THIRTY

Absorbing Helena had affected me less dramatically than Owen. The transition was faster this time, my body acclimatising to this strange new way of growth. I didn’t feel as if Helena was inside me, but I did feel that my personality had become richer and more in line with hers. I had thought I disliked Helena, that her comfort with herself must have been false. I had assumed that no woman was really okay with who she was, and disliked any woman who acted as though she was. Helena was ambitious, wanting so much more from life than what she already had, but she treated herself kindly, and although she doubted herself, she had allowed herself to be the person she was, instead of trying to be someone else. Helena would not have been frightened about an abortion and I was grateful to her for this. I felt lighter since absorbing her, freed from so many of the constraints I had put on myself. Helena didn’t know where her life was going, but she was content with that. She wasn’t this untouchable cool girl; she was a woman who believed in herself, a woman who believed she was worth the space she took up in life. Now I was able to see my own life in the same way. What I had been through was difficult and odd, but I was now equipped to deal with it. I understood that I probably wasn’t abused as a child, and even if I was, it did not define me. My birth parents had been accused of something horrific, and regardless of their guilt, I could bring myself to empathise with their decisions. Odile was just a friendly woman in need of a flat. I was an absorber, perhaps the only one of my kind, but so what? It was the truth of what I was, and so I would carry it with peace and dignity.

I had always imagined Helena to be this head-in-the-clouds artsy type, but I could see now – I could feel – that she was deeply pragmatic and stable. She was a talented artist, I could admit this now, but her talent wasn’t down to some unknowable despair. She worked hard, she had ambitions and she acted on them. Art wasn’t something that just happened to you if you were sad enough, it was something you worked hard on. And if Helena had done that, then I could too.

It wasn’t until I realised what I was getting from Helena that I saw what had been missing in Owen.

I’d always thought Owen was the stable one and I was the anxious one, but after I absorbed Helena, I took on a new self-confidence, something that overrode the acceptance I felt after taking Owen. He couldn’t have been as content and confident as I thought he was. The underlying anxiety had been there inside me, but it wasn’t just mine. We had shared it. This was a painful realisation. If only I had opened up to him about my own fears, perhaps he would have understood. We could have worked through them together, and I would not have had to absorb two people – pluck two individual lives from the world – to come to the conclusion I had just reached.

I hadn’t suddenly become a ray of sunshine, but I had a handle on things. I knew everything was a mess, but I thought I could sort it out. I had everything I needed to be a real person now; the person I had always known I was supposed to be but wasn’t. It was time for me to take control.

I set my laptop on the coffee table and tried again to email Natalie.

I knew that I was selfish before, but I thought I had a reason to be. I didn’t realise that everyone felt this way. There’s a lot I haven’t told you, but that’s no excuse for how I’ve been. I’m ready to be honest with you now. I hope it’s not too late.

I know I don’t deserve you in my life. You have always been there for me, and I have given you nothing. I’m so sorry, Natalie, for everything. I’ve changed a lot over the last few weeks (you wouldn’t believe me if I told you how), and I’m ready to be the friend I should have been all these years.

I hit send without reading the email back, and waited. Natalie replied almost immediately. She said she needed some more time.

Owen had often told me he needed some time. He’d spend the night with a friend, or a weekend with his family. I would smile and nod and slowly descend into a panic, thick and black as congealed blood. For me, ‘some time’ always signified the end. I thought, how could you need time away from someone if you loved them? I never wanted time away from him.

I stared at the words Natalie had sent to me, and for the first time I accepted them as they were intended. Owen had needed time away from my badgering him – time away from me insisting that I loved him – in order for him to remember that he loved me, in spite of my behaviour. I saw now that he had not been rejecting me or pushing me away. People needed time to heal themselves and I had never let him have that. Helena would have been able to give Owen the time he needed, as well as the space Natalie needed within our friendship; the kind of space in which she could express herself, somewhere to expose her fears without worrying that they would destroy her.

I replied to Natalie to say I understood, that I’d give her some time, she should take as long as she needed, I would always be here from now on. I closed my emails.

My mind was clear, and I felt more in control than I had for years. Was this how Helena had felt: determined, productive, rational? I had been so wrong about the point of it all. The old Allison would have slipped into depression; I had missed out on so much. But I could see my gleaming future now, could hold it in my hand and know that something great awaited me.

I hadn’t checked my bank account for some time, and when I did, I saw that Odile had deposited far too much money into my account. Did I remember her saying something about paying six months’ rent in advance? It seemed as if she was moving out already, so why had she given me so much money? I made a mental note to ask her when I next saw her.

It had been a while since I’d looked at my post. Someone – Odile, I supposed – had been collecting it and piling it up on the sideboard, and I had let the pile grow, knowing that the bills would all be taken from mine and Owen’s accounts automatically.

I opened Owen’s post first. There were a number of bills, and all the payments had been taken. There was a bank statement and a credit card statement. He had access to more money than I had known about. I realised I would need to rearrange our finances at some point, but for now, he was still paying his way.

There was a postcard from Thailand. The note was short, but the message was clear. My parents were having a wonderful time, and they looked forward to seeing me when they got back. It was only a few weeks now. I both believed them and felt happy for them. They deserved a rest. They had rescued me once, but this time, I would learn to rescue myself.

There was also a note from Jean. It wasn’t postmarked, so she must have dropped it off in person. I wondered if she had rung the bell.

Dear Allison,

I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye, but – as much as it might pain you – you remind me a lot of myself at your age, and I’d like you to know that I am here for you.

I think I know now what you are going through. Darren gave me access to your email and – I hope you’ll forgive me – I found something I probably shouldn’t have. Allison, I know what happened when you were a child, and I need you to know, it’s not your fault, and there’s nothing wrong with you.

I bet you don’t know that I was also adopted. I was ten when it happened, and I remember everything. I know you think I’m just some sad old lady, but given what we’ve both been through, I think we’ve both come out alright.

Please let me know if I can do anything to help. I’m sure we can get your job back if you want it, and I know I’d love to see you back.

Call me anytime,

Jean

She knew. Aside from my parents and my birth father – if he was still out there – Jean was the only person who knew about my past. The truth was out, and in Jean’s hands it would be common knowledge within the week.

I wondered about the ways in which I reminded Jean of herself. Did she used to look like me, or were we both just sad? I dropped the postcard and all the other post into the recycling. Surely I was nothing like Jean. I was Helena now and I was Owen. I was Allison and I was better than ever.

And yet, Jean had been so kind to me. She had written the note and brought it in person. She was the only person left that I had treated so poorly who consistently cared. She was the only one who had seen the change in me, and she had tried. When had I ever tried?