Part 3-2
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Ill tell you what really got me, though. The only proof that Martin had ever had anything to do with dy was us turning up in her house. Us and his kids, anyway, but they would only be proof if you took them for a D and that. Anyway, what I mean is, as far as dy was ed, he might as well have never existed. Theyd all moved on. dy had a whole new life now. On the way down, Id been thinking about how Id moved on, but all Id done was gone orain ride and one bus journey without asking Maureen about sexual positions. After Id seen dy, that didnt seem like such a long journey. dy had got rid of Martin, moved a someone else. Her past was in the past, but our past, I dont know… Our past was still all over the place. We could see it every day when we woke up. It was like dy lived in a modern place like Tokyo and we lived in an old place like Rome or somewhere. Except it couldnt be exactly like that, because Rome is probably a cool place to live, what with the clothes and the ice cream and the lush boys and that - just as cool as Tokyo. And where we lived wasnt cool. So maybe it was more like, she lived in a moderhouse, and we lived in some old shithole that should have been pulled down years ago. We lived in a place where there were holes in the walls, and anyone could stick their head through them if they wao, and make faces at us. And Maureen and I had been trying to persuade dy to move out of her cool penthouse and move into our dump with us. It wasnt much of an offer, I could see that now.As we were leaving, dy was like, Id have more respect for him if he asked me himself. And I went, Ask you what? And she said, If I help him, I will. But I dont know what he wants help with.
And when she said that, I could see wed dohe afternoon all wrong, and there was a much better way.
JJThe only trouble was, the Ameri self-help guy didnt have the first fug idea of how to help himself. And to be ho with you, the more I thought about the y-day theory, the less I could see how it applied to me. As far as I could tell, I was fucked for a lot lohan y days. I was giving up being a musi for ever, man, and giving u<big></big>p music wasnt going to be like giving up cigarettes. It was going to get worse and worse, harder and harder, every day I went without. My first day w at Burger King wouldnt be so bad, because Id tell myself, you know… Actually, I dont know what the fuck Id tell myself, but Id think of something. But by the fifth day Id be miserable, and by the thirtieth year… Man. Dont try talking to me on my thirtieth anniversary of burger-flipping.
Ill be real grouchy that day. And Ill be sixty-one years old.
And then, when this stuff had gone around and around in my head for a while, Id kind of stand up, mentally speaking, and say, OK, fuck it, Im going to kill myself. And then Id remember the guy we saw do exactly that, and Id sit down again feeling truly terrible, worse than when Id stood up in the first place. Self-help was a crock of shit. I couldnt help myself to a free drink.
The ime we met up, Jess told us all that she and Maureen had goo see dy out in the tryside.
My ex-wife was called dy, said Martin. He was sipping a latte and reading the Telegraph, and not really listening to anything Jess had to say.
Yeah, thats a ce, said Jess.
Martin tio sip his coffee.
Der, said Jess.
Martin put the Telegraph down and looked at her.
What? It was your dy, you doughnut.
Martin looked at her.
Youve never met my dy. Ex-my dy. My ex.
Thats what were saying to you. Maureen and I went down wherever it was to talk to her.
Torley Heath, said Maureen.
Thats where she lives! said Martin, sdalized.
Jess sighed.
You went to see dy? Jess picked up his Telegraph, and started leafing through it, kind of a spoof on his previous lack of i. Martin snatched the paper away from her.
What the hell did you do that for? We thought it might help.
Hoent down to ask her whether shed take you back. But she wouldnt. Shes shacked up with this blind geezer. Shes well sorted. Isnt she, Maureen? Maureen had the good seo stare at her own shoes.
Martin stared at Jess.
Are you insane? he said. On whose authority did you do that? On whose authority? On my authority. Free try.
And what would you have done if shed burst into tears and said, you know, "Id love him to e back"? I would have helped you pack. And youd have fug well done what wed told you.
But… He made some spluttering noises, and then stopped. Jesus Christ.
Anyway, theres no ce of that. She thinks youre a right bastard.
If youd ever listeo anything Id ever said about my ex-wife, you could have saved yourself a trip. You thought shed take me back? You thought Id go back? Jess shrugged. It was worth a try.
You, said Martin. Maureen. Theres nothing on the floor. Look at me.
You went with her? It was her idea, said Jess.
So youre an even bigger fool than she is.
We all need help, said Maureen. We dont all know what we want.
Youve all helped me. I wao help you. And I thought that was the best way.
How would it work now when it didnt work before? Maureen didnt say anything, so I did.
So which of us wouldnt try to make something work now that didnt work before? Now that weve seen what the alternative is. A big fat fug nothing.
So what would you want back, JJ? Jess asked.
Everything, man. The band. Lizzie.
Thats stupid. The band was rubbish. Well, she said quickly when she saw my faot rubbish. But not… you know.
I nodded. I knew.
And Lizzie packed you in.
I khat, too. What I didnt say, because it souoo fug lame, was that if it were possible to rewind, Id rewind back to the last few weeks of the band, and the last few weeks of Lizzie, even though everything was fucked up. I was still playing music, I was still seeing her - there wasnt anything to plain about, right? OK, everything was dying.
But it wasnt dead.
I dont know why, but it was kind of liberating, saying what you really wanted, even if you couldnt have it. When Id ied that iy guy for Maureen, Id put limits on his superpowers because I thought we might see what kind of practical assistance Maureen needed. And as it turned out, she needed a vacation, and we could help, so iy turned out to be a guy worth knowing. But if theres 藏书网no superpower limit, then you get to find out all kinds of other shit, like, I dont know, the thing thats wrong with you in the first place. We all spend so much time not saying what we want, because we know we t have it. And because it sounds ungracious, rateful, or disloyal, or childish, or banal. Or because were so desperate to pretend that things are OK, really, that fessing to ourselves theyre not looks like a bad move. Go on, say what you want. Maybe not out loud, if its going to get you into trouble. I wish Id never married him. I wish she was still alive. I wish Id never had kids with her. I wish I had a whole shitload of money. I wish all the Albanians would go back to fug Albania. Whatever it is, say it to yourself. The truth will set you free. Either that or itll get you a pun the nose. Surviving in whatever life youre living means lying, and lying corrodes the soul, so take a break from the lies just for one minute.
I want my band back, I said. And my girl. I want my band bad my girl back.
Jess looked at me. You just said that.
I havent said it often enough. I want my band bad my girl back. I WANT MY BAND BAD MY GIRL BACK. What do you want, Martiood up. I want another cappuo, he said. Anyone else? Dont be such a pussy. What do you want? And what good will it do me if I tell you? I dont know. Say it, and well see what we see.
He shrugged and sat down.
You got three wishes, I said.
OK. I wish Id been able to make my marriage work.
Yeah, well that was never going to happen, said Jess. Because you couldnt keep your pri your trousers. Sorry, Maureen.
Martin ignored her.
And of course I wish Id never slept with that girl.
Yeah, well… said Jess.
Shut up, I said.
I dont know, said Martin. Maybe I just wish that I wasnt su arsehole.
There, now. That wasnt so hard, was it? I was joking, kind of, but no one laughed.
Why dont you just wish that youd slept with the girl and got away with it? said Jess. Thats what Id wish, if I were you. I think youre still lying. Youre wishing for stuff that makes you look good.
That wish wouldnt really solve the problem, though, would it? Id still be an arsehole. Id still get caught for something else.
Well, why not just wish that you never got caught for anything ever?
Why not wish that you… Whats that oh the cake? What are you talking about? Something about eating a cake? Having it aing it? Jess looked kind of doubtful. Are you sure thats it? How you eat a cake without having it in the first place? The idea, said Martin, is that you get it both ways. You eat the cake, but it somehow remains untouched. So "have" here means "keep".
Thats mental.
Indeed.
How could you do that? You t. Hehe expression.
And whats the point of the fug cake? If youre not going to eat it? Were kind of getting off the subject here, I said. The point is to wish for something that would make us happier. And I see why Martin wants to be, you know, a different person.
I wish Jen would e back, said Jess.
Yeah, well. I see that. What else? Nothing. Thats it.
Martin snorted. You dont wish you were less of an arsehole? If Jen came back, I wouldnt be.
Or less mad? Im not mad. Just, you know. fused.
There was a thoughtful silence. You could tell that not everyone around the table was vinced.
So youre just gonna waste two wishes? I said.
No. I use them up. Ummm… An everlasting supply of blow, maybe? And, I dunno… Oooh. I wouldnt mind being able to play the piano, I suppose.
Martin sighed. Jesus Christ. Thats the only problem youve got? You t play the piano? If I was less fused, Id have the time to play the piano.
We left it there.
How bout you, Maureen? I told you before. When you said iy could only arrahings.
Tell everyone else.
I wish they could find a way to help Matty.
You do better than that, t you? said Jess.
We winced.
How? No, well, see, I was w what youd say. Cos you could have wished that hed been born normal. And then you could have saved yourself all those years of clearing up shit.
Maureen was quiet for a minute.
Who would I be then? Eh? I dont know who Id be.
Youd still be Maureen, you stupid old trout.
Thats not what she means, I said. She means, like, we are whats happeo us. So if you take away whats happeo us, then, you know...
No, I dont fug know, said Jess.
If Jen hadnt happeo you, and, and all the other things… Like Chas and that? Exactly. Events of that magnitude. Well, who would you be? Id be someone different.
Exactly.
Thatd be fug excellent.
We stopped playing the wishing game then.
<strong>MARTIN</strong>
It was inteo be this enormous gesture, I think, a way of ing the whole thing up, as if the whole thing could or would ever be ed up. Thats the thing with the young these days, isnt it? They watany happy endings. Everything has to be ed up, with a smile and a tear and a wave. Everyone has learned, found love, seen the error of their ways, discovered the joys of monogamy, or fatherhood, or filial duty, or life itself. In my day, people got shot at the end of films, after learning only that life is hollow, dismal, brutish and short.
It was about two or three weeks after the I wish versation in Starbucks. Somehow Jess had mao keep her trap shut - an impressive achievement for someone whose usual versation teique is to describe everything as, or even before, it happens, using as many words as possible, like a radio sports entator. Looking ba it, it is true that she had occasionally given the game away - or would have done, if any of us had known there was a game.
Oernoon, when Maureen said that she had to get back to see Matty, Jess stifled a giggle and observed enigmatically that shed see him soon enough.
Maureen looked at her.
Ill be seeing him iy minutes if Im lucky with the bus, she said.
Yeah, but after that, said Jess.
Soon enough but after that? I said.
Yeah.
I see him most minutes of every day, said Maureen.
And we fot all about it, just as we fot all about so much that Jess said.
Perhaps a week later, she started to show a hitherto cealed i in Lizzie, JJs ex-girlfriend.
Where does Lizzie live? she asked JJ.
Kings Cross. And before you say anything, no, she isnt a hooker.
What is she, a hooker? Ha ha. Just messing around.
Yeah. Totally excellent jo..ke.
So where is there to live in Kings Cross, then? If youre not a hooker? JJ rolled his eyes. Im not telling you where she lives, Jess. You think Im some kinda sucker? I dont want to talk to her. Stupid old slapper.
Why is she a slapper, precisely? I asked her. As far as we are aware, she has slept with only one man in her entire life.
Whats that wain? The prie? Sorry, Maureen.
"Metaphorically", I said. When someone uses the phrase the prie, and you know immediately that this is a synonym for the word metaphorically, you are entitled to wonder whether you know the speaker too well. You are eveled to wonder whether you should know her at all.
Exactly. Shes a metaphorical slapper. She dumped JJ and probably went out with someone else.
Yeah, I dunno, said JJ. Im not sure that dumping me ns a person to eternal celibacy.
And thus we moved on, to a discussion about the appropriate punishment for our exes, whether death was too good for them and so on, and the Lizzie moment passed, like so many moments in those days, without us notig. But it was in there, if wed wao rootle around in the rubbish-strewn teenage bedroom of Jesss mind.
On the big day itself, I had lunch with Theo - although of course while I was having lunch with Theo, I had no idea that it was going to be a big day.
Having lunch with Theo was momentous enough. I hadnt spoken to him face-to-face since Id e out of prison.
He wao talk to me because hed had, he said, a substantial offer from a reputable publisher for an autobiography.
How much? Theyre not talking money yet.
May I ask, then, in what way it could be described as substantial? Well. You know. It has substance.
What does that mean? Its real, not imaginary.
And what does "real" mean, ierms? Really? Youre being very difficult, Martin. If you dont mind me saying so. Youre not my easiest t at the best of times, what with ohing and another. And Ive actually been w quite hard on this project.
I was momentarily distracted by the realization that there was straw underh my feet. We were eating in a restaurant called Farm, and everything we were eating came from a farm. Brilliant, eh? Meat! Potatoes! Green salad! What a cept! I suppose they he straw, without which their theme would have begun to look a little short on inspiration. I would like to report that the waitresses were all jolly and large and red-cheeked and wearing aprons, but of course they were surly, thin, pale and dressed in black.
But what did you have to do, Theo? If, as you say, someone phoned up and offered for my autobiography, in some kind of indescribably substantial way? Well. I phohem up and suggested they might want it.
Right. And they seemed ied? They phoned back.
With a substantial offer.
Theo smiled desdingly.
You dont really know much about the publishing world, do you? Not really. Only what youve told me over this lunch. Which is that people have been phoning up with substantial offers. Thats why were here, apparently.
We mustnt run before we walk.
Theo was beginning to annoy me.
OK. Agreed. Just tell me the walking part.
No, you see… Even the walking part is running. Its more, you know, tactical than that.
Asking you to tell me about walking is running? Softly softly catchee monkey.
Jesus Christ, Theo.
And that sort of rea isnt softly softly, if I may say so. Thats noisy noisy. Tetchy tetchy, even.
I never heard any more about the offer, and I have never been able to work out the point of the lunch.
Jess had called araordinary meeting for four oclock, in the vast and invariably empty basement of the Starbucks in U<tt>藏书网</tt>pper Street, one of those rooms with a lot of sofas and tables that would feel exactly like your living room, if your living room had no windows, and you only ever drank out of paper cups that you hrew away.
Why in the basement? I asked her when she phoned me.
Because Ive got private things to talk about.
What sort of private things? Sexual things.
Oh, God. The others are going to be there, arent they? You think Ive got private sexual things I only want to tell you? I was hoping not.
Yeah, like I have fantasies about you all the time.
Ill see you later, OK? I got a number bus from the West End to Upper Street, because the money had finally run out. Wed got through the bits and pieoney wed picked up from chat-shoearances and junior ministers, and I had no job. So even though Jess once explaihat cabs are the cheapest form of transport, because they will take you wherever you want to go for free, and its not until you get there that money is needed, I decided that inflig my poverty on a cabbie was not such a good idea. In any case, the cabbie and I would almost certainly spend the jouralking about the unfairness of my incarceration, perfectly normal thing to want to do, her fault foing out looking like that and so on. I have preferred minicab drivers for some time now, because they are as ignorant of Londons inhabitants as they are of its geography. I gwi the bus, once by someone who wao read me a relevant and apparently redemptive passage in the Bible.
As I approached Starbucks, a youngish couple walked in just ahead of me, and immediately went downstairs. Initially I leased, of course, because it meant that Jesss sexual revelations would have to be ducted sotto voce, if at all; but then as I was queuing for my chai tea latte, I realized that this meant no such thing, given Jesss immunity to embarrassment; and my stomach started to do what it has done ever siurned forty. It doesnt , thats for sure. Old stomachs dont . Its more as if one side of the stomach wall is a tongue, and the other side a battery. And at moments of tensiowo sides touch, with disastrous sequences.
The first person I saw at the bottom of the stairs was Matty, in his wheelchair. He was flanked by two burly male nurses, who I presumed must have carried him down, one of whom was talking to Maureen. And as I was trying to work out what had brought Matty to Starbucks, two small blonde girls came belting towards me shouting Daddy! Daddy!, and even then I did not instantaneously realize that they were my daughters. I picked them up, held them, tried not to weep and looked around the room. Penny was there, smiling at me, and dy was at a table in the far er, not smiling at me. JJ had his arms around the couple whod walked in ahead of me, and Jess was standing with her father and a woman whom I presumed to be her mother - she was unmistakably the wife of a Labour junior minister. She was tall, expensively dressed and disfigured by a hideous smile that clearly bore ion to anything she might be feeling, a real ele night of a smile. Round her wrist there was one of those bits of red string that Madonna wears, so despite all appearao the trary, she was obviously a deeply spiritual woman. Given Jesss flair for the melodramatic, I wouldnt have been altogether surprised to see her sister, but I checked carefully, and she wasnt there. Jess was wearing a skirt and a jacket, and for once you had to get up quite close to bee scared by her eye make-up.
I put the girls down ahem over to their mother. I waved to Penny on the way, though, just so that she wouldnt feel left out.
Hello. I leaned down to kiss dy on the cheek, and she moved smartly out of the way.
What brings you here, then? I said.
The mad girl there seemed to think it might help in some way.
Oh. Did she explain how? dy snorted. I got the feeling that she was going to snort whatever I said, that sn was going to be her preferred method of unication, so I k down to talk to the children.
Jess clapped her hands together and stepped into the tre of the room.
I read about this oer, she said. Its called an intervention.
They do it all the time in America.
All the time, JJ shouted. Its all we do.
See, if someone is fucked… messed up s or drink or whatever, then the like friends and family, and whatever, all gather together and front him and go, you know, Fug pack it in. Sorry Maureen. Sorry Mum and Dad, sorry little girls. This ones sort of different. In America, they have a skilled… Oh shit, Ive fotten the name. On the website I was on he was called Steve.
She fumbled in the pocket of her jacket and pulled out a piece of paper.
A facilitator. Youre supposed to have a ski<u>.</u>lled facilitator, and we havent got one. I didnt know who to ask, really. I dont know ah skills. Also, this intervention is sort of the other way round. Because were asking you to interves us ing to you, rather than you ing to us. Were saying to you, we need your help.
The two nurses whod e with Matty started to look a little unfortable at this point, and Jess noticed.
Not you guys, she said. You dont have to do anything. To tell you the truth, youre only really here to bump up Maureens numbers, cos, well, I mean, she hasnt really got anybody, has she? And I thought you two and Matty would be better than nobody, see? It would have been a bit grim for you, Maureen, seeing all these reunions and standing there on your own.
You had to hand it to Jess. Once she got a theme betweeeeth, she was unwilling to let it go. Maureen attempted a grateful smile.
Anyway. Just sos you know whos who. In the JJ er we have his ex, Lizzie, and his mate Ed, who used to be in his crappy band with him.
Eds flown over from America special. Ive got my mum and dad, and its not often youll catch them in the same room together, ha ha. Martins got his ex-wife, his daughters, and his ex-girlfriend. Or maybe not ex, who knows? By the end of this he might have his wife bad his girlfriend back.
Everyone laughed, looked at dy, and then stopped laughing when they realized that laughing would have sequences.
And Maureens got her son Matty there, and the two guys from the care home. So heres my idea. We spend some time talking to our people, have a little catch-up. And then we s round, and go and talk to some other persons people. So its a cross between the Ameri thing and a school parents evening, cos the friends and family sort of sit in a er, waiting for people to visit them.
Why? I said. What for? I dont know. Whatever. Just for a laugh. And well learn things, wont we? About each other? And about ourselves? There she went again, with her happy endings. It was true that I had learhings about the others, but I had learned absolutely nothing that wasnt factual. So I could tell Ed the name of the band that he used to play in, and I could tell the Cris the name of their missing daughter; it seemed to me uhat they would find this in any way useful or even f, however.
And anyway, what does or one ever learn, apart from times tables, and the name of the Spanish prime minister? I hope that Ive learned not to sleep with fifteen-year-olds, but I learhat a long time ago - decades before I actually slept with a fifteen-year-old. The problem there was simply that she told me she was sixteen. So, have I learned not to sleep with sixteen-year-olds, or attractive young women? No. A just about everyone Ive ever interviewed has told me that by doing something or other - rec from cer, climbing a mountain, playing the part of a serial killer in a movie - they have learned something about themselves.
And I always nod and smile thoughtfully, when really I want to pin them down. What did you learn from the cer, actually? That you dont like being sick? That you dont want to die? That wigs make your scalp itch?
e on, be specific I suspect its something they tell themselves in order to turn the experieo something that might appear valuable, rather than a plete and utter waste of time.
In the last few months, I have been to prison, lost every last molecule of self-respect, bee estranged from my children and thought very seriously about killing myself. I mean, that little lot has got to be the psychological equivalent of cer, right? And its certainly a bigger deal than ag in a bloody film. So how e Ive learned absolutely bugger all? What was I supposed to learn? True, I have discovered that I was quite attached to my self-esteem, a its passing. Also, Ive found out that prison and poverty arent really me. But, you know, I could have had a wild stab in the dark about both of those things beforehand. Call me literal-minded, but I suspect people might learn more about themselves if they did cer. Theyd have more time, and a lot more energy.
So, Jess went on. Whos going to go where? At that moment, several French teenage punks appeared in our midst, carrying coffee mugs. They headed for ay table o Mattys wheelchair.
Oi, said Jess. Where do you think yoing? Upstairs, all of you.
They stared at her.
e on, we havent got all day. Hup hup hup. Sell. Plus vitement.
She shooed them towards the stairs, and away they went, unplainingly; Jess was just another inprehensible and aggressive native of an inprehensible and aggressive try. I sat down at my ex-wifes table, and waved towards Penny again. It was a sort of all-purpose crowded-party gesture, some kind of cross between Im just getting a drink and Ill give you a ring, with maybe a little bit of we have the bill, please? thrown in. Penny nodded, as if she uood. And then, equally inappropriately, I rubbed my hands together, as if I were relishing the prospect of all the delicious and nutritious self-knowledge I was about to tuto.
MAUREEN I didnt think there was going to be very mue to say. I mean, there wasnt really anything I could say to Matty. But I didnt think Id find anything to say to the two lads from the respite home, either. I asked them if they wanted a cup of tea, but they didnt; and then I asked whether it had been hard getting Matty dowairs, and they said it wasnt, with the two of them there. And I said I couldnt have got him down there if there were ten of me, and they laughed, and theood there looking at each other. And then the short ohe one who came from Australia and was shaped like the toy robot that Matty used to have, with a square head and a square body, asked what the little gathering was all about. It hadnt occurred to me that they wouldnt know.
Ive been trying to work it out, but Im clueless.
Yes, I said. Well. It must be very fusing.
So e on, then. Put us out of our misery. Steve here res youve all got moroubles.
Some of us have. I havent.
Ive never had to worry about money, really. I get my carers allowance, and I live in my mothers house, and she left me a little bit anyway. And if you never go anywhere or do anything, life is cheap.
But youve got troubles, said the square one.
Yes, weve got troubles, I said. But theyre all different troubles.
Yeah, well I know hes got troubles, said the other oephen. The guy off of the TV.
Yes, hes got troubles, I said.
So how do you know him? I t imagine you go to the same nightclubs.
And I ended up telling them everything. I dido. It just sort of came out. And once Id started, it dido matter much what Id told them. And then, when I got to the end of the story, I realized I shouldnt have said anything, even though they were nice about it, and said how sorry they were, and that kind of thing.
You wohem back at the tre, will you? I said.
Why would we tell them? Because if they found out that Id been planning to leave Matty with them for ever, they might refuse to take him again. They might think that whenever I called for you to take him, I was thinking of jumping off a roof somewhere.
So we made a deal. They gave me the name of another tre in the area, a private ohat they said was han theirs, and I promised that if I was going to do away with myself, Id call that one.
Its not that we dont want to know, said the square one, Sean. And its not that we dont want our tre to be stuck with Matty. Its just that we dont want to feel that every time you call us up, youre in trouble.
I dont know why, but this made me feel happy. Two men I didnt really know had told me not to call them if I was feeling suicidal, and I felt like hugging them. I didnt eople feeling sorry for me, you see. I wahem to help, even if helpi saying that they wouldnt help, if that doesnt sound too Irish. And the funny thing was that this was what Jess was after when she arrahe get-together. And she didnt expect me to get anywhere, and shed only asked the two young fellas along because Matty couldnt have got here without them, and in five miheyd made me feel better about something.
Stephen and Sean and I watched the others for a few moments, to see how they were getting on. JJ was doing the best, because he and his friends hadnt really started fighti. Martin and his ex-wife were watg in silence as their daughters dreicture, and Jess and her parents were shouting. Which might have been a good sign, if they were shouting about the right things, but every now and again you could hear Jess yelling the loudest about something or other, and it never seemed to be anything that would help. For example, I ouched any stupid bloody earrings.
Everyone in the room heard that, and Martin and JJ and I looked at each other. None of us khe situation with these earrings, so we didnt want to judge, but it was hard to imagihat earrings were the root of Jesss problem.
I felt sorry for Penny, who was still sitting on her own, so I asked her if she wao e to my er.
Im sure youve got plenty to talk about over there, she said.
No, I said. Were done, really.
Well, youve got the best-looking chap in the place, she said. She was talking about Stephen, the tall nurse, and when I looked at him from the other side of the room, I could see what she meant. He was blond, with long, thick hair and bright blue eyes, and he had a smile that warmed the room. It was sad that I hadnt noticed, but I dont really think about things like that any more.
So e on over and talk to him. Hed be pleased to meet you, I said. I didnt know for sure that he would be, but if youve got nothing to do but stand beside a boy in a wheelchair, then Id have thought youd be happy enough to meet a pretty woman ears oelevision. And I t take much credit for it, because I didnt really do anything, apart from say what I said; but it was funny that so much happened because Penny walked across a coffee-bar to talk to Stephen.
<strong>JESS</strong>
Everyone seemed to be having an OK time except for me. I had a shit time. And that wasnt fair, because Id spent ages anizing that intervention parents evening thing. Id gone oer and got hold of the email address of the bloke who used to manage JJs band. And he gave me Eds phone number, and I stayed up until like three in the m so I could ring him whe home from work. And when I told him how messed up JJ was, he said hed e over, and then he phoned Lizzie and told her, and she for it too. And there was all sorts with dy and her kids, and it was like a fug full-time job for a week, and what did I get out of it? Fuck all. Why did I think that talking to my fug father and my fug mother would be any fug use at all? I talk to them every fug day, and nothing ever ges. So what did I think would make a difference? Having Matty and Penny and all them around? Being in Starbucks? I suppose Id hoped that they might listen, especially when Id annouhat wed all got together because we heir help; but when Mum brought up that thing about the earrings, I knew I might as well have dragged someone in off of the street and asked them to adopt me or whatever.
Were never going tet about the earrings. Well be talking about them on her deathbed. Theyre almost like her way of swearing. When Im angry with her, I say fuck a lot, and when shes angry with me she says earrings a lot. They werent her earrings anyway; they were Jens, and like I told her, I ouched them. She has this thing that all through those horrible first few weeks, when all we did was sit by the phone and wait for the police to tell us theyd found her body, the earrings were on Jens bedside table. Mum res she went and sat on the bed every night, and that she has like this photographic memory of the things she saw every night, and she still see the earrings now, o ay coffee cup and some paperback or other. And then, whearted to sort of drift back to work and school and a normal life, or as close to a normal life as weve ever had sihe earrings disappeared. So of course I must have taken them, because Im always thieving. And I am, I admit it. But what I thieve mostly is money, off of them. Those earrings were Jens, not theirs, and anyway she bought them at Camden Market for like five quid.
I dont know this for sure, and Im not being all self-pitiful or whatever.
But parents must have favourite kids, right? How could they not? How could like Mr and Mrs Mi prefer Kylie to the other one? Jen hieved off of them; she read books all the time, did well at school, talked to Dad about shuffling and all those political things, never puked on the floor in front of the Treasure Minister or whatever. Take the puking, just for insta was a bad falafel, right? Id bunked off of school, and wed had maybe two spliffs and a couple of Breezers, so it wasnt what youd call a mental afternoon. I really hadnt been giving it large. And then I ate this falafel just before I went home. Well, I could feel the falafel ing up again as I was turning the key in the front door, so I khat was what had made me sick. And I had no ce of getting to the toilet, right? And Dad was i with the Treasure bloke, and I tried to make the sink, and I didnt. Falafel and Breezers everywhere. Would I have thrown up without the falafel? No. Did he believe it was anything to do with the falafel? No. Would they have believed Jen? Yes, just because she didnt drink or smoke blow. I dont know. This is what happens - falafels and earrings. Everyone knows how to talk, and no one knows what to say.
After wed gone over the earring thing again, my mum goes, What do you want? So I was like, Dont you listen to anything, and she went, Which bit was I supposed to be listening to? And I was like, In my speech or whatever I said we needed your help, and she goes, Well, what does that mean? What are we supposed to do that we dont do?
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