to this, for what feelings were left between her and Declan were now utterly destroyed, little more than a pile of torn paper.

  PANCAKES

  All the lights were blazing in the house when Christina got home. She tumbled out of the car and went to look at the boot. Not bad, not too bad at all. There was no need for any fuss. Christina fumbled in her bag for the door keys. What was she thinking? They were all home anyway.

  She tripped up the stairs and went in. She felt like she should be tiptoeing. She could hear the thump, thump, thump of music from Johnny’s room. Where was Cian? What time was it anyway?

  ‘Christina!’

  She turned slowly. Declan was standing behind her, a dark silhouette against the hall light.

  ‘Where have you been?’

  ‘Just out for a drive,’ she replied softly, hanging up her coat.

  He walked towards her. ‘You’ve been drinking, haven’t you?’

  She looked at him. His blond hair was going silver. It shined in the hall light, a bright line curving above his head. His blue eyes were brittle and stern.

  ‘Just a little,’ she mumbled.

  ‘Christ!’ He moved so suddenly it made her jump. He grabbed her hand, holding her there. ‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing? You left Cian here all afternoon on his own.’

  ‘No I didn’t, Johnny was with him.’ She pulled her hand away from him. He let her go.

  ‘Johnny had to go to practice.’ He was staring at her, right into her. She shifted uncomfortably, rubbing her wrist.

  ‘He shouldn’t have gone,’ she said uneasily. ‘He should have stayed with Cian.’

  ‘He thought you’d be back. He had no idea you’d be this long.’ He was shaking his head at her. ‘It’s not his fault, Christina.’

  She sat down heavily on the stairs. ‘Is Cian all right? Where is he?’

  ‘He’s asleep, and yes, he’s okay now.’

  Christina put her head in her hands. ‘Was he very upset?’ She couldn’t bear to look at Declan. She heard him move, step towards her.

  ‘He’ll be okay.’ Declan’s voice was softer. He paused. She could feel the tension between them as he lit a cigarette. ‘What’s going on, Christina?’

  This was the moment she had been waiting for. At last, he had asked her.

  But it was too late. How could she explain everything now? How could he possibly understand?

  Christina was stuck inside a vicious circle, going around and around. It was all she could do in the morning to get up, keep on going. She stumbled through the day, fulfilling her function as a mother – cleaning, cooking, shopping, driving her children around, trying as hard as possible to blot out the ache inside her. That’s why it helped to drink a little. When she was in bed at night, she willed sleep to swallow her up, take her away from her pain, but at those times she found it impossible to sleep. She would sit at the window looking out at the deserted land, the cloud-covered skies, dark and foreboding, the rustle of the trees whispering to her, telling her that she was nothing. At those times she would creep down the stairs and phone Paddy on his mobile. Once or twice she had crept out of the house and met him down a nearby laneway. There had been no time for words, only sex. She used it like a salve and desired to be pushed so far that it almost hurt. She wanted her meetings with Paddy to take her outside of herself, and maybe just for a second she was able to do that, get lost in the passion.

  How could she possibly tell Declan all of this?

  Yet she wanted him to know. She wanted to tell Declan that she had been thirsting for love for years. She had been unable to turn Paddy down, aroused by how he saw her as someone attractive, someone worthwhile. She was under no illusions; she had never felt the way about Paddy that she had about Declan. This was different. It was Declan’s fault she had looked for comfort elsewhere, and she was going to tell him that.

  Christina looked up. Her husband was standing with his back to her, smoking, looking out the porch doors.

  She needed to know if he loved her any more. She didn’t think so, but she needed to hear it from his lips. She couldn’t live like this, in a hiatus, invisible.

  ‘Declan—’

  ‘Christ, what happened to the car?’ he interrupted her, spinning around, his eyes flashing, smoke streaming from his nostrils.

  ‘It’s just a little bump.’

  ‘It’s more than a little bump! Did someone go into the back of you?’

  ‘Not exactly…’

  ‘Did she not tell you, Dad?’

  It was Johnny coming down the stairs. She twisted around so she could see him. He was standing above her in tracksuit bottoms and bare feet.

  ‘Johnny, I’m sorry about today, I—’

  But before she could finish, her son talked over her, passing her by on the staircase.

  ‘She crashed into the school gates, pissed as a fart!’

  ‘Johnny! Don’t talk like that.’

  He continued to ignore her. ‘It would have been funny if she hadn’t got out and made such a bloody scene. Everyone saw it, her screaming at the head…God!’

  ‘Johnny, it wasn’t my fault! There was a van in the way, I couldn’t see. And your principal, well, he was so rude to me—’

  ‘Shut up, Christina!’ Declan snapped. He was white now, rigid with anger. But she didn’t care. It was Johnny she wanted to talk to, to make him understand. She raised her voice.

  ‘Don’t walk out on me! Come back here, I need to explain.’ But he had gone off into the kitchen and she was left with Declan, looking down at her.

  ‘I’ve had enough,’ he said coldly.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Of you, the drinking, the way you treat the boys. And us. It’s dead between us. I’ve had it, Christina.’

  She shook her head, the tears welling. ‘Please, Declan, I’m sorry. I just feel so lost.’

  ‘That’s the problem. That’s always been the problem with you. You’ve never grown up, Christina. You’ve always behaved like this spoiled little girl. Well, I can’t do it any more. I don’t want to take care of you any more.’

  She couldn’t believe him. He didn’t really mean it, because where would he go?

  She closed her eyes. She felt so unspeakably tired and worn out.

  ‘It’s no use talking about it now,’ he said. ‘You’re drunk. We’ll try to sort something out in the morning.’

  ‘I’ll stop,’ she whispered. ‘I’ll change.’

  ‘I don’t know, Christina.’

  ‘What about the children?’

  ‘I just don’t know.’

  The next day she woke early. Declan was still asleep, with Cian tucked between them. She stared at them both. Declan looked as innocent as his child. She listened to their breath – Cian’s so quiet you could barely hear him, just watch his chest rise and fall, and Declan, a deep murmur released from his lips, softly snoring.

  She pulled back the curt
ains an inch. It was a bright day, warm for February. She felt better already. The land seemed to sparkle before her, the birds were busy pecking at the earth and she noticed a whole new patch of snowdrops, which seemed to have sprung up overnight. She looked at the calendar. It was Shrove Tuesday. She was going to make pancakes for their breakfast.

  Christina got dressed and stood outside Johnny’s door for a moment. Should she go in and talk to him? She couldn’t hear a sound, and Johnny wasn’t at his best first thing in the morning. She would be asking for a row. She wanted to start the day right.

  She opened the fridge in the kitchen to get out the milk and eggs and saw half a bottle of white wine in the door. She paused. She stared at it, then taking the bottle out, she pulled out the cork and poured it down the sink before she had time to think. Pleased with herself, she slung the bottle in a box out the back. It was full of bottles, and she winced when she saw them. What had she become?

  She beat the pancake mixture with a fork, then covered it and put it in the fridge to let it chill. Cian appeared in his pyjamas, got up on a high stool and shivered.

  ‘Are you cold, darling?’ He nodded, so she went and got him a blanket and wrapped it around his shoulders. ‘I’m sorry about yesterday, sweetie.’

  She could see him thinking for a second, and then he remembered. ‘Where were you?’ he demanded.

  ‘I’m making pancakes,’ she said, changing the subject. ‘It’s Pancake Day!’

  Cian grinned. ‘Great!’ he said. He loved pancakes.

  The family sat around the table eating pancakes for breakfast. There was a tiny shred of harmony in the house. Christina imagined how they looked, like a family on TV. Even Johnny was eating them, saying nothing, but at least eating.

  And Declan was so pleased he touched her, ruffled her hair. Nothing was said about the night before. He wasn’t going to leave her.

  As soon as they had all gone, she rang Angeline. She would know what to do. Angeline said the first thing was to go to the doctor. If she was feeling depressed, the best way to deal with it was with medication, not drink. Christina was nervous, scared about the idea of that, but she had to face the truth. There was something wrong with her, and if she didn’t do something about it fast, she was going to lose her husband and destroy her children.