CHAPTER 11 #2
Jeremy knew who this was. Heather was the ex-girlfriend Sam sometimes mentioned, always briefly, always casually.
She was tiny, even wearing heeled boots, and seemed poised and just …
together. Jeremy, an agent of chaos, often thought he could sense when people knew who they were and what they wanted from their lives. Heather gave him that feeling.
‘We should probably all be celebrating Sam’s kindness on his literal birthday,’ he said. Sam gave him a small smile. Judging from the sudden smoothness of Heather’s face, she’d picked up on his tone. Shit. He wasn’t sure why he was acting so prickly towards her.
‘Well, if you could distract Uncle Rob with something shiny, that would be great. Jeremy and I are going to get Aunt Edith,’ said Sam, breaking the sudden tension, jingling his keys as he started moving.
‘Oh, you’re both going, huh? That’s very nice of you,’ said Heather, looking between the two of them with renewed interest. ‘I might come for the ride too. Trust me,’ she said to Jeremy, ‘you’ll love Edith’s house, and I need to see someone else experience it for the first time.’
And so Jeremy found himself sitting in the back of the car, folded up like a take-away burrito, as Heather and Sam laughed up the front and shared stories about Sam’s family.
He felt like a kid, and the few times Sam or Heather threw back explanations of who people were – Cousin Judy and her multilevel marketing scheme; former-neighbour Bryce and his weird pants – only added to the effect.
Huge mum and dad vibes, he thought sourly.
‘So, how do you guys know each other? Work?’ asked Heather.
‘Oh no, we met at the gym,’ Jeremy said. ‘Insulting that you didn’t look at us and assume we’re bodybuilding pals. Could you not tell from our rippling biceps and swollen delts? What’s a delt?’
Sam laughed loudly, but Heather merely smiled politely.
‘That’s fun,’ she said, and Jeremy felt that hint of mum-style condescension again. ‘What gym?’
‘Oh, it’s this queer-friendly one on King Street,’ Jeremy said, assuming she wouldn’t know it.
Heather touched Sam’s arm and said softly, ‘Oh, Sam … that’s really great. I’m proud of you.’
The rear-view mirror showed a slice of Sam’s shadowed face, the familiar curve of his lips as they turned up into a genuine smile. ‘Thanks,’ he said, also softly, emphatically.
Christ on a skewer, thought Jeremy. What had he done to deserve getting stuck in a car with two people clearly navigating some weird break-up emotions he couldn’t follow? And why was Sam acting like Heather hadn’t just been incredibly patronising about something as pointless as going to the gym?
‘Yeah, thanks,’ Jeremy joined in. ‘I’m personally waiting for my Nobel Prize for Sweatiest Socks to come in the mail.
’ Though he’d mostly stopped going back to the gym since the revenge scheme got under way.
‘We started pumping iron together and then Sam offered to help me enact a complicated revenge scheme on my ex. So, you know, just a normal friendship.’
Heather looked at Sam with unfeigned incredulity. ‘That doesn’t sound like you, Sam. Sorry, Jeremy, I don’t know the details but don’t you think revenge is a bit … childish?’
Sam twisted briefly to look at Jeremy, who reassured him with a quick grin.
‘I’m at peace with that,’ he said. ‘The thing about spite is you voluntarily give up any pretence of being an adult or a good person.’
‘Jeremy is actually a very good person,’ Sam said. Jeremy couldn’t see Heather’s face, but her silence was telling. ‘It’s more nuanced than he’s letting on, don’t worry.’
‘Not my place to judge,’ she said, laughing and throwing up her hands.
‘Especially since you’re one of those freaks who stays friendly with their ex,’ said Jeremy without thinking. ‘You are both freaks!’ he continued, trying his best to pass it off as a joke. ‘Must be nice! Not all of us are so … blessed.’
Despite deciding to firmly dislike Heather, Jeremy had to admit she was correct when it came to Aunt Edith’s house.
‘My god, it’s like a grandma exploded,’ he said in wonder as they let themselves in through the unlocked front door.
The musty old-person smell and the blaring heat were expected, but the sheer volume of crocheted wool was boggling his mind.
Every chair was covered in brightly coloured if slightly dusty wool.
The walls were hung with it. Throw rugs formed great piles.
‘Well, this is cosy,’ he said. ‘In the sense that the house is a literal tea cosy.’
Heather snorted.
‘I thought you might like these,’ croaked a voice, and Great Aunt Edith shuffled into the hallway and thrust a jar of olives into Sam’s hands.
Jeremy had half hoped Edith would be bedecked in a knitted ensemble, but apart from a cardigan, she was depressingly great-aunt coded.
‘Oh, lovely. Thanks, Aunty Edith.’ Sam gave her a kiss on the cheek, then he passed the jar to Jeremy, smothering a smile. Turning the jar around, he was pleased to see its contents had expired in 1982.
‘Have you said hello to Zazu yet?’ Edith asked, turning around and shuffling back down the hallway.
‘We really must run, Aunty Edith,’ Sam called after her, before reluctantly following. ‘But I guess we can say hi to Zazu.’
They followed her into the living room, which was dominated by one of those chairs that gently toss old people out of it and into a standing position: a geriatric catapult.
The chair was suitably garnished with wool.
Jeremy was buzzing with anticipation – who was Zazu?
He hoped it was a bird who said weird things about your future.
‘Bye, darling,’ Edith said, standing in front of a sideboard with a vase sitting on it. No, wait, Jeremy realised with a thrill – not a vase, but an urn. ‘Bye, Zazu. Be back soon.’ She stepped aside.
‘Hello, Zazu,’ said Sam sombrely. Next to the urn was a faded photo of a small crusty white dog with snaggle teeth, a single eye and a feral expression. Jeremy could almost hear the growl coming through the picture.
‘Hi, Zazu,’ Jeremy said, which earned him an approving look from Edith.
‘Zazu died fifteen years ago,’ whispered Sam when she was out of the room gathering her undoubtedly plural handbags.
‘She isn’t senile,’ Heather muttered to Jeremy. ‘Apparently, she’s been like this most of her life. Never married, doesn’t really like her family, just lives a weird life being weird.’
‘Iconic,’ Jeremy said truthfully.
‘She wasn’t coming to the party originally because it was “too windy”,’ supplied Sam. ‘Funny old thing, but sweet.’
In the car on the way back to the party, Edith kept up an endless chatter, mostly about some other ladies she played bridge with and their various tragedies.
Her social life was both robust and busy, if you counted many funerals as a social life.
She seemed completely unfazed by Jeremy sitting in the back, speaking to him with casual if non-specific familiarity.
She ignored Heather entirely, which Jeremy appreciated.
When they walked back into the family home a full two hours after they’d left, Sam’s mum bustled up to them angrily.
‘What on earth took so long? Missing your own your birthday party! We had to get things moving, we’re so behind schedule already, so we cut the cake without you, and we’ll have to go straight into the speeches. ’
Sam just nodded and helped Aunt Edith find a chair. Jeremy shook his head in astonishment, fighting the urge to tell Sam’s mum that it had been her idea to send the birthday boy out into the cold night.
‘Thank you all for coming,’ Sam’s dad, Howard, said ponderously.
He didn’t look much like Sam, Jeremy decided, but there were definitely features Sam had got from him – that Mediterranean skin, the thick hair (although Howard’s was grey).
‘And thank you to Sam for actually turning up to his own party too!’
The room laughed, but Jeremy seethed. Sam just laughed and shrugged.
‘It’s a good example of what our youngest boy is like – goes his own way, loves to be different.
You know, I never expected my children to follow me into medicine, but it was obviously a very proud moment for me when our eldest, Dave, followed in my footsteps, and then Ana too, both excelling in their respective fields.
You can’t ask for much more as a dad. But you know, I’m also proud of Sam for choosing to be his own man and, uh, following his own path.
We’re not sure where he’s going with it yet, but I’m sure he’ll get there, wherever it is. ’
As Jeremy raised his glass with the rest of them, he had to wonder if this man had any idea who his youngest son actually was.
It was jaw-dropping how fundamentally Sam’s family misunderstood him.
Jeremy’s mother certainly had her issues – she had bought him a year’s worth of Botox for his thirteenth birthday – but she’d always seen him for the idiot he was, and never expected him to change.
The speeches continued. His mum’s was sweet, if nonspecific, with a lot of comments about Sam’s helpfulness and more references about generally being proud. Somehow, Sam’s siblings managed to get equal billing again.
Jeremy continued to fume. He rage-drank a couple of flutes of generic sparkling with each speech, mostly as a way to keep his hands and face busy so he didn’t say anything loud and cruel.
Dave, the brother, got up, glass of wine held casually, other hand stuck into the pocket of his chinos.
‘Little baby Sammy,’ he said with a laugh.
‘It’s so easy to love Sammy – he’s generous, he’s easy-going, and he cooks incredible nachos.
Sure, he’s a bit of a romantic, head up in the clouds, but you know, that’s okay.
The world would be pretty boring if we all were sensible day-job types. ’
Jeremy couldn’t help himself and leant over to Sam. ‘You have a day-job!’
Sam, still smiling at Dave, whispered back. ‘Yeah, and I’ve never made nachos in my life.’
Ana demurred, waving her hands and blowing Sam a kiss instead of making a speech.
‘She’s had a big day at the hospital,’ Sam’s mum said loudly. ‘Why don’t you come up and say a few words, Heather?’
‘Oh no …’ said Heather, soundly genuinely shocked, the first time Jeremy had seen her poise falter. ‘That’s fine.’
Sam was also waving his hands like someone trying to stop a truck from crashing. ‘No, Mum, that’s not … We can end it there.’
‘I know you “broke up” but you’ll always be like a daughter to us, Heather, and you know, we all make mistakes …’ said his mum, like they were the ones being weird.
‘I’ll say a few words.’
It took Jeremy a moment to realise that he had spoken, that he was the one striding past various relatives to stand next to Sam’s mum, who was looking at him like a piece of crap had somehow crawled out of the dog and asked permission to be on her shoe.
‘I’m Jeremy,’ he said, splashing his champagne a little bit as the insanity of what he was about to do hit him.
He was furious, and it was only a deep sense of injustice that kept him from stabbing himself in the heart out of embarrassment.
‘None of you know me, but not knowing people seems to be the theme tonight.’ He watched confusion roll through the audience.
‘How to follow such lovely speeches? Well, I think a couple of pertinent points have been missed. Yes, Sam is kind and generous and helpful – all that is true. I should know – he’s always going out of his way to help me and I’m literally a piece of shit.
But you know, I think he also deserves a lot of credit for his bravery – sure he’s not a sleep doctor, he’s not a highly paid surgeon, but he’s devoted his life to making a difference, working behind the scenes, without praise or thanks, or even …
as it turns out … respect.’ Jeremy paused, a smile taking over his face as he realised how truly great Sam actually was, as if what he was saying wasn’t the messiest thing in the whole world.
‘Sam’s trying to stop the climate crisis , for the rest of us, even though we’re not bothering to get involved, all on minimum wage.
Kinda makes getting paid to drug someone into unconsciousness sound a little selfish, doesn’t it?
Not that Sam would ever say anything in his own defence – he’s the kinda guy who is fine with being forced to leave his own party for two hours to pick up his aunt, and who doesn’t complain about the fact that the party just went ahead, that his family ate his birthday cake without him.
I don’t understand that; I complain about literally everything.
Once I wrote an official complaint because the gap between the train and the station was genuinely really scary.
From what I’ve seen, Sam could be slapped in the face and he’d still reach out to try to understand what he’d done to make the other person unhappy.
But maybe that’s not the only thing we should be praising him for; we gotta remember he’s nice and successful.
He’s … his own person. Anyway, I’ve gushed for too long. To Sam – happy birthday!’
He looked into the crowd and expected to see Sam smiling awkwardly, embarrassed or – even worse – angry at him.
But for once Sam wasn’t smiling: if anything he looked shocked, and when he met Jeremy’s gaze he held it with an intensity he’d never seen before in him.
For an instant Jeremy stared back, but then he had to look away.
It was almost enough to make Jeremy ignore the angry muttering around him and the daggers being stared at him by Sam’s siblings. Almost.
There was a long awkward silence, and then, shockingly, loud slow claps. Heather said, ‘Bravo!’ and clapped some more. ‘I like him,’ she said to Sam.