Chapter Twenty-One
JESS
I’m rummaging through the kitchen drawers looking for serving spoons and chopsticks.
I honestly can’t remember where we used to keep them in this kitchen, which is so strange.
However, when I think hard, I realize there are a lot of details I don’t remember about this day.
I recall the highlights with fondness, but the in-between bits are fuzzy.
Maybe that’s not surprising. The previous days I’ve lived through were possibly the most significant ones in our whole relationship.
To be honest, I’m quite enjoying not remembering everything that happened before, because it means I don’t have a script to follow.
I open the narrow drawer next to the hob and spot the chopsticks nestled under a few pairs of tongs. I’m just reaching for them when my phone, which is charging on the counter, rings. I change direction and pick it up. ‘Hello?’
‘Hey, gorgeous!’ Hannah says. ‘How’s it going?’
‘Good,’ I say, reaching over and retrieving the chopsticks, then bumping the drawer closed with my hip. ‘Luke’s just out grabbing a Chinese takeaway.’
‘A takeaway?’ Hannah makes a soft snort. ‘That doesn’t sound very romantic!’
I bristle. I don’t like the feeling that Hannah is judging us.
‘Well, we’re saving hard, as you know, both so we can put a deposit down on a house and so we’ve got a buffer when I start training as a physiotherapist. I like to think of it as if we’re investing in our future together, which I think is very romantic. ’
‘Oh, God … You two make me sick,’ Hannah says, but I can tell she’s giving me an indulgent smile on the other end of the line. ‘I can hardly believe it’s been a whole year!’
Seriously, Hannah has no idea. ‘Neither can I.’
‘Is it everything you thought it would be?’
I take a moment to ponder my answer. ‘It’s …
good. Amazing, actually.’ The last day or so of my reality has blown me away, and with it, blown all the anger I felt towards Luke away, too.
Of course I remember how happy we were in the early years of our marriage, but living parts of them again has brought those feelings back to life in all-singing, all-dancing Technicolor.
Hannah makes a soft gagging noise then laughs. ‘No, seriously. I’m actually a bit jealous. I wish I could find someone like Luke.’
‘You will, Han. You’re amazing.’
He just might not be the first one she says ‘I do’ to, but I’m not going to tell her that now.
I’m still holding out hope for that in the future, and back in our real lives, I’ve been getting a vibe that there’s someone on the horizon, but she just hasn’t been ready to spill the tea on him yet.
‘How about I set you up with one of his brothers?’
‘Isn’t he the oldest? I don’t want to go cradle-snatching!’
My phone beeps in my ear. ‘Listen, Han … Can I call you back tomorrow? I’ve got another call coming in and I think it might be Luke asking if I want salt and chilli chicken or salt and chilli prawns. He always forgets which one I said.’
‘Yes. Go. Go!’
‘Salt and chilli prawns,’ I say as I answer the call.
‘Salt and chilli what?’
‘Oh, sorry … Never mind. I thought you were Luke. Hi, Mum.’
There are a few seconds of silence before she responds, probably because, even to my own ears, I sounded less than enthusiastic.
But that’s hardly surprising. Her alcoholism goes in waves.
She never truly dries out but sometimes it’s definitely worse than others, and the past year has been choppy, despite her promises after our wedding to give up altogether.
‘You don’t have to say it like that!’
I rest my case. Mum sits at home, stewing over hurts, both real and imagined, and when she can no longer deal with a tornado she’s whipped up inside herself, she dials my number. ‘I didn’t say it like anything,’ I tell her. I’m lying, of course.
‘I bet you don’t talk that way when your father calls!’
‘No—’
‘Just what I thought!’
I was going to say that I didn’t talk to Dad that way because he and I hardly ever talk on the phone, but she didn’t let me get it out, and I can’t be bothered to correct her now because she’s on a roll. It won’t matter what I say.
‘I don’t get it!’ she says testily. ‘Even though he abandoned us to go off with that woman, you still prefer him to me.’
‘That’s not true, Mum. I—’
‘I don’t understand why you worship that man so much, why you’ve always been so desperate for his approval.’
She may have a point there – about wanting his approval, anyway. However, that’s hardly the point at the moment. I take a deep breath and attempt to respond calmly. ‘I don’t prefer him to you, Mum. I love you both.’
My mother makes a dismissive noise. Of course that’s not good enough.
Sometimes, I think she’d only be happy if I said I hated him as much as she does, but that wouldn’t be true either.
I don’t think she hates him. I think she still loves him.
I think she still pines for him and this is what fuels her frustration and anger.
‘Well, I’ve hardly seen anything of you in the last year.’
‘Mum, you know why that is.’
‘Why?’ she says, sounding genuinely bamboozled, and I roll my eyes.
‘Oh … You mean the wedding reception. Well, yes … I know that was … unfortunate.’ I didn’t speak to her for four months after the wedding.
She’s lucky I’ve been in contact as much as I have.
‘But you have to understand what a hard day it was for me, your father waltzing in with that woman … ’
Sometimes, I think, when she’s on one of her drunken rants, she forgets that Lola was nowhere in the picture when Dad left, and that she wasn’t the one who had the affair with him.
‘If there’s anyone to blame for my state that day,’ she continues, ‘it was him. And you didn’t help matters, did you?’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘You made me look stupid.’
‘I made you look stupid?’
‘Yes. You gave me those flowers after singing the praises of Luke’s mum and … her … and made it obvious to everyone I hadn’t done as much.’
My blood begins to lightly simmer. Only because you got drunk and missed my dress fitting. Only because you’d rather spend your time and money on booze than doing anything to help Luke and me for our wedding.
‘It’s no wonder I ended up doing something foolish … I was just trying to feel good about myself.’
What? She’s making this my fault? My blood reaches a hard boil.
‘You know what, Mum? You’re right. I don’t actually want to speak to you at the moment.
’ And I jab my thumb over the red ‘end call’ button, receiving a triumphant rush of endorphins as I do so, even though I’ll probably regret it later.
Luke arrives back carrying a large paper bag full of Chinese food, a bag of prawn crackers and a bonus bottle of cola.
He dumps all of them down on the counter as I scurry around getting plates and serving spoons.
I’m just peeling the plastic lid of a tub of chow mein when he comes up behind me, puts his hands on my arms and kisses the side of my head. ‘You okay? You look tense.’
I sigh. I could tell him all about the call I’ve just had but it’s nothing new, and I’m not sure I can be bothered to drag it all up again.
Besides, Luke is always full of advice about how I should handle my family but I don’t want to get into a back and forth about why I don’t think his suggestions would work, and I don’t want to let a conversation about my unhinged mother ruin our evening. ‘I’m fine. Just a bit tired.’
‘You sure?’
I nod and start popping spoons in the different containers. ‘Sure. Now why don’t we eat this while it’s hot, and decide what film we want to watch?’