Emily
On the way to anger management, I recite my confession in my head, making adjustments as I go, changing my tone of voice for certain parts. They all hate me anyway. Telling them why I’m here isn’t going to make it much worse. It’s like a serial killer saying they wouldn’t give up their seat to an old lady on the bus; it loses its impact somewhat. I march in, ready for action, ready to prove I don’t belong here. Then I look around at all the faces and it feels like I’m shrinking.
Sam clangs the triangle and welcomes everyone. Then the group members bow their heads and I do the same, trying to ignore how my heartbeat has got all overexcited and doubled in speed. After that, it’s the dreaded declaration. Jake doesn’t bother to hold out his hands now, as he knows I’ll refuse to hold them.
‘So, before we start, does anyone want to share anything?’
It’s Sam’s stock opening phrase, but today it feels like he’s talking directly to me. He surveys the room and when his eyes reach me, he pauses, and I’m just about to say yes when his eyes pass me by and the moment’s gone; and alongside the relief, I feel an unexpected sense of disappointment.
‘Right, well, today you’re going to be thrilled to hear we’re going to do some role play.’
An audible groan travels around the room and Sam smiles.
‘I know people don’t like role play, but it really does help to try some of the strategies out, rather than just talk about them. You might not appreciate it now, but when a conflict situation arises, you’ll be better off for having had a go.’
I’m not seven. I think I can make the giant mental leap from discussing a strategy to using it in everyday life.
‘So I’m going to give out a range of hot topics, the types of things that tend to stir up a bit of debate. If you find you both share the same view, perhaps one of you could pretend to oppose it so you can practise some of the language choices that help deal with a difference of opinion in a positive way. Then I’ll call you back so we can share ideas.’
Sam circles the group, handing each pair a folded piece of paper.
I open ours. Me Too campaign. When I hold it up for Jake, I notice my hand’s shaking so I quickly drop it to my lap. ‘I mean, there’s nothing to discuss really, is there? Unless you agree with sexual abuse, it’s pretty clear-cut it’s a great thing women are finally standing up and saying enough is enough.’
Jake nods, but there’s no commitment behind it.
‘Do you seriously think differently?’
‘I just think maybe it’s gone a bit far, that’s all. It seems you can’t even compliment a woman or touch her on the arm these days without being accused of sexual harassment. My friend got a formal warning the other week for trying to kiss one of his colleagues in a bar, when she’d been the one flirting with him all night and encouraging him to buy her drinks.’
An image comes into my head. My short skirt. A row of empty shot glasses lined up on the bar. ‘So that makes her fair game, does it?’
Sam wanders over. ‘Right, I can see you guys have a difference of opinion, which, for this exercise, is great.’
I pick at the rough skin round my thumbnail, then stop myself as I picture Mum doing the same.
‘So let’s see if we can discuss this in a way that is respectful to both viewpoints,’ Sam continues. ‘Because, ultimately, the best conflict resolution is that which seeks to empathize with the other person, to recognize and accept a different view to our own by showing the other person the respect they deserve.’
Jake offers Sam an ingratiating smile, then turns to me. ‘Look, I’m sorry if my opinion upset you, Emily. Perhaps I didn’t explain myself clearly.’ Suck-up. ‘I merely meant that if a woman has been giving a man the right signals all night, I don’t think you can call it harassment when he tries to kiss her.’
I wrap my arms around my body. ‘So because a woman’s nice to you, it gives you permission to do what you want to her?’
Jake takes a sharp intake of breath. ‘That’s not what I’m saying.’
Sam puts his hand on my shoulder. ‘Em, try not to hear something negative in Jake’s words. Try to have empathy for his viewpoint.’
I bite down on my thumb until it starts to hurt.
‘Of course I don’t think a man should touch a woman if she doesn’t want him to, even if she’s been flirting all night,’ Jake continues. ‘Maybe my friend misread the signals, it happens, but he only leant in to kiss her and as soon as she said she wasn’t interested, he stopped. Surely he shouldn’t be persecuted for that?’
I can still feel clammy palms gripping my wrists. His breath – hot and wet – in my ear. ‘As long as he stops when she tells him no.’
Jake nods, his eyes suddenly appearing to read something in mine. ‘Of course. No question.’
Sam stands up. ‘Well done, guys. I can see it wasn’t easy, but you worked hard to resolve the conflict.’
Sam heads over to another pair and Jake rests his head on the back of his chair. ‘Well, that was fun.’
He laughs awkwardly and I grab my cigarettes out of my bag. ‘I’m just going for a smoke.’
Outside, I struggle to steady my hand enough to light a cigarette and then, once I’ve managed it, take a long, hard drag. The thing I hate most about what happened is how it pounces on me when I least expect it. I expect it to wake me up in the night, sweaty and panicked. But sometimes it’s when I’m just driving along thinking about something else entirely, or when I’m in the supermarket and I see someone with the same colour jacket as he had on, or now, standing here innocently trying to have a smoke, like I was that night.
I rub my face and my head hard, trying to get rid of the images, some painfully clear, some muddled like a toddler’s scribbled all over the memory. And that feeling, like an elastic band stretched too many times. Surely it was inevitable I was going to snap?
* * *
As I leave anger management, I spot Alfie outside, repeatedly climbing on to a wall and then jumping off. There’s an older man with him, handsome in a classic Robert Redford way, and I can tell straight away he’s Jake’s dad. They have the same deep-brown eyes and chiselled jaw, although the skin around his dad’s is a little looser with age.
When Alfie spots me, he runs over and grabs my legs.
‘Hey, buddy, how are you doing?’
Alfie turns to Jake and starts jumping up and down. ‘Daddy, Daddy, is Emily coming to play?’
‘No, kiddo. Emily and I just go to the same class together.’
Jake’s dad slyly gives me the once-over. It’s fair enough. I accept it doesn’t look good – a skinhead who’s just stepped out of anger management and appears to have a relationship with your grandson.
‘Can we go to the park, Daddy? Can Emily come?’
‘Emily’s probably busy, little man, but yeah, we can go to the park, if you want.’
‘Are you busy, Emily?’ Alfie looks up at me, perfecting the puppy-dog eyes that will one day bring a girl to her knees.
‘Well, I’ve got to go and see my nan soon, but I could come for a little bit if it’s OK with Daddy?’
‘Of course, but only if you want to. Don’t let Alfie pressure you.’
‘It’s OK. I’d like to come.’
Alfie grabs my hand and starts pulling me in the direction of the park.
‘Hold on, Alfie, just say bye to Grandad first,’ Jake says, laughing.
Alfie runs back and gives Jake’s dad a cursory hug. ‘Aren’t you coming, Grandad?’
Jake’s dad kisses the top of Alfie’s head. ‘I think you’ve exhausted me enough for today. I’ll see you soon though, OK?’
I imagine he was the sort of dad who helped build sandcastles and read bedtime stories. It would’ve been nice to have a dad like that.
Alfie returns his attention to me. ‘Come on, Emily, let’s go. I’ll show you where it is. I can switch on my supersonic map brain.’
‘Wow, why don’t I have a supersonic map brain? Come on
then. Nice to meet you …’
Alfie pulls me away.
‘George,’ Jake’s dad calls out. ‘Nice to meet you too, Emily.’
* * *
Alfie charges around the park. He appears to have no awareness of his body, accidentally bumping into other people, crashing into posts. He begins to climb up the slide, despite the queue of children at the top.
‘Alfie, you have to go down the slide, not climb up it,’ Jake says, a nervousness on his face, like a clairvoyant who’s just seen something terrible in their client’s future.
With a look of pure mischief, Alfie ignores him, but just as Jake is about to grab him, he jumps off the slide and darts towards the cargo net, clambering up it and waving at us from the top.
‘Disaster averted for a second,’ Jake says.
We slowly trace Alfie’s movements around the park and watch as he struggles down the other side of the netting and then starts jumping along a set of logs, going back to the start every time he falls off. The silence between us feels uncomfortable, so I rack my brain for something, anything, to break it.
‘You look just like your dad, by the way.’
‘Do you think? I always thought I looked more like my mum.’
‘Well, I’ve not seen your mum, but you definitely look a lot like your dad. Same eyes. Same face shape.’
Jake looks solemn, like he’s just remembered some bad news. ‘My mum died when I was eighteen. Cancer.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry.’
‘Yeah, me too.’
I can’t help but feel guilty for giving him a hard time over the past few weeks. It’s irrational really – experiencing loss doesn’t suddenly make you a decent person. It’s like when the biggest bitch at school got leukaemia – suddenly everyone wanted to be her best friend. But ultimately, although of course I felt sorry for her, it didn’t make her any nicer a person.
‘Look, I’m sorry I pissed you off earlier. It certainly wasn’t my intention.’
I shake my head. ‘Don’t worry about it. I was probably being oversensitive.’ I quickly change the subject before he has a chance to delve any deeper. ‘So are you finding it useful? The anger management?’
‘Well, it hasn’t saved my marriage. I lied when you came over. My wife’s not away on business. She’s gone to stay with her sister in Paris. A trial separation, I guess you’d call it.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘It is what it is. I just hope Alfie’s OK.’
‘I’m sure he’ll be fine. They say kids are pretty resilient.’
Jake massages the skin around his temples.
‘And you? Are you OK?’ I ask, because he doesn’t look it and I feel I should.
Jake gives his best nonchalant shrug. ‘Yeah, I’m fine.’ He pauses. ‘I mean, being a single dad isn’t exactly a walk in the park. But in terms of the marriage, it’s probably for the best. I think we both felt the same way, really. That it wasn’t working.’
I call bullshit. A man who attends anger management to save his marriage doesn’t sound like someone who was ready for it to end. But I let him keep his pride. Let’s be honest, it’s all he’s really got.
‘So I guess you could quit the anger management? The ultimatum doesn’t really apply now, does it?’
‘True. I hadn’t really thought about that.’
Alfie waves and we both wave back.
‘I don’t know,’ Jake continues. ‘I might stick with it. Who knows, maybe it’ll help with the road rage I’ve always struggled with. It can’t be good for my blood pressure. Maybe she’ll end up saving me from a coronary.’
‘Every cloud and all that.’
Alfie runs over and grabs my hand. ‘Come and help me with the Ninja Warrior course.’
I’m guessing by the Ninja Warrior course he means the two balance beams, the rope bridge and the monkey bars.
‘I’d love to.’
Jake follows us over and I hold Alfie’s hand as he tracks along the beams. I hold him up as he grips on to the monkey bars. He’s surprisingly heavy for such a skinny little kid, like he’s filled to the top with sand. He scuttles across the rope bridge on his own and then he’s back.
‘I did it.’
‘High five!’ I say and he slaps my hand as hard as he can. ‘Ow.’
Alfie thinks this is hilarious and we repeat it several times, with no sign of him getting bored.
‘Enough now, Alfie,’ Jake says. ‘See if you can do the course on your own.’
‘Only if you stay here and watch,’ he says to me.
‘Of course.’
Alfie goes back to the start and balances along the beam, falling off a couple of times but persevering until he completes it in one go.
‘It’s really odd. Normally, he won’t even look at strangers. Just goes all quiet and hides behind me. He’s really taken to you.’
‘Yeah, well, I’m pretty irresistible.’
Jake laughs. A little too hard for my liking. In all honesty, I have no idea why Alfie wants to spend time with me either. But I’m glad that he does, because, to my surprise, I like spending time with him too.
I check my watch. ‘I better go. My nan will be getting hungry. I take her round Chinese.’
‘That’s nice of you.’ Jake’s unable to hide his surprise, like he thought I was the type of person who’d sneak money out of my nan’s handbag rather than take her highly processed take-out food. ‘Yeah, I suppose I’d better get back and do Alfie’s lunch.’
‘I’ll just go and say bye to him. See you next week at group?’
He sweeps his hair off his face. It’s so buoyant, it’s like it’s mocking my measly stubble. ‘Yeah, see you there.’
Alfie is dangling off the first monkey bar, unable to get enough momentum to reach the next one. When he sees me walking over, he drops to the ground.
‘I’m going now, Alfie. See you soon, yeah? You’ll be on Ninja Warrior before you know it.’
‘Can you come to my house again?’
‘Yeah, sure, one day.’
‘How about today?’
‘I’ve got to see my nan today, Alfie, but another day would be good.’
He looks at me like I’ve just snatched his teddy off him and Jake shambles over, like a weary soldier trying to muster up the energy for his next combat.
‘Daddy, can Emily come over tomorrow?’
I can see Jake’s brain turning over, desperately searching for an excuse. ‘Um, well, I’m not sure what we’re doing tomorrow.’
I’m surprised to feel a flicker of hurt. I don’t know why. It’s not like I want to see him either. ‘Honestly, it’s fine, Jake. I think it’s pretty clear there’s no love lost between us.’
‘Please, Daddy.’ Alfie pulls at Jake’s jeans, then turns his attention to me. ‘I’ve got a new Lego set. It’s Riddler’s car. It’s got Calendar Man in it. He’s so cool.’
Jake places his hand on Alfie’s head, like he’s trying to steady a dog, then he looks at me. ‘See, the problem I’ve got is that, for some unknown reason, you are very much flavour of the month. So despite the fact you’re right, I don’t have a burning desire for you to come over, he really does.’
I definitely don’t fancy another uncomfortable visit to Jake’s house but there’s something about this little boy that makes it hard to disappoint him.
I crouch down in front of Alfie, thinking of the gentlest way to say no, and then somehow the words ‘I’d love to see your new Lego, buddy’ pop out.
‘So can you come tomorrow?’
I look up at Jake. He looks like he’s fallen twenty feet down a well, searched every possibility for a way out and resigned himself to the fact he’s never going to see the light of day again. ‘I ridiculously bought a whole chicken for the two of us, so you’re welcome to join us for Sunday lunch, if you can bear to try my roast?’
It suddenly feels like a more formal visit than I’d anticipated, but looking at Alfie’s expectant face, I know there’s no turning back. ‘OK
, then.’
‘Yippee,’ Alfie says, twisting his feet in the mud. ‘Except I hate roast.’
‘You don’t hate roast. You have it every Wednesday at school.’
‘But I hate your roast.’
Jake crinkles his forehead at me. ‘Hopefully you won’t feel the same.’
‘I’m sure it’ll be great. See you tomorrow then, Alfie.’
‘See you tomorrow.’ Before he’s finished speaking, Alfie’s off, running back towards the balance beam with Jake trailing unenthusiastically behind him.
* * *
From the moment I arrive, I wish I hadn’t come. Jake’s flustered, tiny beads of sweat forming a row along his hairline and, from the brusque way he greets me at the door and then storms through to the kitchen, I’m guessing he’s regretting inviting me over.
When I enter the steam-filled kitchen, there’s stuff everywhere: vegetable peelings, pans bubbling over on the hob, knives, chopping boards, kitchen foil, and the distinct smell of burning.
‘Do you want a coffee?’ Jake almost throws the box of coffee capsules at me and then stirs a pan on the hob.
I’m desperate for something stronger, but I study the pods in the tray. They’re all different colours and there’s a menu, like with a box of chocolates, but I have no idea what any of the names mean. It was bad enough when I had to learn all the drinks at the café – macchiato, masala chai, blonde double shot, espresso con panna – why can’t they just call it what it is? Not much milk. Lots of milk. Strange-tasting spiced tea. It’d be much easier for all involved. I don’t recognize any of the names on the capsules so I choose my favourite colour, purple – ‘Arpeggio’ apparently – and hope for the best.
Saturdays at Noon Page 12