Sorrow and Bliss(63)

‘Even so, even if you have –’ my father paused, trying to think of a kinder way to say don’t lie, you are never busy ‘– whatever the case, this is more important than anything else. It’s the most important thing. I’m surprised, if I’m quite honest.’

I had committed so many crimes as his daughter and never, once, had my father been angry with me. He was angry at me now, for a crime of someone else’s.

‘Well,’ I said, ‘if I’m quite honest –’ my father flinched at my tone ‘– I haven’t had time to talk to Patrick because I’ve been trying to process the fact that your wife had this information all along and decided just to keep it under her hat. I mean yes, my daughter has been unwell on and off for most of her life and can be a touch on the suicidal side, but why burden her as to the reason. I’m sure it will all come out in the wash.’ I could not tell if it was still shock at the way I was speaking on my father’s face, or incredulity, or upset because he knew it was true. He only said Martha, Martha as I shoved past him and left, shutting the door with too much force. That I had not told Patrick did not seem wrong, until then. It had not made me feel guilty. But I walked to the station, heavy with conviction, hating my mother for that as well.

*

As the Tube passed out of a tunnel to a section of overland track, my phone rang inside my bag. I answered it and Robert’s receptionist told me Doctor wished to speak to me if I would kindly hold.

I waited, listening to an unnerving section of Handel’s Messiah, until there was a click and then Robert saying hello Martha. He hoped he hadn’t caught me at a bad moment but he had realised this morning, reviewing my notes, that he’d failed to ask me one of the standard questions before giving a prescription – it was an oversight for which he was very sorry, although not a dangerous one in this instance.

The Tube was coming into the next station and I could only just hear him over the recorded announcement. I apologised and asked him if he could say it again.

He said of course. ‘You’re not pregnant or trying to be? I neglected to ask during our appointment.’

I said no.

Robert said marvellous and told me no change was required, as to the medication, he simply needed to check for his records, and now he could let me go.

Over the loud beeping of the doors, I said sorry. ‘Just quickly, would it matter if I was?’

He said beg your pardon.

A group of teenage boys were trying to get into the carriage too late. One forced the doors and held them open while the others ducked under his arms. I wasn’t conscious of getting up but heard him call me bitch as I pushed him out of the way so I could get off.

On the platform, I asked Robert again if it would matter if I was pregnant on this medication.

‘Not in the least, no.’

The Tube tore away and in the total silence that fell then, I heard him say, ‘Any medication in this category and certainly the versions you’ve been prescribed in the past are all perfectly safe.’

I asked him if he would mind waiting a moment while I found somewhere to sit down. Instead, I leaned over a rubbish bin and spat into it, holding my phone as far away as I could. Nothing came out even though a thick, vomitous feeling had appeared at the back of my mouth.

Robert asked me if something was wrong. There was a row of seats next to the bin. I went to sit down but missed the edge and dropped onto my tailbone. The platform was empty now. I stayed there on the dirty ground. ‘No. Sorry. I’m fine.’

He said good. ‘But should you find yourself becoming concerned later, I can assure you it’s perfectly safe, for mother and baby. Both pre-or postnatally. Thus, if this medication works and you decide to become pregnant, at a later point, you would not need to discontinue it.’

It was like a dream where you try to stand up but you can’t, you need to run away from something but your legs won’t move. I tried to answer him but there were no words. After a time, Robert asked me if I was still there.

I said I don’t want a baby. ‘I would be a bad mother.’

I do not remember how his reply began, only that it ended by him saying, ‘If that belief is connected to a sense that you’re perhaps unstable or might present some risk to a child, I would only say that —— does not disqualify you from having children. I have many patients who are mothers and do very well. I have no doubt you’d be a wonderful mother, if it’s something you wanted. Really —— is not a reason to forego motherhood.’

I told him I could not think of anything worse and laughed merrily as my hand went into a fist. I hit myself in the head. It didn’t hurt enough. I did it again. There was a spark of white behind my left eye.

Robert said indeed, indeed. ‘I am here, should you ever change your mind.’

Another train was coming. I watched its progress towards me. A minute later I was standing up in a crowded carriage, staring at nothing, letting myself be thrown back and forwards as it jolted over the tracks and tore through the total darkness of the tunnel.

*

There was an airport car parked in front of the Executive Home. Patrick was standing beside the open boot, trying to help the driver put his suitcase into it.

He saw me and let the driver take it, then jogged towards me looking unusually irritated. ‘I thought I wasn’t going to see you before I left. Did you see my calls?’