by A B Turner
We both laughed and decided, past crushes had no business appearing in the present, just as we said those words, we heard Louise’s Mum opening the front door. We both leapt up and helped her carry the shopping from her car into the kitchen, when the last one had been done, I realised it was time for me to go on to Mum’s place. We all hugged and I promised we would see each other very soon,
“Maybe we can all meet for dinner?” I suggested, I noticed a strange look shoot between Louise and her Mum,
“What’s going on? Is something wrong at my Mum’s?” I asked, suddenly aware of the change in atmosphere, Louise sighed,
“Cal has changed a bit, since you’ve been away…” she began, I noticed her Mum shake her head,
“It’s not for us to say anything,” she said quickly, again, there was another look between them. As it was clear they either couldn’t or wouldn’t say any more, I thanked them both and walked back down the steps to my car. I felt a weird kind of sickly sensation in my stomach as I turned the ignition and drove back up the road to the main street, even the cheery music on the radio could do nothing to make the nausea go away. Obviously there was something wrong, something so wrong, even my dearest friend couldn’t tell me. I was so lost in thought, I had to make a conscious effort to watch my speed, as more than once, I realised I was way above the legal limit. When I finally reached the corner, where the high hedge met the road, I turned and drove steadily down the lane towards the house. As I pulled up, I took a deep breath and tried to convince myself Louise was over-reacting and everything would be fine, but that thought just couldn’t take hold, as I knew, she must have a reason for feeling as she did and it would be a good one.
I walked up to the front door and knocked, I wanted to feel as if I could just walk in, but it felt wrong, so I waited and, after a few moments, the door opened and Mum was standing there. If she was surprised to see me, it didn’t obviously register on her face at all,
“Hello, I didn’t know you were coming,” she said flatly.
“It was kind of a spur of the moment decision,” I explained, slightly uneasy about her reaction, “Can I come in?”
She paused,
“Well as you’re here, you may as well, although nothing is prepared, your room or anything,” she replied, again her voice devoid of all emotion. I followed her down the hallway, hoping Cal would appear and fling his arms around me, but it wasn’t until we reached the kitchen, I heard him call down the stairs from his room,
“Mum, where’s my blue shirt? I told you I wanted to wear it today.”
Mum went to the laundry and came back with the shirt, neatly ironed and hung carefully on a wooden hangar,
“It’s here Cal, I washed it for you,” she called back, “Shall I bring it up?”
I could hardly believe how subservient she was being to him, it made me feel almost angry with her, so I took the hangar from her hand,
“Come and get it yourself!” I yelled, feeling sure he would run down, be laughing and be obviously happy to see me, instead I heard his bedroom door slam and the thumping of large feet on the stairs. He stomped into the kitchen and glared at me,
“Give me my shirt,” he growled, I went to hand it to him, but I was too slow, he snatched it from my hand,
“What are you doing here?” he snapped, as he slipped on his shirt and began to carefully fasten each button,
“I came to see you,” I replied, trying not to show the combination of mild hurt and anger, “Is that alright with you?”
Cal looked at me, his large eyes, filled with nothing but irritation,
“You do whatever you want,” he answered shortly and turned to leave, I caught his arm and forced him to face me,
“What’s your problem?” I asked, knowing the growing frustration was starting to take hold of me, Cal shrugged his shoulders,
“I don’t have a problem, now I’m going out so..” he looked down at my hand and then back to my face, “..if you don’t mind.”
I released my grip and he walked out of the room, Mum called after him,
“When will you be back for dinner?”
But he didn’t answer, all we heard was the front door slam and the crunching of his footsteps walking down the path. Mum slumped down on one of the kitchen chairs, whereas I was still in some kind of shock from what I’d just witnessed,
“Does he always talk to you like that?” I asked, completely unable to hide my surprise, not the least prompted by her reaction to him, she sighed,
“It’s not easy for him, he didn’t do so well at school..now all his friends have either gone to college or jobs, and he’s stuck here.”
I sat down opposite her, searching her face for some kind of anger, frustration in fact any kind of emotion at all, but there was nothing there,
“Who’s fault is that?” I persisted, “He could have worked harder.”
Suddenly I noticed a slight flash of anger appear in her eyes,
“He’s not you, so don’t try and pretend you understand,” at first, her tone was harsh and it felt like there was no hope of continuing this conversation without it descending into an argument. But when I went to move, she shook her head,
“I don’t know what’s happened to him,” she said quietly, “He seems so distracted so much of the time I give him what he wants, but it’s never enough, he is still either out all night or locked away in his room.”
I looked at her, trying not to show my amazement at how she was speaking, without looking at me, she continued,
“I know I’m not here, but I have to work, I wish he understood.,.” she paused and glanced up at me,
“I don’t have a choice, when your father left, he took it all, every last penny we had in the bank, we were so close to …” I heard her voice catch with the emotion this memory was releasing,
“What else could I do?” she asked, as if talking to herself rather than me. As we sat, for the first time in my whole life, I felt genuine sympathy for her, perhaps everything she had been through was too much for her to bear, so she’d somehow closed off every feeling, every hurt and just wrapped herself in the cold exterior, she always showed to the world. I wanted to say something so much, at that moment, but nothing came to mind that didn’t sound like a meaningless platitude. As I looked across the table, I didn’t see the woman who I had always believed had absolutely no heart at all, it turned out she did, but it had been broken.
“I’m sorry, Mum,” I said softly, “I didn’t know.”
Without acknowledging my comment, she spoke again, only this time with a kind of rare intensity,
“I know you think you’ve left here, but remember something, wherever you go, you always take your past with you, so you might think you’ve left it all behind you, but really, it’s just waiting for a chance to catch you up.”
I was stunned, not only by her words but by the unexpected passion behind them, I was about to reply, but before I had a chance, she wiped her face with the back of her hand,
“Anyway these vegetables won’t peel themselves,” she said abruptly and she stood up so quickly, the kitchen chair dragged noisily across the tiled floor, leaving me with no doubt, she had ended the conversation. I stood up from the table and asked if I could go to my room and freshen up after the long drive, she nodded, adding only, dinner would be at seven, before turning her back on me. I trudged up the stairs, along the landing and into my room. I closed the door quietly and sat on the edge of the bed, it was quite surreal being back, I had thought about coming so many times, yet not once, had I ever considered, anything might have changed. While I waited for Mum to call me down for dinner, I spent the time looking through the shelves and drawers of my room, even though things were clearly not right in the house now, I couldn’t help but smile at some of the memories. There were school books, old diaries I had started and never continued, pictures and I even found the carefully folded poster of Nick’s band. It seemed like everything you would expect to find in a kid’s room, but it didn�
��t even begin to tell the story of the girl who had grown up here. As I closed a drawer, I heard Cal coming up the stairs and go into his room, although I felt slightly anxious about approaching him, it seemed more likely, I’d get to what was really going on with him, if there was just the two of us. I padded along the landing, tapped on the door and waited, after a few moments, the door swung open and he was standing there,
“Can we talk?” I asked, he didn’t reply, just stepped to one side and gestured for me to come in, after closing the door behind us, we sat on his bed.
“What’s going on, Cal?” I asked, he stared straight down at the floor, “Come on, tell me, I might be able to help.”
Cal still said nothing, I looked around the walls, as always they were covered in pictures he had drawn, but they were not the ones from his childhood, these were as far from them as it was possible to get. Some were obviously based on our home, but others depicted the surrounding fields, but in an almost fantasy art style, as weird creatures inhabited the trees and the river. I stood up to get a closer look, I could feel him watching me, but I didn’t want to speak first, it just seemed better for him to begin our conversation. At last, after what felt like hours but was probably only a few minutes, I heard him get off the bed and walk towards me,
“They’re pretty bad,” he began, “It’s okay, I know.”
“Actually, you’re wrong,” I answered truthfully, “Some of these are really interesting.”
Cal looked straight at me,
“Don’t say stuff that’s not true,” he said quietly, “Just don’t.”
“I’m telling the truth, Cal, I’m not saying all of them, but there really are some good pictures here,” I insisted. For the first time since I’d arrived, I saw a slight smile cross his face,
“Which ones?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant, but it was clear my words had made an impression on him. I slowly scanned the room and pointed out the drawings I felt had the most potential, hard as it was, I tried to distance myself from the identity of the artist and just make judgements on merit, as I had to do at work all the time. By the time I had finished, there was a pile of about fifteen pictures in varying stages of completion, which we laid carefully on the bed and then we sat down again.
“You should finish these, Cal, and then we can see where to go from there.”
Before my eyes, I saw Cal’s brief smile fade, he shook his head,
“Mum says there’s no future in art for me, she wants me to get a job in a store somewhere in town, I tried, I really did, but who’s going to give me a job?” Cal looked at me with just so much resignation, I felt both sad for him but more angry at her.
“Cal, she doesn’t know anything about art, I work in a damn art gallery, I see pictures all the time, so if I say, with some work, you could make these something special, then believe me.”
I could tell, despite my encouragement, he was still doubtful,
“Will you try?” I asked hopefully and he nodded his agreement, but I wasn’t convinced he would really do anything with them. It felt like a change of subject was needed,
“So what about Uncle Jim? How’s he?” I asked cheerily, Cal smiled again, but this time, it was a proper ‘Cal’ smile,
“He’s good, he gets me away from this place helps sometimes, when Mum gets too much.”
“I know that feeling,” I agreed, “Is that why you give her such a hard time?”
Cal’s face froze and I instantly regretted my words, he leapt up from the bed and glared down at me,
“I just give her what she gave us, have you forgotten?”
I sighed heavily and shook my head sadly,
“No, Cal, I haven’t forgotten, but perhaps it wasn’t always her fault..” I could see the puzzled look on his face at this remark, but, for some reason, I didn’t want to tell him about the conversation in the kitchen, so I added, “I’m sorry I haven’t been here more.”
As quickly as his anger had come, it seemed to dissipate and turn back into a deep kind of resigned sadness,
“It’s not your fault, it’s hers, it always has been,” he answered.
Suddenly I heard her calling us to dinner from downstairs,
“Do you realise Cal? This is the first time I can ever remember her making us dinner, we always had those cheese toasties every day because she was never here.”
Cal smiled at the memory,
“They were so good, we will have to have them again before you go.”
I groaned,
“Again? We must have had them a thousand times.”
He laughed and reminded me of a childhood promise I’d made, I would always make them for him,
I smiled and said I would keep to my promise. Mum called again,
“Come on,” I said briskly, “We’d better get down there before she goes mad.”
I followed him down the stairs, feeling relieved we had managed to connect again and knowing I would have a fight on my hands with Mum, if I wanted her to encourage Cal to finish his artwork. I was comforted in the knowledge, she hadn’t always won when I was a kid, so I had some hope of winning now, particularly as she had shown – however briefly- a softer side. As we all sat down to eat, unlike almost every other family, it felt strange and unnatural, after all, I could hardly remember the last time Mum had actually cooked anything and, when she had, as kids, we’d only discovered it by the leftovers we’d find in the fridge. In an effort to ease the situation, I asked her about work,
“The same as always, people complain about nothing and I try and make some sense of it,” she replied, clearly wishing she was anywhere but where she was, but I was not so easily deflected,
“Cal was showing me his artwork..” I began, “He’s really good, don’t you think?”
I noticed Cal look quickly up from his plate to watch for her reaction, something she didn’t miss,
“Yes, I suppose so,” she paused, half-smiling at him, before turning back to me, “But he needs to be earning his own money.”
“He could sell some of his work, I know framers, people that could help..” I continued, consciously avoiding her remark about a ‘normal’job. She looked at me, her head slightly to one side as if she was trying to see through me, in some way,
“Really, how interesting,” she answered, again devoid of any possible emotion and before I could say any more, she carefully put her knife and fork on her still half-full plate and stood up,
“I need to get ready for work, please wash the dishes when you’re finished.”
With her last comment issued, she turned and left the room, Cal and I looked at each other,
“Nothing much changes,” I said sadly expecting him to agree, but instead, he tossed his cutlery down so hard on to the plate, I was worried it might shatter completely,
“You shouldn’t have said anything,” he snapped before storming out of the room and thumping up the stairs. Mum appeared at the door, she looked at me as she did when I was a kid, as if I was nothing more than something that had got stuck to the bottom of her shoe,
“You shouldn’t interfere, you don’t always know best,” her tone heavily laced with sarcasm. I stood up to face her,
“And you do Mum? If you could just stop, for once, even for a minute, and let us in, if not both of us, then Cal..not by buying him things, don’t you see?” I pleaded, “He needs you, we both do, we always have but you’re never there, even when you’re here, you’re somewhere else. I know you’ve been hurt, but it wasn’t by us, don’t make us pay for something that wasn’t our fault, please..”
She rolled her eyes and walked past me, as if I wasn’t there and went out through the back door. At first I wanted to rage after her but instead, I sat down angrily cursing myself for being not only tactless about Cal, but mainly for not really thinking about how to speak to her. I knew from bitter experience, she would clam up as soon as she felt under attack. We had shared a moment, where, perhaps for the first time, we’d actually talked and now, through my own l
ack of control, it might never happen again. I cleared away the dishes and went up to my room, I hesitated by Cal’s door, but decided it was probably best to leave him alone. We could talk tomorrow, I’d make him his toasted sandwich and maybe we could go for a walk through the field before I went back to the city. Whatever she might think, I wasn’t going to leave with things not right between Cal and me, that just wasn’t happening, it was too important. The next morning, I got up early, made the sandwich and took it upstairs to his room. I tapped on the door before going in, after all, I reminded myself, he wasn’t a little boy anymore and deserved to have some respect for his privacy. When he didn’t answer immediately, I peeked my head around the door and saw he was still fast asleep, despite the passage of time, he looked so young, I could hardly believe just how much time had passed. I tiptoed into the room and gingerly placed the plate on his bedside table, whether it was the sound of the door, or he somehow sensed my presence, he stirred and his eyes opened wide.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” I said quietly, “I just brought your toastie in.”
He smiled sleepily and mumbled something that sounded like ‘thank you’,
“I’ll see you downstairs when you’re ready,” I added before leaving the room.
As I waited in the kitchen, I noticed a piece of paper stuck to the fridge, it was a note from Mum, basically saying she had already left for work and to tell Cal she’d be back later that evening. There was nothing about wishing me a safe trip back, or hoping I was fine or to say she hoped she would see me again soon. None of that surprised me, so I balled up the paper and threw it in the bin, at that moment, the back door swung open and in walked Uncle Jim. When he saw me, his eyes lit up,
“Hello Chicky, you’re looking good,” he beamed, “City life suits you.”
I hugged him,
“You look well too, Uncle Jim.”
“Yeah I’m okay thanks, finding it harder to keep up with some of the animals now, but luck for me, they’re getting older too,” he joked, “Is Cal up yet? He’s supposed to be helping me this morning, but I guess as you’re here, I can give him the time off..” he added kindly. I was about to reply, when Cal flew through the door, still pulling his clothes on while hopping on one foot, as he slipped on a workboot,