Page 57 of If I Could Say Goodbye
‘Are you OK?’ Ed asks. The handle moves up and down as he tries to open the door.
‘I’m, I’m just—’
‘Quick!!’ Kerry points to the cabinet again but has got the giggles and is crossing her legs like she needs a wee. I bite back the humour as I rip open a charcoal mask and begin smearing it all over my face.
‘Jen! Open the door!’
‘I’m having a poo!’ I shout through my lips, which are poised in the same way as Ed’s are when he shaves around his mouth as I cover the red marks with black mud. The handle bounces up and down urgently. ‘Almost done!’ I make an ‘Ugh!’ noise as though I’m giving birth rather than having a Monday-morning movement. I flush the loo and slide the lock free.
Ed releases a feminine screech and his body jumps backwards, his hand on his chest like a Victorian debutante. The mask is beginning to harden and so I try to keep my face straight even though I want to laugh; I’m aware that beneath the mask, my face may still be red.
‘It’s just me,’ I explain, the words shortened and spoken from that place at the back of our throat which we employ when wearing a face mask. ‘Fancy a kiss?’ I ask him with the same face-mask-blunted words; I pucker my lips ever so slightly so as not to shed my fake skin. I take a step forward as Ed backs away. My hands form themselves into monster claws, charcoal mask blackening my palms, as I threaten to grab him. Ed looks down at his white shirt and mutters a warning, ‘Jen . . .’ But I don’t care about his white shirt; I care about the way he is looking at me, the relief that is relaxing the muscles between his eyebrows, that he knows that behind this mask is the old me, that the woman in the mirror isn’t taking over this body. I advance, small cracks appearing in the mask as I make suggestive eyebrow wiggles in his direction; he retreats down the stairs, glancing over his shoulder at me as I follow his descent.
‘Seriously, Jen! I’ve got a meeting first thing!’ But he’s laughing, I’m making him happy. I love making him happy; nobody on this earth has a smile like my husband. It changes his entire face; it turns his already handsome features into a face that you can’t take your eyes off: it’s enigmatic. I dismiss his protests, knowing that there is a row of neatly ironed white shirts hanging in his wardrobe.
‘Stop!’ He puts out his hand like a traffic warden, but the smile is there, the love behind his eyes is there. I don’t stop; I grab his tie and pull him towards me, kissing him deeply, marking his shirt with my charcoal palms.
‘Ugh!! Mummy, you’re making a mess of Daddy’s face!’
Ed groans beneath my lips, half passion, half disappointment at being interrupted. I give him a nose-to-nose kiss.
‘Daddy likes it.’ I kiss him on the lips again and turn to Oscar, the monster claws out, as he squeals in delight and runs away upstairs with me in hot pursuit. Hailey is about to step onto the landing but is forced back into her room by her excited brother; she turns her head, tracking his feet as they jump onto her bed, where he begins bouncing up and down.
‘Grrr!’ I make the claws again and go to tickle Hailey under the arms, but the look she throws me stops me in my tracks.
‘I need to get my shoes on or I won’t get my sticker.’ She pushes her glasses up her nose and barges past me, shaking her head at Ed, who is stepping from the last stair to the landing. His hand stays on the banister as he watches Hailey push past and rush down the stairs.
‘I’ll—’ I move towards him, but he shakes his head.
‘Give her a minute. I’ll just change my shirt, then I’ll speak to her on the way to school.’
I nod.
‘Why don’t you have a bath and relax?’ The look is back behind his eyes, the look that watches my movements like I’m made of glass, like I’m about to crack and splinter into pieces; the look that knows he won’t be able to fix me if I shatter.
The bathroom door closes softly behind me. I run warm water into the bath and begin to wash away the mask in the sink. I look up into the mirror.
Half of me stares back.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Ed
I pull up on the carpark, ignore the messages on my phone that tell me that I’m going to be late for the meeting and instead, slip my hands into the palms of my children and join the snake of suburbia through the school gates. Huh . . . snake of suburbia, I like that. That’s what happens when you start reading self-help books in your spare time, you get all . . . wordy. I snap myself back from the self-help books with a knock, knock joke.
‘Who’s there?’ they say in unison.
‘Ipe.’
‘Ipe who?’ questions Oscar, a wry smirk on Hailey’s face.
‘Ugh,’ I say. ‘In your school trousers?’
She giggles at Oscar, who is picking his nose thoughtfully. ‘Ipe. Who.’ He examines his finger and wipes it on his trouser leg.
‘I poo,’ Hailey explains, catching my eye. ‘What is he like?’ her face asks.
‘Oh!!!’ His body folds over in a fit of giggles. I rub the top of his hair, sending it sticking up in all directions before he runs off with a ‘Bye Daddy!’ towards the school doors, through the playground where his classmates are running around in circles, proclaiming themselves to each be a character fromPJ Masks. We watch as he skids to a halt, surrounds himself by friends, drawing them near. ‘Knock, knock.’ His gang lean in closer; he smiles, loving being the centre of attention as he delivers the punch line. The bell is rung; he throws me a quick wave and giggles his way towards the open doors.
