Another stab. Nate may not be in a band but he’s obsessed with having people in our house. It’s very similar.
‘Plus, your mother’s always on the phone to me these days, blaming me. Drives me nuts. I just wanted a quiet life, and kids. I want kids.’
I stare at Sue and grab her hand across the table.
I suddenly realise that I have been a hopelesssister-in-law: there was lovely Sue, married for years, and not a sign of a child and I had never noticed, never wondered if it was choice or circumstance. I bet my mother noticed. Bet she mentioned it to poor Sue too.
‘My darling: infertility?’
‘No.’ She sounds weary now, as if she has thought about this so often, it’s imprinted in her brain and she can speak without engaging anything but the most limited mental circuits: ‘Dom’s “not ready for kids”. He wants us to do fun stuff first before we settle down. I’mthirty-three. My body’s about to hit the downhill slope and he doesn’t care, never thinks about that. Just wants to have fun...’
There it is: the bitterness of pain long kept inside.
Something in me reacts to it. Dom doesn’t really care what Sue wants. Not because he’s a horrible person but because what he wants comes first: it always has. Ma adored him and he could do no wrong.
Nate is the same. We do what he wants all the time. Case in point: endless entertaining when I am so tired working and rushing around after Joey and even Rachel, who always wonders where her new sweater/skirt/jeans are.
There’s no comparison, of course. Sue is in deep pain and I’m merely irritated. Isn’t that all it is?
‘He does want children but not yet and he never thought to mention that to me. Because you don’t talk about that stuff in advance. Why the hell not? Why do you need to have the wedding dress booked months in advance, spend hours discussing invitations, all that superfluous stuff and never sit down and have a serious conversation? Let’s discuss these important things – like how do we feel about money, where will we live, do we both want children and when? What do we want out of our lives? Would we like to retire and live in the country when we hit fifty? Are we going to argue about how to bring the kids up? Are we going to try and live like vegans and have no TVs?’ Sue sighs. ‘Stupidly, I thought we were on the same pageplan-wise but Dominic doesn’t have any plan. He thinks planning is boring. And he sulks if I bring anything serious up now. He could sulk for Ireland, but I guess you know that?’
‘Yeah,’ I say, ‘I thought you knew that and got it?’
‘No, I didn’t know it. He hid it. He hid it until we were married. It’s like he’s hardwired to sulk. Then I realised it’s just the family hardwiring – no offence, my family has its own hardwiring but with yours, April is hardwired to try to have what she can’t, Dom is hardwired to be a child and sulk, and you’re hardwired to try to keep everyone happy and take care of them all.’
I look at her, and my eyes fill with tears.
‘Yeah,’ I say, suddenly sad. ‘I am. I’m hardwired to keep everyone happy, because you know Ma, you know what it’s like.’ I’mhalf-processing this statement but Sue has rushed on with the conversation.
‘When I married Dom, I didn’t know it was going to be like that. I want a family and a life and I can’t have that with your brother because he’s totally messed up. Dom hates plans but I’ve got a plan, Marin, a plan to have a good life. And I’m never going to have that with Dom. That’s why I want to get divorced so I can start again. Yourholier-than-God mother is going to have to deal with it, because it’s her bloody fault.’
‘I know,’ I say sadly.
This time Sue grabs my hand.
‘It’s not your fault, Marin,’ she says. ‘You’ve always been so amazing to me. I love you, you take care of Dom, you’ve done everything for everyone, even April, and her problems are pretty unsolvable.’
I smile sadly. April has that effect on me.
‘I don’t think I’m doing very well there.’
‘You can’t fix April because the fact is, nobody can fix anyone else. The fixing up is an inside job.’
‘Did you mean it when you said you had a plan?’ I say suddenly.
‘Yeah sure,’ says Sue. And I’m struck again by the fact that she isthirty-three and thatthirty-three-year-olds might have plans. Whereas people like me never had a plan. Nate came into my life and there was no need for a plan. He was the prince on the charger. I always thought April wanted the prince on the charger who was going to rescue her, but now it hits me. April wants the unavailable, because that’s what she knows, has read about since she was young. It’s me who wanted rescuing. And instead I’m still trying to fix everything for everyone and it turns out that nobody is rescuing me at all.
‘I’ve upset you, I’m really sorry,’ says Sue shrewdly. ‘I just can’t deal with your mother at Christmas or Dom. I’m not going to be around for Christmas, I’m going away with my sister; we’re going to go skiing. I thought it would be fun. I have only done it once and it’s horrendously expensive, but whatever.’
‘New beginnings,’ I say, pulling myself together. ‘If you don’t go, we’ll be having a big party at my house and I will control Ma.’
She laughs so loudly that the other people in the coffee shop look around.
‘Marin, honey: nobody can control your mother. Have a good party.’
I feel suddenly sick at the thought of Nate’s big party. He’s obsessed with a big Christmas bash, has already bought the wine, discussed canapes with me. I haven’t had a chance to get my roots dyed and yet I already know I’m making asparagus wrapped in filo pastry because Nate loves it.
‘I will,’ I say, forcing a smile. ‘Enjoy skiing.’
