Heart of Us Page 10

After Dad left for rehab, the mood in our house shifted. Mum seemed more hopeful, and even school felt easier. Dad was away for six months, and we went to visit him a couple of times. He seemed to be doing well and looked like a different person. The grey skin, shaggy beard, and long hair were gone, and in their place were a neat haircut and a smile. He looked at least ten years younger.

  I asked him if he missed the alcohol, and he told me there were reasons for why he would drink, but he was learning to find alternative ways to handle those reasons. It wasn’t the answer I wanted to hear, but I respected him for being honest and for doing the work to be able to stay sober.

  Mum and I were given some pamphlets about addiction, and the main thing that struck me was that Dad would never be cured. Instead, he would have to do one day at a time for the rest of his life. That made me feel somewhat anxious, and it made me want to try to protect him from anything that might trigger a potential fall off the wagon.

  Dad came home just before Christmas. Mum prepared for it by spending ages cleaning the house and cooking food. The tiredness she had carried for so long disappeared, and instead she seemed to dance across the kitchen, and a smile was never far away.

  John went to collect Dad at the rehab, and when the door finally opened and Dad stepped in, Mum wore a shy smile. ‘Welcome home.’

  Dad’s eyes found hers, and I watched as a thousand questions raced between them, as though he wasn’t a hundred percent sure he was welcome. He cleared his throat nervously. ‘Hi Lisa.’

  Mum’s eyebrows rose, and she walked towards him and shut the door behind him. Stepping up to him, she put her chin out and looked up at him. ‘Can I have a hug?’

  Dad searched her face before taking a deep breath and raising his arms tentatively around her. Her arms circled his waist, and she stepped into the hug, resting her head on his shoulder. And as awkward as it had seemed at first, the longer it went on, the more it seemed right. Dad seemed to breathe her in and slowly relaxed, and by the time Mum kissed his cheek and pulled away, they were both smiling.

  Dad lifted his chin toward me. ‘Hey, Mir-maid.’

  I gave him a crooked smile. It was weird seeing my Mum and Dad hug for the first time in months. ‘Dad.’

  He took his jacket off and hung it up before coming over to hug me too. He hadn’t hugged me in years, but as he did, I felt a deep sense of belonging. Looking back, I don’t understand why I would associate my Dad’s hugs with feeling secure and at home – so much of what he did gave me a sense of insecurity and anxiety. Still, his hugs were grounding in the rawest of ways. Maybe Dad was so real that there wasn’t room for any questions – I don’t know.

  Instead of going to the Reids’ for Christmas as usual, this time we had them over at ours, and I think we all felt a sense of pride in being able to host Christmas as a family. We were no longer just the leeches that were always being invited over to their house – this time we could contribute something as well.

  Karen had got us all year-old ugly Christmas jumpers from the church charity shop, and we ate, and played games, and listened to each other tell stories, and laughed.

  At night, we all went to church. I sat between Mum and Jack, with Jack’s arm around my shoulders, and as we sang Christmas carols and listened to the reverend go on and on, I felt I had everything I could ever wish for. There was even a slight dusting of snow as we came out of church.

  Dad’s next task was to try to settle back into a normal lifestyle. That turned out to be quite difficult, as nobody wanted to employ him, and instead, he ended up with the options of volunteering or doing college courses. Not knowing whether the courses would ever lead to any work made the investment into his education seem somewhat risky, but despite all the alcohol, he had a good brain and wanted to study. Still, the courses he ended up taking were only part-time, and he struggled to fill the rest of the time. Every day was a test, and Mum and I tried our best to keep him occupied. And though there were many days I anxiously called out ‘Dad?’ when I came home from school, we found a routine that seemed to work.

  It wasn’t until a year and a half later that the first big test came.

  ***

  Jack

  I met Michael and Nick during fresher’s week at university. They were studying other degrees, but we ended up sitting next to each other at some cross-programme orientation to the university.

  As neither of them was from Edinburgh, I offered to show them around the city. Nick was from the US and Michael from Canada, and both were in awe of the old buildings and all the history. Michael brought his camera and took pictures of things I would never have thought to take pictures of. It was all a bit funny to me – I liked Edinburgh, but I dreamed of travelling. I wanted to experience new cultures, eat different kinds of food, and see the world. The old, damp Edinburgh buildings were just old to me. Still, Michael and Nick seemed to like them, and from then on, we were friends. Nick and I joined the same football team, and we all joined the same gym and started working out together.

  After a few weeks, I invited them to come over for Sunday lunch at my parents’ house. They both glanced at each other, as though they weren’t sure, so I told them about how we would fill the house on Sundays, and that they wouldn’t be the only strangers there.

  Nick shrugged, and said he wouldn’t mind a hot meal, and Michael appeared to relax, and said he would come too.

  That Sunday, Mum had made lasagnes before going to church, leaving Miranda and me in charge of making salads. Julia offered to help, but we soon had her setting the table instead of helping with the food. It was better for everyone that way.

  Mum and Dad brought a bunch of people home from church, and soon the house filled with kids I had never met running around chasing our dog, Becky, and people talking awkwardly to each other.

  Miranda’s parents, Lisa and Jimmy, came over too – Lisa brought a big tray of apple cake for dessert – and just as Dad was about to say grace, Michael and Nick rang the doorbell. I let them in, and chuckled as they held out a box of chocolates and a sad-looking potted plant.

  ‘Give them to Mum and she’ll love you forever.’ It was true – the way to Mum’s heart was kindness in whatever form. Chocolate and flowers, no matter how wilted, qualified.

  Nick straightened his spine as though he was feeling uncomfortable. ‘Okay.’

  Nick and Michael looked awkwardly at each other but followed me into the kitchen where people had started helping themselves to food. Mum held on to Becky’s collar as she was speaking to Lisa.

  Becky, who had more heart than manners, struggled to contain her excitement over all the people gathered in the house, and when she saw Michael and Nick, she started pulling to get loose. Mum was jolted out of her conversation and dragged toward us as Becky tried to jump up and greet them.

  ‘Let me put her away, and I’ll come and say hi.’

  ‘It’s okay,’ Michael said as he reached for Becky, who started licking him as her tail wagged and she kept trying to jump. ‘She’s a good dog.’

  I laughed. ‘She’s not really. She’s spoiled and lazy and doesn’t listen…’

  Mum put a hand across her chest, looking aghast at my words. ‘She is not.’ She turned to Michael and Nick. ‘Don’t listen to my heathen son.’

  I snorted and watched Becky, who was struggling to try to get away from Mum. Scrunching my face, I held up my thumb and index finger, showing a small space between them. ‘She is, though. A wee bit.’

  Mum ran a hand down my arm and tutted. ‘Aw, Becky’s a lovely dog and don’t you say otherwise.’

  ‘Uh-huh.’ I smiled and grabbed onto the dog’s collar. ‘I’ll put her in the garden so she can calm down.’

  Mum straightened, rubbing her hands on her jeans. ‘Okay.’ I pulled Becky along as I heard Mum say, ‘You must be Nick and Michael.’

  Once Becky was shut outside with a chew-toy, I returned to the kitchen to see Mum hugging Michael as though they were long-lost friends. Judging by the bewildered look on
Nick’s face, he had already had his hug. Michael seemed relaxed when he stepped out of her arms, though, and she took in the plant and the chocolates. ‘Thank you. I’ll put these out with dessert later, and we can all enjoy them.’

  ‘Join the queue and get some food. We can sit in the garden if you want.’ I grimaced. ‘It’s a bit crowded in here.’

  I introduced them to Miranda and Julia, and I watched the girls do the eye-thing girls do when they’re talking to each other without using words.

  We took our food out onto the patio, and Becky came and sniffed us all, before lying down under the table.

  Julia started chatting to Michael and Nick, asking them both a hundred questions, and soon there was a discussion about the nature of truth going on. Julia had a way of turning the most normal conversation sideways and finding something to debate.

  Miranda and I mostly watched as the three of them discussed whether truth is always true and how culture or experience can impact a person’s perception of truth. Miranda bit her lip a few times, as though she wanted to say something, but shook her head and listened instead. Then the conversation turned more personal as Michael asked, ‘Would you rather be told a harsh truth or live a sweet lie?’

  Now Miranda couldn’t help herself. ‘Are you asking if we would rather live a fantasy than in reality?’

  Michael gave her a lopsided smile. ‘Maybe?’

  ‘I mean, I understand that we all want to escape reality sometimes, but I would rather know the truth than pretend everything is always okay.’ She frowned. ‘Wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Well, I guess it depends on what the truth is,’ Julia leaned back in her chair, angling her face toward the sun. ‘Some truths might be unnecessary.’

  ‘You think?’ Nick frowned.

  ‘Well, I don’t know.’ She glanced at him. ‘I’m sure I’ve told a white lie or two. Not because I wanted to be lie, but because it seemed kinder.’

  ‘Do you really tell white lies to be kind, though? Don’t you tell them to avoid feeling awkward?’ Nick smirked at her. ‘I reckon people that tell white lies like to think they’re being kind, but they really just don’t want to feel uncomfortable.’

  ‘I’m sure you’re maybe partly right,’ Julia tried to cover her reddening cheeks by burrowing into the collar of her jacket, but then she sat up and looked him in the eyes as if in challenge. ‘I take it you don’t ever tell lies then?’

  Nick shrugged. ‘Didn’t say I’m perfect.’

  Julia snorted and mumbled a snarky sounding ‘oh really?’

  ‘What do you think, Jack?’ Michael asked.

  ‘Well…’ I cleared my throat. ‘I reckon truth is good on a need to know basis. I mean, some truths don’t add anything to our experience of reality – they’re just hurtful.’ I shrugged. ‘Why hurt others unnecessarily?’

  ‘I would rather know. Fantasies might be nice for a time, but they will eventually end, and then everything falls apart.’ Miranda shook her head. ‘I’d much rather live a flawed – even harsh – reality I can trust, than a blissful fantasy based in lies.’

  ‘You would always tell the truth? Even if the truth would kill someone?’ Michael bit the inside of his cheek as he studied her.

  She frowned. ‘I don’t know. But I know I don’t want to be deceived.’

  I ran my hand down her shoulder, cocking my head to the side as I looked at her. I wanted to tell her that some pain was just pain, and pain for pain’s sake was pointless. I wished I could create a cocoon of happiness for her, so she could always escape the pain life seemed to continuously throw at her. ‘It’s not exactly deception though, is it? I’d say it would be kindness to save your life by telling a lie.’

  ‘Kindness is speaking the truth, even when the truth hurts.’ Her eyes were gentle as she squeezed my hand. ‘Nobody can escape reality forever.’ And it felt as though she stopped herself from adding, ‘Not even you, Jack.’ Her comment struck me as pointed, but I wasn’t sure what she meant – or even if I wanted to know.

  I winked at her. ‘Maybe not forever, but for as long as it lasts, I’d rather enjoy life than suffer.’

  She rested her head on my shoulder and gave me a wry smile. ‘You would say that, wouldn’t you…’

  ‘Not all suffering is bad though,’ Michael said. ‘Maybe suffering caused by truth is actually good for us?’

  I snorted. ‘Uh-huh, well I’m willing to forego that goodness.’

  ‘But aren’t we talking about different things here?’ Julia asked. ‘I mean, there’s a difference between not telling someone that their hair looked better before they had it cut, and lying about big things, don’t you think?’

  ‘No!’ Miranda sat up straight, and her hands were in the air as she spoke. ‘Sure, keep some things to yourself, but if I ask you whether you like my hair, you better tell me the truth. Otherwise, how can I trust you on anything at all?’

  ‘Okay, but whether I like your hair or not is irrelevant to whether your hair objectively looks nice.’ Michael cut in and smiled. ‘Opinion isn’t always truth, is it?’

  Mum came out on the patio with a tray for our dirty dishes. ‘Are you all okay out here?’

  ‘Yeah, this was great, thank you,’ Nick said with a smile. ‘Best lasagne I’ve had in ages.’

  ‘Oh, I’m glad you liked it.’ Mum returned his smile. ‘You’re welcome to take some leftovers home. I’ve put out some lunch boxes on the counter. Just help yourself.’

  ‘Really?’ Nick looked at Mum as though he couldn’t make sense of her.

  Mum patted his shoulder. ‘Really, really.’ She set the tray on the table. ‘Julia, will you bring the dishes inside when you’re ready? If you guys want dessert, it’s been put out now.’

  ‘If we want dessert...’ Michael looked at me with a grin, then turned to Mum. ‘What do you think truth is, Karen?’

  Without missing a beat, Mum said, ‘Oh that’s easy. Truth is a person, and you can know him.’ Her face lit up as she smiled. ‘His name is Jesus.’

  I cringed and glanced at Julia, who had scrunched her face in a pained expression.

  ‘I’ll make sure to bring the tray inside, Mum.’ I stroked her arm.

  ‘Great. You’ll want to hurry up if you want any dessert. Some of the children inside are hoping for a second helping already.’

  ‘Nice save,’ Julia snorted, as Mum left and we gathered up the dishes.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Michael asked.

  ‘She was about to start evangelising you guys.’ Julia shook her head as Michael gave a surprised laugh. ‘No, really.’

  ‘I would have liked to have seen that.’ Michael seemed fascinated. ‘I can’t remember the last time somebody tried to evangelise me.’

  Chapter 15

  Miranda

  I was sixteen, and it was mid-autumn when our next challenge came along. I say “challenge” because I have been to therapy since, and there I was encouraged to think about it in as positive a way as possible. A challenge is something you can rise to or overcome, whereas all hell breaking loose has a somewhat different connotation. But if I were to be honest, the next few years were the worst.

  It was a sunny autumn day when I got a text from Mum asking that I come straight home from school. I had planned to go over to hang out with Jack – who now spent his days at uni – but sent a message with Julia to tell him I would catch up with him later, instead.

  Both Mum and Dad were in the kitchen when I got home, which was unusual as Mum worked late on Wednesdays, and Dad would be on his way home from the garage where he was working part-time as an apprentice. Their faces were ashen, though Mum tried to pretend everything was fine. ‘How was school?’ she asked.

  ‘Fine.’ I sat down. ‘What’s going on?’

  Mum looked at Dad, and he took her hand across the table.

  ‘Your Mum had some bad news.’

  ‘Right..?’ I waited.

  ‘Right,’ Mum said, in a brisk tone. ‘So, I’ve been to the doctor’s today,
and he says I’ve got breast cancer.’

  ‘What?’ I frowned. ‘How does he know that? Does it not take a while for them to do tests and things?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Mum nodded. ‘I’ve been a few times and the test results are all in. It’s cancer.’

  I took a sharp breath, which hurt my throat as I tried to process what she was saying. ‘Cancer.’ It sounded so final.

  ‘Uh-huh.’ Mum reached for my hand and I grabbed on to hers. ‘I’ve got to have an operation, and then, depending on how much of it they can remove, I’ll have to have chemo and/or radiation.’

  ‘How long will that take?’

  ‘We don’t know yet. It all depends on how everything goes.’

  ‘Oh.’ I didn’t know how to process this. I had never had to worry about Mum before, and even now, I felt like I knew she would be able to handle this. She could handle anything. I was less sure of how Dad would cope. Would this cause him to start drinking again?

  ‘It’s going to be okay. We can do this. It’s just a matter of trusting in God one step at a time.’ Mum gave a determined smile.

  A few weeks later, that was still Mum’s attitude. She had her operation and started chemo. When her hair started falling out, Karen came over, and they shaved the rest of it off. She said the anti-nausea medication she had been given helped a lot, but I could tell she continued to have the occasional bout of nausea. Nonetheless, whenever I asked her about how she was doing, she would smile that same smile, and give me a Bible verse about not being afraid.

  Karen came over a lot, bringing food and keeping Mum company which meant Dad could keep his internship at the mechanics’. Dad handled things better than I had expected and stepped up to the challenge. As much as he was able to, he took Mum to appointments and was there for her. And he kept in contact with his sponsor and saw John at least once a week.

  But once in a while, when he didn’t see me watching, his face would look haunted, and I spent the next few months worrying that Mum’s cancer would cause him to go back on the bottle, or that Mum would die.

  ***

  Though watching Mum go through having cancer was tough, not everything was awful.