Chapter 25 #2
‘As you say, we all have our vices.’ I blink back the tears that are pricking at my eyes as she chuckles. ‘Thanks. Marisa. I’m not going to lie, that speech made me super uncomfortable because it was so lovely, but I do appreciate it.’
‘It’s my job to make you even more awkward than you already are.’
‘I’d be lost without you. Seriously. And, not to encourage this weird streak of gushing friendship we appear to be flailing around in, but you know I think the same of you, right? I aspire to be as serene as you.’
She tips her head back and cackles manically.
I can see my eyes widen comically in shock in the little thumbnail.
‘Serene? Serene!’ she repeats, a palm on her forehead before she slams it down on the table, leaning into the camera so I have a close-up of her face.
‘That is the last thing I feel right now. I mean, I’m not going to lie, I love it that you think that.
I love that I have managed to fool anyone into thinking that, but I am not serene, Megan.
Oh my god, of all the words to use. You make me sound like some kind of graceful swan! ’
‘You are a graceful swan but with added perfect hair.’
‘HA! I’m not a swan! I’m more like a . . . a . . . what’s a bird that is losing its mind?’
‘Um.’ I blink at her, stunned. ‘I’m not sure there are any birds like that.’
‘Well, if there were, I’d be one of those.
I may seem fine, and I guess, well, I guess I am fine in that I’m still functioning, I’m still getting up and putting on clothes and saying things to my kids like, “Do you want some fruit?”, but I am not really fine and I am not serene.
God, Megan—’ she shakes her head, still laughing ‘—I haven’t showered in two days.
And I have been sweating a lot at night, so I am genuinely gross.
Like, gross.’ She gestures to the monitor.
‘This is the longest my baby has napped . . . uh, ever . . . and every time I hear a sound, this panicked fear clutches at me, because all I want to do is talk to my best friend about real life things and I’m so scared I’m going to have to end this call at any minute and then I’m right back to the chaos of trying so hard to be a good mum whilst also feeling like I’m failing at it the entire time, but I don’t get the luxury of having time to regroup, I have to keep going even with that feeling clawing at me and ripping me apart. ’
I swallow as I watch her eyes well up.
‘My house is a tip,’ she tells me conspiratorially as though it’s a shocking secret, ‘and I mean it, I’m not just saying it because that’s what parents say to be relatable, I mean there’s crap everywhere, which really stresses me out, but I don’t have time to get it in order because if I did, I would use that time to wash myself.
I have a toddler who I love engaging with but who I also can’t seem to do anything right for at the moment, and a baby who makes my heart swell with unbearable love but who also won’t sleep so I feel like I’m going crazy.
Oh, and also none of my underwear fits right.
I’ve spent a fortune on bras and still none of them are doing the trick, so every morning I feel shit about myself when I put one on.
Every single morning, that’s how I start the day, feeling shit about my body. ’
She pushes her hair out of her face as I watch her, both bewildered by and grateful for this information, refusing to say anything in case it makes her stop.
‘I put so much effort and energy into coming across as fine,’ she continues, her eyes shining at me.
‘But today, I am so sleep deprived, I think if I don’t tell you the truth I might actually lose it.
I’m sorry for not being honest, I hate the idea of anyone thinking I don’t have things under control, but I don’t want you going around thinking that I am “serene” and you’re not.
I’m a fucking mess the majority of the time, Megan. A mess.’
I breathe out all the air in my cheeks. ‘Wow.’
‘I know. God, I’m so sorry.’ She hides her face with her hands. ‘Didn’t mean to monologue.’
‘Don’t apologise, you should do it more often!’ I sit back on my pillows. ‘You want to know what I think?’
‘That your best friend has selfishly ranted at you out of the blue?’
‘No, I think that when I get back, we should go out for dinner.’
She drops her hands. ‘Yeah?’
‘Yeah, dinner, just us two. And I won’t pretend that I’m not broken by Dominic and Carey and the loss of my dad, and you won’t pretend that everything is fine with your beautiful, wonderful family all the time, and we’ll be . . . not fine but fine together.’
Marisa breaks into a watery smile. ‘Okay. That sounds good. Thanks, Megan.’
‘Thank you for telling me all that stuff. And if it helps, you’re not failing at anything, but especially not at the mum stuff.
You’re an amazing mum, you love them so much.
That’s all they need,’ I say, my forehead creasing in concentration as I keep the wobble out of my voice.
‘No mum is perfect, right? You know that.’
‘I know. But for some reason, we still expect it from ourselves when it’s our turn,’ she admits, resting an elbow on the table and resting her chin in her hand.
The small squeaks on the monitor turn into louder gurgles and then cries.
‘I should go. That wasn’t a bad nap. Hey, she’s making progress! ’
‘Well done, Tabby! See? Things are better already,’ I declare, and I find that I mean it.
Something has lifted during this conversation, in the same way that I feel better about Mum since yesterday. What’s with me being here that’s bringing out all these confessions? It’s like the moment I lower my guard, someone lowers theirs, too. Maybe that’s how it works.
A phrase pops into my brain and I fight the urge to say it, but out it comes—
‘The truth will set you free,’ I trill in a jokey high-pitched voice, so she knows I don’t mean anything that cheesy, but also, I do.
‘Why, yes!’ she replies in an equally jokey voice, which tells me that she also refuses to agree with anything so cringe and twee, but she does.
She stands up, bringing the phone with her as she plods out of the kitchen towards the stairs.
‘Thanks for the talk and enjoy the street parade, I’ll be thinking of you. Did your dad ever dance at it?’
‘No, of course not,’ I say, before I give her a knowing smile. ‘But no prizes for guessing who did.’