The following weekend Mum and The Pain went on their picnic while I stayed at home and worked on editing and generally de-Mad Maxifying my Macbeth assignment.
I was typing away at my desk, carefully avoiding tangents, massacring a few mutant metaphors and inserting some pearls of wisdom from Billy Shakespeare himself when The Pain arrived. From behind the blinds in my bedroom, I saw a bomby yellow station wagon pull up in front of our house. Wow. I wasn’t even aware that they manufactured cars back in the Middle Ages.
Unike the previous Friday night, this time when the front door bell rang, I planned to stay safely holed up in my room. Once painfully bitten, twice painfully shy and all that. A few seconds later I heard the front door being opened and Mum and The Pain talking. It wasn’t long before I also heard my name being called.
‘Maggie! We’ll be heading off any second. Maggie? Did you hear me? Are you there, sweetie?’
That was Mum-talk for ‘Stop being rude! Get out here and show your face before we go!’
I knew there would be no escaping it, so I ventured out for a quick ‘Hi’ and ‘Bye’. As it turned out, it was nowhere near quick enough to stop The Pain from being painful though.
‘Hi, Maggie. How goes that new haircut? Is it growing on you yet?’
Mum smothered a chuckle and kissed me goodbye. Then she turned round and pushed The Pain towards the door.
‘You …’ she said, smiling.
I just stood there thinking of all the great words I could use to finish Mum’s sentence.
Then they were gone.
Of course once I was on my ownsome, I considered taking the opportunity to sneak out to the mall with my mad besties, hook up with some hot guys and with eight weeks to go to the graduation dance, smash that partner-finding goal right out of the ball park. But I didn’t. I was much too mature and responsible for that sort of thing. Besides, in order for that to happen, I would have to (a) actually have some mad besties and (b) possess the ability to attract the attention of the aforementioned ‘hot guys’.
So it was just me and Macbeth, home alone.
It was later that afternoon while I was taking a well-earned internet and ice-cream with chocolate topping break in the lounge room that I heard the bomby yellow heap returning. Somehow it had held together for the whole day. A minute or so later Mum came through the front door – by herself. A good sign! I was hoping to hear all about The Pain’s truly painful colours shining through.
What I got was …
‘Oh, Maggie, it was so lovely! So beautiful and relaxing. We had such a gorgeous day. You know, you really should have come. You would have loved it.’ Plus a constant drone of, ‘Danny this’ and ‘Danny that’.
I decided that it was time I found out more about The Pain. Know your enemy and all that. When Mum sat down at the kitchen table with the coffee I’d brewed up for her, I made my move.
‘So … how did you two meet anyway?’
Mum set her mug back down on the table.
‘Actually … Danny and I first met on a professional basis, about six months ago, but then I didn’t bump into him again socially until a few weeks back. I was doing some shopping in my lunch break and he was doing the same. We recognised each other and had a coffee together and at the end he asked if I’d be interested in maybe going to the pictures with him sometime.’
‘And you said yes? Just like that?’
It seemed a reasonable enough question to me, but judging from the rolling eyes, I’m not sure everyone agreed.
‘No, Maggie, don’t be silly. First I consulted the high priests and the soothsayers, after which I had a local witch doctor foretell my future by slaughtering a chicken and reading its entrails, and then, and only then, when all the signs were positive and all the stars in the heavens properly aligned, did I finally give my consent.’
I returned the rolled eyes with interest.
‘Mrs Warwick says sarcasm is the lowest form of wit.’
My mother struck a ridiculous kung-fu karate pose.
‘Except in the hands of the Master!’
‘Mum, seriously, you shouldn’t try to be funny. It’s just embarrassing. I’m telling you this for your own good.’
‘Nonsense. You’re just jealous.’
‘Of course I am. I’d just love to be able to humiliate myself the way you do. Anyway, fine, whatever. But what did you mean when you said you first met six months ago … professionally?’
Mum pushed herself back in her chair and studied me.
‘Can I just enquire at this point if I’m going to be charged with anything here, detective? Maybe my lawyer should be present.’
I shook my head at her.
‘Mum, remember what I just said about trying to be funny?’
‘Fine. Then if you must know, we met at his place of work. I suppose you might say that an acquaintance of mine brought us together.’
So, an acquaintance of my mother’s was responsible for bringing The Pain into my life, hey. Now we were getting somewhere. Well, that acquaintance had a lot to answer for!
‘An acquaintance? Anyone I know?’
‘I should think so.’
‘Really? Who?’
Mum breathed in. She pressed her lips together and lowered her eyes before breathing out an answer.
‘It was you, Maggie.’
Me? Not only was that clearly ridiculous, it was also straight-out impossible. I’d never seen The Pain before in my life. I would definitely remember him if I had. Was this supposed to be some kind of sick joke?
‘That’s stupid,’ I told her.
‘But true, sweetie. Danny works at St Vincent’s Hospital. He’s a nurse.’
She looked at me and waited.
‘Sometimes he does shifts in the … Emergency Department.’
Raised eyebrows now.
‘St Vincent’s Hospital Emergency Department? The beginning of the year? Ringing any bells with you?’
It certainly was. Figurative Language Warning! A loud, ugly death knell was clanging and shuddering away in my chest. Or more like a reverse death knell actually. Because instead of ringing out the dead, it was calling things back to life that I really wished would remain well and truly buried.
Mum reached across the table and placed her hand on mine.
‘Danny was on duty in Emergency … that night we had to bring you in.’
I was feeling ill. Actual sick-up-in-the-mouth ill. The Pain had just barged his way into my personal life. My very personal, personal life.
‘He was there? But … but I don’t remember him.’
Mum sent a sad, crooked smile my way.
‘Do you remember much of anything from that night, sweetie?’
I considered that statement for a moment.
Hmmmm. Yes. Excellent point.