by S M Mala
That was the last thing she wanted.
Hobbling the fastest she could and trying not to put too much pressure on her leg, Bea bolted into the building and stood to the side.
She had just missed the troupe going past and sighed with relief.
Going up the lift, she stopped on the first floor and stepped out, walking towards the waiting room.
She noticed Mylo was hugging a woman before letting go.
The lady was stunning and had long blonde hair, flicking it away from her face before elegantly walking towards Bea.
A few heads turned and she saw Mylo smile.
‘Hello Bea,’ he said in his usual welcoming manner.
Glancing at the woman, she watched her enter the lift, turn around and wave at him.
Bea realised he was a player.
That was the only way to describe it.
Knowing her limping leg wouldn’t look so elegant, she tried not to walk like a completely uncoordinated, drunk elephant.
‘She’s gorgeous,’ Bea said, smiling at Mylo. ‘Can you change me into her?’
‘I think you’re perfect the way you are,’ he replied, gesturing for her to go into the room.
And Mylo was also charming and complimentary.
Now she wondered if he was sincere.
Removing her jacket and lying down, she waited for him to begin the session. She didn’t say much, just pondered on what to do about Chloe and why Mylo said he was single, because she didn’t believe it. Bea realised he would kiss her on the forehead and never on the cheek, which meant he didn’t fancy her.
It was the same gesture as her dad.
Paternal feelings, not passion.
There was a small deflated feeling in her gut.
‘You’re very quiet,’ he said, manipulating her back. ‘Is everything okay?’
‘Trouble at school,’ she replied, forcing a smile.
‘She’s a friend.’
‘Who?’
‘The woman. I knew her from Chicago.’
‘That’s nice,’ she replied but it sounded quite flat.
She heard him laugh and then peer into her face.
‘I got badly burnt in my last relationship. I’m taking my time to find the right person, as I’ve been known to take the wrong path. I like spending time with you.’ Mylo smiled. ‘But you get cagey when I ask personal questions.’
‘No, I don’t.’
‘Yes, you do,’ he replied and carried on working. ‘This pain in the arse you were with. Why did you break up?’
‘He didn’t want to be with me,’ she sighed, closing her eyes and feeling his fingers gently dig into her skin. ‘We called off the engagement.’
‘You were engaged!’ he said, stopping what he was doing. ‘You never said.’
‘You never asked. Shockingly enough, from your expression, some people did find me marriage material.’ Bea grimaced. ‘I’ve been engaged twice in my life and never wed. That’s how far it gets. I think I felt the need to be conventional, if only to keep my mummy happy. Daddy was never that keen.’ She groaned. ‘He’s never keen on anyone.’
‘What were they like, these exes?’
‘The first one, Jerry, I met when I was in my mid-twenties. He was into property development and wanted to be successful. I liked him but I wasn’t madly in love, just flattered he wanted to get married. It was when we set the date, after being engaged for a year, I realised he wasn’t the one.’
‘Why is that?’
‘I couldn’t be the wife he wanted me to be. I didn’t want to be a bloody Stepford wife. Robotic without a thought of my own.’
‘And the second one?’
‘Ah, him,’ she said, remembering Simeon and feeling a little sick when recalling it. ‘It wasn’t working with Simeon so we had to call it a day. He is a lecturer of sociology in Manchester University and quite serious; incredibly academic and a little dull.’ Bea let out a laugh before remembering how boring he was. ‘I saw less and less of him. He met someone a month later, moved to Chester and got wed. I think he met her beforehand but didn’t want to say. Things happen.’
‘Would you have married him?’
‘Good grief, no!’
‘No?’ he asked, with a puzzled expression.
‘At the time when I met him, I wanted to give the marriage and children thing another try. It was more in desperation about doing it before I was thirty five and mainly because my mummy said she would love to see me settled. I felt she was losing a sense of hope. My mistake was that he was wrong and so was the set up. It’s not me.’
‘Are you saying you changed your mind when you were with him?’
‘I thought it was okay at the time but it wasn’t. I couldn’t be someone I wasn’t. It’s not right.’
‘I understand what you mean. Trying to be someone you’re not and deep down inside, realising it isn’t going to make you happy.’ He looked sadly at her and then smiled. ‘Two attempts at getting married. Do you think you’ll try again?’
‘I’ve given up. I wanted to make mummy happy, like I said,’ she honestly replied and noticed Mylo’s smile slip. ‘I hate being disappointed in myself, my choices. And I never wanted to let her down, though I have. The total realisation is that I have to be true to me, not how people would prefer I should be. If I have to be alone, I’ll be alone.’
‘That’s pretty bleak.’
‘It’s the truth. I wanted her to be proud of me. My inability to fall in love properly, let alone go through with it, is another failure.’
And that’s when she felt it, the true pain of her loss.
All she ever wanted to do was make her mum happy.
There was no point even thinking about it.
Bea had botched that one thing and hoped she hadn’t let her mum down, that’s what truly bugged her. And if she had been alive, no doubt Bea would have given it another go.
On the other hand, it had simply delighted her father on the continual misdemeanours of her love life. It proved his point that his only child couldn’t make a decision when it came to men.
‘Let’s have dinner tonight,’ he asked as she slowly sat up, trying to stop feeling the pain in her chest. ‘You’re starting to open up and that’s a good thing, plus we have a few things in common.’
‘The question is will you open up too?’ she replied watching him purse his lips.
‘I might.’
Somehow Bea figured he had far more secrets than her.
‘Hello there.’
Mylo had startled her the following morning when she was queueing for coffee. ‘I didn’t mean to make you jump. You seemed miles away but I noticed the red wellington boots and realised it was you.’
And she had been deep in thought.
Because she was thinking about the man in question who was smiling directly at her.
Dinner had been good and they were getting on really well. Still he wouldn’t drop down the invisible wall he seemed to have regarding his ex and what happened. Bea sensed it was a sore subject or he was still nursing a broken heart.
‘Hi,’ she replied, trying not to look flustered. ‘It looks like rain.’ Bea glanced at her footwear. ‘And it’s good to wear them once in a while.’
‘They’re cute.’
‘I never usually see you this time of the morning.’
‘Ah,’ he grinned, looking sheepishly away. ‘I’m going into work early because …’ Mylo hesitated then laughed. ‘Okay, I’m not going to lie. I knew you’d be here and I wanted to have a coffee with you.’ He was saying all the right things and she had to smile. ‘Unless you’re sick of me after last night?’
‘Far from it,’ she replied and watched his smile get even wider. ‘I’ll buy you coffee because you bought me dinner.’
Getting the drinks, they sat at a table and she looked at him. There was a little flutter of excitement in her chest.
With men like Mylo, you were never quite sure if they were just friendly, or there was something more.
Deep down, she was hoping it was more, though she had her doubts.
He hadn’t tried to kiss her.
‘I really enjoyed last night,’ he said, stirring his drink. ‘It was fun.’
‘You made it fun.’ Bea swallowed and realised his infectious grin meant it was impossible to have a straight face. ‘Have you a busy week?’
‘I’ve got some friends coming to visit over the weekend so I have to fill up the fridge.’ Mylo let out a laugh. ‘These guys like to eat me out of house and home.’
Internally she was relieved they were men and not women.
‘You’ll have a great time.’
‘And what are you going to do?’
‘Visit my daddy,’ she replied, avoiding eye contact. ‘He doesn’t live that far.’
‘He’s local?’
‘Yeah.’
The last thing she wanted to tell him was Bernard was close to where Mylo lived. Right now she didn’t want to speak about her dad. She would leave that for another time as it was too much to contemplate.
‘Are you close?’ he asked, staring at her.
‘We are very close.’
‘Closer to him than you were to your mum?’ Bea looked straight at Mylo and didn’t know what to say.
No one could have replaced her mum.
‘My mummy passed away last year, April,’ she said, feeling her cheeks freeze as she said it and noticed his instant look of concern. ‘She had a cough, not much and thought it was a cold. It got a little worse and they found out it was lung cancer. The thing is, she never smoked. It only took a matter of weeks from diagnosis until she died. But it was peaceful and she said she wasn’t in pain, which is a joke, considering how much pain we were in, during and after.’
‘You’re still hurting,’ he said, touching her hand.
‘It’s hard for me,’ she gulped. ‘And difficult. My mummy was one of my best friends.’ Knowing the tears were going to come, she blinked them back. ‘Christmas is difficult, as she loved the time of year and I did too.’ With a deep breath, she smiled. ‘So seeing my dad every weekend is something I want to do, plus he pops up from time to time when I least expect it.’
‘And what about you?’ Mylo gently caressed her palm. It was soothing and slightly erotic. ‘How have you coped?’
‘I’m still trying.’
‘I think you’re kind, I see it when you speak but you still hurt. I understand that.’
‘When someone dies, it makes the break-up of a relationship seem unimportant. Just one more thing to deal with.’
It was then she noticed something flicker in his eyes, as if she said something that touched a nerve.
Bea pondered on what had really happened between Mylo and his ex.
‘Pain is sometimes immeasurable, especially when you inflict it on others and hurt yourself in the process,’ he said, releasing her hand. ‘Dealing with your actions and the consequences is an important part of healing.’
Knowing she shouldn’t say it but letting it slip, Bea replied.
‘When it’s someone you love unconditionally, you never heal. That’s the problem I’m finding right now.’
From Mylo’s expression, she guessed he understood what she meant.
‘Daddy, really!’
Bea was sitting in her father’s kitchen the following weekend, watching him go through the cupboards. ‘This vegetarian thing you’re into doesn’t mean you have to throw everything away!’
‘It’s keeping me trim!’ he said, making more noise by clanking the tins together.
From his rather large midriff and skinny legs, he was slightly delusional on how vegetables were going to keep him slender. It was the amount of pasta, rice and bread he was addicted to, plus the secret stash of chocolate and crisps.
‘And Christmas we’ll be having vegetable curry. I told the women that’s what I want.’ Her father smiled. ‘Let’s see how long they last.’
The ‘women’ were his three older sisters. Her father was treated like a little prince by his siblings. And so Bernard should be, considering what he had suffered while watching his wife die in front of his eyes and feeling hopeless and hapless on what to do.
Very much like Bea.
She glanced at her father, his pretty face, similar to Auntie Babs. To be honest, he was far prettier than his three sisters. Even Bea’s mother would often laugh at marrying such a beautiful man.
Right now, his cheeks were incredibly red but he had the smoothest and softest skin, even with a two day old beard.
Bea always thought he looked like a girl and Erio had once pointed out he was more feminine than a drag queen, which he was dutifully thumped for. She had a pretty, effeminate daddy but there was nothing she could do about it; he was more girl than boy.
Though sometimes he thought he was all man, which made her internally laugh even harder when she caught a glimpse of him in his favourite apron. A floral number with pale pink edging. She did wonder sometimes about his taste in clothing not to mention the bright pink marigolds he was intent on wearing every time he did the washing up.
‘Aunties Belinda, Bertha and Babs are all coming?’ she asked. ‘Daddy, you can’t cook for them. You can’t cook, full stop.’
‘Bethi, don’t fret. I have it all under control!’
‘Stop calling me that,’ she said, getting agitated. ‘My name is Bea-trice not Bay-tee. Since your pilgrimage to India, you can’t just change my name.’
‘I like it,’ he said with a wide smile. ‘Had I only grasped the spiritual understanding of Hinduism as a child, I would have called you something far more interesting that Beatrice.’
‘Bollocks,’ Bea mumbled under her breath so he couldn’t hear.
‘The women are going to cook, all vegetarian mind. No sneaking in sausage rolls in my home. We are going to be meat and alcohol free.’
‘Alcohol free!’ Bea thought she was going to collapse. ‘No way! That’s taking it too far! I want to drink.’
‘We will have a very special lassi for the occasion.’
‘I don’t like Indian milk drinks and the only way you can make it better is to load it with vodka!’ She laughed at his shocked expression. ‘If you’re so tee total, how come there’s a bottle of brandy in the corner cabinet.’
‘Medicinal,’ he replied, turning up his nose. ‘Now Bethi.’ She frowned. ‘Bea, you need to be here on Christmas Eve to help prepare for the day. I want it to be wonderful.’ Then he cleared his throat. ‘I’m also thinking of inviting some friends in the evening. We need to open up our homes to everyone.’
‘Everyone?’ Bea gave him a wicked smile. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Well,’ he said, clearing his throat. ‘Not everyone.’
‘Doesn’t that go against the grain of your new found beliefs?’
‘There are beliefs and there are principles,’ her dad replied. ‘Like saving yourself before marriage and acting in an appropriate manner.’
‘And pray tell me what that is, all things considered.’
‘All things considered, it is having moral values and vying on the path of goodness.’ He flicked her a glance. ‘Nothing abnormal or untoward.’
‘Which would be?’ she asked, egging him on and knowing that his need to be open minded came with a shut door.
‘A man is a man,’ he said, his voice going a little higher. ‘And a woman is a woman. To change how things should normally work is wrong. We must always remember that.’
‘You’re talking about your views on homosexuality and transgender, aren’t you?’ Bea knew these words often wound him up. ‘You just can’t forget about the two men that lived down the road. It still bugs you. And I thought they were your friends.’
That one evil glare said it all.
Her daddy had been hoodwinked into being their friends, so he said, only to be mortified when he found out that one was going through a gender transformation to become a woman. He must have been out of his tiny mind not to realise they were gay.
‘Why are we talking about this?’ he asked, getting in a huff and smoothing down his apron. ‘No homos in this house!’
‘You really are something, do you know that?’
Then it hit her really hard about Christmas, actually dreading the day. Bea shook her head and went into the living room.
It was still the same as when her mother left it.
He hadn’t changed a single thing and it felt like her mum was in the room.
‘Mummy, what’s going on in his bald head? I swear there’s nothing between his ears other than chickpeas,’ she whispered, hoping she’d hear her mother’s voice or laugh. ‘This is his way of coping but it’s pretty odd. I know the aunts are going to have a field day plus he can still be a fundamental, judgemental arsehole.’
She walked around the room and touched the frames where pictures of all three of them were displayed. Her father never let a particle of dust settle on them, always keeping them well polished and clean.
It was his display of love as he could no longer give that to his wife.
‘And I’ve met a man who I really like,’ she continued, looking at her mother’s face. Bea then closed her eyes. ‘I wish I could find someone who would make me happy, where there’d be no hidden agenda. That’s all I want. Plus daddy to be happy, not find solace in bullshit.’
‘Who are you talking to?’ her dad shouted out.
‘Mummy.’
‘Oh, that’s okay then. Can you ask her where the recycling canvas bag is? I can’t seem to find it.’
‘Under the stairs.’
‘Oh, she is quick to answer you, isn’t she?’
Her father knew she spoke to her mother all the time and never questioned it.
It was Bea’s solace thinking her mum could hear here, wherever she might be.
Then the single light came into her mind.
She had three more sessions with Mylo and hopefully he might, just might, make a move.
That would make Christmas better.
Him.