So, with another groan, he leaned against the shop window and pressed accept on his mother’s call, full of trepidation.
‘Hello, Mother,’ he said tiredly, closing his eyes and waiting for the onslaught.
‘Cohen? You answered? Well,khidesh, so you do get cell phone service over there.’
‘It’s nice to speak to you too, Mother.’
‘Hmm. So, I hear you’re coming home in four weeks. Just in time for Hanukkah. Lucky me.’ Her voice turned wry. ‘Lucky you.’
‘Yes, well, my work here is pretty much finished and until—’
But Esther had no time for Cohen’s work and with an exasperated sigh, she cut him off.
‘Do you know how it feels,’ she began, in a voice so thick with ice it cut deeper than the London winter, ‘do you know how it feels, to hear about my son’s holiday plans from hissecretary?’ Esther was clearly furious. ‘I called Michelle to find out if you’ll be home for Hanukkah this year – and don’t even get me started on the fact that I, Esther Bergdler, had to phone Roberts-Canning LLC of all places, those awful bastards, and not even for the first time – honestly, Cohen, I speak to Michelle more than I speak to you, oh, and by the way, she told me all about her daughter’s birthday cake, the one you baked and iced and—’
‘—Mother,’ Cohen warned.
Not that Esther listened.
‘—and then she drops the bombshell that you’re already booked back in the New York office by New Year, and that ...’
And so, it went on. Esther Bergdler was nothing if not thorough in her dressing down of her son, and Cohen was still clutching his phone ten minutes later, grinding his teeth, with the grim beginnings of a headache settling in across his temples.
‘... and of course,’ his mother was still talking.How could she still be talking? What more could she possibly have to say to him?‘Marilyn and I went to temple last week and all the other women were there with pictures of their grandchildren, and what do I have? A picture of you in Paris – and you cut off half the Eiffel Tower in the photo, which is the best bit, and honestly Cohen, who does that? – that I had to dig out of your work’s website. Now, I’m not saying I need grandchildren right now, but the distinct possibility that in the future it might happen ...’
Any minute now, Cohen decided, he was going to hang up. He was going to hang up, tie the phone to a heavy rock and sink it into the Thames. Let the fish hear Esther’s complaints about his neglect both to her and in his grandchildren siring duties.
‘... I mean, it’s been three years since Christine walked out. Three years! There are plenty of nice girls out there, Cohen. Plenty. You just need to stop being so insular and notice one of them. Maybe even try listening to one, once in a while. Take a girl out, talk to her. You never know what might happen.’
‘I know what will happen, I’ve dated enough women,’ Cohen muttered. ‘I take them out, they talk, they take all they can get and then they leave. It’s the same story every time.’
For a moment, Esther fell silent. ‘They don’t all leave. Christine—’
‘—she left too, in the end,’ Cohen interjected bitterly. ‘Took her a few years, but eventually, she went with the programme, just like all the others.’
His voice was blunt, but Esther remained unwilling to give up.
‘But with theright girl—’
‘—I’m done with this conversation, Mother.’
‘Well, I’m not, and—’
‘—I’m done,’ Cohen snapped, and he heard his mother inhale deeply over the phoneline.
‘You know,’ Esther said, and Cohen swore he could hear her nails tapping irritably against her tabletop. ‘Marilyn and I don’t even know why you tried therapy when you clearly have no interest in becoming a better person. I’m glad you went, because it brought Marilyn into my life, but honestly, I really don’t know why you bothered at all. You don’t seem at all interested in growing and learning as a person.’
I didn’t want to grow or learn, I just wanted someone to listen to me.Cohen seethed inwardly.Even if I had to pay over the odds for that to happen.
But, as always, he said nothing.
Esther was still ranting when he looked up, rubbing a hand across his forehead. He nearly jumped out of his skin for standing next to him, holding a bag to her chest and looking deeply concerned, was River.
The right girl,his mind immediately supplied, and he felt a flush spread across his cheeks.
‘I have to go,’ he sputtered down the phone, instantly hanging up on his mother, even though he knew such behaviour would earn him at least a month of vitriol on her part. A month of spiteful phone calls and short emails. A month of snippy messages and reminders thatshe won’t be around forever, you know.
It was worth it though. River was looking at him with those amazing eyes of hers, soft, warm and eager, while a happy smile played upon her lips. She was dressed in green gingham today, while her hair sat over one shoulder, white ribbons woven into her braid. Even in an apron she looked incredible, and it took all of Cohen’s willpower not to gape at her, his mouth hanging open, like some kind of bumbling idiot.
