Chapter Twenty-Six #2
‘I told her I’d found something out, and the colour drained from her face.
I don’t know what she expected, but she knew instantly it was nothing good.
I said, Holly’s pregnant , and she laughed.
She gave this kind of snort laugh, and I remember I did something similar when you told me, because it’s so unbelievable that it has to be a joke, right?
It has to be, Mum, because how can this huge sledgehammer come along and smash my happiness to smithereens, Iris’s too?
And I know what you’re thinking, you’ll be thinking, what about Holly’s happiness, Holly’s life, what about Holly.
.. And you’re right, I know you’re right, but in that moment it was just Iris and me, and we are on countdown to this wedding just a couple of weeks away with so much to do.
We’re so excited. It’s everything really, certainly her every waking thought.
And it feels cruel that we now have to contend with this news. ’
Knowing how quickly the wrong phrase or word when addressing her son could grow into a row, Enya trod carefully, yet spoke firmly.
‘It’s not contending with the news that’s the issue here, Aiden. It’s more than that. It requires a complete change of mindset. You’re going to be a dad and that doesn’t stop for the wedding or after the wedding or any time soon. In fact, it doesn’t stop for the rest of your life.’
Case in point; she was on the phone to her child with one eye on the clock, worrying about him, trying to find solutions, doing her best to make everything feel better, and that child was hurtling towards thirty.
‘I know, Mum.’ His voice no more than a whisper and he sounded young, oh so very young.
‘When she saw the look on my face she knew it was no joke and she kind of pulled away from me, even though we weren’t touching.
She pulled her arms in towards her body and pushed her legs together and moved an inch or two to the left so there was no danger of us making contact, of being close or of comfort being offered.
Weirdly, I think that’s what I’ll always remember, not the words that cut the air between us, words that change everything, but the way she pulled away from me, shrank.
It was as if she wanted no part of me, nothing. ’ His voice cracked.
‘Oh, love. That can’t have been easy, but at least it’s done.
’ She would never admit that at the back of her mind was a ping of relief at the thought that if things really were done, she could take a breath, life could get back to normal, or as close as it could, and they could let the madness of the last few weeks settle. ‘How are things now?’
‘We didn’t say anything for quite a while – well, it felt like quite a while, it might only have been minutes – and then she said, so what happens now?
As though I knew the answer and wasn’t trying to figure it all out as I go along.
It’s as if we’ve come to a fork in the road that means we might have to turn in a different direction from the one we were planning. ’
‘I guess that’s true, in a way.’
‘I don’t want to be a dad. I don’t want that, not with Holly and not now, I don’t want any of it!’
To hear his blunt and emotional admission was both agonising and infuriating. Enya closed her eyes and spoke plainly, all worry about treading carefully now gone. There was simply no time for that. If she was grabbing the reins, so could he!
‘Well, that, my love, is neither here nor there. The fact is, it’s happening.’
Her words, harshly spoken, were intended to galvanise the boy into understanding, if not action.
It brought her no pleasure to be the one pointing out that his options were somewhat curtailed when it came to his choices about parenthood, but she knew it was important for him, for Holly, and for the future.
‘I’d better go.’
‘Yes, speak to me later, Aiden. And it will all be okay, I promise.’
‘You say that, Mum, and I want to believe you, I really do, but I just don’t know how it will all be okay. There are no guarantees, are there?’
She pictured Jonathan studying images on his laptop, clicking on hotels in Andalucía, pointing out walking routes, cycle paths and which restaurants by the water had the best gazpacho and pescaíto frito.
They had debated back and forth over dates, wondering whether it was better to go for one week or two, a self-catering apartment or a fancy hotel, should they hire bikes or drive and take their own?
Like her, part of the fun of a holiday for her husband was the planning, the imagining, the anticipation of all they would taste, sip and experience.
This the last trip they had booked and one they had never taken, because illness had drawn their focus and they had done the opposite of shrinking away from each other.
They had huddled close, touching, together as one, to face whatever came next. One team.
‘No, love, there are no guarantees.’
Her day passed quickly, and she was thankful.
The shuffling of paperwork, filing of forms, making and taking calls, and even whipping up cups of tea, had all served to distract her from her thoughts about Aiden’s call.
Her brain too full to linger on any discord between him and Iris.
As the clock now nudged five, she nipped to the bathroom and washed her hands, applied a little scent, dabbed on her lip balm, and ran her fingers through her unruly mop of hair.
As her stomach bunched with nerves, she spoke to her image in the mirror.
‘Why on earth did you say you’d meet her for a coffee?’
The answer was she hadn’t felt able to say no, and now she had no option other than announcing a sudden mystery illness or migraine or hiding in the cupboard until morning. It was, she decided, far easier to give advice on facing up to a situation than it was to act on it.
That, and the cupboard was in fact full of stationery, no room to hide at all.