No. I’m not in a bad mood with anyone. I should go say hello.
In the conservatory, the stereo was playing a Sam Cooke song and Nick was standing there in conversation with some strangers, nodding his head. The lights were dim and everything looked blue. I needed to leave. Nick saw me, our eyes met. I felt it like always, a key turning hard inside me, but this time I hated the key and hated being opened up to anything. He came toward me and I stood there holding my arms crossed, probably scowling, or maybe looking scared.
He was drunk too, so drunk his words sounded slurred and I didn’t like his voice any more. He asked if I was okay and I shrugged. Maybe you should tell me what’s wrong so I can apologise, he said.
Melissa seems to think we’re fighting, I said.
Well, are we?
Is it any of her business if we are?
I don’t know, he said. I don’t know what you mean by that.
A rigidity had settled over my whole body so that my jaw felt painfully tight. He touched my arm and I pulled away from him like he had slapped me. He looked hurt, like any normal person would look hurt. There was something wrong with me, I knew that.
Two people I had never met came over to wish Nick happy birthday then: a tall guy and a dark-haired woman holding a little baby. Nick seemed very happy to see them. The woman kept saying: we’re not staying, we’re not staying, it’s a flying visit. Nick introduced me to them, it was his sister Laura and her husband Jim and their baby, the baby Nick loved. I wasn’t sure if Laura knew who I was. The infant had blonde hair and huge, celestial eyes. Laura said it was nice to meet me and I said: your baby is so gorgeous, wow. Nick laughed and said, isn’t she? She’s like a model baby. She could do ads for baby food. Laura asked me if I wanted to hold her and I looked at her and said: yes, can I?
Laura handed me the baby and said she was going to get herself a glass of soda water. Jim and Nick were talking about something, I don’t remember what. The baby looked at me and opened and closed her mouth. Her mouth was very mobile, and for a while she put her entire hand into it. It was hard to believe that such a perfect creature was dependent on the whims of adults who drank soda water and handed her to strangers at parties. The baby looked up at me with her wet hand in her mouth and blinked. I held her tiny body against my chest and thought about how small she was. I wanted to talk to her, but the others would have heard me, and I didn’t want anybody else to hear.
When I looked up I saw that Nick was watching me. We looked at one another for a few seconds and it felt so serious that I tried to smile at him. Yeah, I said. I love this baby. This is a great infant, ten out of ten. Jim replied: oh, Rachel is Nick’s favourite member of the family. He likes her more than we do. Nick smiled at that, and he reached over and touched the baby’s hand, which was waving around in the air like she was trying to balance herself. She held onto the joint of Nick’s thumb then. Oh, I’m going to weep, I said. She’s perfect.
Laura came back and said she would take the kid off my hands. She’s heavy, isn’t she? she said. I nodded dumbly and then said: she’s so lovely. Without the baby my arms felt thin and empty. She’s a little charmer, Laura said. Aren’t you? And she touched the baby’s nose lovingly. Wait until you have your own, she said. I just stared at her and blinked and said something like yeah or hm. They had to leave then, they went to say goodbye to Melissa.
When they were gone Nick touched my back and I told him how much I liked his niece. She’s beautiful, I said. Beautiful is a stupid thing to say, but you know what I mean. Nick said he didn’t think it was stupid. He was drunk, but I could tell he was trying to be nice to me. I said something like: actually I don’t feel very well. He asked if I was okay and I didn’t look at him. I said: you don’t mind if I head off, do you? There are so many people here anyway, I don’t want to monopolise you. He tried to look at me but I couldn’t look back at him. He asked me what was wrong and I said: I’ll talk to you tomorrow.
He didn’t follow me out of the front door. I was shivering and my lower lip had started to tremble. I paid for a taxi back into town.
*
Late that night I got a call from my father. I woke up to the noise of the ringtone and knocked my wrist on the bedside cabinet trying to pick up the phone. Hello? I said. It was after three in the morning. I nursed my arm against my chest and squinted into the darkness, waiting for him to speak. The noise in the background of the call sounded like weather, like wind or rain.
Is that you, Frances? he said.
I’ve been trying to get in touch with you.
I know, I know. Listen.
He sighed then, into the phone. I didn’t say anything, but neither did he. When he next spoke, he sounded immensely tired.
I’m sorry, love, he said.
Sorry for what?
You know, you know. You know yourself. I am sorry.
I don’t know what you’re talking about, I said.
Although I had spent weeks calling him about my allowance, I knew that I wouldn’t mention it now and that I might even deny the money was missing if he brought it up.
Listen, he said. It’s just been a bad year. It’s gotten out of hand.
What has?
He sighed again. I said: Dad?
Sure, you’d be better off without me at this stage, he said. Wouldn’t you?
Of course not. Don’t say that. What are you talking about?
Ah. Nothing. Only nonsense.
I was shivering. I tried to think about things that made me feel safe and normal. Material possessions: the white blouse drying on a hanger in the bathroom, the alphabetised novels on my bookshelf, the set of green china cups.
Dad? I said.
You’re a great woman, Frances. You’ve never given us a bit of bother.
Are you okay?
Your mother tells me you have a boyfriend up there now, he said. Nice-looking fellow, I’ve heard.
Dad, where are you? Are you outside somewhere?
He was quiet for a few seconds, and then he sighed again, almost like a groan this time, like he was suffering from some physical ailment he couldn’t speak of or describe.
Listen, he said. I’m sorry, all right? I’m sorry.
Dad, wait.
He hung up. I closed my eyes and felt all the furniture in my room begin to disappear, like a backwards game of Tetris, lifting up toward the top of the screen and then vanishing, and the next thing that would vanish would be me. I dialled his number again and again, knowing he wouldn’t answer. Eventually it stopped ringing, maybe his battery had run flat. I lay there in the dark until it was bright.
*