Page 30 of Dead to Me

And I know it’s pathetic that I can’t do this stuff for myself, but honestly, would you know what these guys would wear to a cricket match?Who’s evenseena cricket match?You have to come from a very specific cluster of countries to have even been close to one growing up, and after that there’s a load of class in there, too.

Anyway, my video call with Cordelia resulted in the selection of a cute little ruched Christopher Esber minidress in olive green with a cropped, fitted white blazer over the top.I of course also had my wireless voice recorder clipped to my bra, out of sight.

‘I can’t believe that these people wear blazers for real,’ I told Cordelia as I looked at myself in the small image on the Zoom call.‘It’s like they think they’re still at school and there’s a uniform.’

Cordelia gave a laugh.‘You should see them at Henley.Seriously.All cocktail dresses, blazers and hats.At least this is quite casual.’She gave me a critical look.‘Anyway, you don’t have to completely fit in.You’re the slightly rebellious one, so no formal heels.Oh, you’ve got those ankle boots… try those.’

‘That’s great,’ I said, ‘because my legs are so tired I don’t think I can balance in big heels.’

The ankle boots worked, Cordelia decided.I was ready except for hair and make-up.

I probably still would have been on time for the cricket match, except we somehow got talking about life in general, and I found myself– to my surprise– telling Cordelia about Dad.While wandering around my room, ineffectually gathering and applying make-up, I gave her the run-down on Mom taking me to the US when I was five, how I’d thought we were just going on vacation, and how weird it had been starting over in Coney Island.

‘What was different about it?’Cordelia asked me as I drifted around trying to find make-up without really concentrating on it.

‘I guess… money,’ I said.‘There was so little after we left.Mom didn’t want his “guilt money”, whatever that meant, and I think Dad eventually felt too proud to offer.And… she’s really different from Dad.’I shrugged.‘It was a weird dynamic.’

‘Did you miss him?’she asked me.

The question surprised me.‘I… don’t know.I guess I used to like the way we made up stories and joked around.’I couldn’t help smiling to myself at the thought.‘There wasn’t really any of that with just me and Mom.I guess she was finding life hard, but also… she’s not built that way, you know?She’s a straightforward, serious person.And then, when shemarried Frank, who’s this even more straightforward, serious guy who works hard and likes quiet and controlled environments… honestly, we barely seemed to talk at all.Unless it was about groceries or home repairs or something someone had said at church.’

It’s weird, isn’t it?That must be the most I’ve said about any of that to anyone, except maybe you.And here I was telling Cordelia, who was basically a client.

‘Do you like him?Frank?’she asked me, and I found myself turning to look at her on screen.

‘Not a whole lot.I mean, he isn’t cruel exactly… and he doesn’t dislike me, I don’t think.But I think he finds me incomprehensible.’I laughed.‘Suddenly the fact that I was messy and disorganised and always making random comments were seen as bad things.I was being told to sit still and be sensible, and Mom went along with it.It only got worse when Ben came along, and turned out to be pretty much Frank’s idea of the perfect child.’

Cordelia gave me a small smile.‘They tried to squash you to fit,’ she said.‘No wonder you ran away over here.’

I couldn’t help laughing at how true that was.‘Yeah.I kind of escaped to London thinking I’d find my people.My mom made me think Dad was like me.Which turned out to be notquitetrue.Like, he’s got this sideways brain, too, I think.But he’s all in control and nicely turned out and tidy… I think he sometimes wonders how he managed to produce me, if I’m honest.’

‘Honestly, fuck him if he isn’t proud of you,’ Cordelia said, simply.‘You’re doing more with your life than most people are.I decided years ago that if my mum didn’t like what I was doing with mine, that was her problem to deal with.’She paused, thoughtfully, her expression distant but not unhappy.‘So now we just coexist, really, and it’s actually better.’Shelooked back at me again, with that direct, piercing gaze of hers.

‘Do you still talk to yours?Your mum?’

I took a moment to breathe out, because this was weirdly hard to admit to.‘We’ve not really spoken a lot since I left.It’s almost like she’s decided that Ben istheirchild, and I’m… Dad’s… Though I keep trying.And I will always want to talk to Ben, who may be unimaginative and a little dull at times but is the sweetest boy alive.’

I don’t know why I’m sharing this with you here, Reid.I mean, you know all about Mom and Ben and Frank.Maybe I’m saying it because it tells you a little about Cordelia and how she’s both insightful and also kind.Or maybe because it’s late and I’m on my own in this house and I feel like dwelling on it.

Anyway, she helped me.In lots of ways, beyond just getting ready for the cricket match.

The event itself started out feeling like a disappointment, you know.Although there were a lot of folks scattered around the stand and grass to watch, they were largely seated.That made it difficult to make any new connections, and I was immediately worried the only thing I was going to get out of it was the amazing free picnic provided by Dad.

He’d bought champagne, too, obviously.Taittinger, this time, with a whole specially shaped bucket with its own integral ice packs.It’s unsurprising that he has paraphernalia to enable him to drink a bottle at the right temperature anywhere, given how much of the stuff he drinks.He reminds me of those people who treat themselves to an iced coffee whenever they’ve done anything, only with twenty times the disposable income.

Tough day?Open a Moët.Written a difficult email?Better buy Veuve.It’s a warm Tuesday?Time for Taittinger.

I sometimes wonder whether there will ever be an occasionwhen champagne doesn’t seem appropriate to him.I imagine something bad happening to me and Dad somehow still dealing with it by opening champagne.

Which makes him sound monstrous, doesn’t it?And it probably isn’t even fair.I guess I’m just fixated on dark thoughts tonight.

I appreciated the Taittinger, anyway, even while I worried we’d be drinking it alone.But somehow Dad just drew people in.I don’t know if it’s because he’s kind of famous for his semiconductor invention stuff or because he keeps his distance a little, but a series of mostly men of varying ages came over in ones and twos to seek an audience.

What fascinated me watching their interactions, though, was that Dad didn’t actually seem to like any of them all that much.And I wasn’t totally surprised.Several of the older ones dropped snobby, acid or just horrible comments about other people during the conversation, and I was glad when each of them eventually ambled back to their own seat.

‘Is everybody you know an asshole?’I muttered to Dad, after the fourth round.

He gave me a twitching smile.‘Only the ones I introduce you to.’

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