Page 82 of Things We Never Said
Getting home was even worse for Maggie because her American went back to Los Angeles. I’m not sure if you ever knew this – she didn’t seem keen on anyone else knowing – but he asked her to go back with him, to live in America. He tried for ages to convince her – the phone calls went on for months. And I tried my best to convince her, too, for both selfless and selfish reasons. But she just kept saying, ‘What the hell would I do in Los Angeles?’ To which there was no simple answer other than, ‘Let yourself be happy, perhaps?’
But happiness, as they say, is an option. And I just don’t think Maggie was ever very good at choosing it.
When April arrives on Saturday morning, Sean is busy vacuuming the sofa. He jumps visibly when April, behind him, coughs loudly.
‘Jesus!’ he exhales, stomping on the power switch of the cleaner, which whines slowly to a halt. ‘Are you trying to kill me? Do you want your inheritance right now or something?’
April pulls a cute face and shrugs. ‘I rang. I knocked ... I don’t know what else I’m supposed to do. Send a telegram, maybe?’
Sean’s attention focuses on April’s belly. ‘Oh, look!’ he says. ‘You have a baby bump.’
‘I know,’ April says. ‘He’s huge, huh?’
‘He is!’ Sean agrees. ‘And you’re only ...’ Sean frowns, then adds, ‘He?’
April nods. ‘Twenty weeks. He’s big for his age. He’s going to be an American basketball player, I think.’
‘You mean he’s going to be black?’ Sean asks facetiously.
April nods with mock seriousness. ‘Of course. Ronan’s going to be thrilled.’
‘Anyway, come in, come in!’ Sean says, stomping repeatedly on another button until the cable starts to snake inside the cleaner. ‘I’ll put the kettle on. Um, sit down.’
April watches bemusedly as he puts the cleaner away in the cupboard under the stairs and then starts to fill the kettle. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with the Hoover before. I’m surprised you know how it works.’
‘Cheeky!’ Sean says, glancing up at her. ‘You’ve seen me do the hoovering a thousand times more often than you ever saw your mother do it. And don’t even get me started on how many times you did it. I can count those on two fingers.’ He joins finger and thumb to form a zero.
April frowns thoughtfully before saying, ‘Actually, that’s true. I don’t know why I even said that.’
‘Sexism,’ Sean says. ‘Just sexism. The river of sexism flows both ways, Little Daughter. Actually, I’m going to have to stop calling you that, aren’t I?’
‘I think so,’ April says. ‘Try lardy daughter. Or roly-poly daughter.’
‘So, how have you been? How are you feeling?’
‘Fine, really. Full of beans. All the tests and everything are good. I’m not sleeping too well. I can’t seem to sleep on my front anymore. But on my back, I snore. And then I wake myself up. So, that’s a bit of a pain.’
‘And Ronan, you’re waking him up too, presumably?’
‘Nah. Nothing wakes Ronan up.’
‘And it’s a boy, then?’
‘Yes. We’re thinking Jack or Jake or ... What?’
Sean, who is grimacing, does his best to relax his facial muscles. ‘Just ... not Jake. Preferably.’
‘Why not?’
‘Jakes are always arseholes, that’s all.’
April’s eyebrows twitch, and then she visibly decides not to pursue it. ‘OK, so Jack, or Josh, or Jim.’
‘What’s with all the Js, anyway?’
April shrugs. ‘I don’t know. We both just like them. That’s all.’
‘Fair enough. As long as it’s not Jake.’
