“Don’t raise a spoilt girl who thinks her father will always - ”
Both Sadie and I open our mouths to whirl on Mr Bastard Stewart for being so unfeeling to a six year old little girl who merely stumbled. But Tim takes a step forward towards his father and handles business by himself.
“Everysingleday,” he says in a quiet, dangerous voice, “I’m so glad that I’m her father and not you. And I’ll thank you to butt out and stop offering unpleasant and unwanted advice on how to make my child as miserable as you made us.”
Cathy makes a choked noise as her husband goes puce. I don’t think I could be more proud of Tim than I am right now. I know from before how much his father used to intimidate him; for the second time tonight, Tim is showing up for his daughter.
He may be only twenty one, but she could not possibly have a better father than Tim Stewart. I’ve met some other men in the past few years, and my boss’s son at the Foxtrot-On-Sea Dance Studio has been incredibly nice, and made it clear that he wants to take me out. That my being a mother hasn’t put him off. But nobody else will ever measure up to Tim.Nobody.
“Mummy!” El suddenly appears in her home clothes, her costume in a carrier bag, and throws her arms around my waist.
“Hey, sweetie,” I say warmly, hugging her back and looking Mr Stewart right in the eye. “Good job, I amsoproud of you.” Her horrible grandpa’s jaw tenses, but when she hugs me tighter, I know for sure this was the right thing to say.
“Ellsbells,” Sadie crows, picking her up and resting her on her hip, “you didawesome, and Ineedyou to teach me that dance.”
“Really?” She sounds delighted that her hero wants to be taught byherfor once.
“Fudge yes! And you just wait ‘til I show it off to my friends. You’ve started a dance movement, cuddlebug.”Thank you, Sadie, I think, and I can see the thought echoed on Tim’s face.
God, I just want to throw my arms around him and kiss him. He was my first kiss, and he was amazing at it, keeping up exactly the rhythm I needed in the moment, whether that was slow and romantic or fast and passionate. He justknew, knew exactly how to make me feel like actual heaven was sparkling through my veins. Even when we lost our virginities to each other, clumsy and startled and hungry, he made sure that -
My phone rings, cutting through the wayward and dangerous direction of my thoughts. I wander to one side, trying to ignore how my clit has started to throb, and answer it.
“Hello, is this Natalie Karas?”
“Yes.”
“Natalie, this is Sister Jeffries from Turing Ward.” My heart stops. That’s Mum’s ward, the custom built unit for cancer patients at Foxton General. “I’m so sorry to have to tell you this, especially over the phone. Are you sitting down?”
“Uh-huh.” I’m not, but I don’t want to delay hearing what she has to say. Or do I?
“Are you with people?”
“Yes.”Please, just tell me…wait, don’t…I mean…
No.
“I’m afraid it’s not good news. Your mother suffered what we believe to have been a heart attack. We tried to resuscitate her for around thirty minutes, but unfortunately our attempts failed, and I’m afraid she passed away a few minutes ago. I’m so sorry for your loss…”
I gag. “N…no,” I cry out, and then try for a calmer voice. “No. That’s not right. She was fine when I left her earlier.”
“Natalie - ”
“She was fine,” I repeat, insisting. “She was fine. She wasfine. She was fine!” My voice has gotten louder, more panicky, and I can’t feel my legs or take a deep breath. I’ve got a death grip on my phone, but it’s no longer held to my ear. My vision blurs with tears, and I feel familiar arms encircle me from behind, holding me upright as my knees collapse and I burst into loud sobs, still insisting, “She was fine…”
Sadie takes Eleanor for the night. Cathy offered, but I don’t want my daughter around Mr Stewart in case he gives her anything even resembling a hard time about whatever stupid shit he can invent in the moment. Sadie will let her stay up late and play with her makeup and mainline sugar; and honestly, if it can help her forget the sight of her mother falling apart like that, I’m grateful for it.
Tim is driving me home after taking me to the hospital, and we’re in silence because my brain is a tornado of shock, horror, and the icy fingers of early grief. He’s keeping his hand locked to mine, even when he needs to change gears, and it’s all that’s keeping me anchored to the earth, vaguely in the here and now.
His thumb slowly, gently strokes my hand, and I let that comfort me. I need it. Needhim. And he’s there, doing what needs to be done to help me in my hour of need without asking for anything from me in return.
I’m an orphan. I don’t have my mother anymore. She will never laugh with me as we make dinner, or gush over the pictures Eleanor draws for her. She’s gone. Just…gone.Where did she go?
I knew the cancer was bad. And I knew the treatment was rough on her. She was so frail and the skin on her face was so sunken and greyish yellow. She was frighteningly bony. But somehow I just believed that she’d go through hell and come out the other side. I thought she’d recover, and then we could go back to something resembling normal. Not exactly the same - cancer would never allow that - but something close, and maybe even imbued with more gratitude than before.
Seeing her in the hospital… I keep having flashes of her in my head. Eyes, unseeing, rolled to the side. Mouth slack. Lips white. I wish they could have covered her with a sheet first, so I could have steeled myself to pull it back. Walking in and being confronted with that without any choice in the matter… It was worse.
Tim was my mouth piece when talking to the hospital staff. They were very kind, but I was too numb for much. Like the slice of a deep wound, when you know it will hurt like hell later, but right now the nerve endings aren’t reacting.
