Page 37 of Insomnia

“And you’re always out. But that’s okay. Because that’s how life is.” I don’t want this to be any more confrontational than it has to be. She’s my daughter and I love her and my anger isn’t for her. She’s in her jeans now, hair pulled back in a ponytail, and she’s still wearing makeup, but it’s muted. A lot of work has gone into this transformation back into teenager from young gorgeous woman. “But sometimes I just want to know how you’re doing in more than a five-minute conversation while passing in the corridor.”

She gives me a sideways derisory glance. “I’m sure we can get really deep and meaningful on a fifteen-minute car ride though.”

All her defenses are up, but I give her a bright smile. “I’ll take the scenic route. Go through the villages. We know how to have quality time, right?”

She doesn’t laugh at my lame joke and we’re both quiet as I negotiate my way through the traffic and try to think of the best way to start this. All the planned openings I’d thought up in the café have evaporated and I realize that I’m very out of practice at having difficult conversations with my daughter. In general, she’s a really great kid. But now there’s this. She certainly saved it all up for one big hit.

“What’s going on with you, Mum?” She breaks the moment first. “What do the police think you did?”

“I haven’t done anything. That’s a misunderstanding.”

“That’s not what I asked. I asked what they thought you did. Auntie Phoebe was really upset. And Dad was weird.”

“I don’t want to talk about that. I told you. It’s not worth your worrying.” I need to get this questioning going in the other direction.

“I hear you moving around at night,” she continues. “Going downstairs. I’m not always asleep. I heard Auntie Phoebe talking to Dad. Something about you turning forty.” She looks out the window. “I mean, Jesus, Mum, if that’s why you’re being so weird, it’s just a number. Nothing to get so stressed about. You should be feeling empowered. I can’t wait to be older.”

I let out a laugh that she thinks all my erratic behavior basically stems from vanity. “Thanks, Chloe. I’ll bear that in mind. And speaking of my birthday, how’s the party looking?”

“The party’s canceled. That’s what Dad said. After that stuff with Ben. And whatever’s going on with you.”

“It’ll be fine if it’s just our gang. They’re not such a bad crowd, Dad’s friends from school. You like them, don’t you?”

“They’re okay.” She shrugs, looking down, hands fiddling with her phone. “But it’s still canceled. Auntie Phoebe and Dad think—” She pauses, half-committed to saying something that she’s obviously wishing she hadn’t started.

“Phoebe and Dad think what?” I sit up straighter behind the wheel. Robert and Phoebe. Since when did they start getting so close again?

She shrugs. “That you’ve got some kind of paranoia thing going on. Because of your mum. Well, that’s what Dad said anyway.”

My foot presses slightly on the accelerator, speeding up in my anger. He’d told me he was going up to tell Chloe there was nothing to worry about and instead he does the opposite.

“Your dad’s got secrets of his own, it turns out,” I say. “That bar for one. I think he’s having a midlife crisis.” My tone sharpens. “Or maybe I am just paranoid.” Sunlight glints off the windshield and I go a little faster. Paranoia. How dare he? And how dare he talk to Phoebe about me like that? Why don’t they talk tomeabout it?

“But tell me, Chloe,” I start, my tone conversationally light. “Is it paranoia that makes me think you’re sleeping with Michelle’s husband, Julian, or the fact that I saw you in a bar with him today?”

Her eyes widen, her mouth falling open, and I grip the steering wheel. “Don’t even think about denying it. I’m not stupid. Although how couldyoube so stupid? What about all your talk of feminism? The sisterhood?”

She says nothing but her face is like thunder.

“He’s nearly twenty years older than you,” I continue. “You were their babysitter. Jesus Christ, Chloe, you’re a walking bloody sexual cliché. It’s disgusting.”

“It’s not disgusting! Only you making it sound that way is disgusting!” Pink blotches have risen up on her neck. She glares at me, defiant. “I’m not going to deny it. I’m eighteen in a couple of months. I’m not a child. I’m basically a grown woman and I love him.” She looks out the window at the winding road. “And slow down or stop. You’re going too fast.”

“Love? You onlythinkyou love him.” I can’t stop with the car behind me, and anyway, I’m barely hearing her. My head is in a white rage.Paranoid. My husband who’s supposed to love and support me thinks I’m paranoid.And how could Chloe add this to everything else that’s going on? “You don’t know what love is. This isn’t love—it’s just a stupid mistake. He’s using you. You’re flattery to an old man’s ego.”

“He’s thirty-six, he’s not that old.”

Thatold. And in that phrase is the reveal of just how young she really is. I look at her. “Michelle knows. She doesn’t knowwho,but she knows. She came to see me to find out where she’d stand in a divorce. She knows he’s seeing someone. For god’s sake, she thought it was me!”

“You?” Chloe barks out an unpleasant laugh, as if that’s the most ridiculous suggestion in the world, as if the idea of anyone actually wanting to fuck me is highly comical. “He wouldn’t go near you.” There’s a twinge of jealousy there too, I realize, and remember all the energy of youthful all-consuming love. I had it with Robert once. I’d get green-eyed if he laughed with Phoebe too long or anything else that reminded me that he’d come home with her on that first night. Phoebe and I are a tangled-up sack of old resentments and jealousies and love.Paranoia.

“And a good job too, because if he did, I’d send him home with his tail between his legs.” Another thought strikes me. “He wants your father to go into business with him in this bar. Was that your idea?”

She gives me that dismissive shrug again. “I know Dad was fed up of being stuck at home. I thought it would be good for him. And Jules likes him and—”

“And what did you think your father was going to do once he found out about this?”Jules?I’ve never even heard Michelle abbreviate his name. “Your dad wants to invest all your university money in this stupid bar plan. Money I worked hard to put aside for you. What would have happened to that when all this eventually came out? God, I wish I hadn’t seen you together. Now I have to deal with it.”

“I’m glad you know.” She glares at me. “He loves me. He’s going to leave her and we’re going to live together. He’s just waiting for me to finish my exams.”

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