A child who prayed he’d see me not you.
You had a crush.
Crush, crush, a squeeze of juice poured over ice, a summer drink. When people say it, they don’t mean it can crush you. That it can blow you apart.
You’ve suffered enough.
My eyes are stinging. In quiet of the church, I feel everything, the sharp sear of stitches, the contractions of my stomach, the fullness of my breasts. When I was little, I was scared of needles, I would scream when I had to go for vaccinations. Mama would push up her sleeves and hold out her wrists. ‘Squeeze,’ she’d say. ‘Give it to me.’ I squeezed until her wrists turned white, until I felt no pain, only her insides, her bones. She would never have wanted this for me. She would have taken it herself.
The day after she announced her engagement, she tried to draw me into her arms, she said she wanted me to come on their honeymoon. ‘We’ve always been together. Nothing needs to change.’
I pushed her away. ‘I can’t think of anything worse.’ The hurt in her eyes made me feel good and sick all at once. ‘I don’t want to tag along!’
She looked at me like I was a stranger. The engagement sent a fault line between us, I started more fights with her than I’d ever done in my life, needlessly difficult if she asked me for my opinion on her dress, moody when we visited wedding venues, argumentative when she tried to involve me in the flower arrangements. When she shouted at me, I felt relief. I wanted her to hate me as much as I hated myself.
‘What’s going on with you?’ she’d ask over and over. ‘Are you worried things are going to change? Don’t you like Daniel?’ I put my hands over my ears so I wouldn’t hear his name. When he came to the apartment, I’d go to my room, shut the door.
It was Daniel who found the Easter camp at Wyatt. I’d never been to camp before, we couldn’t afford anything like that, but Daniel opened up an entire world. ‘It’s a boarding school, one of the best girls’ schools in the country, and you could go for the holidays.’ Mama showed me the website. The school was a sprawling Victorian manor set between Chiltern hills, acres of grounds with a lake, gardens. I shrugged, pretended not to be impressed, even though it was the only thing that kept me sane during wedding preparations, its possibilities tinkling inside me like bells. I could become someone else, I wasn’t sure what, but definitely not awkward or quiet or fungus freak. And when I got back to St Matthews, I’d finally have something to say about my holidays, I wouldn’t have to endure the humiliation of confessing I’d done nothing, spoken to no one.
The only fly in the ointment was Mama. She let me sign up, politely accepted Daniel’s offer to pay the fee, but she wouldn’t stop talking about what had happened between us. ‘When I get back this needs to change.’ She gestured at the space between us. ‘This needs to get better. We have to make this better.’
She called me every day from Lake Garda on the mobile she bought me specifically for that purpose. I watched it ring, didn’t pick up. I didn’t want anything to do with them. I wanted to be here, where the light fell clearer, greener than in London, sparkling on the lake before I broke the surface with the new dive I’d learnt, or glancing off the white stone walls of the hall where there was more food than I could ever imagine – roasts, a salad bar, five types of dessert.
The girls at Wyatt were a different breed. At St Matthews, I was one of two Asians; Christine was the other and I hatedher because she was exactly who I thought I should be – petite, black fringe, Grade 6 on the piano – she called Mama ‘Auntie’ when she saw her and spoke in perfect Mandarin. But at Wyatt, almost a quarter of the girls were Asian and, like me, they didn’t play musical instruments, they understood but couldn’t read the language of their parents. At Wyatt, I felt normal, sometimes, even special. The first lunch at camp, a girl called Jennie slammed her lunch tray down next to mine and cupped a handful of my hair. ‘Oh my God, you’re so lucky. Your hair colour isexactlythe shade I’ve been looking for!’
It was easy to let Jennie and her friend Lisa adopt me, to let their dramas overpower my own. Lisa’s father was some kind of Hong Kong property magnate; her main topic of conversation was her horse, Toffee, and her on-off boyfriend from the neighbouring boarding school. Jennie, from Seoul, was obsessed with beauty – make-up, skincare, hair – and determined to educate me in K-pop. I never touched my sketchbook. There was no time with horse-riding and make-overs and movie nights. I was almost too distracted to think about my butterflies, the warmth of Daniel’s body behind me, the pulse of his throat. Almost.
Mama left me long voicemails, where she pretended she didn’t know I was ignoring her. ‘Ciao, bella’ she’d start, sunshine in her voice. She’d tell me about the boat trips and the linguine, the hotel and the cobblestone streets, sometimes I listened all the way to the end, other times, it gave me unbelievable satisfaction to press ‘delete’ while she was still talking, just cut her off.
The messages stopped after six days.Finally, I thought,she’s got the message. But as the days rolled into a week, eight days, nine, I started to worry, it was fair that I didn’t want to speak toher but not that she didn’t want to speak to me. I called Daniel. His voice was flat and strange, he sounded like he was on a motorway. He said he was already on his way to Wyatt; he’d be there within the hour.
When he arrived, one of the camp leaders led us sombrely to an empty classroom. I stared at the clean whiteboard while he told me Mama had left the hotel early to go to a flea market, I pictured her at the crack of dawn, leafing through antique lace, staring into the curve of a silver spoon, appraising a jug carved with lemons. He’d wanted a swim so hadn’t gone with her. He said he’d regret it forever.
The police weren’t sure how it happened, just that she lost control of the car. It crashed into a protective wall. The fuel tank exploded. I covered my face. He pulled me into his arms.
Light arrows over the church pew in front of me, it’s so bright where it’s shining that, for a second, I pretend she is just beyond it, about to step towards me, and then I am crying because after so many years, I still want my mother. She would have wept over Faye. She would have loved Millie. She’d be horrified that I’ve left.
This needs to change,she’d said.This needs to get better.
I stand up.
I will go back to him. To the man who made me lose everything. And I will change things. I will make things better.
From: Kit McDermott
13:47
I’m sorry for saying you were selfish, I didn’t mean it. You’re the least selfish person I’ve ever met.
It’s me, isn’t it? This is all my fault. A few months ago, I watched you climb the stairs, you had to haul yourself up, one hand after the other, your beautiful stomach sticking out from under your T-shirt, and I thought this is too much for you.
It was so much worse this time round. Not just the nausea, all those hospital visits, the extra scans but the tiredness – you could barely talk at the end of the day. Sometimes, I’d watch you plaster a smile on your face for Millie when she showed you another toilet-roll creation and I thought you can’t do this again. Now, I wish I could turn back time, I wish I’d never asked you for a second child.
If anyone’s selfish, it’s me.
16
Park