Chapter Seven #2
‘Besides, they’re leaving tomorrow,’ said Joseph, dreading Emma telling him that they needed another day to rid the theatre of the ghost.
‘Shame. I was really getting somewhere,’ Isadora mused, and drained her glass.
‘I’m surprised a beautiful woman like you is unattached,’ he said.
‘You heard of the triangle theory, Joey?’
‘No,’ Joseph replied.
‘Imagine a triangle divided into horizontal sections. At the bottom, in the longest section, are all the rats and toads and squirrels and mice. Millions and trillions of them. And they all find each other. Easy; they’re on the same level of the food chain.
The great masses,’ she said with disdain.
‘Then as you go up, you get more layers. With each shortening layer you get classier animals, until, right at the top, in the little triangle, you get the beautiful lions and tigers. Extremely rare. It’s hard to find creatures at the very top of the food chain, you see.
So, to answer your question why a beautiful woman like me is unattached?
Well, I’m waiting to find another lion or tiger, or a rare Canadian lynx.
Being at the top of the food chain can be lonely.
’ She put her glass on the table. ‘Order me another, Joey.’ She patted his hand and gave him a pitying smile.
‘You’re so lucky you and Emma are not in that little triangle at the top of the food chain, Joey.
You don’t know how isolating it can be.’
Pixie lay beside Ulysses watching Mamma Mia!
on the big television screen. She’d had a large glass of red wine and was now feeling sleepy and a little emotional.
The film, although a comedy, pulled at her heart for two reasons.
One, because it was about love, and she was on the point of sliding back to Cavill and drawing to a close whatever force it was that was bringing them together.
Two, because the relationship between mother Donna and daughter Sophie was so touching that the mother-shaped hole in her heart ached with ever more emptiness and loss.
She had never known that kind of tenderness from a mother, and the music made her pain even more acute because it was so beautiful.
As uplifting as the ending was, Pixie felt drained. She put her head on Ulysses’ chest and closed her eyes as he wrapped his arms around her. ‘Probably not the best choice of film,’ he said and kissed her head.
Pixie’s eyes filled with tears. ‘I wish I had a mother like yours,’ she said, and the emptiness she always carried inside her echoed louder than ever, demanding to be heard.
He squeezed her hard. ‘I wish you did too, Pix. I wish you just had parents, full stop.’
There was a long pause as she took a deep breath.
She felt secure there, in his embrace; safe and understood.
‘I never talk about them, because it hurts so much. I suppose, I convince myself that if I don’t think about what happened, it ceases to be a reality.
But I know I should talk about them. I should acknowledge what happened and accept it.
It’s healing to release these things into the light and not allow them to fester in the dark.
I think I want to talk about them, after all. ’
‘I’m here, Pix. Whenever you’re ready,’ he said.
‘I’m ready.’ She sat up and shuffled round to face him. ‘Now.’
He picked up the remote and turned off the television. ‘I’m all ears,’ he said seriously.
Pixie sat cross-legged and took the full, rousing breath of a swimmer about to dive into very cold water.
Then she began slowly, dropping her gaze into her hands fidgeting in her lap.
‘I know little about my father because I was six when he died, but my maternal grandmother told me that he was an abusive alcoholic. I don’t believe her, of course.
The few memories I have are of him reading me bedtime stories and putting on all the voices.
’ She smiled wistfully at one of the only tender memories she retained.
Then her smile vanished into a frown. ‘Mostly, I remember them fighting. My mother shouting at him in a high-pitched, violent voice, and his low voice trying to calm her down. I was always sent up to my room, but I heard everything because the house was small. The memory that shines brightest is of my father bleeding on the kitchen floor and my mother standing over him with a big knife, dripping with blood. It kind of eclipses all the other memories. I remember her face. The horror on it.’ Pixie sighed and shook her head.
‘I don’t remember feeling anything. I kind of remember it all with a distance, as if it belongs to another life.
I can see the bright red colour of his blood as clearly as that red cushion, but I don’t remember how I felt.
And I don’t recall what happened next. It’s like a black hole.
A black hole that swallowed everything into it, including me. ’
Ulysses took her hands. ‘I think that’s enough for anyone to bear, don’t you?’ he said kindly.
She nodded and took another full breath.
It felt better to have shared that moment.
To have prised it out from its hiding place and brought it into the light.
It didn’t appear so frightening now. She looked at him steadily.
‘My mother has been writing to me,’ she told him.
‘She’s out of prison now and trying to get in touch.
But I don’t want to see her. I can’t. I don’t want to see the woman who stole my father.
Who killed my father.’ She felt her heart accelerate and the knot in her stomach tighten with anxiety as she uttered those terrible words.
‘Who murdered my father. I don’t want to listen to her lies. ’
‘Have you ever tried to slide back to see what really happened?’ he asked.
Pixie shook her head. ‘I couldn’t. I mean, I just couldn’t go back there. I imagine my aversion to it prevents it from happening. It’s absolutely visceral.’
‘And your father has never appeared to you in spirit?’
‘No. Everyone else does, but he never has. I don’t know why.’ She shrugged sadly. ‘It’s not easy making contact with the living. Maybe it’s too hard for him to get through to me.’
‘Come here, Pix,’ said Ulysses, pulling her into his arms. She lay against him and cried softly into his cashmere sweater.
‘You’re brave to have told me. Very brave.
You’re always solving everyone else’s problems and sharing your wisdom to help others.
What you need is someone to solve your problem and to give you some wisdom. ’
‘I have you, Ulysses,’ she said.
‘You do. You have a hundred per cent of me.’
She smiled sadly, knowing that wasn’t exactly true. ‘But you’ll go off and live in New York with Henry.’
‘Whoever said I’m going to go and live in New York?’
‘Well, you can’t have a relationship if you live on opposite sides of the world.’
‘If I go and live in New York, then you’ll come with me.’
‘Really?’
‘Really. We come as a pair. Any man foolish enough to want me, will have to take you too. Two for the price of one. Great deal. Couldn’t do better.
’ He laughed. ‘But with my love comes my honesty, Pixie. I think you need to hear what your mother has to say. No, don’t stiffen.
There are always two sides to a story, and you haven’t heard her side.
In fact, you haven’t heard either side. You’ve just held on to the vision you saw in the kitchen and jumped to conclusions. ’
‘I don’t think I jumped to the wrong conclusions. My mother went to prison for years for killing him,’ Pixie objected.
‘Sure, but she’s your mother. Listen to her and then reject her if you want to.
But I think it would be healing for you to meet up with her and take that decision based on a calm, grown-up conversation.
You’re a deeply spiritual person, Pixie.
Surely, you would tell anyone in your position to find it in their heart to forgive. ’
‘I don’t think I can forgive her.’
‘I suspect you’ll be amazed at what you’re capable of.
How many times have you told me that we’re here, on this planet, to learn and grow?
That we’re faced with challenges we must meet head on?
Do you really want to leave this world having fallen at this hurdle?
You’ll kick yourself when you arrive in the next world without having settled things with your mother. You really will.’
Pixie took a deep breath. ‘I’ll think about it,’ she said, but her every instinct recoiled.
‘Okay. And if you want me to come with you, I will.’
‘Thank you, Ulysses.’
‘Pleasure, treasure.’
‘I don’t know what I’d do without you.’
He smiled into her hair. ‘You always say that, but I don’t know what I’d do without you either. I love you very much, don’t ever forget that.’
They were interrupted by a loud knocking on the door. ‘Who the hell is that?’ Ulysses exclaimed.
Pixie lay back against the pillows as Ulysses climbed out of bed.
He went to the door and opened it. To his surprise it was Isadora.
She looked younger without make-up, with her hair pulled back and dressed in a simple cream-coloured V-neck sweater, washed denim jeans and bare feet.
Her toenails were painted Barbie pink. ‘Isadora?’
Pixie sat up in alarm. What was she doing here? Then it dawned on her. Isadora wasn’t here on a social call.
‘Hi, Ulysses,’ Isadora purred, gazing up at him from beneath long lashes. ‘I was wondering whether you’d like to watch a movie.’
‘Actually, I’ve just watched one, with Pixie,’ he replied.
Isadora’s eyes strayed beyond Ulysses to the big bed where she could just make out the mound of feet beneath the covers. Her face went pink. She stiffened like a cat that spots another cat on its territory. ‘I see,’ she replied tersely. ‘Well, that’s a shame. What did you watch?’
‘Mamma Mia!,’ Ulysses replied.
Isadora narrowed her eyes. Then her shoulders dropped, and she laughed. ‘Are you gay, Ulysses?’ she asked.
‘I am,’ he answered.