I promised I would meet Edward at the coffee shop down the road after we’ve both finished our visits. I’m not sure how it’s happened really, but I’ve allowed myself to become friends with the crying man I found in the corridor at the beginning of the year. At first I’d just sit with him for a bit whenever I found him crying in the passage – which I did most times I visited. Eventually I suggested we grab a coffee, because I was tired and thirsty, so now that is what we do. Mostly Edward tells me about how much he misses his wife, Miriam. And I nod and tell him it’s perfectly normal not to feel better, and that he might never feel better. Which, ironically I guess, makes us both feel a bit better.
Edward even took me to meet Miriam once.
‘Miri,’ he said, ‘this is Helen, who I told you about.’
Then we both looked at Miriam for a while, and I said, ‘Nice to meet you, Miriam’, even though the poor woman is quite clearly completely brain dead. She’s on a ventilator and everything. Not like Mike. Edward says he can’t bring himself to authorise them to disconnect her. He says he knows she’s going to wake up one day and then everyone will know he did the right thing, not giving up hope.
I think about how I wish now that I had helped Mike when I could – because being stuck in a body that can’t move or speak must be the greatest hell on earth. But I don’t say anything to Edward because it’s different. Miriam can’t even breathe on her own, she’s not feeling or thinking anything in there, so if keeping her alive makes Edward feel better and he can afford the treatment, well, I say why the hell not. So I don’t tell him that I wish Mike could leave the prison that is his life. Instead, I pat Edward’s hand and say I understand. And I do.
And I like Edward. When he manages to come out from under his sorrow, I can see the kind, funny man he used to be. Sometimes we talk about what it would be like in a parallel universe, where Helen-and-Mike met Edward-and-Miriam, and they are all friends, and have dinner at each other’s houses and maybe even go on holiday together, never knowing the tragedy they have missed.
I really enjoy my time with Edward, even though he’s so sad and I’m so sad. It’s just a relief to be with someone who doesn’t think it’s weird that I haven’t moved on. Edward is incredulous that people tell him to move on. ‘To where?’ he asks me, and I shrug, because I’ve never known the answer to that question.
But I can’t sit with Edward all afternoon because I’m having supper with Ewan Marigold and his boyfriend, Okkie. I don’t know how it’s happened that I’ve become a person who has two social engagements – three if you count visiting Mike – in one day. It’s almost like I’m a person with a life.
I don’t know what I think about that.
Julia
I badly wanted the baby to be a boy, because then it would be something new for Daniel, not a rerun of Mackenzie. Something Daniel and I can do together for the first time. If I had a boy, I reasoned, I won’t be competing so directly with Claire.
Because, of course, halfway into this pregnancy I have lost to Claire on every level. Daniel’s favourite thing if I mention any pregnancy symptom is to raise his eyebrows and say, ‘Strange, that didn’t happen to Claire.’ Apparently Claire had no morning sickness, no swelling, no heartburn, no exhaustion, no skin problems, no cravings, and no food aversions. It would seem she simply sailed through pregnancy, working up until the last minute, looking immaculate. And, of course, because I know Claire, I can believe it.
Alice says it’s not Daniel who’s comparing me to Claire, but me comparing myself to her. Alice says that I’ve fixated on Claire as a symbol of everything perfect, and that this is understandable given my guilt about her. Alice also says she doesn’t think Daniel realises what he’s saying. She asked me to bring Daniel to a therapy session so we can talk to him together about it, and I thought that was a great idea. But when it came to the crunch, I couldn’t suggest that to Daniel because Claire would never have needed so much therapy and even if she did, she’d never drag him into it. Alice pointed out that if my theory is that Daniel needs me to need him, then asking him to help me should trigger his kindness. I can see the logic, but I still can’t ask him. When I mentioned therapy the other day, just in passing, he pulled the same face he pulls when he’s telling me what Claire never does, so I knew what he was thinking. I said, ‘Anyway, I’m stopping all that because now I have you, and that’s enough.’
He really liked that, and we ended up having sex on the kitchen floor, but now I have to lie about going to therapy.
So when the doctor said that the baby was a boy, and showed me and Daniel the baby’s little willy on the scan, I was really happy. Daniel looked bemused though.
‘God,’ he said. ‘I never really thought about a boy.’
And then I told my mother, and that was the usual mess. She’s been slightly more animated recently and I almost thought she was excited about the baby. She even sometimes phones me just to ask how I’m feeling, and she never used to. So I got it in my head that maybe she was excited to know the baby’s sex, although I guessed she wouldn’t have a preference. Well, when I told
