Alexandra, Gone

10

“Lost in Limbo”

Here we are blind but trying to see
and here we are speechless but trying to sing,
and here we are paralysed but trying to tango,
lost in limbo.
Jack L, Broken Songs

June 2008

Jane was doing her accounts in the gallery. When she looked up from her computer screen it was just in time to see an extremely glamorous woman in her late forties enter the premises. It was a hot day but the woman wore gloves anyway, and she took one off as soon as she entered.
“Jane Moore?” she said.
“Yes?”
“I’m Martha, Irene’s mother.”
“Oh,” Jane said, standing, “hello.”
“Hello,” she said and smiled a wide smile, revealing perfect porcelain teeth. “I thought it was about time we met.”
“Okay,” Jane said.
Martha pulled a chair that was resting against the wall up to Jane’s table and sat down. Jane put her hand out to shake Martha’s but she didn’t seem to notice it, so Jane sat.
“Well,” Martha said, “Irene is so enchanted by you I honestly don’t know who she has a bigger crush on—you or your son.”
Jane had no idea how to respond to the woman’s statement or her passive-aggressive tone, so she remained silent. Martha took another moment to remove her second glove.
“It seems she is determined to stay with you,” she said, “but then how could I compete with a party house where anything goes?”
She again smiled a wide smile, and Jane could feel her temper rising and her face twisting, the way her mother’s did before she spewed bile.
Martha’s smile remained fixed. “So I was hoping you’d give me some tips on how to get her to come home.”
“I wasn’t aware you’d noticed she’d gone,” Jane said in a tone that matched her mother’s at her very snottiest, “but then, you were preoccupied with a boy young enough to be your son. I guess mine isn’t the only party house in town.”
“Funny,” Martha said. “I suppose you think I’m a bad mother because I needed to take some time out to recover from a broken marriage. I suppose you think that you’re a better mother than me.”
“I do and I am,” Jane said, channeling Rose.
“Oh really. I know that you’re allowing them to sleep together under your roof, allowing them to drive around on a motorbike together, and don’t think I don’t know about the drinking.”
“In case you failed to notice, your daughter had a birthday in February, and as they’re both eighteen, everything I let them do, they’re entitled to do. I also feed them, clean up after them, listen to them, encourage them, and watch over them, so if you ever want to come into my gallery again it will be with the intention of thanking me for caring for Irene. Understand?”
“You know, I met your mother once at a bridge club. She was a nasty bitch and you’re exactly like her.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Jane said. “Now get out.”
Martha stood up. “My daughter belongs with me.” Her bitchy I’m-better-than-you fa?ade was slipping. “How the hell can I compete with you?”
“I don’t know how to help you, Martha, and to be honest you haven’t inspired me to want to,” Jane said.
Martha walked out, leaving Jane to stare after her.
What an ungrateful tart.
It turned out that Martha had split with her boy toy, and in his absence she missed her daughter. A few days earlier she had approached Irene about coming home and Irene had told her she was happy where she was and didn’t want to move as it was so close to her exams. Martha had tried everything in her emotional arsenal to encourage her daughter to return home, but Irene was adamant that she was happy, safe, and secure, and that it was nice to be in a house where she was cared for. Martha had shouted that Irene was ungrateful and cruel to use the past few months against her, but Irene insisted that Martha had always been the kind of mother who had been absent whether she was there or not.
“It’s not your fault, Mum. You are what you are.”
Martha was selfish, the whole world revolved around her, but despite these failings she was also kind and charming and fun to be around, and Irene wasn’t angry at her mum, she wasn’t venomous, she didn’t want to cause her pain. All she wanted to do was stay with her boyfriend and Jane until her exams.
“And then?” Martha had said.
“And then I don’t know.”
“Please come home to me then.”
“No, Mum, I’m going to Greece with Kurt.”
“For how long?”
“A couple of weeks.”
“And then?”
“And then you’ll probably be back together with whatever his name is or someone else.”
“Irene,” Martha said, “that’s not true.”
“Of course it’s true,” Irene said. “You can’t be alone, and that’s the only reason you want me home.”
“Not fair.”
“Totally fair. But it’s okay—I understand. I’m terrified of heights; you’re terrified of being alone. We all have our issues.” She kissed her mother’s cheek. “I love you, Mum.”
Shortly after, Martha watched her peel off down the street on the back of Kurt’s motorbike and instead of thinking about what her daughter had said, instead of realizing that the girl had a point and that she needed to change if she wanted their relationship to change, she thought about Jane Moore and what a stupid bitch she was for turning her daughter against her.
Leslie had three weeks to go before her operation, and the gravity of her situation was starting to take its toll on her. Sleep deprivation made her cranky and she couldn’t help but focus on the mutilation her poor body would soon endure. She got out of the shower, wiped the steam from the mirror, and looked at herself, resting the palm of her hand on her stomach. With her other hand she cupped her left breast. She squeezed her breasts together, she tried to flatten them down, and then she held on to the sink and she screamed and screamed and screamed, and when Elle knocked at her door she was lying in the fetal position on the floor, crying for all that she was about to lose. When Leslie eventually opened the door, wearing nothing but her robe, she pretended that she was fine but Elle wasn’t fooled even for a second.
“Get dressed,” she said.
“No.”
“Get dressed.”
“No.”
“Leslie.”
“Elle.”
“Get f*cking dressed.”
“No f*cking way.”
Elle grinned, and Leslie couldn’t help but smile a little too.
When dressed, Leslie wanted to know what Elle had planned, but all she would say was that they were going on a drive. Leslie really didn’t feel like driving, but Elle was adamant that she needed to run away from herself.
“You can’t run away from yourself,” Leslie said.
“Of course you can,” Elle said. “You’ll see.”
It was a hot day and Elle had no idea where they were heading, so she pointed the car in a direction and just kept going. She put the top down and music on and ordered Leslie to lie back and allow the breeze to fill her lungs and play with her hair. Spending time with Leslie had reminded Elle how short and precious life was, and she felt a great need to make the absolute most of every second before she moved on.
After they had been driving for over an hour, Leslie voiced concern as to when they’d reach their destination.
“We’ll know when we know,” Elle said.
Leslie sighed deeply and shook her head to signal to her friend that she wasn’t happy, then lay back, and when the wind caught her hair she smiled.
The sunshine made every town and village they passed seem prettier, the grass greener, the flowers more colorful, the people friendlier, and the world a little kinder and better. Elle and Leslie were warm, content, and looking forward to reaching their destination, wherever it might be. When two hours had passed and they were still driving, Leslie wondered whether they would make it back home and Elle assured her that they wouldn’t. Leslie argued that she hadn’t got a change of clothes or a toothbrush and, most important, that she hadn’t left food out for her cat.
“We can buy what we need and ring Deborah—she’ll care for the cat,” said Elle.
“You are joking?”
“No, I’m not joking. I know she makes you a little crazy, but face facts. Deborah was right about you. You were a weirdo cat-loving loner who could potentially drop dead and rot.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re excused,” Elle said, “because that’s not who you are anymore, so forgive and forget and ask her to feed your cat.”
“What about a key, smart-ass?”
“Knowing you, you have one hidden somewhere in the building.”
“How did you know that?”
“Because you’re paranoid like Jane, which means you’re one of those ‘in case of’ people and you’re such an unfriendly cow there’s no way you gave it to a neighbor.”
“It’s under the carpet to the left of my door.”
Elle raised her hand. “There you go, then.”
Leslie rang directory inquiries and asked for Deborah James’s phone number.
They connected her, and Deborah answered immediately, “Ashley?”
“No, it’s Leslie.”
“Leslie who?”
“Leslie, the weirdo cat-loving loner with the potential to drop dead and rot.”
“Oh,” Deborah said, “you.”
“Look, I know this is out of the blue, but I need a favor.”
“Go on.”
“I’m not going to make it home and I haven’t left out any food for my cat. I’d really appreciate it if you’d feed her for me.”
“Really?”
“Yes,” Leslie said, “really.”
“Key?” Deborah said.
“Under the carpet to the left-hand side of my door.”
“Hmmmmm.”
“Well?”
“Okay. I’ll feed your cat.”
“Thank you.”
“Um-hum.”
“And Deborah?”
“Yeah?”
“If you poke around, I’ll know.”
“Don’t push it, cat lady.”
“Okay,” Leslie said, and she hung up. “Sorted,” she said to Elle, and she lay back in her seat, breathed in deeply, and stretched her arms in the air.
Elle saw the castle in the distance and told Leslie that it was calling to her. It turned out to be a hotel. She drove up the winding road that led to the large wooden door. Leslie jumped out and looked around at the manicured gardens and shielded her eyes from the sun while she examined the turrets.
“Perfect,” she said, and she followed Elle into the lobby.
Elle booked them in and they headed up to their room, which was a deep yellow color and dotted with pictures and small paintings that were rubbish according to Elle. The twin beds were covered with blankets, the top ones flowery, and in contrast the headboards were covered in gingham. Two pink chairs rested at the ends of the beds, and both women agreed the decor was vomit inducing and yet it suited the place perfectly. A white wood-framed window revealed the most beautiful view of gardens that seemed to roll into the sea. Although it was summer, the hotel was all but empty. Leslie and Elle lunched alone in the grand dining room, and when Leslie’s mind drifted away, Elle brought her back with talk of a swim. Leslie wasn’t too sure as she’d had two glasses of wine, but Elle assured her that the wine would only serve to heighten the experience.
“We’ve no swimsuits.”
“We don’t need swimsuits.”
“I’m not getting into the sea in my knickers.”
“Me neither,” Elle said with a grin.
And before Leslie knew it she was following Elle across the lawns and through trees and toward the sea. Elle stripped as soon as she hit the water’s edge and threw her clothes behind her and ran full steam ahead into the water. Leslie called after her, but she was gone and swimming, powering through the water like a shark chasing its prey. The sun glistened on the water, making it sparkle, and she was so tempted to feel its softness on her skin. She looked around and there was no one to be seen. To hell with it. She stripped and ran as fast as she’d ever run into the freezing water and disappeared under it only to come up spluttering and with her hair all over her face and in her eyes and mouth.
“Holy shit! The cold!” she roared.
Elle laughed and told her to swim and she did, and although she wasn’t the powerhouse in the water that her friend was, she swam and swam until the cold turned to warmth and she could stop and enjoy the water swirling around her body.
Elle swam up to her. “Nothing quite like the freedom,” she said, “is there?”
“No. There isn’t.”
They were bobbing along and planning the evening ahead when Leslie spotted a boat in the distance. Mortified, she alerted Elle and was about to make a dash for the shore when Elle grabbed her arm and told her to relax. The boat was coming closer and Leslie could see that there were two men on board.
“Relax? I’m naked!”
“So?” Elle said, and she winked. “Time to get your tits out for the boys.”
“Excuse me?”
Elle laughed, and then she kicked and pushed herself out of the water, revealing her breasts, and the men whistled, and she waved and looked to Leslie, who was cringing.
“It’s now or never,” she said.
Leslie thought about it for a split second, and before she knew it she was revealing her naked breasts to an appreciative audience of two. They wolf-whistled and clapped, and she was laughing and lapping it up, and when she turned to Elle and caught her eye they both registered that they were sharing in a perfect high. They turned away from the men and swam to the shore and ran out and shook themselves off. They covered themselves, and the boys waved, and they responded.
When they had dressed, Leslie lay on the sand in a wet T-shirt and leggings and turned to her friend. “Thanks,” she said.
“My pleasure,” Elle said, and they both grew silent and stared into the blue sky.
When it got dark, they ventured to the local pub. It was a tiny spit-on-the-floor place with wooden pews for seats and rickety tables leveled by coasters. They enjoyed a couple of drinks before the two men from the boat appeared, and of course Elle was delighted to see them and immediately invited them to join them. Leslie was mortified, the high-on-adventure feeling she’d experienced earlier turning to embarrassment and awkwardness, but Elle was having none of it. The men were both in their early thirties. They were fishing for a few days and roaming from port to port. They introduced themselves as Adrian and Keith. Adrian was tall and broad and he had mousy brown hair, tousled, and stubble on his face. He reminded Leslie of Grizzly Adams. Keith was slightly taller and leaner than his friend. He had long hair tied at the nape of his neck and big brown eyes just like Vincent’s except they were not framed by Vincent’s thick lashes. The two men sat with their drinks in hand and Elle chatted with them as though she’d known them all her life.
“What about you?” Adrian asked Leslie.
“She’s too embarrassed to talk,” Elle explained when Leslie left him hanging.
“Why?”
“She’s not used to exposing herself to strangers,” Elle said.
“And you are?” Keith asked, and Elle laughed but failed to respond to his question.
“Well, trust me, Leslie,” Adrian said, “you have nothing to be embarrassed about.”
Leslie drained her glass. “Thanks,” she said.
By the time the four of them were kicked out of the pub they were friends, laughing and joking and pushing one another down the street under a bright white moon. Adrian put his arm around Leslie’s shoulders and she examined it for a second before relaxing against him.
“Adrian?”
“Yes?” he said.
“Would you like to have sex with me?”
“Yes, yes, and yes again,” he said.
“Oh good,” she said, “that’s a big relief.”
They walked together to the boat, and Keith and Elle kept walking, leaving them to it.
“How do you feel about a bed in a castle?” Elle asked.
“Sounds like bliss,” he said.
“You haven’t seen the décor.”
They walked on, arm in arm.
“I’m not having sex with you,” she said.
“Okay,” he said.
“I find you attractive and funny, and ordinarily I would but I’m very tired and today has been perfect and I’d like to sleep now,” she said.
“Okay,” he said, and they walked into her room together and she kissed him good night and they jumped into the single beds and were asleep within minutes.
Leslie was standing in the middle of a bobbing boat wondering what she was doing. She heard the toilet light go off. The door opened and Adrian appeared. He walked up to her and she waited for him to kiss her. He fixed her hair and touched her face with his hand; he cupped her chin and leaned in and his lips hovered close to hers, and she wished to Christ he’d get on with kissing her because her legs were going to go from under her if she wasn’t careful. And when he did kiss her, a deep, wet, soft kiss, she closed her eyes and thought, This beats the shit out of batteries.
They made love once, then twice, and after that she told him about her surgery and he kissed her breasts and placed his hand on her stomach as she had done that morning and a lifetime ago, and he told her that she was beautiful and that she would always be beautiful, and she cried and he held her, and when she was done crying he kissed her and they made love again.
On the morning that Kurt and Irene’s Leaving Cert exams started, Jane was as nervous as if it were her own future on the line. Kurt found schoolwork easy—he was like his mother that way. Irene had to work a bit harder, but she was happy to do just enough to qualify for Nursing. He was determined to get Medicine. Jane laid out a huge breakfast to feed the pair of them, and when Irene was first into the kitchen Jane pulled out a chair for her.
“Sit,” she ordered.
“I’m not that hungry, Jane.”
“You need food,” Jane said, and she began piling pancakes onto a plate.
As Kurt was still in the shower and they had time alone together, Jane asked Irene why she wanted to be a nurse.
“Because Kurt wants Medicine,” she said. “And even if I studied day and night for forty years I wouldn’t get Medicine.”
“Kurt is your reason?”
“Kurt and I want to go to Trinity.”
“But what if you hate it?”
“As long as we’re together I’ll love it.”
“I hope you’re right. Otherwise you’re going to be cleaning vomit for the rest of your life because of a boy you knew when you were seventeen.”
Irene laughed. “You’re so funny, Jane!”
Kurt appeared, and they kissed, and Jane began to wonder where time was going.
Her son and his girlfriend enjoyed their hearty breakfast while Jane cleaned around them.
“Do you have enough pens?”
“Mum, you bought us about five thousand. Relax.”
“Okay, double-check your bags for calculators.”
“Have them,” Irene said.
Jane put down the tea towel, reached into her bag and took out a twenty-euro note and put it on the table between them.
“Buy some lunch—oh crap,” Jane said. “Batteries. I forgot batteries.”
“What do you need batteries for?” Kurt asked.
“The calculators.”
“They’re solar,” Irene said, and she giggled.
“Oh, right, of course they are.”
“Jane?” Irene said.
“What?”
“If you didn’t have Kurt, would you have gone to college?”
Kurt looked up from his food. It was a question he’d never thought to ask his mother.
“I was thinking about Medicine,” she said.
“You never said!” Kurt exclaimed.
“Well, it was just an idea. After all, I didn’t sit for the exams. I had you two weeks before them.”
“I think you would have been a cool doctor,” Irene said.
Jane smiled and blushed a little. “Thanks, Irene.”
“Yeah, Mum,” Kurt said, “you would have been cool.”
“Thanks, son.”
“It’s a pity you were such a big slut,” he said, and he winked at her the way his dad did when he said something outrageous and thought it was funny.
Irene and Kurt burst out laughing and high-fived, and Jane couldn’t help but laugh along with them. Cheeky little bastard.
Midway through the exams, when Irene and Kurt had a day off, Martha invited her daughter and her boyfriend to lunch. Kurt regarded Irene’s mother with suspicion, but Irene begged him to join them, so he did, and he was really glad he had. Martha had reviewed the situation she found herself in with her daughter and decided the only way back into her daughter’s good graces would be to buy her way back in, and so at the end of an expensive lunch she handed her daughter an envelope.
It contained two InterRail tickets.
“What’s this?” Irene asked.
“It’s a month’s traveling through Europe,” Martha said.
“But we’re going to Greece,” Kurt said.
“For two weeks,” she said, “and then you’re going to Europe for a month.” She smiled her big porcelain-toothed smile. Anything the Moores can do I can do better.
“No way!” Kurt said.
“Oh my God!” Irene shouted.
They hugged each other, and then Irene hugged her mother, and Kurt shook her hand awkwardly, but when he moved in for a hug, they bumped and Martha pushed him off. “You’re welcome,” Martha said.
Twenty minutes after that, Kurt witnessed his girlfriend’s mother manipulate her into coming back home on her return from Europe, and as much as he wanted to say something he kept quiet because Irene looked so happy.
At first Jane was unhappy with the notion of her child backpacking around Europe, so she called Dominic and they arranged to meet for lunch to discuss it. The rain had been coming down in buckets for three days straight. Jane battled her way into the restaurant and shook the rain off. Dominic was waiting. They kissed and it was slightly awkward, but both pretended not to notice. She got to business straightaway.
“That bitch thinks she’s so clever.”
“Or maybe she just wanted to do something nice for her daughter.”
“She’s getting back at me.”
“Really? Don’t you think you’re being a bit paranoid?”
“No, I don’t.” She sighed. “She’s saying in no uncertain terms that if she can’t have her daughter, I can’t have my son.”
“I think you’re being hysterical,” he said, and she made that twisted face that made her look like her mother, so he backed down. “Or not—you’re right and she’s a bitch from hell, but at least Kurt gets to do something great.”
“It’s too much,” she argued. “He’s never been away from home for longer than a week, and that was with supervision, and now nearly an entire summer!”
“He’s eighteen,” Dominic reminded her.
“I know, but—”
“But nothing. My brothers did it, I did it, Brick and Mint did it, and we all came home safe and sound.”
“Times have changed,” she argued.
“Times are always changing. He’s not going to war. All he’s doing is strapping a bag on his back and going out into the world to have a blast.”
“Did you have a blast?”
“Time of my life,” he said.
“Alexandra spent two weeks in the Canaries with Siobhan Wilson and Christina Benson. She came home burned alive and with beads in her hair. She said it was the best time of her life.”
“Who are they?”
“They were in our class.”
“I don’t remember them. What was she doing with them?”
“Oh, I don’t know, Dominic. Maybe it was because her best friend was sleep deprived, knee-deep in nappies, and on the verge of a nervous breakdown.”
“Oh yeah,” he said, “sorry.”
“So you think I should just let him go?” she asked then.
“I think that if you are really honest with yourself, you have no choice.”
“God, I hate that woman!”
“I don’t know—maybe you should thank her.”
“For what?”
“Kurt’s seeing you in a different light. He appreciates you in a way he didn’t in the past.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean he’s seeing you through his girlfriend’s eyes, and as a mother you beat that Martha bitch hands down.”
“Yes, I do,” she said, and she smiled. “I can live with that.”
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It was true. Since his girlfriend had moved into his home, Kurt had come to appreciate his mother more.
“You’re lucky,” Irene told him one day in his room, “you just don’t know how lucky you are.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“No. Not easy. I live with a woman who doesn’t seem to notice if I’m there or not, and as for my dad, the last time I saw him was over three months ago. Your mum lives for you.”
“Yeah, well, maybe that’s the problem.”
“That’s not the problem, Kurt. The problem is she gave up her future for you and now you’re scared she’ll want to keep you.”
“Bollocks,” he said.
“Okay,” she said.
“You’re so full of shit, Irene,” he said, and she laughed.
“Fine,” she said. “Maybe I’m wrong, but it’s a thought.”
Irene was wrong, but it made Kurt think. A whole new world was opening up in front of him—opportunity, his first foray into adulthood, leaving home, university, making his own decisions, living his own life. He was so excited about his future and was counting down the days until he and Irene were on a flight and leaving their childhood behind for good. And eighteen years ago his mum had been standing in the same kitchen, but instead of holding a bag full of pens and a solar calculator she had been holding a baby, and instead of planning trips abroad, preparing for college and a life without Rose, she had been stuck in the rut she still found herself in eighteen years later.
Two days after their exams finished and with packs on their backs, Irene and Kurt made their way down the front steps and toward Jane, who was holding the car doors open. Elle sat on the wall, wearing sunglasses even though it was dull and raining. Rose emerged from her basement flat and stood by her door. Kurt put his bag in the trunk and went back to kiss his grandmother. She hugged him tight.
“Stay safe,” she said. “Life is hard enough without you disappearing on me.”
“It’s only six weeks, Gran,” he said.
“Six weeks is a lifetime, my darling. Live well.”
“I will.”
She let him go and watched him hug Elle, who took the opportunity to slip him an extra few euros.
“You don’t have to do that,” he said.
“I do,” she said.
Irene got into the car and waved at Rose and Elle, and Kurt joined her. Jane got into the driver’s seat and started the car, and Elle waved one final time, and they were gone. Rose went inside, and Elle sat on the wall smoking a cigarette and wearing her sunglasses despite the rain.
Jane had felt bad about the ways things had ended with Tom for a number of weeks, and when she eventually got the confidence to call him, she left a message apologizing for blowing up. She asked him to call her and told him once again she was sorry.
Tom had listened to the message, but he was too embarrassed, too ashamed, to call her back. In the few weeks that had passed he had found himself missing her. He missed her smile and the way she twisted her face when she wasn’t happy. He missed her laugh and her calm and caring nature. He missed the devil side of her because just when you thought she was a total pushover, she pushed back, and by God she pushed hard. He liked that. He liked that she was formidable, just like Alexandra, and it made sense that they had once been best friends because in a way they were similar.
Jane missed Tom so much it interrupted her thoughts. She’d be on the phone to a buyer and she’d think of him and lose her concentration. She’d be parking the car and she’d stop dead in the middle of the car park just to remember a moment they’d shared, and only when someone beeped would she resume normal operations. She’d find herself thinking about him and worrying about him, and at night she lay awake wondering what he was doing, where he had been, where he was going, and whether or not she’d ever see him again.
Jane woke up early on June 21 and was up and out before eight. She knocked on Tom’s door a little after eight forty-five, and when he didn’t answer she pressed the doorbell and held it down until she heard him stamp down the stairs.
He opened the door roughly and, with a big sleepy head and wearing boxer shorts and a GO WEST T-shirt, he yelled, “What?” Then he wiped his eyes, focused, and saw who it was. “Jane.”
“Tom,” she said and pushed past him into the house. He followed her into his kitchen, where she set about finding the coffee.
“Second shelf on the left,” he said.
She located it and made some.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“We’re going to spend the day together,” she told him.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Jane, I don’t want this.”
“Want what? You don’t want to spend the anniversary of your wife’s disappearance with the woman who recently called you a f*cking bastard? Fair enough, but tell me, what do you want to do?”
“I don’t remember you exactly calling me a f*cking bastard.”
“Must have been in my head,” she said.
He sat down at his counter. “I was thinking I’d stay in bed.”
“No,” she said, “out of the question.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“I want you to come to Dalkey with me.”
“You’re joking.”
“I think we should walk the streets she walked, and I think we should talk and reminisce, and then maybe we could get some lunch, and after that we’ll hand out some of those flyers you keep in that black bag of yours by the door, and maybe we’ll make our way into town and we’ll stay there until it gets dark and this day is over.”
Tom thought about it for a moment or two, then nodded. He went up to his bedroom and came down dressed and ready.
They walked together through the village of Dalkey, and as they walked they handed flyers to anyone who would take them.
After a while Jane decided to broach the subject they had both been avoiding.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things.”
“You were right,” he said, “perfectly right.”
“I was taking out my own frustrations on you,” she said, “and while I’m never going to be able to comprehend how a man who loves his wife as much as you love Alexandra could possibly be with that woman, I’m still on your side.”
“Alexandra’s gone,” he said, “and I miss her so much I ache, and I’m so terrified that I swear it’s brought me to the brink of insanity and I’m just holding on, and for a while that woman helped me do that. I’m not making excuses. I’m just telling you the way it is.”
“Okay,” she said, “and again, I’m sorry.” She handed a flyer to a woman pushing a pram. The woman looked at it for a second and then crumpled it right in front of them. “What a cow,” Jane said, and Tom pushed her ahead.
“I ended it with Jeanette,” he said. “Actually, if I’m honest, I treated her pretty poorly.”
“What did you do?”
“I pushed her out the door and slammed it in her face two minutes after you left.”
“Oh, that is a poor show.”
“I blame you,” he said, and he grinned.
“That’s funny,” she said.
There had been no developments since the reconstruction had aired. The police had received a number of calls after the show, but none of them had panned out. Tom was at a loss as to what to do next, and part of him wished that he could just let go.
“How about we get a drink?” he said.
“Love to,” she said.
Tom put the flyers back into the black bag, and together they walked to the pub.
On the last day of June, Leslie sat up in her hospital bed. The nurse had just taken blood and the trainee doctor had just taken her history for the tenth time. She was asked if she wanted something to help her sleep, but she declined—she wanted to spend as much time with her breasts and womb as possible. She was wearing a nightshirt that Jane had bought for her, and under her bed were slippers from Elle. She moisturized her face and put balm on her lips. When the woman across the way tried to make eye contact, she pretended to read a magazine, and when the woman disappeared into the toilet, she jumped out and pulled the curtain around her bed.
The woman in the bed opposite watched the clock, waiting for visiting hour, but Leslie didn’t expect any visitors because she had been adamant that she wanted to be alone.
Jim was the first to appear from behind the curtain with a bag of fruit and a bottle of 7UP raised high.
“I told you not to come.”
“I wouldn’t have expected you to say anything else,” he said, and he sat on the chair by her bed.
“I can’t believe you are ignoring my express wishes.”
Jane called out Leslie’s name, and Jim opened the curtain. “She’s here,” he said, and he turned back to Leslie. “Looks like I’m not the only one.”
Jane appeared with a Brown Thomas bag filled with moisturizer, perfume, and a pair of candles. “They’re from Elle too,” she said, “and I know it’s weird to give you candles, but they smell so good.”
Leslie sighed. “Thank you.”
Elle appeared, going on about the toilets. “My God, where are we, Basra? There was blood on the floor. Make sure you wear your slippers everywhere.”
Leslie nodded that she would, and Jim got up and pulled two more chairs over so that the girls could sit, and just as they sat, Tom appeared with a brown bag full of sweets and mints.
“Oh for God’s sake,” Leslie said, and she smiled and shook her head. “What are you doing here?”
“Why wouldn’t I come?” he said. “After everything you’ve done for me.”
Elle got up and let him sit down, and she sat at the end of the bed. Jane introduced Tom to Jim, and they chatted happily about the building trade dying on its feet. Jim had read an interesting article on the subject, and he was interested to hear Tom’s point of view. Tom explained he had closed up shop at the end of ’07 and he was happy to see the back of his business.
“So what are you doing now?” Jim asked.
“Well, aside from looking for my wife, nothing.”
“What would you like to do?”
Tom thought about it and shook his head. “I have no idea.”
“Well,” Jim said, “the world is your oyster.”
“I suppose it is.”
Jane and Elle fussed over Leslie, and she pretended she didn’t like it, but she couldn’t conceal her joy.
“When this is done,” Elle said, “and when you’re feeling better, we’ll do something fun.”
“Can’t wait.”
“And you know that if things are a little bleak in the hospice, there is plenty of room at my place,” Jane said. “The house is so empty without Kurt and Irene.”
Leslie couldn’t believe Jane’s kindness. It took her by surprise, and looking around at the people she now had in her life moved her to tears.
Elle squeezed her hand. “You’re not alone anymore, pal.”
“I know,” she said. She wiped away her tears and opened the bag of chocolate. “Who wants chocolate?”
They all dug in, and even though Leslie couldn’t eat, she felt full.