Again, Rachel, page 46
‘I don’t think it might ever be … anything. It was a one-off. Knowing I’ve probably caused Kallie untold pain, I’m ashamed. But I still wouldn’t change that night with him.’
‘Why? Apart from the obvious?’
‘It’s fixed something. My bitterness is gone. It’s changed how I feel about Yara. I can’t describe it exactly because the loss is still there but it’s not as … ugly?’
‘Is that what you meant by “the click”?’
‘Exactly. The price is high, it means doing without Quin. And living with a hefty side order of guilt and shame about him and Kallie. But …’ I let my hands fall. ‘Not all is lost. Luke’s trying to be my friend, I’m trying to be his. I’d like to give that a go. Tell me, how are things with Adam?’
‘I hate him. He hates me. I fancy him more than I have in decades. We keep having sex. It’s angry. It’s horrible. But sexy. I’ve always wanted to have angry sex and now I’m having it.’ Doubtfully, she said, ‘Which is good.’ Then ‘… I guess.’
82
Work was as intense as ever and while I was there, I managed to give it my all. One by one, my ducklings left. Trassa had been replaced by an obscenely wealthy young coke addict called Kael. Three days later, Harlie departed; in her stead we got Celeste, a gilet-wearing alcoholic, armoured with weapons-grade respectability. Dennis had been next to go. And today, three weeks later than originally scheduled, my beloved Chalkie was off.
My phone beeped with a text – from Taryn, my ‘hiking friend’. Rachel, when would be a good time to call?
Oh God. The holiday Quin and I had booked to Transylvania, with Taryn and Timothy. I’d been putting off dealing with it …
But I needed to be an adult so I took a breath and picked up my phone. ‘Taryn?’
‘Rach. Quin sent a message,’ she said. ‘I’m so sorry you’ve broken up.’
‘Thanks. I know, it’s –’
‘How are you doing?’
‘I’m okay. Honestly. I guess we need to talk about the –’
‘– trip. Quin says he’s giving you custody. He means he won’t be going, but that you still should.’
Suddenly it hurt to breathe. I felt such sadness for Quin, for both of us, that all that affection and connection had just … collapsed.
‘Rach …?’ Taryn asked.
‘Just. Let me take a moment …’
Here were the facts and they were unpleasant: we’d already paid half the cost. It was non-refundable. More importantly, this trip was my project. I’d blithely gone ahead and booked our accommodation in daringly out-of-the-way places – I couldn’t abandon Taryn and Timothy.
And I had wanted to go – in a way, I still did. Ted probably wouldn’t let me change my dates off – our annual leave got locked in early – so I might as well spend it in the stunning beauty of Transylvania instead of sitting at home, the curtains drawn, watching Below Deck with Crunchie.
‘On paper, this seems awkward,’ Taryn said. ‘But I think the three of us would still get a lot out of it.’
‘You’re absolutely right,’ I said. ‘The three of us are going and we will have a magical time.’
Buoyed by that positivity, I switched off my phone and took Chalkie to an interview room for our last one-to-one. And it was so encouraging. He’d gleaned a huge amount of new information about himself during his time here; somehow he’d gone way deeper than he ever had before.
After we’d role-played some situations where he’d have to manage his anger or grief, we stood to say goodbye.
‘You know how fond of you I am,’ I said. ‘But I do not want to see you ever again.’
‘But’, he said, with a sweet twinkle, ‘you might.’
At my startled silence, he prompted, ‘Right?’
In my five years in the Cloisters, this had never happened before.
‘You’re in recovery, amirite?’ he prompted.
I laughed. ‘Yeah.’ There wasn’t much point denying it.
‘Down through the years, a lot of good, hard-working people have tried to help me. You’re the one who broke me open.’
‘Just doing my job.’
‘Na-ah. You go the extra mile.’
For a moment I thought my heart would actually crack with gratitude. Despite my many mistakes, Chalkie was saying that there was a reason for me.
He spread his arms wide. ‘Is this … okay?’
I stepped into the hug. Silent tears slid down my face for Chalkie, the little lost boy.
‘Thank you,’ he said, his voice thick.
‘Oh my God no, Chalkie! Thank you.’
83
‘Yara …’ Helplessly, I pleaded with my cherry-blossom tree. ‘Sweetie? Where are your flowers? It’s the middle of May, what are you doing with them?’
Turning, I caught sight of Devin’s face at the kitchen window. He looked concerned.
‘All grand here,’ I called at him. ‘Just talking to …’ My dead daughter? A tree? Take your pick.
‘Okay.’ As if he were on castors, Devin retreated from view, seeming even more freaked out.
Once he’d gone, I resumed the chat. ‘Seriously, what’s the story?’ I gestured at the tiny beige buds. ‘Is it more rain you’re waiting for? Warmer temperatures?’
But Yara’s voice – or the voice that I ‘heard’ in my head – remained silent. And it was very frustrating because, until this tree bloomed, there was no excuse to contact Luke.
In the kitchen, Kate asked carefully, ‘Are you okay?’
Funnily enough, I was. Sometimes, for no obvious reason, the universe decides to cut us some slack – because six weeks on from Mum’s party, despite my sisters’ gloomy predictions, I hadn’t crashed and burned. Undeniably, emotions were coming at me from all directions and it was a lot, but I was coping.
As I was in good form, I decided to check in on Kallie’s Instagram. I’d been keeping a casual eye on her page, trying to not obsess. Recently, there had been a lot about her music: she’d done back-up vocals on someone’s demo and spent a week at a song-writing bootcamp. But nothing about Luke.
Every day without a picture of him, I exhaled a little more.
But this morning was different.
This latest shot was a selfie, with Kallie’s pretty face in the foreground. Several feet behind her was Luke, next to a huge, dark horse. He seemed to be speaking soothingly to it. The caption was ‘Playing hard to get’. Followed by several laughing emojis, then a red heart.
Frozen in place, I stared and stared, shocked by how jealous I felt, how deeply disappointed.
Steeling myself, I clicked on her stories. There she was, sparkly-eyed and pretty. ‘Hi guys!’ she carolled. ‘So! Yeah, that was a meaningful “so”.’ She laughed. ‘I’mmmm … yeah, hoping for some good news. Some … positive changes in my life. It’s too soon to go public on it, just in case it …’ She presented her cupped hands to the camera, then divided them. ‘… falls away. I’m asking for your prayers and positive energy. Whatever you got, send them my way!’
I watched it five or six more times, wondering what the hell this positive life change could be. Moving in with Luke? Getting married to Luke?
Jesus Christ.
And here came Claire. In the six weeks since the commencement of Operation Rally-Round, a Saturday-morning hike had become a thing.
‘Were you on Insta?’ she asked.
I nodded. ‘What good news is she hoping for?’
‘Fuck alone knows.’ Claire wasn’t putting a positive spin on this, which was a worry.
‘And what about the photo?’ I asked. ‘Who was playing hard to get? Kallie?’
‘I don’t know, babes. Could be Luke. Could even have been the horse.’
It could even have been the horse. The actual issue, the only thing that was truly important, was that my feelings for Luke hadn’t settled yet. Not even close. The Costello man-lurve dopamine had mutated into some sort of tragic crush. Late at night, when I couldn’t sleep, I let myself indulge in all kinds of fantasies where somehow Luke and I were together again.
But I knew it would never happen.
Or so I’d thought. This morning, Kallie’s photo had shown me that I’d got far too attached to the idea.
The insane thing was that I also missed Quin. He’d been my buddy as well as my boyfriend and I bumped up against his absence every day.
But my life was far from empty. Helen checked in on me regularly. That was what her texts actually said: It’s me. Checking in on you regularly. Are you okay? Yes? No? A one-word reply is fine. No need to write War and Peace.
During the last month and a half, I’d never had so many invitations. In between redoing my steps, I’d helped Murdo paint his new flat, spent an auntie-and-niece afternoon with Holly (manicure, volunteering), got sunburnt on a chilli cook-out with Brianna and her neighbours, had a glorious weekend of Atlantic squalls and dazzling sunshine with Brigit and tried a woodcarving class with Margaret. (It wasn’t for either of us.)
Despite my many activities, I was lonely. But it was my doing. No one had made me sleep with Luke.
And I wasn’t broken the way I’d been when Luke had left me, six years ago.
‘Rachel,’ Claire said as she strode up the side of a hill, ‘no matter what you think, your life isn’t over. You probably won’t be alone forever.’
‘I’m not alone. I love lots of people and they love me.’
‘Yeah, but …’ She hesitated. ‘Nieces? Sisters? People you work with?’ She shook her head. ‘Nah.’
‘For a so-called feminist, you’ve some worrying ideas.’
‘Just being honest, saying what everyone else thinks but is afraid to. Equal pay? Thanks very much. Ridey men? Thanks, I’ll have them as well. What about Murdo? He’s single now. That’s why he moved into the new apartment.’
‘Leave poor Murdo out of this. Anyway, my life has no room for men.’ Tongue-in-cheek, I said, ‘I’m doing work on myself.’
‘I know you’re being funny, but, Rachel, what exactly does that mean? I hear people say it and, honestly, I haven’t a clue.’
‘It means I must feel my uncomfortable feelings and not numb them.’
‘But what’s the actual “work”?’
‘Feeling the feelings is the work.’
‘It’s that passive? They always make it sound like they’re, I dunno, rummaging around inside themselves, moving their spleen two millimetres to the left, having a good look at their pancreas. Not numb my feelings? That’s easy!’
Not for everyone. She was gas.
‘What age is Murdo?’ she asked.
‘Too young.’
‘Does that mean you fancy him?’
‘I don’t.’ Murdo could have been sexy, I didn’t know – because he had those giant pierced earlobes, so big you could pass a carrot through. They were immediate dealbreakers.
Thoughtfully, Claire said, ‘My Spidey senses tell me that if you went to Quin and grovelled, he’d probably take you back.’
‘And he could just as easily have got married to Golden. Or met someone else. He probably hates me.’
‘Do you hate him?’
‘No.’ At her quizzical look I said, ‘I feel almost … sorry for him.’
‘For Quin?’
‘Claire. I know he seems confident and, I guess, privileged? In some ways he is. But in others, he’s insecure, he’s easily wounded. I don’t hate him at all.’
‘Even though he slept with your one with the red face?’
‘That was … hard. But hurt people hurt people.’
She shook her head. ‘Christ, Rachel … I’d want to fucking kill him.’
Speaking of which … ‘How are things with you and Adam?’
Claire paused, one hefty hiking boot planted on a rock for stability, and smiled. ‘Me and Adam … yeaaaah. He’s …’ Another dreamy smile. ‘Great.’
‘So you don’t hate him any more?’
Sharply, she said, ‘I love him.’
God’s sake! It was impossible to keep up.
‘It wasn’t for us, the swinging,’ she said. ‘Things were quite dicey there for a while. But we’re back on track – sex three times a year – and at least we tried.’
84
The next morning, it wasn’t even 7 a.m. when I woke. A Sunday, I’d a busy day planned: first a sunrise yoga class, then an NA meeting, then Margaret’s birthday brunch, even though we shouldn’t call it ‘brunch’, Claire said, because what were we, a Shower of Basics?
While I pulled on my yoga leggings (which were the same as all my other leggings), I went to the bedroom window and once again looked down at Yara’s tree. ‘Bloom,’ I begged her. ‘Please. What is taking you so long?’
Suddenly it hit me that I’d made peace with not having had other children.
It was the gardening, I realized. Over the past few years, those long hours where I’d been fixed in one place, with no distractions from my own thoughts, paying witness to life, death and a form of resurrection, had forced me to grieve, then eventually – slowly, gradually – to heal.
My gratitude was immense, so much so that it made me dizzy. I lay back down for several minutes, in order to absorb it.
Eventually I got moving again and was rummaging in my drawer, hunting for anti-slip socks, when my phone beeped with a text – someone was awake early.
Just checking … that you haven’t forgotten to send me photos of Yara’s tree. L x
As if. I’d been standing at the tree, almost muttering incantations, to bring on the flowers.
Haven’t forgotten, but it’s taking forever. Maybe next week?
Fingers crossed x
Breathlessly, I watched the phone, waiting for a reply.
Send a pic today anyway? x
K. Or I could FaceTime you rn? Give you not-very-exciting action shots? x
Do it! X
As I raced down the stairs and out into the garden, desperately pressing icons, Luke’s face appeared on screen.
‘Hey.’ I was thrilled by the sight of him.
‘Hey, yourself.’ He looked shy. ‘Is this okay?’
‘It’s perfect. What time is it there?’
‘Just gone midnight.’
‘Last night?’
‘Yeah.’ He laughed. ‘Last night. Is that Crunchie?’
Crunchie, picking up on my mood, was barking and racing around in excited circles. ‘You remember Luke?’ I showed her the screen. ‘You liked him.’
‘I liked her too,’ I heard Luke say.
‘So.’ I moved around the tree, displaying the little buds from all angles. ‘There isn’t much to see right now. But another week or ten days should do it. I’m sorry, it’s slower this year. So I’ll do some shots or … I could call you?’
‘Call me! That would be great. Hey, I’m not … holding you up, am I? You need to get going?’
‘Not at all.’ Feck the yoga class …
‘So … stay and talk to me? For a few minutes?’
‘Um. Sure.’ I sat cross-legged on the grass, Crunchie head-butting her way onto the screen.
‘Having a good weekend?’ Luke asked.
‘Busy! Yesterday morning Claire and I went for a hike, then I planted nasturtiums, poppies.’ I stood up and walked towards a flower bed. ‘I’ll show you. See. Cornflowers. These here are sunflowers, not so impressive today but they will be at some stage. Today I’ve an NA meeting, then Margaret’s birthday brunch. You?’
‘Just … stuff.’ He went a little cagey. Kallie stuff, I guessed. It hurt.
Don’t be like that.
Yara was right. So, in a place deep down in me, a transaction took place: I had no right to feel jealous of Kallie. Luke had offered me friendship and it was something I wanted.
It was no real surprise that I was caught up in fantasies about him – those nine hours with him had been transcendent. But …
… it will pass.
‘Tell me’, he said, ‘all about you being a gardener now!’
I sat again, Crunchie bounding into my lap. ‘It was a total accident. When I was staying with Garvaret –’
‘Who?’
‘Garv and Margaret. I lived with them after I left New York.’ I’d said the words and, crucially, said them without bitterness – this friendship thing with Luke was working. ‘Garv is a great gardener, he showed me the magic.’
‘And the magic is?’
‘Protecting my seedlings, watching them emerge from the earth, be beautiful, then die, then for more to grow in their place. It’s taken time for me to see it, but it helped me to live with her loss.’ Suddenly curious, I asked, ‘Did anything help you?’
‘Horse-riding.’ His certainty was unexpected. ‘Seriously, it saved me. Sometime during that second, awful year in Denver, I gave it a go. Straight away, I knew I’d found my thing.’
‘I’d assumed you started because of Kallie.’
‘Other way round. When I met her, I’d often spend whole weekends on the trails. She said she never saw me. She was right. But I was too … selfish, I guess, to compromise, so even though she was nervous of horses, she took lessons. Now she’s great.’
‘Wow. She’s determined.’
He laughed. He sounded warm. ‘She’s certainly that.’
‘Luke.’ I made myself say it. ‘It’s hard to think of you as selfish. That’s not the way you used to be.’
‘Aaah. Life.’ He looked sad. ‘Comes along and changes us … So. Who’ll be at Margaret’s birthday party?’
‘No men, just all the Walsh women. The five of us, plus Mum and Kate, Francesca and Molly. And Margaret’s friend, Emily.’
‘And Holly?’ he asked.
‘Too young.’ But I was touched that he remembered her.
‘And Helen’s Best Friend, Bella Devlin?’
I burst out laughing. ‘How d’you know about her?’
‘Met her at your mum’s party.’
His eyes flicked away. There was a second, a hiccup of discomfort, as we remembered that night, then we proceeded.
