Chapter 3 #2
‘I’m so sorry!’ I whisper to the kind lady. ‘I didn’t mean to yell. I don’t know what’s wrong with me…’
She puts her hand on my arm. I would have moved away from another stranger’s touch but for the look in her eyes. I need a friend today.
‘I’ve been there,’ she whispers, and I trust that she means it. ‘Take some time for yourself, if you can. Trust me…’
I look into her knowing eyes and nod. We have recognised each other.
I see the lines of worry that have etched themselves into her face, argument after argument with a loved one, sleepless night after sleepless night over a fractious child.
She is fighting the fight just like all of us mothers are.
She is a kindred spirit who has been where I fear I’m about to go.
‘Be selfish for once,’ she says.
Be selfish for once? I would love to. Only… I can’t. I can’t leave my kids, not to mention my dad, in the incapable hands of my husband. I would find the front door swinging on one hinge (a bit like me) when I returned.
‘Thank you,’ I murmur to the lady. ‘Thank you for your kindness…’
She smiles, squeezes my shoulder and disappears without a word.
‘Aren’t you going to sit down again and eat?’ Cassie asks me as she chomps on her fries.
‘No,’ I say. ‘You two finish up, I’m just going to nip to the loo.’
Which of course is an excuse anyone could see through.
I take my time packing up my meal and taking it to the bin.
As I watch, my uneaten fries, still hot and crispy, disappear down the chute along with my burger, coming apart piece by piece.
Bun first, then the toppings and finally the patty, it all disappears down a great black hole. Just like my life.
This is what happens when you’re pushed to breaking point.
You bite someone’s head off. Or you don’t even see what’s right in front of you.
It’s happening more and more lately. I’ll be draining pasta and completely miss the sink, ruining dinner.
Or I’ll be getting dressed and leave the house with my slippers on.
Or I’ll be talking to someone and stop mid-sentence, not remembering what I was going to say.
I know what this means. If I don’t decrease my stress levels, I am eventually going to lose it.
I know I am. I actually think I’ve already started to lose it.
Once I’m certain that there is no one else in the toilets, I break into a silent sob. ‘Please,’ I whisper to no one in particular. ‘Don’t make me go mad. The kids need me, even if they don’t know it yet.’
I’ve tried to make my marriage work. Some days were better than others, insomuch as we didn’t start arguing as soon as Simon walked through the door.
I always made a point to never argue in front of the kids, waiting until we were both locked away in the kitchen or the bedroom.
But lately we have even stopped arguing, which in my mind is a sign that there really is nothing left to say, and nothing left to save.
I’ve all but given up. Sometimes I have these massive bursts of Save it while you can, don’t let all these years be for nothing, but all my resolutions die the minute he comes through the door looking like he wishes he could be anywhere else.
I’m certain he hates this situation just as much as I do.
Who would want to come home to a life where everything looks comfortably ordinary on the surface, but the underneath is swelling with dark, murky words and resentment over things left unsaid?
Each lost argument, broken promise, and disappointed expectation that the other will try harder only builds up flaky sandcastles of hope.
And yet, even if you know they aren’t going to last very long, you have no choice but to keep rebuilding after every little earthquake.
You hang on for dear life for fear of losing the very little that you do have.
The most frightening part of it is that you never know if this tremor will be the one that razes all you’d built to the ground once and for all.
I know we both feel the same way, but every time I try to talk about us, Simon gets all defensive and points out that he’s not the one to start the arguments.
I don’t see them as arguments so much as attempts to communicate and save our crumbling marriage.
Because it is truly, inexorably, falling apart, no matter how hard I try to catch the falling pieces.
At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if he has someone on the side and is just waiting for the right moment to tell me. Who knows?
In the past, I’ve tried to appease him, but nothing I do is good enough for him.
Not in the kitchen, not in the bedroom – the two places he considers women’s primary posts.
Now, he’s not stupid enough to come out and say it, but the look of utter disappointment on his face when I fail to deliver in one or the other domain… !
I’ve tried to appease Cassie, too. I’ve tried giving her some space, yet by the same token discreetly being there when I think she needs me.
I’m not allowed to ask her about school, her friends, if there’s a boyfriend on the scene, even if she’s reading any good books.
The ones I suggested to her have been sitting in a pile on her desk for weeks now.
I don’t know what her opinions are, or if she even has any.
I don’t know my daughter anymore, period.
We have completely lost the mother–daughter bond I worked so hard to nurture as she grew up.
If I disappeared into thin air today, neither she nor Simon would notice.
I’m just an obstacle to their aspirations to greatness with my everyday, practical mundanity.
Can you please take out the rubbish, Simon? Cassie, can you please fetch the post?
If I disappeared… they would be happy not to have to deal with the encumbrance of having me around. But I am not going to give up on Cassie. I am her mother and will do everything I can to fix this.
The woman at McDonald’s was right. I need time to de-stress before it’s too late. Even if it means actually going away for a while. My kids need me to be a better person, a stronger mother. They deserve that much.
After a brief debate of pros and cons with myself, I fish for my mobile and dial my father’s number.
‘Hi, sweetheart,’ he says, cheerful as always.
‘Okay, Dad,’ I whisper. ‘I’ll go.’
‘Well done, old girl,’ he whispers back, and I can tell he’s proud of me. Proud of his daughter who’s finally seen the light. Maybe, just maybe, some proper R&R can put me back on the straight and narrow.