‘I bet you wouldn’t mind it if your Jessica could make a lemon meringue pie without breaking a sweat.’ I tried once and ended up in tears. Never doing it again. ‘I mean, she’s pretty much perfect in every way.’
Luke gives me a sideways look, still smiling. ‘True.’ I punch him a bit harder, so he puts his plate down, takes mine from me, then leans in and gives me a kiss. ‘Just kidding. I’d much rather be having a takeaway picnic with the Jessica sitting right next to me. You’remyMrs Wonderful.’
‘Right answer,’ I tell him, and kiss him back, and the rest of the Chinese food goes cold while we find an alternative way to celebrate our anniversary, the film playing in the background. But that gives us an appetite, so with the help of the microwave and the rewind button on the TV remote, we have another go.
I wish what Luke said was true, but I know I am far from being wonderful. I know I sometimes infuriate him. I know I can be spiky and sarcastic, and I come out fighting if I feel backed into a corner. The real Mrs Wonderful wouldneverdo that. But it gets me thinking …
I can’t seem to escape Luke while I’m having this bizarre experience. Even if I try to change history, it just warps and remoulds itself so we’re back together again, and even though it’s nine years away, I’m already feeling the spectre of our tenth anniversary casting a shadow over us.
If I can’t run away from this, then I’m going to have to run towards it.If the last three days have taught me anything, it’s that Luke is my person. I love him. I don’t want to lose him. I’ve got to do better. I’ve got to become Luke’s version of Mrs Wonderful. No matter what he says right now, while he’s still drugged with newlywed bliss, I need to become who he needs to be nine years from now. Not with the lemon meringue pies and permanent high heels (as a physiotherapist, I would never), but I’m overtaken with the yearning to be the wife I should have been for him all along. I’m going to have to do better.
And maybe I can. I’m not going into this blind. I know things now that I had no inkling of the first time around. That has to help, doesn’t it?
We’re just getting to the bit of the movie where the other Jessica is tailing her suspect (bestie’s seemingly perfect husband) and almost gets caught by him when my phone starts buzzing every couple of minutes. I don’t have to look at it to know it’s my mother, venting her frustration now she’s had a chance to stew and refuel with a few more vodkas.
I must be giving some weird vibes off, because after about ten minutes Luke pauses the film and turns to me. ‘Are yousureyou’re okay?’
I nod but undermine myself by blowing out a heavy breath.
‘Jess … ?’ There’s gentle warning in his tone.
I pick up my phone and pull up the unread message thread with my mother. Just a quick glance confirms it goes from apologizing to blaming to self-pity and back again. I pass my phone to Luke. ‘It’s Mum … We had a rather heated phone call while you were out getting the food. I hung up on her.’
‘That must have gone down well.’
‘What was I supposed to do? Say “thank you very much” for blaming me for what she did at our wedding last year?’
Luke’s eyebrows raise. ‘She did that?’
I nod.
‘Even so, it’s a bit harsh to hang up on her, isn’t it?’
Luke’s family would never put the phone down on each other. They’re all so nice and, well, normal. It makes it hard for him to understand the weird, dysfunctional dynamics I have with my parents. Sometimes I’m ranting about her, sometimes I’m defending her. And I don’t even know why I do it.
‘Maybe, but I’m so tired of it all. Just … over it. And when she said everything I did to make her feel special, to stop her acting out onourbig day, was the reason she went and made a spectacle of herself, I just lost it. After she promised she’d stop drinking again, too! I mean, she did for a bit, but we all know that didn’t last long. And she won’t take responsibility for anything. She’s toxic, Luke. She really is!’
He opens his mouth and I press a finger over his lips to stop him saying anything. I want to be able to feel how I’m feeling without any of his helpful ‘advice’ making me feel even more like crap. I expect him to try and talk anyway, but he just looks at me for a few seconds and then he kisses the tip of my finger.
I only have a vague memory of having a bust-up with Mum on this day, the first time I lived it, and it’s quite possible I just swept it all under the rug, as I’d been intending to do this evening, but the older me on the inside of this younger Jess just doesn’t have the capacity to do that anymore. So … So maybe I shouldn’t.
I let my finger fall from Luke’s lips and look him straight in the eyes. ‘I can’t keep going like this. I think it’s time to go no-contact with her.’
‘No-contact?’ Luke says, as if he can’t quite get his head around what I’m saying. ‘Like … just never see her or speak to her again?’
‘Not until she sorts her drinking out,’ I reply, and I feel quite liberated as the words leave my mouth. Why didn’t I do this earlier? Why didn’t I do this right after the wedding?
‘Wow.’ Luke rubs his forehead with his fingertips. ‘Are you sure this is a good idea?’
My jaw tenses and I reach for my glass of bubbles, take a sip and put it back down again.Actually, yes, I do, Luke. It took another year of Mum’s shenanigans first time around for me to cut her off completely, but why wait? I know exactly how this is going to go, and it’s not going to get any better. What’s the point in dragging it out?
I fold my arms, scowling slightly, and look at my husband. I thought he was supposed to back me up on stuff like this, not make me doubt myself. ‘Whywouldn’tI do this? Give me one good reason.’
‘Whoa … okay … ’
I know I sounded a bit snippy, but it’s his own fault. Sometimes, I wish he would just listen instead of jumping in and trying to fix everything. I stare back at him, waiting for him to give me his rationale as to why I shouldn’t prevent my toxic mother from hurting me more than she already has.
‘It’s just … ’ He dips his head and gives me a knowing look. ‘We know that your default response to conflict is to just run the other way.’
