Chapter 34 #4
I place them on my tongue, take a sip of the coffee and swallow.
It is too hot and burns the roof of my mouth.
‘Perfect,’ I say. But he doesn’t move. He continues to look at me.
There is something happening inside him.
He is nervous. Nervous to leave me. ‘How are you feeling about your first day back in the office?’ I add, casually.
‘I’m feeling OK.’ He looks at his watch. Nearly time to go. ‘More importantly – how are you feeling?’
‘I feel great Ronan. Really.’
‘Good. I was worried.’
‘I know.’
‘I don’t like leaving you.’
‘I know, but I’m fine.’
‘I have something to tell you.’
I stop. A jolt of anxiety threatens to destabilise me. ‘Oh?’
He looks serious now. Very. ‘I’m hoping you’ll be pleased.’ He looks at the floor while he says this, which suggests the opposite might be true. What is this? ‘I just wanted to add another layer of safety to your day – now that I’m going back to work. And I think you’ll be happy.’
Another layer of safety?
‘Oh! That’s kind, Ronan, but you really don’t need to go to all this effort – I’m in a much better place now—’
‘I’ve invited your mother to come and stay.’
I feel the room tilt. ‘Oh!’ Oh, God. Oh no. ‘You’ve been speaking to my mother?’
‘Yes – I thought it was important to keep her updated.’
‘Oh, right! Lovely! When is she arriving?’
‘Today.’
Shit. Shit. I underestimated him. He is too clever. One step ahead. ‘What time?’ I try to push through the dizziness. The sudden lack of balance. The residue of the sideswipe. ‘Today, did you say?’
‘I think this afternoon. Does it matter?’
‘No – I mean...’
‘You’ll be in regardless – I told her to knock when she arrives. Oh – I just said your phone is broken – hope that’s OK?’
‘How much have you told her?’ Something bitter emerges in my throat. I don’t want to clear it, in case he thinks I’m upset or angry or sad. God forbid he thinks I am sad. ‘It’s just that I thought – I thought perhaps we could deal with this on our own – just us, together...’
‘I haven’t told her any specific details.’
‘Oh – OK that’s—’
‘Just that things have got bad for you again. And she’s worried, Mal.’
‘Mum can be like that. She doesn’t need to be.’
‘She said she isn’t surprised, either.’
I pause. ‘Sorry?’
He slowly sits, perching at the end of the bed.
I stare at the little mound of my feet under the duvet, and with him looming over them, I notice how incredibly small I appear in comparison.
The meekness has seeped back into my being.
‘Well – she hasn’t heard from you in months, Mal, she assumed something was going on.
’ He reaches to take my hand in his. I let him.
His skin is soft. ‘She was worried we were breaking up.’ He smiles sadly. How could we let her think that, Mal?
‘She can be very dramatic.’ I let him link his fingers between mine. ‘So she’s – what? Coming for just a few nights?’ I wonder if I can push back the outline for a few days – give myself some time...
‘We both thought a week would be good.’ A week?
I feel a sudden claustrophobia closing in at the edges of myself, knowing that his presence, and hers, in this house, in this space – together...
again – will suffocate me. ‘Just until you start seeing your clients again. And your mother can help you get there with that.’
‘Right. OK. And she’ll stay in the spare room?’
‘Well – I’m not sure we should give her the couch – and I don’t think she would want to get in here with me!’ He points to the bed, smiling, because he has made a joke. But we both know she would fucking love that, Ronan. ‘Yes, the spare room.’
‘It’ll be good to have her.’ I smile.
‘Good. I think it will be good for you to reconnect. She’s bringing some work with her, so shouldn’t be hovering around too much.’
That’s what happened last time. She hovered. Watched. Monitored. His little helper. ‘That’s great. I’ll set up the spare room today.’
‘Great. I’m glad you’re up for it. It’ll be useful for you to have someone, while I’m not here.’
‘Yes, thank you. That’s great.’
‘Right, I’m off.’
‘Have a great day.’
He nods. ‘You’ll be OK? Until she gets here?’
‘I’ll be fine.’
‘I hate leaving you.’
‘I know. But I’m doing so much better.’
‘I just don’t want you going down the same road as Nick.
’ The sudden mention of my brother’s name sends an electric snap through me, the reverberations landing like thunder.
‘It’ll be good for your mum to see you’re doing better.
She’s been through so much with you both – we can try and keep it light – keep it fun. ’
Keep it fun. ‘Yeah, I’d like that.’ He kisses me on the forehead, like I am a sickly child. ‘It’ll be really nice for you. I love you.’
‘Love you too.’
When he leaves, I sit in a heat of panic.
My mother.
I won’t be able to go out.
I won’t be able to see Leo.
To talk with him...
Where is he?
Ronan’s keys jangling, the door opening. ‘Bye, love! Could you order an Ocado delivery? Use the joint account!’
‘Sure!’
‘And give the place a clean!’
‘OK!’
As the front door slams shut, a sudden realisation engulfs me. The panic is about more than having to write the end of Slay on my own. It is also because I was hoping to see him. To see Leo. To know that he is OK. To know that he will make it, in the end. That he will live.