Chapter 15 #3
‘Apparently so,’ Prue says, speaking through smoke.
‘Some people with Parkinson’s even self-medicate with cigarettes and patches and what-have-you.
Some find it helps a lot. I tried to convince Michael to try a patch.
But his doctor said it was all rubbish even though he’s got nothing else to offer. You know what they can be like.’
‘Yes, I do. Anything that doesn’t fit into their worldview…’
‘Exactly. Even though there have been clinical trials in Europe and what-have-you. Anyway…’
‘So how do you cope?’ Wendy asks.
‘Why? Does it look like I’m coping?’
‘Yeah. It kind of does,’ Wendy says, nodding gently.
‘Well, good. That’s definitely the impression I’m striving to impart.’
‘But it doesn’t feel like that? Like you’re coping?’
Prue shrugs. ‘I suppose I am, most of the time,’ she says. She clears her throat and takes a hit from her cigarette before continuing, ‘I feel so bloody angry all the time. That’s the thing.’
They have escaped.
Todd and Amanda have been driven away, cans clattering, and though the party is continuing nevertheless, Wendy has convinced Harry and Fiona to leave.
Harry, in the front passenger seat, falls asleep almost immediately. It’s not even ten o’clock.
So Wendy finds herself struggling to chat to Fiona in the back seat, speaking loudly over the noise of the engine. ‘Did you enjoy yourself?’ she asks. ‘You looked like you did.’
‘Sure,’ Fiona says, looking up from her phone. ‘It was fine.’
Wendy, who saw her daughter dancing frenetically at various points during the evening, laughs. ‘You youngsters are so stingy with your compliments. Would it strangle you to admit you had fun?’
‘Fine,’ Fiona says, feigning strangling herself. ‘Yes, Mum. It was great.’
‘I had fun, too,’ Harry chips in, in a rare, sudden moment of wakefulness.
‘Huh!’ Wendy laughs. ‘We noticed.’
They drive in silence until the M25 whereupon a loud snuffle and a snore from Harry prompts a fresh round of conversation.
‘He really did have fun,’ Fiona says just loud enough for Wendy to hear. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen him that drunk.’
‘No,’ Wendy agrees, checking the mirrors and indicating before moving into the middle lane.
‘Is that a reaction to you stopping?’
‘No, I don’t think so. More to the fact that we haven’t been to a party in years.’
‘But you don’t mind?’
‘Your dad drinking? No, of course not!’
‘It doesn’t make it harder for you?’
‘No. I mean… it is quite difficult being surrounded by drunk people when you’re sober. So there’s that… But not your father, specifically. I was glad to see him having fun.’
‘He’s a terrible dancer.’
‘D’you think so? I’ve always liked the way he dances.’
Wendy glances across at Harry now. His eyes are closed, but he’s smiling, and she can’t tell if he’s dreaming happy dreams or listening.
‘You hardly danced at all.’
‘I did, a bit,’ Wendy protests.
‘Like, once. Maybe twice.’
‘OK, that might be true.’
‘Too sober?’
‘Yes, totally sober.’
‘My friend Joe can’t dance when he drives us places,’ Fiona says. ‘You know, when he’s the designated driver? He says it’s impossible.’
‘Yes, it does feel hard. I’m not sure why.’
They drive on in silence for another half an hour, with only the thrum of the engine and noise of the wind and the road, the light from the orange street lamps sweeping through the cabin.
As she drives, Wendy tries to get her brain around the idea that her baby boy is married.
It seems unreal. It feels like only yesterday he was learning to walk.
Just as Wendy is guessing that Fiona has also fallen asleep and is considering switching on the radio for company, her daughter speaks.
‘So in the spirit of not being stingy with compliments,’ she says, ‘you do know I’m impressed, right?’
‘I’m sorry?’ Wendy says.
‘God, I knew you’d make me say it twice. I’m proud of you, Mum.’
‘Proud of me? For what?’
‘Because you’ve really changed, haven’t you? You really got your act together.’
‘Oh,’ Wendy says, glancing back. ‘Well, thank you! And I’m proud of you, too.’
‘You know, we never thought you’d stop drinking. Todd and me, that is. We were going to place a bet, but we couldn’t because we both wanted to bet you wouldn’t stop.’
‘Gosh!’ Wendy says, pulling a face. ‘OK.’
‘It must be hard, though.’
‘It’s not easy, I’ll admit.’
‘So, what happened in France?’ Fiona asks.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, you were completely different when you came back. You didn’t have a fling, did you? I kind of wondered if that was it.’
Wendy shoots her daughter a look of consternation and then glances over at Harry, whose mouth has fallen open.
‘God, I forgot Dad was even there,’ Fiona says. ‘Sorry.’
Wendy laughs genuinely at this. ‘Don’t be,’ she says. ‘And no, I didn’t have a fling at all. I just… I don’t know… I took the time to look at things, I suppose. And I made friends with that girl, Manon. She helped me a lot.’
‘Really?’ Fiona says. ‘How so?’
‘I don’t know,’ Wendy says thoughtfully. ‘By being honest with me, I think. By connecting.’
‘OK,’ Fiona says. ‘Fair enough.’ Then, ‘You were chatting to Amanda’s mum for ages. You must have been out there for, like, an hour.’
‘Oh, no, I went for a walk, actually. But we did chat a bit when I got back.’
‘They’re so stuck up,’ Fiona says.
‘Don’t say that!’ Wendy protests. ‘I think she’s nice. Prickly at first, but underneath I think she’s all right. And she’s going through hell right now.’
‘Not your usual attitude to people like her,’ Fiona says.
‘People like her…’ Wendy repeats softly. ‘Well, perhaps I’m changing. Perhaps I’m trying to be a bit more understanding. Everyone has reasons why they’re the way they are, you know. Nothing comes from a vacuum.’
‘God, did you meet Ghandi out there in France?’ Fiona asks. ‘Or was it the Buddha himself?’
‘Ha,’ Wendy says. ‘No, neither of those, unfortunately.’
She thinks, No, the only person I met was myself. I just saw who I had become. And caught a glimpse of the person I could be instead.
And even though the thought strikes her as one of the most profound thoughts she has ever had, she does not say it out loud. She knows it would sound like a cliché and that her daughter would only mock her for it. One day, she thinks. Perhaps one day, when she’s older, I’ll explain.