Feels Like Maybe

by Claire Allan

  “Right,” he said and went back to watching TV.

  I sat for a while, sipping my tea and nibbling delicately at a digestive biscuit, before I couldn’t hold it in any more.

  “Jake, are you okay?”

  “Fine,” he said, reaching his empty beer bottle towards me in the international sign language for “get us another one, love”.

  I got up and left my cup by the sink as I took another bottle from the fridge.

  Handing it to him, I said: “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Yes, Aoifs, I’m sure. Why are you asking?”

  I could hear the annoyance in his voice. “Well, I thought we were going to talk some tonight?”

  “What about?” he said, turning towards me while keeping one eye on the TV.

  “The last nine months perhaps?” I said, my voice a little harsher than I had intended.

  “Look, Aoifs, what’s to talk about? I went away and worked, you had a baby and here we are now.”

  “But where are we exactly?” I asked.

  He rolled his eyes. “Here, babe. We are right here in this room. Isn’t that enough?”

  I didn’t want to beg him to tell me he loved me. I didn’t want to ask him to tell me he was going to be there for me and Maggie. I wanted him to say it without prompting but I knew by the way this conversation was going that wasn’t going to happen now. The damage had been done and we were slipping into dangerous territory. This was the same territory I had lived in for three years together when I longed for him to tell me he cared, when I asked him over and over again like someone who had no self-respect.

  Anna never needed to ask Billy. She never needed to talk about a missing nine months. She was never fobbed off with phone calls because he was too busy. They were a partnership.

  We were nothing.

  We were just two people who admittedly had amazing sex together, but we weren’t two people who were meant to be. Not even the gorgeous little bundle of pink in the corner could change that.

  “I think you should leave, Jake,” I said, with as much strength as I could muster.

  He stared at me, open-mouthed. “What are you on?”

  “I’m not on anything, Jake.” I said, steadying my hand against the sideboard to stop it from trembling.

  “Aoife,” he said, using my proper name for perhaps the first time ever, “I’ve come here to see Maggie, and you.”

  “I know, and you’ve seen us and now I really, really think you should go.”

  In spite of myself I felt tears spring to my eyes.

  “But c’mon,” he said. “This is nice, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t know what ‘this’ is. But it isn’t what I want or deserve – and it certainly isn’t nice.”

  He lifted his jacket and left and I knew then, finally, that I would never feel him kiss me again.

  I sat down, lifted Maggie to me, and waited for the torrent of tears to follow.

  To my surprise they didn’t.

  I lifted the phone and called Anna again. When she answered, her voice a little stronger than last time, I told her I loved her. “I know today is tough, Anna, but you were so, so lucky to have Billy. You were so in love. You just did all that loving in a few years.”

  “I know, darling,” she said.

  “I’ve told Jake to go,” I said. “He’ll still have access to Maggie. Just none to me.”

  “Are you okay?” Anna asked.

  “Fine,” I said, my voice starting to break just that little bit, “but the next time I’m in Derry can you drive me down to Moville some evening? Me and the sea need a little time alone.”

  

  Chapter 41

  Beth

  When Aoife phoned I knew something was wrong. Mostly I knew something was wrong because I had been so horrid to her earlier that she wouldn’t have phoned me unless she really, really had to. I hadn’t meant to be mean to her. It was just that sometimes I wanted to shake her and make her realise that people were looking out for her.

  When she had gone to get changed in the shop, Elena and I had talked.

  “You probably think I’m nuts,” Elena had said casually as she sipped from the cup of chamomile tea I had made for her.

  I smiled noncommittally. The wrong answer and we could lose our best customer and, I had to admit, I liked having Elena around. She added a certain something to our lives, even it was only impetuous acts of generosity such as this.

  “Well, I suppose I am a bit nuts. But I see something in Aoife that reminds me of me when I was her age. I didn’t know where I was going or what I was doing and I got in with the wrong kind of man too.”

  She was clearly in confessional mode and I sipped from my coffee, pushing the sample catalogues to one side and settling down to listen.

  Elena suddenly looked wistful. “God, I loved him, and when he broke my heart – which was always going to happen at some stage – I was so devastated I lost all sense of me. It took me a long time – too long – to find myself again. And it was ten years before I met Gerry and realised I was worth loving. I don’t want that for Aoife. She deserves to be happy and Maggie deserves to have a proper family.”

  “You’ve a very kind heart,” I answered.

  She smiled. “Some people think I’m an interfering old bat and I probably am but I just want to share some life experience around. God knows my two aren’t a bit interested. The two boys couldn’t wait to get away to university and they haven’t really looked back since. I always wanted a daughter,” she said wistfully. “When I look at Aoife I know what will make her happy. I know she needs someone to take care of her.”

  “And you think Tom could be that person?”

  She sighed. “I’m not sure. I thought so, but you know Tom has his own problems. He has been hurt and I know what could make him happy too. I just need them both to see it.”

  “He’s divorced, isn’t he?” I asked, leaning forward, hoping I suppose to hear that someone’s life was more of a train-wreck than mine.

  “I’m not sure of the details,” she said, “but he has been hurt. I’m not saying he is still in love with her – but whatever happened, well, I don’t think it was how they hoped things would pan out.”

  “I don’t suppose anyone thinks bad things will happen,” I said, my heart sinking.

  “He was devastated when he moved up here. I had to give him a good talking to, you know,” Elena said. “I told him he wasn’t ever going to get any business worth talking about looking like he had been dragged backwards through one of his own hedges. He took his time, but he is getting there, I think.”

  “Perhaps he isn’t ready for a relationship though,” I said. “I’m not sure Aoife is either – much as I would love her to find a man who actually cared about her.” I sighed. “You do know that Jake is back on the scene – Maggie’s daddy. He says he wants her back. He doesn’t act like he wants her back, but she wants to give him a chance.”

  “God,” said Elena, “I hope we can make her see sense.”

  “I think she needs to see it for herself,” I said.

  And then Aoife was back, looking gorgeous, just in time for Tom to walk into the shop.

  I knew Aoife didn’t like people meddling in her life. She was a stubborn so-and-so, but looking at Tom’s face when he saw her (and ignoring the fact that he was quite possibly on the rebound) I thought it might just be possible that we could engineer a romance between the pair of them.

  But, of course, it took a mere five minutes for that positive frame of mind to slip as Aoife seemed to twig what was going on and all hell broke loose. She stormed upstairs and Tom followed later. He had a face like thunder as he walked up the stairs, after (quite bravely) telling Elena her interfering wasn’t appreciated, and his demeanour had not improved much when he came back downstairs a short time later and left with a curt goodbye.

  I thought Elena would have lost her cool, but she smiled at me as she left.

  “Trust me, Beth, there is time for t
his to work out yet.”

  Of course, I didn’t trust her, so I went up to talk to Aoife and then I’d told her she loved misery.

  Dan had laughed when I told him the story. “You know what they say,” he said, ducking for cover. “Misery loves company.”

  “Thanks for the support,” I mock-huffed.

  “Look, Betsy, we’ve talked about this a hundred times. Aoife needs to make her own choices and you and Elena interfering isn’t going to make her change her mind. You know how stubborn she is. The more you try and push her away from Jake, the closer you’re going to push her to him.”

  I nodded. Dan was more than likely right.

  So you could have knocked me down with a feather when she phoned and told me she had kicked him out once and for all.

  I left the dishes in the sink and Dan sitting alone at the table and drove straight over to see her. It was strange that my feelings were mixed. For the past few weeks all I could do was wish that this moment would come – the moment when Aoife would finally kick that no-good layabout out of her life once and for all – but then I knew this would have been tough for her. I had to remind myself not to break into song and dance when I saw her.

  Letting myself into the shop, I climbed the stairs to the flat and opened the door. “Aoife!” I called out, walking into the living-room. There were candles burning and a CD of cheesy eighties ballads was playing in the background. Calling her name again, I noticed a small auburn-headed figure lying on the rug, a glass of wine at her side.

  With her eyes closed, mascara streaked down what had clearly been a beautifully made-up face, she was singing at the top of her lungs that she wanted to know what love was.

  I felt my heart swell with love for my gorgeous, tuneless friend.

  I walked over and sat beside her, pouring a glass of Chablis for myself, and then I did what every best friend should do in such a situation. I gave her a hug and started singing, just as loudly and just as badly as her.

  “Are you okay, sweetie?” I asked eventually.

  Aoife wiped her nose on the sleeve of her cardigan and nodded. “He’s no good, is he?”

  I shook my head.

  “And he was never going to treat me well, was he?”

  I shook my head again.

  “And even though I’m probably never going to have sex again and spend my life obsessing about Maggie and then fall apart when she leaves home, this is the best thing I could do, isn’t it?”

  I nodded.

  She cuddled into me and I held her for a while as she cried, and then sang again with her about Broken Wings.

  When the singing had finally subsided, I asked her what had happened.

  “You were right, Beth, when you said I was a misery guts. And no, that doesn’t mean I fancy Tom or anything or that I appreciate what Elena has been up to behind my back, but it made me think. I deserve more than that. I want what Anna and Billy had. I want what Elena and Gerry have. I want what you and Dan have.”

  Funny, I thought as I hugged her. It had been a long time since it had crossed my mind that anyone could be jealous of what Dan and I had. Perhaps it was time for an epiphany of my own. Physically we might be faulty goods, but emotionally we were pretty solid.

  As I crawled under the duvet on the sofa later that night – too tipsy to drive home – I lifted my mobile and dialled Dan’s number.

  “Hey, sexy,” he answered, his voice husky from sleep.

  “Hey, yourself.”

  “You okay, Bets?” he asked, his voice deep with concern.

  “I’m fine, Dan. Just fine. I love you. I just wanted to let you know.”

  “I love you too, babe.”

  “Don’t forget it,” I added.

  “I won’t.”

  “Promise?”

  “For better or worse,” he answered and even though we were a few miles apart, and just disembodied voices down a phone line, I felt closer to him in those few moments than I had done in a long time. It was possible, I thought as I drifted off to sleep, that I felt closer to him than I had ever done.

  

  Chapter 42

  Aoife

  I woke up to a thumping headache, a furry mouth and a crying baby. As I changed Maggie’s toxic nappy and heated a bottle of formula I had flashbacks to the night before. I – me, Aoife McLaughlin – had told Jake Gibson to leave. He would have access to his daughter – I wouldn’t deny him that – but I was no longer his to pick up and drop down whenever he wanted.

  I had done that. It had been on my terms. This time yesterday I was planning on making a go of things with him again, of letting him be my significant other and now it was done and dusted. Forever. My head was swimming. I wasn’t sure it was a result of the two bottles of Chablis Beth and I had demolished the night before or whether it was because I could not quite believe what I had done.

  And yet, a wee part of me felt proud. For the first time in my entire relationship with Jake I had called the shots. I felt empowered. I felt almost as if I should be singing a Gloria Gaynor song or shouting about Girl Power.

  I smiled, holding Maggie to me, and then set about making breakfast for me and Beth.

  “Morning, sleepy!” I shouted into the living room.

  “Go away!” she called back, and I smiled again.

  It reminded me of our student days, mornings cooking fryups after nights on the lash. We would dig out whatever we could find, frying half a loaf of bread and topping it with baked beans to bring us round from the night before’s excesses. And then we would walk to college, where we would do our best to stay awake and alert through lectures before whiling away long afternoons in the art studios putting designs together. Of course when we were students I didn’t have a baby crying through the night or demanding a half-hour burping session when all I wanted to do was lie down and sleep.

  “Come and get it while it’s hot,” I called, slicing the sausages in half and covering them in ketchup.

  I looked around as Beth walked in, her hair stuck to the side of her face. Rubbing her eyes she said: “Why did we open that second bottle?”

  “We didn’t open it.” I laughed. “You did, you insisted on it. You said it was for medicinal purposes.”

  She grimaced before taking a bite out of her sausage sandwich. “I’m not sure I’m going to make it through the morning.”

  “You’ll be fine. We’ve had worse hangovers than this.”

  “God, woman, you seem fine. Do you have an invincible liver or something?”

  “Trust me, my liver is suffering,” I said, “and so is my head and my stomach and my heart a wee bit too but I think I did the right thing and that makes me feel a little better.”

  I was so glad that Beth had never told me “I told you so” or cheered at the news Jake was no longer going to have a place in my affections, but I could tell from the sly smile on her face that she was happy.

  “I’ll try not to be a misery guts any more,” I said.

  “You bloody better not,” Beth answered, clinking her orange-juice glass against mine. “One miserable bitch is enough between us.”

  “You aren’t miserable,” I soothed.

  “Oh Aoife, you are and always have been a god-awful liar.”

  ****

  I spent most of that day curled on the sofa on one of what I had taken to calling my “maternity leave” days. I stayed in my fluffy robe and just cuddled, soothed and played with Maggie. When she slept I slept, when she ate I ate, when she gurgled I gurgled back at her. It was blissful. For the first time I didn’t look at her and only see her father stare back at me. It was as if I had been given a degree of freedom by making my choice. And I fell in love with her. Perhaps, I realised, I had been living in a bubble for the last few weeks, unable to allow myself to fall so madly in love with her and now I was doing it. It’s not that I hadn’t loved her before, because I had, but now I realised that motherhood allowed you the glorious pleasure of falling in love a bit more each and every day.

&nb
sp; As we sat there, mother and daughter together, a strange urge came over me. I wanted to speak to my mother. Perhaps I was on a forgiveness high, but now that I had made peace with myself, I wanted to make peace with my mother too.

  Dialling her number I listened to the phone ring and then heard her familiar voice doing the usual McLaughlin residence thing.

  “Hello, Mum, how are you?”

  “Fine,” she answered. “I’ll just get your dad for you.”

  Maybe I would try again another day.

  ****

  As it started to get dark, I dressed and wrapped Maggie in her softest fleece blanket before strapping her into her pram and we set off for a walk to the park. My hangover had subsided and I knew all I needed now was a good blast of fresh air to tire me out enough to enjoy a good night’s sleep – if Maggie would let me have one.

  I loved chattering to Maggie in her pram, loved how she was now starting to react to things happening around her, not to mention how her face would brighten up when she heard my voice.

  I knew that at seven weeks old her interest in my running commentary on the trees, cars and streetlights was probably minimal but I chattered anyway. I didn’t care if people thought I was a crackpot, chatting to her and pulling funny faces.

  “Oh look, Maggie, it’s a cat. A cat says miaow! And there’s a doggy. A doggy says woof! Do you see the pretty lights? See how they sparkle? Yes, they are pretty and so are you. Yes, you are!”

  “They say talking to yourself is the first sign of madness,” a voice behind me said.

  I turned, startled, to see Tom.

  “I’m not talking to myself although it’s debateable whether or not I’m going mad,” I said.

  He smiled.

  “Anyway,” I continued, “what are you doing out this evening? Do you make a habit of jumping out of bushes at random women because I have to say that, if you do, I’m pretty sure you would score quite high on the madness scale yourself.”