Chapter 16
CHAPTER 16
I was still awake when Mum arrived home after midnight, so I ambushed her as she walked out of the bathroom in her dressing gown.
Mum jumped. ‘Katie, you frightened me.’
‘How was your night?’
‘Lovely. This old girl’s still got some snap in her garters. And yours?’ Mum was grinning like a love-struck teenager, as if the last twenty plus years had been wiped away.
I ignored the question. ‘Why now, Mum? Why? You’re happy. Why do you need him back in your life?’
‘That’s the whole point – I don’t need him. He makes me laugh.’
‘Watch the Comedy Channel.’
‘Bob makes me feel young again. Sexy.’
‘Mum!’
‘What? He does. He makes me feel like a woman – not just a mother or a grandmother or a friend. He makes me feel like a desirable, attractive woman. Think about it.’
That was something I really didn’t want to do.
‘Apart from a few short-lived friendships here and there, I’ve been alone all this time. Night after night, by myself. I need more for myself and to share my life with someone again.’
‘With someone, yes, but surely not with him?’
‘What happened between your dad and me is ancient history,’ she barked. ‘It’s time to move on. Put the past behind us. Right now, he makes me happy. End of story.’
I hugged and kissed her goodnight then walked into my bedroom. Blanche’s book was lying on the dressing table, so I picked it up. I wonder if she wrote a companion title, Don’ts for Husbands and Fathers ?
I climbed into bed and curled myself into a ball, then unstretched and pulled the duvet up over my head. Dad was going to break Mum’s heart all over again, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I knew he would because I’d been there the first time. I’d lived through it.
I was the sixteen-year-old who’d helped Mum through the dark months of her breakdown. Made sure there was food in the house because she couldn’t get out of bed to go to the shops herself. I was the one who made sure Robyn had clean uniforms to wear to school. I was the one who insisted Mum see a doctor. I made her take the prescribed sedatives so she could sleep through the night for the first excruciating six months after he left. Sometimes, I didn’t know how to keep myself going, but I did. I had to look after Mum and Robyn.
No. I loathed the thought of meeting Dad, and I certainly didn’t want Mum seeing him either – let alone dating the man again! I didn’t want her world to fall apart again.
When I became too tired to analyse that looming disaster, my panicked mind latched on to Lexi. She was frantically trying to discard her childhood and pushing me away in the process.
Then there was Matthew. It wasn’t that I had fallen out of love with him. I was in love with Matthew, or at least I could be again if we could revive the romance. I read an article advising the way to keep a marriage alive was to treat your spouse like a lover. Fine in theory, but difficult when you had two children and one of those was a teenage girl.
Besides, lovers were simply that, weren’t they? People with whom you scoffed champagne and had amazing sex, but who were removed from the everyday reality and fights over whose turn it was to clean up the dog turds in the backyard.
It got me thinking back to how Matthew and I met – at Fern’s twenty-fifth birthday party. Fern and I were housemates, and our apartment was full of Annie Leibovitz prints. I was holding court, explaining to anybody who would listen why her portraits were amateurish.
Matthew walked up to me and introduced himself. He especially liked the idea I was on the verge of becoming the next hot young thing who was going to turn the photography world on its proverbial ear . My words, not his.
When Matthew finally did manage to get a word in, he said Annie Leibovitz was so last century and my photography was so right now – not that he’d seen any of my work, given he’d just met me. I was charmed in turn. I said if he stuck with me there’d be nothing but good times ahead for him. He said he’d never leave my side. And that was pretty much it. I fell passionately in love with him on the spot.
It wasn’t only that Matthew bore more than a passing resemblance to a young Paul Rudd and had a curl in the middle of his forehead. I wasn’t so pathetic I’d fall in love with Matthew because he had movie star looks and great hair. My attraction for him was based on something extra.
Matthew was a computer whiz at Microsoft with ambition to burn. ‘The internet’s the way of the future,’ he told me. ‘And I’m determined to be the best in the business.’ He knew where he was headed, and so did I. We both had dreams and determination .
Even better, Matthew liked photography, even if it was photography that leaned towards the arty end of the scale – Playboy photos that celebrated breasts, thighs and other female body parts. But I was willing to overlook it. We were young. We were in love. We got engaged quickly. We married quickly.
In hindsight, I think my speedy marriage was a gross overreaction to my parents’ divorce, which spurred an urgent need to find lasting security and comfort.
When I married Matthew, I knew these things about him:
He was gorgeous, and he had great hair (unlike me).
He liked photography (it takes all types).
He made me laugh.
He was ambitious for us both to succeed.
He truly loved me and promised he would forever (he said so in his wedding vows).
Yep! Back then, we couldn’t keep our hands or tongues off each other. I guess it was natural that after all this time we wouldn’t still be lusting after each other all minutes of the day. After so long together, our physical intimacy blew hot and cold. These days it was decidedly cold. There was no desire in Matthew’s eyes or even a great expression of happiness on his face when I greeted him in the evenings. Maybe he’d stopped looking at me altogether. One thing was certain though: the longer we remained intimately inactive, the more unsure and anxious I became. Truthfully, I was almost embarrassed to appear naked with him.
At least with Matthew away this week, I could pretend we were still happy together.