There was a pause.
“Excellent, well thank you for your payment, Mr Normal. We’ll email you a receipt by close of business today.”
He collapsed onto his couch, relieved and a little confused as to why he hadn’t had to show ID or any actual proof that he and Cheryl were married. Then again, maybe they didn’t need to ask too many questions. After all, what kind of scam involved giving a hospice money?
He returned to his exercise book and started calling jewellery stores and scrolling Pinterest boards for what he was looking for. As soon as he found it, he got in his car and drove straight there.
At four in the afternoon, he was just thinking about lunch when his phone rang. It was an unknown number and, hoping it was someone he’d reached out to, he answered. “Hello?”
“Hello?” said a slightly slurred voice. “Is this Patrick Normal?”
“Yeah, it is. Who’s this, sorry?”
“This is Sharon Walker,” the voice said, sounding amused. “And since you’re my son-in-law, I was wondering if you’d like to come and see me?”
Cheryl’s mum was smoking in the hospice garden. She looked even less like her daughter than she did in photos; her face was thin, and her jaw jutted to one side. Yet there was something of Cheryl in the look she gave him as he walked toward her.
“You must be Patrick,” she said.
“Yes, Ms Walker. It’s nice to meet you.”
She inclined her greying head and despite the cigarette and her Loony Tunes t-shirt, he was reminded of an elf queen. Slender and elegant and proud.
“This is for you,” he said, holding up the Wellington postcard he’d had since the trip to New Zealand.
“Thank you,” she said quietly and took the picture with shaking fingers. “I assume Cheryl picked it out?”
“Yes.”
She studied the postcard, her face softened, and she tucked it into the side of her wheelchair. “So. You’re in love with CeeCee?”
“Sorry?”
“Che-ryl,” she said, as though he might be a bit simple. “My daughter?”
“Oh yes, of course,” he blurted. “Yes. Yes, that’s her and yes I’m in love with her.”
Sharon Walker looked at him with such pity, he blushed. He was usually pretty good with parents, but he was royally shitting the bed here. “Sorry, I don’t… I’m just nervous.”
She ashed her cigarette against the arm of her wheelchair. “Because of how I look?”
“No! Of course not, I’m just—”
She raised a hand. “I’m just teasing. I don’t like meeting people. That’s why Cheryl hasn’t been allowed to introduce you to me for so long.”
Patrick blinked. Cheryl hadn’t deliberately kept her mother from him or Eden?
“CeeCee’s a brave girl,” she went on. “Much braver than I am. But I’m sure you already know that.”
“I do. Not that I think she’s braver than you. I think you’re both really…”
Sharon Walker silenced him with a look. He watched as she shakily brought the cigarette to her lips.
“The nurses don’t like me smoking,” she said casually. “But it’s none of their business. Does it bother you, since you’re the one paying for me to live here?”
Patrick shook his head. “It’s your life. You can do whatever you want. Besides, me paying isn’t some kind of… It’s a gift. You don’t owe me anything. You or Cheryl. I just wanted to help.”
She took another drag, her expression thoughtful. “I could ask why you spend so much money on a dying woman, but I know the answer. What I don’t know is why someone as young as you feels ready for the kind of relationship you seem to want with CeeCee.”
