But I didn’t know how to explain to you that your father was an addict, that he refused to accept he had a problem. That he would rather I turned a blind eye, or allowed myself to do as he did; that he found it uncomfortable that I stayed sober. ‘I don’t know.’ Leaning down, I kissed your cheek. ‘Time to sleep, Lex. Night night.’
Getting up, I pushed the door almost closed then went along to Ollie’s room. Under his duvet, he didn’t move. ‘You OK, Ollie?’ I whispered.
For a moment, there was silence. Then, ‘Night, Mum.’
Going downstairs again, I switched the kettle on and made a mug of tea. Taking it through to the sitting room, I sank into the sofa. I took in Ryan’s empty glass, still where he’d left it, as I wondered when my life had become a balancing act, juggling the needs of my children versus Ryan’s needs. Needs that no longer seemed compatible.
My entire life seemed dominated by how much Ryan drank, his attempts to gloss over it only adding to my concerns, while I worried more and more about the effect of his behaviour on our children. I tried to see him through Ollie’s eyes, then through yours – how you never knew whether to expect drunk Daddy, hungover Daddy, funny Daddy. Then I thought about leaving him. Would that be better, for all of us? Briefly I allowed myself to imagine a very different life – without Ryan. But then I dismissed the thought. Relationships have seasons. It isn’t realistic to expect them to stay the same; there are times you have to work at them, others when it’s easier. We’d been happy before. There was no reason to think we couldn’t be happy again – if we could just ride this out. And it was better, wasn’t it? For children to have two parents?
Sitting back, I sighed. The house was quiet, but I was tense, on edge. Rather than savouring the peace, it felt like I was waiting for a storm to break.
6
NOW
Dear Lexie,
Funny, isn’t it, I often find myself thinking, how you were born an adventurous soul to parents who are anything but! You used to tease me about living and working in the same place most of my life! I’ve always said that this part of the world is my home; unlike for you, it’s always been enough for me. But who knows – maybe one day I’ll step out of my comfort zone and surprise you! After all, none of us stays the same. Things happen in our lives; they change us.
But for now, I want to think about your dad again. I can imagine you rolling your eyes.
Again, Mum? I know what he’s like. I lived with him most of my life.
The thing is, I don’t think I’ve told you about the Ryan I fell in love with – or if I have, not enough.
Does it matter? I imagine you asking. We can’t change the past.
But yes. I think it does. Or at the very least it will help make sense of things that happened to us.
And you probably mostly remember drunk Dad. I think we’re hardwired to focus on the negative in life. But there was so much that was good about him. The irrepressible, hilarious friend who played to the crowd; who had an answer for everything. The romantic who swept me off my feet – yes, that actually happened. The sought-after engineering skills that made him think outside the box. A contrast to this man who has increasingly withdrawn from life.
For a long time, I didn’t notice things change. I mean, when life’s busy with young kids, work and running a home, there’s simply never enough time to stop and actually take stock. But now, when I look back, I realise I increasingly felt responsible for him. In a sense, I was looking after all of us. I’d yet to realise there wasn’t anything I could do to help him.
At the time, though, I didn’t see any of that. But since you went away, my perspective has begun a major shift.
‘It’s like something’s changing – in my brain,’ I tell Lucy when I get to work one morning. ‘For years, I’ve shouldered this worry about Ryan – almost like he’s another child. I mean, I still take him meals… It’s mad, isn’t it? We don’t even live together.’ I gaze at my friend. ‘I don’t think I can do it any more.’
‘You’re right. It’s completely mad.’ She pauses. ‘There’s no way I would. It’s just that you’re too nice to give up on him.’
‘Am I?’ I’m not sure it’s anything to do with being nice. ‘It’s more like I still feel guilty for leaving him. He’s the father of my children. We were a family – until I left him.’
That feeling’s hung over me for far too long! You can imagine, Lucy has plenty to say about that. It’s a hallelujah moment for both us when guilt starts to shift too!
‘Edie. You have to ditch this guilt,’ Lucy said this to me more than once. ‘Once and for all. There are many reasons you had to leave. Imagine what it would have done to your kids if you hadn’t.’
‘I know.’ But today is different; it’s as though a light has been switched on, memories coming back of just how bad it was. ‘It was just this big thing about marriage being for life.’
‘Mine wasn’t,’ she says quickly.
‘I know. And I’ve no idea why it weighed on me so much. Lexie worked it out before I did – about marriage being a piece of paper that exerted far too much power over our lives.’
‘She said that?’ Lucy looks impressed. ‘Smart girl, Lexie.’
As she says that, something else falls into place. ‘Ridiculous, isn’t it?’ I say, blinking at her as suddenly it’s crystal clear. ‘Blaming myself for something I have absolutely no control over!’
‘At last!’ Lucy punches the air. ‘Oh, Edie. You’ve no idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say that.’ A look of relief crosses her face. ‘What does this mean?’ she says quietly. ‘To you?’
‘I’m not sure,’ I say cautiously. ‘But it feels like a weight lifting.’
