Chapter 8 #2
Only it’s not a quiet stroll but a veritable schlep up the hill to where the Mental Health Block is.
Huffing and puffing, I slide into the armchair indicated to me by the receptionist. Thirty minutes max.
I can do this. Once he sees that I have nothing to discuss with him, he’ll chalk it up as an unnecessary use of both our time and let me go on the spot.
Just then, the door opens and in comes a tall man in a white coat. What I hadn’t realised is that Dr Severini is about Joe’s age. Okay, maybe he’s not ten, but he certainly looks very young.
He sits down, sporting a broad smile. ‘So, Olivia, what brings you here to Respiri?’
‘My mother dragged me here under false pretences.’
‘Wow.’
‘You can say that again.’
‘So what issues can I help you with?’ he asks, changing tack slightly. I don’t give in.
‘Nothing, I’m fine. I’m only here because my family think I need a little rest.’
‘Okay. Why don’t you tell me a little bit about your family?’
‘Er, I’ve got two children, a ten-year-old son and a fifteen-year-old daughter.’ And even as I say that, I still can’t help but feel that I should’ve stayed behind with them.
‘Married?’
‘Indeed.’
He puts his pen down and looks up at me.
‘What?’ I say.
‘How is your marriage?’
He’s cut to the chase, hasn’t he? Might as well have a laugh, then. ‘Totally fixable. Have you got a million pounds and a husband-a-tron?’ I joke.
‘What’s a husband-a-tron?’
‘Nothing. Just something that needs to be invented.’ Uh-oh. Have I already said too much? It was just something flippant to say, but it’s backfired on me and now I look like a sad tit.
‘So let me understand. You put your husband in there and…?’
I shrug, resigned. ‘I dunno. You press a few buttons and he comes out different. Like he was when you got him in the first place.’
‘Got it. Interesting. And if there was a wife-tron?’ he wants to know. ‘Would you put yourself in there, too?’
‘Wife-a-tron,’ I correct him. ‘It just sounds better.’
He chuckles. ‘Okay. So would you put yourself in there, too?’
‘Not at the same time as him,’ I giggle. ‘You don’t want a disaster like in the movie The Fly. Imagine coming out with his head on my shoulders instead. That would be a right mess.’
‘So you would put yourself in there, then?’ he persists.
I shrug again. ‘Sure, why not? Just my head, though.’
‘And why’s that?’
‘Because that’s still fixable, I’m hoping.’
‘And what part of you don’t you deem fixable anymore?’
‘My heart.’ I admit. ‘That broke a long time ago.’
‘Who broke it?’
I snort. ‘Would you like a list?’
He folds his hands together and stares right into my eyes. ‘Olivia, you are here to be well and happy again. Once you decide what it will take, a million pounds and the husband-a-tron aside, we will help you achieve your goals.’
‘So no changed husband, then, I guess,’ I quip.
‘Not unless you decide to get a brand-new one. And I’m afraid we can’t change the one you’ve got unless he comes here as well.’
I laugh. ‘Who, Simon? I have to badger him to get his hair cut.’
‘Well, then all we have is you to work with. Here at Villa dei Respiri we aim to reboot our guests. Give them the start they need.’
‘Like in Fantasy Island?’
He chuckles. ‘Sort of. You can take advantage of the healthy menus and the gyms and walks available. No one is going to go through your luggage to check you don’t have a stash of liquor or junk food in there. We want you to enjoy your time here, whatever that may look like.’
‘Really?’ That’s actually great, because I do. Four bottles,’ I lie. Just to test him.
He is silent for a moment. I must have destabilised him, like those scripts that telemarketers follow to trap someone into buying something. Usually there’s a back-up line to get back on track, but I’ve completely derailed the poor shrink. Yes, well, get used to it.
‘Were you ever bullied at school?’ he asks casually, completely side-stepping my lie.
How does he know that? After my mother left, I became the talk of the town. Everyone knew what had happened; the town was small, and any news always spread like wildfire.
I took a few days off from school, but the second I came back, the kids were on me like sharks smelling blood from a quarter of a mile away. And goodness, did they have a field day with me. I was an easy target in my vulnerable state.
My first bully started on my very first day back to school.
I had not kept up with the homework that my besties Hannah or Emily had brought round.
Not because I didn’t want to do it, but because I simply couldn’t concentrate.
The pages would become a blur as my mind lived in a world of Why did my mother get to be happy while not one thing ever went my way?
Mary, my first tormentor, started off by making out that she wanted to be my friend.
After the three months that it took me to finally open up to her about my mother’s betrayal, she decided she had enough material to hurt me.
And on Monday morning, on our first break in the school grounds, she attacked. I was completely blindsided.
‘Ooh, look at little Livvie walking around like a lost puppy, with no mother! Don’t you want to just slap that sad look off her face?’
‘Yeah,’ her friend had enthused, delivering me said slap.
At first, I was shocked. How did they think that was in any way funny? Well, it must have been funny, because soon there was a gaggle of snickering girls circling me, wanting more.
‘Give her another one, Mary!’ someone had called from the crowd.
And so she did, while I just stared at her again in shock.
‘What did you do that for?’ I demanded, too proud to rub my throbbing cheek.
‘Because you think you’re hot shit just because you sing,’ she sneered. ‘But you’re nothing!’
And she was right. I was just a half-orphaned shell. I had nothing left. Not even my voice to sing anymore. Not even to defend myself.
The painful memories fade into a mist and I find myself looking up at Dr Severini. ‘Bullied?’ I repeat. ‘No, of course not.’
‘And what about your relationship with your mother, Susan? What is that like?’
Why is the entire planet interested in my mother?
She never returned. It doesn’t matter that she often called or wrote letters. She should have come back. At least to visit, for Christ’s sake. She should have made an effort to see me grow, rather than say, ‘My, you look so grown in the pictures your father sent!’
I don’t care that she and my father kept in contact, or that she wrote me letters and sent postcards, or that Dad begged me to speak to her on the phone on my birthdays. She means nothing to me anymore. And yet, here I am, played once again by her wily ways.
*
Back in my room, there is a knock on the adjoining door.
‘Livvie, can I come in?’
No! ‘Yes…’
Susan opens the door and comes to sit on the edge of my bed. ‘How did your session go?’ she asks.
I shrug. ‘Fine.’
She sighs softly. ‘Livvie, I think that it’s time to stop ignoring the multi-coloured elephant in the room.’
Pointless asking her what she means, of course. We both know it.
After she left, for years I had hoped for the impossible – that my mother would ditch her new Italian lover and return home to us in Canterbury.
That she would become a completely different person; a better mother, less miserable.
But that never happened and I stopped deluding myself after the second Christmas on our own.
Presents had arrived, along with cards and photographs.
But I hadn’t wanted any part of her memory to invade my new life without her.
Dad and I had managed to get on with it.
And coming here has, just as I’d expected, thrown the proverbial spanner in the works. Now what? What do I do? I knew how to live that mother-less life. I had built my entire existence around it and I had everything going like clockwork because I had built myself a life without her.
Now that I am here, face to face with her, I’ve had to not only deal with the fact that she’s been gone all these years, but that she’s been extremely happy with her new life and never looked back once.
And she still wants a relationship with me.
To have her cake and eat it, too. She wants, even if she hasn’t asked for it, my forgiveness.
She wants me to act like nothing had ever happened between us.
Like she was not responsible for breaking my heart.
I’ve tried patience, indifference, resentment.
But none of them can fill the void inside me.
I need to jump over the chasm in the middle of my life that has stopped me from moving on.
I know that. But I also know that I’m afraid to make that leap of faith.
I want all of this to be over, once and for all.
I truly do. But what if I start trusting her all over again and she pulls another stunt on me? I would not bounce back a second time.
‘I’m too tired after my session. I think I need to lie down for a bit.’
I fluff the pillow and lie down, making sure to face away from her. ‘Okay, Livvie,’ she says, and I hear the quiet click of the door closing behind her.