The cab driver was prattling on but I had absolutely no idea what he was saying. I’d zoned out before my arse hit the leather of the seats, grateful that he’d come early and got me out of there.
Fuck. Where had that all come from? One minute I was packing and the next we were screaming at each other and I was saying…
I can’t even remember what I was saying, but I knew it hurt her. I could see it on her face, in the way she backed away. Disgust. That’s what I saw. Maybe pity. Whatever it was, I couldn’t deal with it, so I was out of there. Glad to be away and just for one night I didn’t have to watch her clear up, worn out, trying to pretend she was fine while looking like she’d rather be anywhere else but there. Well, me too.
My phone buzzed to signal an incoming text and I was tempted to ignore it. If it was Shauna, I didn’t want to get into it again. I just wanted to be normal. Colm. Not the husband with the brain tumour. Or the guy who was relying on his wife to pay the bills. Just me.
Eventually I looked. Not Shauna. Jess.
Hey Colm, can the boys come hang at your house this weekend? Sorry to spring this on you but bit of a situation here and would appreciate your help.
I had to read it twice. Bizarre. In all the years we’d been co-parenting, the only time I could ever remember Jess asking for help was when she was ill – once with flu, another time with a broken leg after falling off Joe’s bike, and the third occasion, in hospital having her appendix removed. And they were 19 now, so it wasn’t as if they needed looking after.
I checked my watch. I’d already booked the taxi for way too early in case traffic was bad, and he’d turned up fifteen minutes before time. We hadn’t hit a single jam so we were ahead of schedule. Sit at Euston for at least half an hour before the nine p.m. train, or do a quick detour to check on Jess, see my boys and be bang on time for the later train at 9.40 p.m.? No contest. I’d do anything to wipe away the bad taste of what had just happened with Shauna.
‘Change of plan, mate,’ I told the driver, before giving him Jess’s address. After she’d married Steve, they’d moved from Notting Hill to a swanky house overlooking Regent’s Park, which was practically on the way to Euston
I let the taxi go at the gate, hoping Jess or Steve would give me a lift the rest of the way later.
Jess answered the door and I saw immediately I was right. Definitely ill. Her eyes were swollen and red, bloodshot too. Her skin was pale and her hair, usually shiny and straight, was pulled up into a riot of curls on top of her head. For a moment she looked nineteen again, the age she’d been when we met – no make-up, messy hair, always giggling. But that was before we got married, had the boys, before we lost… before we lost it all.
‘Colm, what are you doing here?’ her voice was thick and hoarse.
‘Okay, so this isn’t a line but I was, literally, passing when I got your text, so I thought I’d stop by, check everything was okay, see the boys.’
‘They’re not here,’ she said, so quietly I strained to hear. Even I couldn’t fail to miss the fact that my arrival was unwelcome though.
This wasn’t turning out quite as I’d expected. Typical. The one time I decide to be spontaneous and check on someone else’s well-being, this happens. Life was much simpler when I adhered to the more familiar territory of being a self-centred prick.
Awkward. ‘Okay, well I’ll just go and…’ I wasn’t sure what came next. I was standing on the doorstep like a pillock with my overnight bag and in possession of no plan whatsoever. I could just flag a cab. There was sure to be one passing any minute.
‘Do you want to come in?’
Or I could just go in and have a cup of tea and scrounge a lift to the station off Steve, as per my original plan.
‘Okay,’ I replied.
I followed her to the kitchen, where she flicked the kettle on and took two cups from the cupboard. No sign of Steve. Bugger. I’d have a quick cuppa and phone a cab.
‘So when did this come on you then?’
‘When did what come on me?’ she asked, spooning sugar into my cup. Too late I remembered her track record on hot beverages and wished I’d asked for a soft drink.
‘The flu. How long have you been sick for?’
The spoon paused in mid-air and, bizarrely, she began to laugh, the kind of laugh that builds until its close to hysterics and there are tears running down your face – just like the ones she was wiping away now.
‘Jesus, Colm, you really are frigging hopeless.’
‘Why? What have I done?’ Och, bollocks, what now? I couldn’t do anything right today.
She composed herself enough to hand over my cup and I placed it on the table in front of me. I’d psyche myself up to drink it in a minute.
‘I’m not sick, it’s just been a bit of a tough week and today it got the better of me and I’ve spent most of it alternating between organizing stuff and indulging in some serious weeping. Don’t judge me. You know I’ve always been a crier.’
That was true. It was the biggest difference between Jess and Shauna. Jess would blub at the slightest thing, while Shauna only spilled a tear under extreme circumstances. The only time I remember her truly breaking her heart was when Annie died. I wasn’t sure she’d ever get over that, but of course, the days and weeks moved on and she did – although, only after Beth was born did the red-rimmed eyes finally become a thing of the past.
‘Are the boys okay?’ I asked, suddenly concerned that her state of upset was something to do with them.
‘They’re fine,’ she reassured me, as she sat down on the leather stool next to me at the breakfast bar. ‘I’ve sent them to my mother’s for the night.’
‘You could have sent them to me. They could just have stayed at our house all week. And by the way, of course they can come over this weekend. Just send them over when they get back from your mum’s.’
‘Thanks. I hope Shauna doesn’t mind. I know she must have enough on her plate right now...’
That made me bristle slightly. Why would Shauna mind if they were there?
‘Of course she wouldn’t. She loves having them around.’
‘They love her too. I don’t know if I’ve ever told her, but I’m thankful for how great she’s been to them.’
‘I’ll tell her you said that – she’ll appreciate it.’
There was an uncomfortable pause, which I ended by jumping right in. ‘So are you going to tell me what’s happened here?’
‘Steve and I have split up,’ she said and puddles of tears filled her lower eyelids again. When a couple dropped down her cheeks, she wiped them away with the sleeve of her grey sweatshirt. ‘Sorry. I don’t even know why I’m crying. It’s not like it’s new or as if it’s not what I want.’
Little cogs were clicking into place in my mind. The last time I was here… his behaviour… the trip to the office on a Sunday.
‘He’s seeing someone else?’ I said calmly.
She nodded. ‘He is. He swears he didn’t start until after we split but I’m not so sure. Don’t suppose it matters.’
‘Of course it matters!’ I didn’t know the guy particularly well, but I thought he was better than that.
She shook her head dolefully, ‘I really don’t think that it does, and to be honest, I wouldn’t blame him. It was me who ended it.’
That surprised me. I took a sip of tea and immediately spluttered. Sod this. ‘Do you have any booze? A beer?’
‘I’ve a bottle of tequila in the fridge.’
‘That’ll do nicely.’ The train journey to Manchester would be a blur, but that probably wasn’t a bad thing. I waited until she’d filled two shot glasses and we knocked them back. It burned the mouth off me, but it was still less painful than her tea.
I didn’t understand any of this. They’d always seemed happy. Content. This didn’t make sense.
‘So why?’ I asked, when my vocal cords recovered from the shock of the liquid.
‘Why what?’
‘Why did you end it?’
Jess shrugged. ‘I didn’t love him any more. I’m not sure that I ever really did. No, that’s not true. Maybe in the beginning…’
‘But you’ve been with him for years. Why stay if you didn’t love him?’ I tried to work out how long they’d been together. Ten years? Twelve? More? I couldn’t remember, but it was definitely long-term.
‘Because there was no reason not to. He loved me, we had a nice life, he was great with the boys. We were happy.’
None of this was making sense – or changing my firm conviction that there were some emotional situations that would forever be unfathomable to me. I knocked back another tequila. The heat as it passed my throat went straight to my nerve endings, forcing them out of the foetal position they’d been in since the fight with Shauna. I stretched my neck from side to side, enjoying the warm feeling as the muscles relaxed.
‘So what changed?’
‘You,’ she told me, staring straight at me.
That one required another shot, before proceeding.
‘Me? How?’ Oh crap, what had I done? Had I said something? Caused a fight? If I had it wasn’t deliberate and, shit, how was I going to explain this one to the kids?
‘You got sick,’ she said simply. ‘And I saw how quickly and unexpectedly it could all be taken away and I decided…’
Another shot.
‘I decided that I’d regret living a life where I never felt the kind of love you and I had ever again.’
That one came right out of left field. I had no idea. None. And I had no clue as to how to respond.
A single tear ran down her left cheek and this time it was me who leaned over and wiped it away. The timing sucked, but I really needed to go. I was going to miss my train if I didn’t get out there and get a cab right now. Yet, I felt like the biggest arse for leaving her like this.
‘That was a different time, Jess. We were young. Had no worries. No cares. It was before life came and gave us a kicking.’
‘I know,’ she shrugged, almost embarrassed. ‘But I have to hope it’s out there and I’ll find it again. Otherwise, what’s the point?’
Again, I had no answer. She wanted to recreate something that was long gone, yet I understood that. How many times since the day I sat in the surgeon’s office and heard him say ‘brain tumour’ had I wished I could go back, do stuff again, have another chance to relive the best bits? So many. It must have been the tequila but suddenly my eyes were stinging, my throat was tight, something deep inside me was hurting, a physical pain.
‘Oh God, Colm, I’m sorry.’
‘For what?’
She didn’t answer. She just leaned towards me and stroked my cheek, and that’s when I felt the wet tears, tasted the salt as they touched my lips, realized that they belonged to me.
Now Jess was wiping them away, and holding me as my shoulders shook, rubbing the back of my neck and…
My lips were on hers and I was kissing her, my tears mingling with hers, my desperation matching her need for me.
The train to Manchester left the station without me.