Chapter Eleven Fiona
Absolutely not worth drinking. Love yourself: pour it down the drain and find something better.
‘No, Matt,’ I said exhaustedly, standing in front of the meat section in the supermarket and trying to do the maths on cost-effectiveness versus quality. ‘I told you.’
‘I can’t believe you’re being like this on Christmas.’ Matt’s voice was whiny, irritatingly reminiscent of the girls when they were overtired. ‘Is it really that much to ask? The divorce is final on the twenty-seventh anyway. I’m talking about you letting me see them two days early. Two days!’
‘You heard their therapist.’ I reached my hand towards a pack of pork loin steaks, then pulled it back.
Elias was kicking extra money into my budget, but he also ate a lot more than me or the kids.
‘No matter how keen you are to make things up to them, and no matter how well prepared they are, seeing you again will be traumatic, and I don’t want to ruin their Christmas. ’
‘I’m their father.’
I put two packs of sausages that were on special into my trolley. ‘If you want to set up a video call with them after the twenty-seventh, text me some times that will work. Before that, though, it’s not happening.’
I hung up before he could make my head hurt worse than it already did. ‘It’s the countdown to Christmas!’ the shop radio blared chirpily as I pushed my trolley towards the dairy section, at a volume loud enough I could feel it inside my skull. ‘We’ve got holiday specials for you and your family!’
Countdown was right. It felt like there were several different ticking clocks hanging over me, each ticking slightly out of time, a ceaseless uneven rhythm that had me permanently on edge.
Some of them had clear endpoints – like 27 December, circled in ominous red in my mental calendar, the day after which I could no longer keep Matt from the kids, no matter how desperately I wanted to.
Some of them were less clear but still predictable.
I was one hundred per cent sure that sometime in the next twenty-four hours, I would get yet another email from Laura to add to the five I hadn’t answered, telling me that of course she understood why I was being like this but Matt missed the kids so much and Christmas was all about family so couldn’t I please please please stop being such a selfish bitch be the bigger person and rise above it for the sake of the children?
And then there were the ones with no set endpoint, the ones that made my heart race and sweat break out on my brow even as my stomach felt like it was filled with cement. When I would be alone with Satoshi again? And would I be strong enough this time to do what I needed to?
I’d seen him a few times since the night he’d delivered the wine, but only in passing while I and some assortment of family members were in Tsundoku.
His hand had brushed mine when I’d finally brought Lex in for the promised hot chocolate, and I’d nearly combusted on the spot.
I’d thought about it later that night, buried under about seventeen layers of blankets despite the summer heat so that the kids or Elias wouldn’t hear the vibrator through the wall, and for a few blissful moments, all the ticking clocks were silent.
My mind jumped ahead a year, three years, five years…
But then, the next time I’d gone in, Elias and the kids in tow, Satoshi had been deep in conversation with Kieran. His eyes only flickered to me for an instant as we entered – a brief, polite smile passing over his face – before something Kieran said stole his attention back.
Lex had caught me watching as they kissed each other goodbye on both cheeks, Kieran’s biceps rippling as he picked up the case of sparkling wine Satoshi had packed for him. ‘Are you all right, Mum?’
‘Fine!’ I’d replied, as breezily possible. ‘Just zoned out for a sec there.’
Lex nodded, seemingly mollified, and inwardly, I’d breathed a sigh of relief that at least one ticking clock seemed to have petered out.
Michelle, to my great surprise, seemed to have stuck to her word and not told anyone about finding me and Satoshi beside the bins – or at least, had managed to keep it from circulating to the kids.
Fiona’s children have been through enough, she’d probably whispered to half the P Lex, peopled out, retired to their room with all the books they’d received; and Sadie opened a bottle of the Noriko.
‘Chessie’s favourite,’ she said, filling everyone’s glasses.
Elias raised his glass. ‘To family. Old and new.’
‘Family,’ I murmured along with everyone, and drank.
It had been more than a year since I’d tasted the Noriko.
The last time had been right before Matt had left.
Satoshi had poured him a glass to apologise for the fact that he’d borrowed his wife to be his waitress, and when Matt had stormed off, I’d downed half of it in a single swallow.
Satoshi had watched me do it, an expression in his eyes I couldn’t quite identify.
No one had ever looked at me like that before – somewhere between amused and awestruck.
‘We’ve all been through a lot of changes this year,’ Elias said. ‘Marriages—’ he raised his glass to Sadie and Jonah ‘—and divorces—’ he nodded at me ‘—and – I’m sorry, Chess, I don’t know you very well, I don’t know what to add to the list for you.’
‘Just file me under “changes, miscellaneous”,’ Chess said. ‘That’ll cover it.’
‘I doubt any of us are where we thought we’d be a few years ago,’ Elias said, ‘but I think we’re all better off for it.’
The Noriko was a wine with a long finish. I could still taste it on my palate later, layers unfolding as I stacked the dishwasher. It was silky and red-fruited with a hint of gentle spice, an embrace to sink into, deeper and deeper.
And Elias’s words, like the wine, lingered. Would I go back to who I was, the last time I had tasted this wine?
That Fiona was sure of so many things. She’d felt safe and secure and self-assured in a way that I hadn’t for a single second since. I craved that feeling so badly it felt like a biological imperative, some deep, powerful, hardwired instinct I couldn’t ignore.
But she’d also been wrong. She’d thought her husband loved her, but he didn’t. She’d thought her brothers didn’t, but they did.
And she hadn’t felt like herself. Wasn’t that what I’d told Satoshi that night, before I’d come home and Matt had blown up my life? How I’d disappeared into being a wife and a mother and I didn’t know who Fiona was anymore?
‘Fi, let me do that.’
I jumped. Jonah laughed. ‘Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.’
He filled the kettle with water and flicked it on. ‘Seriously, let me do that. You go and relax.’
‘It’s okay. You cooked. The least I can do is clean.’
I slotted another plate into the dishwasher, pondering, before I spoke again. ‘Jonah, can I ask you something?’
‘Sure.’ He lined up five mismatched mugs on the bench.
‘What did you mean before? When you said Lex was just like me?’
‘Hmmm? Oh. They’re strong-willed.’
‘What?’ That was the last answer I’d expected. ‘I’m not strong-willed.’
Jonah snorted. ‘Come on, Fi. Yes, you are.’