Anouska Knight - A Part of Me

‘She should be the one clearing off,’ Mum declared, vigorously stirring the tea.

I never thought that James would do this. He’d pleaded for a chance to fix things, to undo the undoable. I’d listened as Phil had coached me through the week on the evils of the unfaithful, but through the malignant mass of bitterness and hurt churning away at my insides, there was something of me that desperately wanted James to fix it all. But we were on social services’ schedule, not Relate’s. We didn’t have time to delve into our brittle relationship and gently nurse what had been broken.

‘And should James clear off too, Mum?’ I asked.

She tapped her spoon on the rim of her cup, ignoring my accusation of her lopsided justice. ‘You know, sweetheart, James has done a terrible thing. But it doesn’t make him a terrible person.’

I watched as she set the hot drinks in place between us, then looked away through the glass onto the garden. A little robin flitted down onto the lawn and began pecking away at the grass. Maybe I was the terrible person. Maybe I’d pushed James out, neglected him. There hadn’t been much room left for anything that wasn’t either work or adoption related for longer than was healthy for anyone.

Mum held her cup to her face and blew over it, settling herself back into her chair. ‘He called again this morning.’ I carried on watching the determined little bird. James had been calling all week, leaving texts and voicemails, apologising, asking that we talk, offering to take some of his annual leave if that made my returning to work any less humiliating. ‘He said he needs to talk to you, sweetheart, before you go back into the office.’ I hadn’t accepted James’s offer but still he’d anticipated I’d go back to Cyan. I hated that I was so predictable.

‘Mum, please, don’t. I’m not ready to speak to him yet.’

‘You can’t avoid him for ever, Amy. You need to talk to him. Before the social worker catches wind of all this. Won’t you see him in the office tomorrow anyway?’

An unfortunate creature caught the attention of the robin, suddenly transforming it from Christmas icon to ruthless killer. I’d never been great with birds, they seemed all beady eyes and sharp bits to me. ‘He has site meetings on Mondays. It’ll be easier for me to go back there tomorrow while he’s not there.’ While I still have a job . That’s if I didn’t lose my bottle first, which was more than possible.

Mum repositioned her glasses on her head. ‘For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing the right thing. I know he’s hurt you, sweetheart, but if you’re both serious about trying to salvage this, you’re going to need to work together. Children need stability, and this situation is far from stable. You need to be very careful you don’t jeopardise everything you’ve achieved over these last months because of one … indiscretion .’

Indiscretion. That was one word for it.

‘It’s not that simple, Mum. He didn’t just slip up .’

Mum took a sip from her cup. ‘James shouldn’t have fooled around with that girl, Amy. But men … they do slip up, lose their way. Sometimes, sweetheart, they just can’t help themselves.’

It was only ever a matter of time before parallels would be drawn between James and my dad. I inhaled deeply and rolled into the inevitable. ‘That’s just it, Mum, they can help themselves. It’s a choice they make.’

‘No, not always, Amy. Sometimes they just … they fall into an unexpected situation, and then before they know it they’re not sure what they want.’

I wondered if after telling herself the same thing for so long, my mother had somehow erased the basic principles of betrayal from her understanding. Eighteen years on she was still hanging onto the ghost of a notion – that Dad’s departure was somehow not of his choosing.

Mum looked out onto the garden. I let my eyes fall to the teacup steaming on the table between us. It felt intrusive somehow to look outside while she did also. She sighed and turned uncertain eyes back to me. ‘I’m not trying to be insensitive, Amy. I know how much hurt you must be feeling, I do. But, you and James have been through so much together. Experiences that have bound the two of you. He hasn’t led you to believe that he wants a relationship with this woman, has he?’ I searched the garden for something to concentrate on. The robin was nowhere, abandoning me to the conversation. The answer to her question was no . No, he hadn’t. In every one of the messages he’d left these past seven days, James had said that he loved me. He loved me, and that he was sorry.

Mum was still waiting. I shook my head to answer her.

‘James knows how complicated things can be, Amy. Hear him out, see what he has to say. Life isn’t a walk in the park for anyone, sweetheart. It’s complicated and messy and at times, ruddy heart-breaking. But, you have to press on.’

‘So what? I should just forget what he’s done?’

‘No, not forget. James has done wrong, but he is trying. Doesn’t that count for something?’

It did count for something. Mum had never met another man, waiting for my father to show a fraction of the regret James had shown over this last week. It would be cruel to say to her that it didn’t count, I just didn’t know whether it counted enough.

‘I can’t go through with the party, Mum. I’m sorry. Even if we were on speaking terms, I couldn’t stand in front our friends and family and … fake it.’

‘You haven’t got anything to be ashamed of, Amy. Lots of people learn to carry this sort of burden. Relationships are all about accepting each other’s imperfections. Goodness knows, we all have those.’ I couldn’t argue with that. Imperfections didn’t exactly encompass that which James had accepted in me.

‘The party was a nice idea, Mum, but it was your idea. I never wanted a fuss about the adoption, I just wanted the …’ I couldn’t say the word; it stuck in my throat like a rusty barb. I had to get around this or I’d never make it through a single day at Cyan. I tried to think of something, anything, else, but I was already losing again. I looked outside, hoping the shift in position might slow the inevitable but the tingling was already there behind my eyes.

‘Oh, sweetheart. Don’t cry. You’re tougher than this, I know you are.’ Mum leant over and began rubbing my knee reassuringly. I shook my head. I wasn’t tough. I couldn’t survive a broken fingernail or a mistimed buzzword.

‘I’m not, Mum. Guy’s tough, not me.’ I couldn’t recall a time I’d ever seen my brother cry, not even during the catastrophic fallout after he’d walked in on my father and Petra. Guy had glued the three of us together until Mum had finally realised that we didn’t need to keep eating Dad’s favourites any more.

‘Oh, Amy, you’re tougher than you think.’ She reached for my hand, clasping onto it as she always had whenever I’d brought a crisis home with me.

‘What am I going to do, Mum?’ I asked steadily, trying not to set myself off again. She was making small circular motions over the back of my thumb.

‘Well, first you need to work out what’s most important in your life right now, sweetheart.’

‘I know what’s most important. That part hasn’t changed in the last five years.’

‘Right. Well, that only leaves one other question. Has James’s part in that changed in the last five years?’

James had always been part of that picture, but tensions had been growing lately. Somewhere along the line, we’d stopped laughing and making plans. I realised that there had only been one plan for a long time now, and what had started out as a joint venture had at some point turned James into a back-seat passenger on my much diverted road-trip to parenthood. But never had I imagined him not being there, somewhere, with me. Never had he said he wanted to get off this journey. Or maybe I just hadn’t been listening.