Page 106 of Thursdays at Orange Blossom House
Peter and Annette turn towards Patricia, who is now sitting down with her own sliver of pav. It was all that was left.
Patricia looks to her father, who isn’t meeting her eyes. So the response is going to be on her, as if she’s the only one involved.
‘She’s sitting quietlynow,’ she says calmly. ‘But sometimes she is very distressed. And sometimes she wanders off.’
‘You should be here watching her,’ says Peter, who doesn’t even seem to have noticed that his own wife has left the table with his daughter, who has spent most of lunch crying about some boy who doesn’t like her.
‘Should I, Peter?’ Patricia says. ‘I have a job to go to.’
‘This is more important.’
‘I can’t afford to live on nothing.’ Oh, it is so hard to keep her tone measured and she resents even having to try.
‘If you’d just gotten married like you were supposed to,’ he says, pressing his finger on a dob of cream on his plate, ‘you wouldn’t have to work.’
Patricia counts her breath: in for four, out for four. If anyone asks her why yoga is beneficial she’s going to say, because it taught her how to keep her cool when she’s surrounded by idiots who are related to her.
‘And if I were married,’ she says eventually, ‘I wouldn’t be available to look after Mum and Dad.’
‘Yeah, but you’re not, are ya?’ says John, still looking at his hand. ‘You’re putting Mum in a home.’
‘She needs professional care,’ Patricia says. ‘I’ve discussed this with you all in the past. Several times.’
‘Or you’re being lazy.’ He smirks.
In for four, out for four.
‘That’s enough.’ It’s their father, his hands on the table, his eyes fixed on John.
‘C’mon, Dad,’ says Peter. ‘He’s not wrong.’
‘Heiswrong,’ their father says, standing, almost reaching the height he used to command. ‘You are all wrong. Patricia gave up her life to move in here to help us. She is the least lazy person I know. Certainly not as lazy as any of you, who rarely bother to visit or to call.’ He glares at Annette. ‘She works all day, she comes home and cooks and cleans and does a lot of things that your mother and I can no longer do easily. What’s happening to your mother is breaking her heart.’
His eyes meet Patricia’s and she wonders where he’s been all this time, when she’s felt like she’s not coping with all the demands in this house. But better late than never, as he might say himself.
‘It’s breakingmyheart,’ he goes on, looking at his wife, whose expression is unchanged. ‘I don’t want her to leave here. But we must do what is best for Nora. We can’t look after her the way they can.’
He picks up his plate, the dessert fork balancing on it, and walks towards the kitchen. Patricia, not wanting to be left alone with her siblings, follows him.
‘I feel like I’ve failed,’ he says, putting his plate on the bench.
‘Why, Dad?’ She places her plate next to his.
‘Three ratbags.’ He shakes his head. ‘Ah well. I guess we got you right. One out of four ain’t bad.’ He smiles at her then, more sweetly than she’s ever seen.
‘Thanks, Dad,’ she says, still not sure why he has chosen this time to stand up for her.
‘No, my girl,’ he says, coming closer. ‘We’re the ones who should thank you.’ He looks down at the floor and slowly nods. ‘I should have said it before. You’ve done a lot for me and your mother.’
‘It’s all right, Dad.’ She pats his shoulder.
And it is all right. She’s made her peace with her place in the world. If she can be of service to her parents, it’s not so different to being of service to her students. It’s karma yoga – the yoga of work. Work for its own sake, without expectation of reward. She doesn’t expect rewards for taking care of her parents. It’s work that needs doing, so she’s been doing it.
She’s tired, though. Holding herself tense all this time, worrying about what will happen to her mother, has exhausted her. It’s only now that her father has acknowledged what’s been going on that she really feels it.
‘Maybe you should think about taking a break, love,’ he says. ‘Once we’ve settled her, things’ll get easier. I can look after myself for a while. School holidays are coming up.’
He smiles reassuringly, as if he’s giving her permission to go. Which, she supposes, he is.
