36. ARIES
36
ARIES
I could hardly breathe in the taxi. In the airport, I sat in a café on a high stool with a takeout cup of shitty tea on the bar next to me. I couldn’t even begin to drink it because I was crying so much that I was almost hyperventilating.
Now, back home, I’m numb as I unlock the front door. The familiar white PVC, thick frosted glass in the upper half, is so different from Matt’s glamorous house. World’s apart. Lifetimes.
The thought breaks my heart afresh. He’s so far away.
I step inside, toeing off my shoes, feet sinking onto the threadbare carpet with its swirling paisley patterns. I bet Matt had never even seen a carpet that looks like this before he came here.
An electric oil diffuser on the hall table bubbles away, changing colour like the lights in a cheap disco, scented air spilling out in clouds. Around it are large tower crystals that Mum has set out in a circle, selenite, rose quartz, citrine and amethyst.
I quietly lower my suitcase to the floor so as not to wake Mum if she’s asleep. Matt hovers in my mind’s eye as I replay memories of him being here, dominating the house. Lowering his head on the way up the stairs, leaning against the doorframe and offering us all tea…
I loved that he brought me here and wanted to meet my mum, but now I wish he’d never come because I can’t get rid of his image hanging over the space, an eerie hologram haunting my mind.
“Lizzie?” comes my mother’s voice.
“It’s me.”
“Aries?”
I don’t answer. Instead, I walk into the sitting room. The sight pains me. Tubes. A ventilator. Oxygen tank. There’s no scent of incense in here because the diffuser from the hall doesn’t penetrate this far. Instead, it smells sour, like death is seeping out of the walls.
Mum is couched on the bed, the duvet pulled up, two frail arms lying atop. Her skin is waxy, like she’s already dead. Cheeks hollow, lips thin and cracked. She didn’t tell me it was this bad. I didn’t know. She got so much worse, so fast. My knees weaken and my hand reaches out for the wall, fingertips pressing into unyielding plaster.
I want to yell at her, to scream at her for not telling me how bad it had got, but all I say is, “Hi, Mum.” My voice is timid, and the large, sorrowful eyes Mum turns on me tell me she’s reading every thought that passes through my mind.
“I wasn’t expecting you,” she whispers, and although she looks like she’s about to cry, it’s me who sobs. The sound splits through me, dragging a pain behind it like a knife being drawn through my flesh from hip to shoulder. I cover my mouth with one hand, stifling anything else that might leak out.
“I’m sorry,” she croaks. “I wanted you to enjoy London.” And by London, I know she doesn’t just mean the city. She means Matt and everything he meant to me, and my heart rips clean in two. I press my hands against my chest as though that might keep it together, but it makes no difference.
She lifts a hand from the floral bedspread, her frail, withered fingers reaching out. She glances beyond me, as if she expects to see Matt.
“Aries, honey,” she says. “Are you alone?”
I force a smile onto my face, but it’s so difficult to perform it wouldn’t convince anyone, least of all Mum. “I am.”
“Your lovely man isn’t with you?”
Lovely man . “It didn’t work out.”
She glances at the ceiling for a second, then back to me. “He’ll be back. Men don’t look at women the way he looked at you if they don’t mean to stick around,” she tells me, and a phantom flicker ignites in my heart, fading a moment later. Ever hopeful, my mum.
I shake my head and make my way over to her. I take her hand in mine. Her fingers are thin and her grip so fragile it feels like she could disappear at any moment. I want to squeeze tighter, but I don’t want to break her. I sit beside her on the bed, gently cradling her hand in mine. “I don’t think so. Not this time.”
Eyes full of motherly concern meet my own, and I sense her weighing everything up, as though she’s comparing this version of me against an older, past version, and noting the changes. “Oh, honey.” Tears rise in her bloodshot eyes. “You did it. You fell in love.”
Searing pain crashes through me. My chin begins to tremble, my lower lip soon joining the dance. I’m going to break. I pin my lip with my teeth, biting so hard I taste blood.
“Do you need to cry?” Mum asks softly, as a tear runs down her own cheek. “I’m here if you need to cry. Let it out, honey. Let it all out.”
I snort, the sound halfway between a sob and a laugh. I can’t bear the way she’s looking at me, like I’m the one who needs to be looked after. “I cried at the airport,” I say, as if that’s enough. As if that could ever be enough for Matt. For Mum. For all of it. As if I could ever cry enough tears when I’m staring down the barrel of a life where I have no one.
Mum watches me, analysing everything until she knows exactly what I need to hear. “I’ll always be here, Aries. Even after…”
After I’m dead .
I close my eyes and grit my teeth to halt the choking sensation rising up my throat. Without meaning to, I tighten my fingers around Mum’s, but I can’t speak. Can’t form a single word.
“Just imagine I’m with you, and I will be,” Mum whispers in her most soothing voice. “That’s how it works. You can talk to me anytime. Wherever you are. Wherever I am.”
No, Mum. It’s not the same. It won’t be the same. You’ll be gone, and I won’t be able to reach you.
I feel a rush of anger that maybe all this time Mum’s been feeding me lies. The energy, the bonds across space and time… maybe it’s all bullshit, and I’ll be utterly alone. But whatever anger I feel is doused by the knowledge that it doesn’t matter either way. I can believe it’s true, and if it’s not, I’ll never, ever know. All I have is now, right fucking now , and I want to hold onto it and never let go.
Mum strokes the back of my knuckles with her free hand. “Anyway, you’re here, and I’m glad you’re home early.”
Her fingers shift against mine. She closes her eyes and rests her head against the pillow. She’s not wearing a turban today and her hair is thin, each strand frail. It never grew back the same after the chemo. The first time, it came back curly. But the second time, it hasn’t had a chance.
When I was little, her hair used to be like mine. Thick and red. I thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world. All powerful. A goddess. Immortal. She taught me how to be human. How to love. I thought she’d last forever.
But nothing is forever…
This reality is cruel. It’s splitting me open, and I’m pulling at every ounce of my energy to hold it together so Mum doesn’t have to see what it’s doing to me.
“I’m not early. I’m late. I should have been here,” I say, struggling to keep my voice from cracking.
Mum opens her eyes; pale blue. The only thing that’s the same as it used to be. “No, Aries, honey. You were where you were meant to be.”
I scrunch my face, trying to contain the tears. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to leave you. But I didn't want to disappoint you either.” My next inhale is an uneven wrench that filters into my lungs in jerks. Little whimpering sounds pop out of my mouth.
“Let it come,” Mum soothes. “It’s all right. I’m here. You could never disappoint me.”
Her words make it worse, and my upper body collapses, my spine curling over, protecting my heart like I can stop it breaking into a million pieces. Waves of uncontrollable emotion surge through me, and even though a voice in my head is screaming, don’t do this to her, don’t let her see this , I can’t stop. “I’m too late—”
“No,” she says, more firmly now. A little more like her old self. “You’re not. You’re exactly where you should be. Exactly when you should be. We always are. It’s universal law. That’s—”
“How it works,” I finish, sucking in air and wiping at my eyes with the palms of my hands.
She shifts her other hand over mine, so she has my hand between both of hers. “Exactly. We are always perfectly on time.”
I really wish I could believe her.