[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.‘I don’t want to lose you,’ she says.I point to the ring, now safely on her finger.‘You won’t lose me, Nads.I just went missing for a while.’chapter 25Ryan answers the door, wearing a suit and tie and rubber gloves.He doesn’t normally do much housework.‘Interesting look,’ I say.‘Yeah … thinking … patent it,’ he says.‘Good to see you, Dem.’I follow him down the hallway and into the kitchen.The kitchen table is littered with documents.‘Been working … home … boys … your place.Your mum’s … amazing.’I can see into the playroom from here.There are toys all over the carpet.It’s very un-Felicity.And there’s always silence for me, but somehow it’s more intense than usual.It’s like the house is sighing a noiseless sigh, waiting for the boys to come back and stir it up.‘What’s going on?’ I ask.Ryan pulls a chair out and sits down heavily, still rubber gloved.‘Stress, I guess,’ he says, shrugging and looking pretty stressed himself.He frowns, like he wants to say more but doesn’t know what it is he should say.I want to turn back time, this time not just so I can hear again, but so I can see Ryan without this new frown, without the greying at his temples.He points up the stairs with a rubber-gloved finger.I am even more worried as I head up the stairs towards Felicity and Ryan’s bedroom.She’s not asleep.She’s sitting on the bed in her silky pink pyjamas.Her eyes are open, but there’s a sort of vacant look in them.I pause in the doorway, not sure if she’s registered I’m there.She’s staring out the window.Her blonde hair is dark at the roots and she’s pale.It’s the first time in years I’ve seen her without make-up.It makes her look younger; sadder.There are pills, reading glasses and a book lying facedown on her bedside table.I walk over and sit in the armchair by the bed.It’s white leather, and I can see a child’s handprint in something like Vegemite on the back of it.At least I hope it’s Vegemite.‘Hi, Dem,’ Felicity says as she turns to me.She points to the drawer in her bedside table.‘Too tired to sign,’ she says.I nod and take out a notepad and pen.It’s a beautiful notepad with a purple and green cover.An image of Ethan in his purple footy jersey whirs through my mind.I push it out and open the notepad to the first page.It’s a virgin pad.Nothing is in it yet.I take a deep breath.It’s hard to know how to start, and I don’t know whether to speak or write.But if I can’t speak to my own sister without worrying about the way my voice sounds then I don’t know who I can speak to.‘What’s wrong, Felicity?’ I ask, in what I hope is a gentle voice.She pulls her knees up under the bedcovers.I hand her the pad and the pen.Her handwriting is almost the same as mine.I’ve forgotten that.I’ve forgotten how I used to copy her until it became my own style too.I wanted to be a good mum, you know?I wanted to be a better mum.My impulse is to say that she already is a good mum, but I don’t.I don’t want to give her platitudes.It looks like she needs more than that.‘Better than who?’ I ask.‘Your mum, or mine?’Mine.Yours is unreal.A lioness, all protection and love for us both.Mine was always too busy.Used to go to hers on custody nights and she’d get a babysitter.She’d come and show me how great she looked before she left.Like I cared.Then she’d leave a present on my bed.New clothes, stuffed animals.Blackmail.I watch without commenting as Felicity writes all this.It takes a little while.Felicity is not a whiner.She’s never said any of this to me before, but I still feel like I should have known.I remember her mum coming to take her for custody visits.I remember thinking Vivian was really glamorous compared to my mum.Mum is super-bossy, and she has been driving me crazy about all this school stuff.And I honestly feel like she hasn’t been that interested in me lately.But I guess I do know that she cares.About Felicity.And about me.I give it a moment for the thought to settle.I try to find a home for it inside me, and it’s surprising that there seems to be a hollow part, a shape there where it might fit.‘But you’re nothing like your mum,’ I say.‘You’re more like our mum.And you stayed home with the boys instead of finishing law, remember?’She takes the pad.Huh! That was the idea.But turns out I’m no better than she was.Don’t have the patience.Can’t even teach my son to make friends.Harry has ONE friend at school.You know that? Had to invite Ryan’s work mates over just to get some kids for his party.It clunks inside me, this information.It’s like a rock that lands in the pit of my stomach.I’d assumed that she invited those people for her own reasons.I’ve been so unfair.‘Flick, you ARE a good mum.’The nickname comes to me like I’ve never abandoned it.It’s what I used to call her before I started thinking of her as Flawless.‘And Harry’s shy, but he’s gorgeous.He’ll make friends in time.They’re both beautiful boys.’I know.That’s why they deserve more.‘Don’t be crazy.They love you and they’re lucky to have you.And a mum can’t teach her kids to make friends.’Flick is being too hard on herself, just like Nadia was this afternoon.I feel like I’ve let myself off the hook somehow.I haven’t been seeing the full picture, with Flick or with Mum, and I’ve been pretty mean, really.Flick closes her eyes and pushes her fingers against them, her palms pressed into her cheeks.It’s at least two minutes before she writes anything again.I love them too but it’s not enough.I get so frustrated.They need me ALL the time and I want to escape.I get this feeling, like they’re sucking the life out of me.Like they’ve taken all my dreams.And then I feel guilty, like I should be happy but I’m not.She looks around as though instructions for how to be happy are something she might find written on a piece of paper.I notice that her breathing is coming short and fast.I take hold of her hand, wondering whether I might not be the only one in the family who has panic attacks.I wait.When she’s calmed down, I gently remind her that Mum sometimes loses her temper with us, and used to a lot more when we were younger.‘No-one’s patient all the time,’ I say.It takes her a while to focus back on the notepad.Finally, she writes again.She leaves a big space and then the two words she writes are larger, much larger than her others.You areI shake my head.‘I don’t have them 24-7,’ I protest.‘I can give them back!’I pause while I think it all through.Something occurs to me [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]