10. Enough, Greta
Chapter ten
Enough, Greta
‘Mother, for the fifth and final time, I am fine!’ Greta said to Elaine, who sat staring at her daughter from under her sharp grey fringe, suspicion etched in every line on her face.
‘You are not fine,’ Elaine argued. ‘She’s not fine, is she, Edward?!’
Elaine poked her husband in the arm, perhaps a little too firmly, as he made an oof noise and rubbed the spot with his hand to soothe it.
‘Lainey, if Greta says she’s fine. Then she’s—’ Edward couldn’t finish his sentence before Elaine butted back in.
‘Oh hush! Bloody men!’ she yelled with an eye roll that was just as loud. ‘Unable to see beyond the end of your own bloody nose.’
Edward gave the ceiling a slow, long-suffering look, exhaling a sharp puff through his pursed lips.
‘Mum, there’s honestly nothing wrong.’
‘Is it a woman?’ Elaine said quickly, as though having a sudden moment of bravery and wanting the words out of her mouth as fast as possible.
‘No!’ Greta protested, shaking her head adamantly.
Elaine, clearly on a charm offensive, decided now was the time to say her piece. ‘Muriel wouldn’t want this life for you, Greta—’
‘Elaaaine,’ Edward interrupted, stretching the word in a cautioning tone.
‘Well, she wouldn’t!’ she retorted, looking back and forth between her husband and daughter.
‘Oh Jesus, not this again,’ Greta muttered under her breath as she stood from the dining table, her arm outstretched, gesturing towards Edward’s empty plate. ‘Are you done, Dad?’
‘Yes, thank you, G,’ Edward replied, handing it to her with both hands, while shooting her a wink of solidarity. ‘Don’t listen to your mother. You grieve how you need to grieve.’
‘Eddie, it’s been five years. Muriel would not have wanted—’
‘Mum!’ Stopping just shy of a shout, Greta exhaled a long breath. A reminder to herself that she respected and loved her mother very much. ‘Leave it, please.’
Elaine held her hands up in a surrendering motion before moving them to the napkin on her knee, bringing it to her face to dab at the corners of her mouth.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said with a shake of the head.
She placed the napkin on the table, her arm remaining over it as she fidgeted with the material in her fingertips.
She held Greta’s gaze before turning to her husband.
‘I’m sorry. Okay?’ He accepted the apology with a nod.
‘I just want the best for you, Greta. We both do.’
‘I know you do, Mum, but honestly, everything is fine.’
After gathering the last of the crockery, Greta retreated into the Quaker-style kitchen, but not before she caught Edward shooting Elaine a look, earning him a belligerent shrug and a silently mouthed ‘What?’ in return.
In the quiet of the Didsbury kitchen, Greta put the plates by the dishwasher. Pressing her palms into the wooden surface, she leaned her weight into it as if the wood were the only thing keeping her upright.
‘Is everything okay, G?’ Edward asked tentatively from the doorway.
Greta turned to her father, a half smile on her lips, as his kind eyes beamed back at her. Despite his casual attire, green chinos and a blue plaid shirt, his grey beard and bald head didn't hide a single one of his seventy-four years.
‘Oh, Dad.’ Greta dropped her head and rubbed at her forehead as Edward moved across the kitchen with his arms reflexively outstretched.
‘Come here,’ he said, as he gently scooped his daughter into a hug. ‘I’m not going to badger you, unlike your drill sergeant mother.’ Greta huffed a burst of air through her nose in amusement. ‘But I’m here. No matter what’s happened. Okay?’
Greta turned her head to the side on his big chest, her ear level with his heart.
‘It is a woman, Dad, but I can’t—’
‘I knew it!’ Elaine exclaimed from the doorway.
‘Elaine! For Pete’s sake. Leave it!’ Edward all but yelled, his exasperation at his wife’s persistence and insensitivity now palpable.
‘I will not leave it,’ she asserted. ‘I will not watch my girl live like this, Edward!’
The tremor in her mum’s voice made Greta’s gut wrench. As her dad let her go, she leaned back on the kitchen sideboard, arms crossed over her chest in a futile bid to close herself off from the conversation.
‘This wall, Greta, this bloody armour of yours, enough!’ Elaine demanded, her voice now strong and adamant.
‘Wall?’
‘Yes. Wall!’
‘Mum don’t speak to me like I'm a child. I’m nearly fifty for Christ’s sake!’
‘Greta,’ Edward warned softly.
Greta dropped her head, a repeated apology spilling out in mutters. She sucked in a long, ragged breath, filling every millimetre of space in her lungs.
‘There is a woman,’ Greta began, unable to ignore the smile tugging at her Mum's lips. ‘But we can’t. I can’t… It just can’t. It’s complica—’
‘That’s a lot of can’ts, G. Why so many? Is she with someone else?’ Elaine said gently.
‘No, of course she isn’t, but—’
‘But nothing.’
‘Mum, you don’t understand—’
‘But. Nothing,’ Elaine enunciated sharply. ‘If you both want to be together you will find a way.’
Brilliant, Greta thought. The matter was settled then. All it needed was Elaine’s mere utterance of you will find a way. As if life were that easy. As if this impossible situation could be remedied by strong will and good intention alone.
Greta watched as her mum took off her glasses and pushed them into her hair, knowing that she would forget they were there and hunt for them for a few minutes before remembering.
She fixed her gaze on her lovely mum, the neat grey bob pushed behind her ears, the lines etched around her eyes and lips.
She scanned her beautiful face, her kind eyes and deeply furrowed brow, but offered nothing to encourage the conversation.
She didn’t say: but she’s a twenty-eight-year-old university student and an escort who I have paid for two years to obey and fuck me.
Deciding that perhaps wasn’t the most appropriate post-dinner chat with her parents.
Her mother’s view of the world was usually a comfort, but her over-simplification of Greta’s turmoil was becoming a constant frustration. With a heart made of solid gold Elaine meant well, but if she had all the facts, her laissez-faire all you need is love response would surely seem implausible.
As the only constant in a life of such cruel variables, Greta had always gravitated back to Elaine and Eddie, her Mum and Dad.
They were her safety net and her sanctuary, never too much, never not enough.
Starting over with them at fourteen had been easier than they had all anticipated.
Eve, Greta’s mother, had died giving birth to Greta, so she had never had the love of a mother as a child.
But the unconditional love, acceptance and fierce adoration for the little girl Eddie and Elaine claimed as their own, quickly dismantled her belief that she was an unlovable pariah—a belief instilled in her by her biological father, who had abandoned her as a teenager after their relationship fractured beyond repair.
Under the warmth of their support, their daughter—the word they used at Greta’s behest—didn't just recover; she was able to fulfil her overwhelming need to grow and breathe and be the person she needed to be.
Through the messy process of self-discovery, Elaine and Edward’s love never wavered or let Greta down.
In a world unready for her sexuality, their love was the only thing that felt absolute.
She was no longer stifled by fear or terrified of rejection.
At sixteen she officially became Greta Vincent, changing from her family name of Massarano.
She carried that name into her doctorate.
She was Dr Greta Vincent because of them.
They tried to share the crushing weight of Muriel’s death.
When Greta’s grief became too much for her friends to witness, they looked away, eventually stepping away completely, leaving her in a void that Elaine felt compelled to try to fill with love.
But lately, it had all begun to suffocate Greta as Elaine’s love had sharpened into a frantic, overbearing concern.
Although her parents still remained her only true confidants, her fiercest and proudest cheerleaders, the scales were tipping into an unhealthy balance.
Her mother’s own agony at watching Greta mourn still was beginning to feel less like support and more like a burden all of its own.
Greta felt trapped by her own life. Circumstances and choices had hemmed her in, making it impossible to seek advice, or to talk to anyone.
Edward broke the silence.
‘Greta, you know we’re here. Whatever you decide.
If it’s too soon— ’ Elaine interjected with a huff.
Edward started again, stretching the syllables with increased volume and clout.
‘If it’s too soon, then it’s too soon. If she doesn’t make you feel good, or care for you, then she’s no good for my girl. Okay?’
As she slowly nodded, Greta stared lovingly at her father. He always made her feel fourteen again. Not watched but seen, safe and adored.
‘Can I say something?’ Elaine asked, brows raised indignantly. Edward caught Greta’s eye and rolled his own. ‘Am I allowed to speak?’
Greta refrained from joining Edward’s eye roll. ‘Mum, don’t be silly. Of course you can speak.’
‘You never usually need permission, Lainey,’ Edward bravely said, earning him a curt glance and loud tut.
‘What does the rest of your life look like, Greta?’ Greta dropped her gaze to the floor. The weight of the question splinted her diaphragm and burned her eyes. ‘You have been alone for five years— ’
‘Lainey, for God’s sake!’ Edward yelled.
‘No, Eddie. Let me say it.’ Elaine raised a halting hand toward him, her eyes locked on Greta’s.
‘You have everything a person could possibly want, but you deprive yourself of the one thing you need. The one thing every person needs. It’s such a waste!
Enough, Greta.’ Greta’s eyes glistened with rapidly gathering tears.
Elaine moved across the kitchen, throwing her arms around her daughter just as Greta finally broke.
She pulled her in, the way only a mother could, and whispered into her hair. ‘Enough, Greta. Please.’
***
Priya drained her coffee cup and held Dylan’s gaze as she softly placed it on the kitchen table. Opposite her, Dylan sat blinking, nibbling at her thumbnail, her face contorting with anxious winces, waiting with bated breath for feedback.
‘You didn’t block her number, though? Or delete it? You still have it?!’ Priya asked.
‘Yep, I still have it. I can’t do it.’ Dylan shook her head. ‘It’s been ages, and I know it’s done, I know I’ll never see her again, but I can’t bring myself to do it.’
Dylan had been so desperate to talk to someone that she’d finally broken, spilling the whole story to Priya.
Every last detail, minus the actual minutiae of the weekly hotel meetings.
She felt that to be a touch too much information.
Even without that, admitting that she had escorted lodged in her throat like a brick.
It had taken Priya’s gentle, patient coaxing to pull it out, but much to Dylan’s relief, she had been entirely unfazed.
‘Why don’t you just ring her, Dyl?’ Dylan shook her head again, her fingers flicking at the rim of her cup. ‘Look,’ Priya went on, ‘I know the whole thing might feel like an impossible mess, but I can see how much you like her.’
‘Nah. It’s done, Pri. I’ll get over it,’ Dylan said blithely. ‘I just miss her, which is stupid because I don’t even know her.’
‘I can see why you would think that it’s done but—’
‘She’s obviously moved on, got a new escort, or girlfriend even. She’s so hot I can’t really understand why she’s alone.’
‘That’s the point though, Dyl, you don’t know anything. She might be having this very same conversation with her incredibly beautiful, worldly-wise nurse friend.’
Priya’s face broke into a slow grin as Dylan laughed.
‘Besides, it’s probably for the best. I need to write my frigging dissertation. Mum keeps me busy. I’ve got too much on as it is.’
‘Too much on to fall in love?’ Priya asked softly.
The word love jarred Dylan. She pulled her chin to her chest and frowned. ‘Steady on, Pri, bloody hell.’
‘Dylan St John. I have sat here two and a half hours after the end of my shift and listened to you tell me that you’re falling in love, but now you’re not prepared to fight for it. I’m just glad your mum can’t hear us.’
‘Ouch!’ Dylan splayed her hand over her heart, as if covering a haemorrhaging chest wound. ‘That’s a bit unfair, Pri.’
‘What’s unfair, Dylan…’ She picked up her coaster and playfully threw it across the table. Dylan chuckled, catching it with both hands as it rolled towards her, before sliding it back towards Priya, who placed her cup on it and sighed. ‘It’s unfair that you are choosing to let her go.’
‘It’s not really my choice, though… She doesn’t bloody want me! I’m used goods. Scrap heap material.’
‘You are neither of those things so stop!’ Priya chided, forcing her back into the chair.
‘You will make me angry with talk like that. You are one of the kindest, most gentle human beings I have ever met and you deserve some happiness. Some real happiness. Just for you. You have a choice here, Dylan and you are choosing not to call her.’ She stood, leaning over the table to press her hand over Dylan’s and squeezed gently.
‘I’m going home now, hen. When I get back, you’d better have rethought your decision. ’