Chapter 19 #3
Seb stares at her. They’ve never talked like this, neither one of them admitting any fault or flaw in Benjamin. He’d been good in his life, true, but death had made him invincible. She looks back at him; this time she doesn’t have to ask what he’s thinking. She knows.
‘Your dad grew up thinking that his role was to sort of mute himself. His own desires, his own wants. You know he always wanted to write? He didn’t, of course, because your grandparents thought that was ridiculous.
Too frivolous and unreliable. That’s why he became a professor.
To appease them. His life became about responsibility, about not letting anyone down.
It was only when he got cancer that he started telling me the things he’d wanted for so long.
That’s when he went on that novel-writing course. ’
Seb doesn’t remember the course, but he does remember the half-written novel in his dad’s spidery hand still in the drawer by his bed. He hadn’t been able to hold a pen or a thought for long enough by the end to finish it.
‘Sometimes I wanted to scream at him, but I didn’t know why, and it’s only recently, with all this with you and Rosie, that I see something similar happening between the two of you to what happened with us.’
Seb’s eyes widen and Eva suppresses a smile.
‘No, I’m not talking about sex. We were fine on that front, but I mean the deeper thing.
The thing that stopped your dad and now you from being OK with yourself just as you are.
It’s OK to want and need things, Sebastian, and it’s OK for some people not to like you.
It’s the trying to ignore those things– I think that’s what’s tripped you up. ’
Seb feels like he’s shattering, breaking into hard, sharp pieces of himself.
‘This feels like more than just tripping up.’
Eva looks at him again, not trying to stop herself from smiling now because it’s unavoidable and so absurd, and she shakes her head a little as she says, ‘OK. You’re right.
It’s a monumental collapse.’ Her face becomes serious again as she leans towards him and puts her warm palm on his leg.
‘I know it’s uncomfortable acknowledging that even if we don’t like certain things about ourselves, they still exist. We must learn how to be with them. ’
‘But how, Mum?’
‘Stop living for others’ approval. It doesn’t work. Start living for yourself. Trust us. We will still love you.’
Her phone rings; she whispers something in Danish about bad timing as she moves back to the kitchen to answer it. Without hearing her voice or her name, Seb knows it’s Rosie asking what time Eva’s coming out to meet them.
When she comes back, Seb’s crying into the palm of his hand and she doesn’t try to stop him; she just lets him shake and wail. Because she knows that this, this falling apart, was what he needed all along.
By the time Eva leaves, witch’s hat in the crook of her arm, to meet Rosie and the kids, Seb is staring fixedly at the flames in the wood burner.
He feels solid with sadness, as if turning towards his sorrow has made it grow hard and brittle within him.
If someone were to peer into his mouth they’d see it there, a great blockage of regret and fear.
There’s no thinking any more and there’s no emptiness, either. There’s just feeling.
Eva has left one of her huge plastic bowls full of the Danish sweets she imports on the front doorstep so Seb won’t have to deal with the trick-or-treaters; he hears their whispers and giggles as they reach for greedy handfuls of sweets.
Some of them might know this is Eva’s house but they won’t know he’s staying here, that there’s a real monster inside.
An hour or so passes before his phone starts ringing in his pocket. He feels another lurch, a strange fear as he answers, ‘Rosie?’
‘Seb, hi.’ She waits for him to say something, but he doesn’t trust himself so instead, slightly irritated, she keeps talking.
‘Listen, it’s started raining. The kids are getting edgy.
We’re going to come back in about half an hour, but I stupidly left the crumble at home and we’re all the way over by Rectory Gardens.
I really don’t want to have to go all the way home with everyone to get the crumble before going back to Eva’s– would you mind… ?’
He coughs, forces a brightness he doesn’t feel into his voice as he says, ‘No, of course I don’t mind. I’ll go and get it now and see you all back at Mum’s, OK?’
‘Thanks,’ she mutters before calling out, ‘Heath, come on, leave your sister alone.’
‘Actually,’ she continues, ‘we’re all wet and cold. We’re going to come now; we’ll be about ten minutes.’
Seb stands. He wants nothing more than for them all to be here, with him, their cheeks pinking by the fire, their eyes smudged with Halloween make-up, smuggling extra sweets into their mouths.
‘OK. I’ll go now and be back just after you.’
There’s more squabbling before Rosie says a curt, ‘Fine,’ into the receiver and disappears.
Seb walks quickly. It’s dark and still raining, so no one recognizes him as he pulls his hood over his head and keeps his eyes on the pavement.
Putting his key in the door, stepping over ballet pumps and muddy trainers, breathing in the smell of his family, he feels a great swell rise in him again.
It’s something close to sadness but as he pulls his key out of the door, he realizes it’s not sadness but an aching love that fills him.
He’d never felt how close the two were before.
He wants to linger, to stare for hours at all the photos on the walls, to relive their wedding day, his kids’ births, their holidays on the beach.
He feels greedy for the past, wants it all again and again.
But it’s gone and he is alone, and he knows they can never be that family laughing so easily again.
His phone buzzes with a message from Rosie:
Back at Eva’s, are you coming?