Eimear McBride - The Lesser Bohemians

Oh Stephen! I say. He just nods. What did you say to her? Well, I’d sort of calmed down once I’d heard what Grace’s reaction was and it’s not as if I was ever going to refuse, so I said Yes of course I will, and Marianne said Thank you.

We just sat there then. It was a lot to take in. Realising your worst secret isn’t a secret is a very odd sensation. I didn’t really know what to think. I couldn’t decide whether it was a relief or I still wanted to kill Marianne. But far beyond all of those things, those locked doors between Gracie and me were suddenly open. After so many years of waiting and wishing for only that. I had to keep turning away to wipe my eyes. I felt a bit useless actually Eil. And then the fucking food arrived.

He sits himself up and starts to smile. Oh bollocks, I thought and, like she read my mind, Marianne said Well, we might as well eat. Turned out I was hungry though, so I began wolfing it. We each had another glass of wine. Talked a little more about Grace and what had been going on. When would be a good time for me to come. Then we ordered another bottle of wine — I suppose we weren’t feeling so civilised any more. But, in spite of everything that had just been said, I felt suddenly pleased to be sat in that restaurant with Grace’s name passing back and forth between us. After so many years, and all that went wrong, it was right to sit with Marianne and talk about our girl. And, I don’t know if it was the wine or what, but I realised now was my chance to ask what I never thought I’d have the opportunity to. Can I ask you something Marianne? I said. Just as we’re getting along so swimmingly! she groaned Go on. Why did you take her the way you did? Just after she was born it would have made sense but we’d been getting on pretty well for years — at least that’s how it seemed to me — and the way you left it was such a shock. Why did you do it like that? I can’t believe you don’t know, she said. No, I said I don’t. I did it because I was still in love with you, she said And after everything we’d been through, when you finally cleaned up, you never asked me to come back. Not once Stephen and I would have too, right up to the moment when I got on that plane with her. Maybe you just didn’t love me any more, or maybe you were ashamed, but I loved you so much my only option was to hurt you in the end. I thought it was so obvious, especially to you. I’m surprised you didn’t realise. That never crossed my mind, I said No.

Remember those visits at David’s? she said When I started to show you how to do little things for Grace and we’d laugh together like we were just normal new parents? Yeah, I said Of course I do. Well on one of those days I looked at you — being hopeless, I think, with her babygro — and I suddenly knew all that love was still there, which was ridiculous, frankly, after everything, but true nonetheless. Too proud to show it, of course. I had to keep punishing you. I wanted you to come grovelling and chase me around like when we first met. I’d get my chance to recriminate but still take you back. So I waited for you to give me that look which would mean The Start. And I waited. And waited. And then realised you were with David. He and I were in the kitchen, having a chat. I mentioned something about us reconciling. You should talk to Stephen, he said but the look on his face. I just knew. And after The Seagull, everyone did. That was so bloody typical of you. Real salt in the wound. But even when you and he finished I think I still hoped. Then one night, collecting Grace, I asked what had caused it and you said you’d had a fling with Eleanor what’s-her-name. That’s when I knew I was wasting my time because you didn’t see me as anything other than Grace’s mother now. And you were always friendly, even warm, but you didn’t notice me any more. Not when I wore short skirts, or low tops, or told you I’d slept with someone else. Good for you, was all you said and never got that look in your eye again. God that look made me put up with so much. It made me feel like the most beautiful woman in London, but it was gone and only Grace mattered to you. All that struggle, trying to help, trying to persuade you to clean up and the moment Grace arrived, it all just vanished. I think I was jealous of how you felt about her, what you were willing to do for her, that’s terrible, isn’t it? Marianne, it wasn’t as straightforward as that, I said It’s not like I hadn’t given myself a good run for my money after you left. I know, she said But that’s how it seemed to me then. So when I met Phil, and we decided to move away, I saw a chance to make you think about me again. I pretended, even to myself, that it was about protecting Grace but I waited to tell you until the very last minute so it would be as bad as it could possibly be. I never doubted I’d shame you into agreeing. I could still read you pretty well and you were always so sorry, so ashamed. I knew what it would do to you, losing Grace. I did it so it would. But you looked at me, Stephen, really looked at me that night and I’d finally done something to you.

By the time you showed up in Vancouver though, you weren’t looking again. It was stupid of me to be upset, for God’s sake, I was a happily married woman but some things never go away. I might have been more amenable if you’d made a pass and I’d gotten to refuse. Except I probably wouldn’t have, even then. If you’d only just left it Stephen, I might’ve come around on my own. It was your desperation for her that drove me mad so, every time you’d ask, you were just tightening the noose around your own neck. When we left England I’d decided I’d never make contact again. For those two years I worked constantly to make her forget. Never mentioned you. Called Phil her dad and tried so hard to make him that. But she’d never say it, even at four. She remembered you and asked for you. I never thought she would then, out of the blue, she’d ask When’s Daddy coming round? Or run, calling for you, after some tall man in the street and I’d know I shouldn’t be putting her through it but I couldn’t help myself. The bitterness was so bad. Her first memory though, is of you. Of you showing her the sea. I hate it when she tells that story. Why do you get to have that with her? Anyway, what does it matter. Daddy’s who you’ve always been to Grace and, you probably won’t believe this, but it was my parents insisting ‘This isn’t right. You have to tell that boy where his daughter is’ that finally persuaded me to contact you again.

Eily, when I heard all that, he says I wanted to fucking kill her again. For the first time in over sixteen years I stopped feeling guilty and not because I thought she’d deserved it but because I realised I hadn’t, not all of it anyway.

Jesus Marianne, I said All that rancour over all these years and I never knew that’s how you felt about me. I used to wish there was some way you’d forgive me, I would have done anything for that. But I never asked you back because you said you never would. And by the time I got out of Friern Barnet there was nothing left of me for playing games. I could barely cope with getting out of bed and I’m sure it was humiliating, what happened with David, but he was all I had. At least until you let me see Grace and she gave me a reason to live, something to work towards and I did get there with her. I made a new life and I know it didn’t look like much but it was a lot for me. It was everything. And when you took her away I nearly died. Losing her is by far the worst thing I’ve ever had to survive. And now you’re telling me, when it’s years too late, that it all could have been different? I could have been part of my daughter’s life and got to watch her growing up, if I’d made you feel pretty, if I’d chased you around? If I’d only realised there was still a fucking game going on? Jesus Christ. I would rather believe it was because you hated my guts than this stupid, vain, completely fucking ridiculous bullshit. At least hate has some blood in it. At least there’s some human feeling in that, but to have done this to me because I didn’t guess you shagging someone was supposed to make me jealous? Because I loved my daughter more than you? Then try to make her think I’m some kind of fucking pervert so you’d feel you’d somehow won? When did you not fucking win Marianne? You and your lovely life and your big fucking mansion that contains all the memories of my daughter I’ll never have. I don’t know what you thought the prize was but, whatever it was, you fucking won it. Well done! Jesus, if it wasn’t for Gracie, I’d wish I’d never laid eyes on you.