Page 77 of A Smart Girl's Guide to Second Chances
‘That did happen,’ she agreed.
‘But I think that maybe it was more complicated than that?’
‘Mm.’ She made a neutral noise.
‘Was I one of those “let’s have a kid to try to save the marriage” babies?’
Mum sighed. ‘No. You were so wanted,’ she said softly. ‘You were the baby we were going to do differently. Your dad had barely been around when Nick was little. But I just thought... that’s what happens. None of my friends really expected much help from their husbands. And there wasn’t room in a family for two surgeons. Not with kids.’
She paused for a moment, slowly twirling one of the rings that wasn’t on her ring finger.
‘I had thought about leaving. Things got pretty bad between us. And I finally told your dad how miserable I’d been, how alone and resentful I’d felt. And that if something didn’t change, I was scared that all the simmering anger would metastasise. And for a while, things got better. He pulled back at work for a bit, travelled less. And we decided to have another baby. We were so excited. We spent the whole pregnancy talking about how this time it was going to be different. Your dad was going to drop his caseload, and I was going to have another go at getting into speciality training. We were going to do a better job of sharing looking after you, and go on family holidays and—’
‘I don’t remember Dad ever being home,’ I said.
‘I still don’t think he’s ever changed a nappy. And he didn’t change at all. So, for a while I got angrier. And then I just couldn’t handle all the feelings anymore. I emotionally checked out of our marriage,’ Mum said in a flat voice. ‘But the story had a happy ending – because you became my life. And the life that the two of us had together was magic.’
Even though I wasn’t looking at her face I could tell that we were both smiling as we remembered.
‘I didn’t expect to fall in love with another man. I didn’t even know that I ever wanted to again,’ Mum said. ‘As you were reaching the final years of school, I realised that you were almost grown up. Well, it hit me that you’d be leaving soon, and that you couldn’t be my whole world anymore. That you were going to have your own life.
‘Hamish and I had known each other for a while. I think we sensed a loneliness in each other and eventually we became friends. I didn’t mean for it to become anything more, not until you were older at least. But then it did.
‘I wasn’t going to leave your dad or make any changes to our life until you’d finished high school. But one day your dad found messages and then it all came out, and our marriage ended.’
I continued to stare straight up at the ceiling as I processed her version of the story.
‘Do you believe in the curse?’ I asked after a pause. I was sure she knew what I was really asking. Did she take responsibility for the decisions she’d made, the actions she’d taken?
‘I know Mum did,’ she said slowly. I was relieved that she hadn’t belittled the question or made a joke. ‘Her relationship with my dad was so dysfunctional that I think that it helped her to believe that she wasn’t wholly responsible for a marriage that had made her so miserable and that would have been so difficult to leave.’
She sighed and gently shook her head.
‘But no, I don’t,’ she said. ‘Mum and her sister lost the men they were going to marry in a war. My cousin got engaged because she thought she was pregnant and then when she wasn’t she moved on.
‘And I think I ended my engagement because... I thought that love was meant to be this dazzling, all-consuming force. And I felt that when I met your dad. I suppose I believed that it wasn’t right to be with someone when I was able to feel the way I did about him.’
‘You really loved Dad?’ I asked, though I already knew what her answer would be from the warmth in her voice as she remembered.
‘So much,’ Mum said, and I could tell that for a moment she’d drifted off into memories of heady days. ‘Except what I didn’t understand then was that all the qualities that I found so intoxicating when I fell in love with him – ambition, drive, focus – would be the ones that made our marriage toxic in the end.’
‘I’m angry at Dad,’ I said. I pursed my lips together as if I might still be able to catch those words and shove them back in. But it was too late, they were out there now. I’d known it for a long time but had been too afraid to admit it. Matt had called him self-centred, and Nick had called him self-absorbed – it had felt like somehow this had been enough of a green light to feel what I’d tried not to feel, at least openly.
‘I know,’ Mum said.
‘Matt says that love is showing up. And Dad didn’t show up for us,’ I said. ‘But then... you didn’t show up for me either. Why didn’t you stay when I asked you to stay?’ I felt like every piece of oxygen in my lungs had been expelled with that question, the one that had haunted me for so long.
‘At the time, I convinced myself that I was doing what was best for you.’ Mum began to answer my question straightaway in whole sentences, as if she’d had the answer ready, had spent a long time thinking about it. ‘I knew that if I insisted that we stay in our house your dad would force it to be sold. If he couldn’t have it, he wouldn’t let me have it either. And it was your final year of school, and I knew how hard you needed to study and focus to get into med, and I wanted you to have as much stability and support as possible.’
‘But it wasn’t the house that was home, Mum. It wasyou,’ I said.
‘I know,’ Mum said, and I could see she was trying desperately not to cry. ‘You were my home too. And I’m so sorry I hurt you.’
For so many years I’d believed that Mum hadn’t cared, that she’d fallen madly in love and been reckless and done whatever she wanted, not worrying about who got caught in the crossfire or if my life imploded as a result. But she had cared. She’d made a mistake, but from a place of confusion and concern and hurt. And love. And I now knew that it was possible to make a mistake,or lots of mistakes, which hurt the person you loved the most. Even if that’s the very last thing you wanted to do.
I opened my mouth to say something but instead a howl came out.
Mum held me until the tears stopped flowing. I had no idea how long I’d cried for – it could have been minutes or hours.
