Chapter 41
41
JESSE
Now
Jesse walked into Lightning Designs, his shoulder nudging the glass door open as was customary, only this morning he wasn’t carrying two KeepCups of coffee. In his right hand was a bottle of Veuve Clicquot and two champagne flutes, in his left was a bag of madeleines he’d picked up from the monthly continental food market outside King’s Cross station.
‘Morning!’ he said, as cheerily as he could muster. As predicted, Max was already there. Judging from the empty cup on her desk and the fresh aroma of coffee, she’d already had her brew.
‘Oh hi, Jesse,’ Max said calmly, eyeing the bottle. ‘Big bank holiday? Or are you starting the weekend early?’ She half winced as she said it.
It was only the Tuesday after the long weekend, the last long weekend of summer, which Jesse had spent painting Ida’s bedroom in his rental flat, even though on Friday he’d had the news that he would be able to put a deposit down to buy the flat next door. Bigger, nicer, brighter. And he could paint it whatever the fuck colour he wanted, not just the vanilla one the landlord approved. Ida deserved big and bold. Not beige.
Late Friday afternoon Maddie had phoned Jesse to confirm an ‘exceptional and highly tempting’ offer that publisher Tyger had put together. Six figures. Merchandise tie-ins. A meeting was already lined up with the studio who had made the biggest British animations of the past twenty years. ‘We could take it to auction, but my gut says not to, Jesse…’ Maddie advised, as Jesse was dipping a roller brush into a paint tray. ‘Tyger’s offer, experience and enthusiasm will make Remy a household name. Your father’s estate, and you, could make money from this for decades. It’s quite a legacy, not that your father doesn’t already have one…’ she quickly added .
It was fine , Jesse thought. People didn’t need to be precious talking about Lars around him. He was so proud of his dad already; he knew his dad had been proud of him. But this could be Jesse’s legacy. A love letter to Ida. Income for a flat and savings for her if she wanted to go to university one day. The chance for him to say, ‘I didn’t forget, Dad. I did the drawings you asked.’ Even if he was saying it in his head.
‘Remy has a home!’ Jesse said with a smile.
‘That’s wonderful!’ Max said. She stood up and hugged him awkwardly, Jesse careful not to drop the bottle, bag or glasses. Max wasn’t really a hugger, but this was a special occasion. And if she leaned over Jesse’s shoulder, he might not see her cry.
Except he felt it. Jesse felt the sadness in Max’s ribcage and her bones. He felt her almost melt through his arms and onto the floor.
‘Hey… are you OK?’
Max stepped back and put her hand to her chest. ‘Not really, but it doesn’t matter now… this isn’t about me. Honestly, I’m chuffed to bits for you.’
Jesse put the champagne, glasses and madeleines on Max’s desk.
‘Heyyyy…’ he said, seeing tears were on the brink of tumbling from her placid eyes. ‘What’s going on?’
Max shielded her face, her brown skin flushing. ‘It’s fine, really. I just…’ Her voice cracked. ‘It’s OK.’
Jesse studied her sympathetically.
‘I just can’t go on any more.’
‘What?’
She shook her head and Jesse watched her sit back down.
‘I can’t go on. Liam – he’s just…’
Jesse looked up to the ceiling and exhaled.
‘He’s the fucking pits.’
Jesse wasn’t expecting something so stern. He perched back on Max’s desk and extended a hand to her shoulder.
‘Are you OK?’
‘I am now. Now I’ve decided I’m not going through another bank holiday, Christmas, birthday, Easter or just any run-of-the-mill day like that again.’
‘What happened? Want to talk about it?’
‘Not really.’
Jesse nodded and glanced through the Crittall doors at the other arrivals into the big shared building. The interior designers. The freelance writers. The coders.
‘Actually yes, I do,’ Max said, defiantly. As if saying it out loud would help her stick to her guns.
Jesse slid his backpack off, put it between his feet, and listened.
‘I’m tired… so tired. Of his drinking, his fagging. The coke. Of going out with him and him disappearing. Of pretending we’re this happily newly married couple who “like to party” when he’s too old to be scraped up off the floor at the end of the night. He’s almost forty!’
Jesse had forgotten Liam was older than them. His lifestyle certainly didn’t sit with that.
‘He looks another ten years older than that. This… this life makes him so craggy. So dysfunctional.’
Jesse nodded.
‘I don’t want to go out. I want to grow up. I want to stay in. I want to cook Sunday lunches for Nadine, Jim and the girls. I want to go for walks and not worry that he might puke in the bushes, or be looking at his watch craving when he can start. I’m sick of going to people’s weddings and him drinking the bar dry. It’s embarrassing. He doesn’t care about me. He doesn’t care that I’m often on my own, a bystander, while he gets shitfaced. And I’m the one to pick up the pieces…’
‘Oh Max. I knew it wasn’t great but?—’
‘I want kids,’ she blurted, as she cried into her sleeve.
Jesse put his palms on the table’s edge.
‘Alice and Annabel were over yesterday. Nice summer lunch on the terrace. I’d cooked. Jim likes his food. Nadine and I were chatting. Liam was antisocial. Couldn’t be bothered to engage in conversation. Sat on his own on the sofa, getting himself beers and no one else.’
Jesse winced.
‘Alice came running out with what looked like porridge on her hand from the toybox – we have a little toybox, for when they come over. She said, “Errrr, Aunty Max! It stinks!” Her hand was covered.’
Jesse put his hands to his face to shield his eyes from what he guessed was to come.
‘Liam puked in there days – maybe weeks ago – just used it as a toilet. Didn’t clear it up or think. Probably didn’t even remember. All over my nieces’ toys.’
‘Man, that’s gross. I’m so sorry.’
‘Alice shoved her hand in when she went to get a toy.’
‘Shit, that’s not cool.’
‘It’s never cool. Nadine can’t stand him anyway, but she lost her shit yesterday, and I totally get why.’
Jesse sighed. ‘So what are you going to do?’
‘It’s over. I’m done. I’m so tired.’
‘Have you told him?’
Max nodded.
‘I told him he needs to be out by the time I get home from work.’
‘Today?’
‘Yes.’
‘How did he take it?’
‘He was weirdly belligerent. Said I can’t do that to him. Well, guess what? I can. I bought that flat. The mortgage is in my name. He’s never really contributed, before we were married or since. He hasn’t kept a job for more than a few months. Blames everyone except himself. Blames me, resents me for loving what I do.’
A tiny fragment of Jesse felt happy in this sad scene. That Lightning Designs had afforded Max happiness, a sanctuary. It was often hard to tell with her, she was so measured.
‘Do you think he’ll move out? Today?’
Jesse studied her face while she pondered.
‘It’s not like he doesn’t have places. He can go to his brother’s. Or his druggy mates’.’
‘That’s not your problem. I imagine he’s had enough warning…?’
‘Yeah, he has.’
‘Want me to go with you at home time and check?’
‘I’ll see if he’s left on the Ring doorbell. Otherwise, maybe, thanks.’
‘No problem.’
Jesse stood and picked up the champagne and put it in the small fridge behind the door, that only ever housed booze or Max’s breakfast Bircher.
‘Sorry about the champagne…’ Max said.
‘God no, let’s save it. For a better day.’ He knelt down as he laid the bottle flat on the shelf of the small fridge. He turned back around. Max was drying her eyes on the tissue she’d had stuffed up her sleeve.
‘Look at us, eh?’ he said, thinking of Minnie, back with JP. ‘Sorry bunch. But you know what, we’re only thirty-two… me only just,’ he said with a wink, as if that made him younger than he was.
Jesse had celebrated his birthday at the beginning of August by a day out in Antibes with Ida and Caryn, going to the beach and eating Acacia honey ice cream on the terrace of the Hotel Belles Rives. ‘If you think about it, we’ve not yet hit our prime. Look at what you’ve got in front of you. Cutting loose now, you can have everything you want and deserve.’
Max smiled gently. Uncertain, but for the first time in years, she could feel an inkling of hope.
‘Starting with breakfast!’ He nodded to the madeleines on the desk, and Max let out a rare and relieved laugh.