A couple of days at Bill’s house has restored my faith in human nature and confirmed that I need to sort things out with Mum. Last night, Bill had a chat with me about the future, once my apprenticeship is over, and the role he wants me to play in his business, maybe even take it over when he feels ready to retire. I’ve always worked as hard as I can for him, but now I’ve got a vested interest in growing the business.
The chat makes me feel like I can make plans now. I have a future. If I can manage for the next few months, I’ll be able to afford a flat when my apprenticeship ends. One that’s big enough for Grace and Josh if needed. I can’t stop myself thinking it will also give me space to be with Neve when she’s at home, even though she’s no longer mine. Before the daydream of me and Neve enjoying scenes of domestic bliss overtakes my sense or reason completely, my phone pings.
Grace: Mum’s here without Jim
Me: Stay with her. I’ll be there in 5 xx
Sophie hugs me when I excuse myself from dinner and I drive the familiar route home, rehearsing what I’m going to say. Unsure about whether I’m welcome, I knock the door.
“She’s in the kitchen. I told her you were on your way over. I think she’s glad.”
“Thanks, Grace. You’re—”
“A star. I know! Now, go sort things out. I miss you being around.” She hugs me before running upstairs. Taking a deep breath, I walk into the kitchen.
The first thing I notice is the mess.
The second thing I notice is the state Mum is in. Hunched over a coffee mug, her eyes are red rings. Her face looks old, like she’s gained a lifetime of wrinkles in the few days since I last saw her. As much as I feel she’s brought it on herself, I also feel guilty.
“Hi,” is my opener to gauge her mood. She looks at me, almost as if she’s surprised to see me. Needing something to do, I flick the kettle on and set about making a cup of tea. “Do you want one?” No reply.
Mug in hand, I go back to the table and sit across from her.
“Mum, we need to talk.” No reply. “Do you hear? We need to talk about what has happened. It can’t go on like this.” She looks at me as if I’m speaking a foreign language. “Mum? Shall I start?” I take her silence as agreement.
“I know how hard it’s been for you since Dad… passed. I can see that. But it’s been hard on us kids, as well. I’m amazed at how well Grace and Josh are doing, considering what they’ve been through. What we’ve all been through. But it’s really hard, watching you fall apart. Watching how some of these scumbags treat you.” I reach my hand across the table so that our fingertips are almost touching. “You deserve so much better than them. You deserve someone like Dad, who will love you and take care of you.” She doesn’t attempt to stop the tears which are streaming down her face. My fingers creep forward until they tangle with hers. “I love you, Mum, and I’m sorry if I’ve caused you hassle but I just want what’s best for all of us. What Dad would have wanted.” I’m unsure if my last comment is emotional blackmail but I have to be true to what I believe.
“You’re so much like him. It hurts to look at you sometimes,” she croaks. “The way you speak to Josh and Grace is exactly how he would speak to you. But it’s not just that. It’s everything: the way you walk, that look you get when you’re pissed off, even your smile. I look at you and I’m reminded of what I’ve lost.” She pulls one hand away to wipe at her tears.
I know I look like Dad. I can see it in photos. But I didn’t know I’m like him in all those other ways. Some kids would think it’s a nightmare, being compared to a parent like this. But I don’t. I’m proud to be like him. I want to be like him.
“Would it be easier if I wasn’t around?” I hesitantly suggest. Bill and Sophie have made it clear that the room is mine on a more permanent basis, if needed. It wouldn’t help with Grace and Josh, but if Mum is happier without me, maybe that wouldn’t be so much of an issue.
“God, no, I’m not saying that. I’ve hated these last few days. Even if I don’t see you, I like knowing you’re here. You’re my baby, Jake. My six-foot, built-like-a-commando baby. I don’t want to lose you, as well.” We’re both crying and playing with each other’s fingers. I want to get up and hug her, be hugged, but I know I’ve got to get to the bottom of the problems.
“So why, Mum? Why these guys who treat you like shit? Who treat us like shit?”
“I’m lonely.” Her justification makes me angry.
“It’s not about being lonely. You have us three! You had friends who you’ve let go. These blokes have driven away everyone in your life. They have made you lonely!”