The Mother-in-Law(61)
“Diana wasn’t a ‘lifeline,’” he says, “she was a life-sucker.”
Ollie looks startled. Like most people, he’d been so caught up in his lovely tribute he hadn’t seen it coming. I, too, am startled. The crowd shifts to look at Patrick. I start toward him, but the room is full and it is like walking through sludge.
“If we’re honest, we’ll admit that no one is upset that she’s dead, we’ve just come for the free food and booze. And why not?” Patrick spots me charging toward him through the crowd. “Save yourself the trouble, Lucy, I’m done.” He raises his glass. “To Diana. May she rot quickly.”
He tips his glass to his mouth and swallows the drink in one mouthful. I glance around for Nettie and find her standing in the corner of the room. A single tear runs down her cheek.
38: LUCY
THE PAST . . .
I snap a photo of Harriet, asleep in her hospital cot. The morning light dapples on her and I feel hyperaware of the preciousness of it. If things had gone differently a few days ago, she may not be here, and I don’t take this second chance for granted.
“How is our little angel?” Ingrid asks from the doorway.
Ingrid has been the primary nurse tending to Harriet. A grandmother, she’d proudly told me a few days ago, to a little boy named Felix who is about Harriet’s age. It is, perhaps, the reason she’d gone above and beyond for us—even picking me up a latte from her local coffee store on the way in after hearing me tell Ollie I couldn’t stand the hospital coffee. Then again, Ingrid seems the type to go above and beyond with everyone.
I put my phone down on the side. “She’s fine. Sleeping.”
“Do you want me to get a photo of the two of you?”
I think about that for a second. “Actually, I would love that.”
I scootch up beside my sleeping daughter and place my head next to hers while Ingrid snaps a picture. The picture is filled with chins and you can see right up my nose and I will cherish it forever.
“Your mother-in-law phoned a moment ago,” Ingrid says lightly.
Diana has phoned every day, twice a day. When I didn’t answer my cell she started calling the hospital and checking in with the nurses’ station. She knows Harriet is going to be okay, I made Ollie text her as soon as we knew. I’m still angry with her, but no one deserves to worry about a child for a second longer than they have to.
I feel Ingrid’s eyes on me and I sigh. Ingrid knows, of course, what I did to Diana—everyone in the entire hospital knows about the assault. That’s what the nurse who had discovered us had called it. An assault. It actually is probably an accurate description of it, though Diana had been quick to refute it, insisting, even after she was taken to emergency on a stretcher, that it was all a private family matter. I had to hand it to her, Diana Goodwin would go to any lengths to avoid making a scene.
“You’re a bit of a hero around here, you know,” Ingrid says, opening Harriet’s chart. “Everyone’s wanted to give their mother-in-law a head injury at least once in their life.”
“Even you, Ingrid?”
“Especially me! And my daughter-in-law wants to give me one occasionally, I’m sure of it.”
“I doubt that,” I say. “If I had a mother-in-law like you, Ingrid, I’d be over the moon.”
“Ah, you think that now.” She smiles. “But I’d get on your nerves after a while. Everyone, given enough time, will get on your nerves if they join your family.”
“Why is it that mothers-in-law and daughters-in-law always seem to have issues, and never sons-in-law and fathers-in-law?”
Ingrid scribbles something on the chart. “Sons-in-law and fathers-in-law don’t care enough to have issues.”
“So we have issues because we care?” I ask.
“We have issues because care too much.” Ingrid glances at her watch, then makes another note on her chart. Then she replaces the chart on the end of Harriet’s cot. She’s in the doorway, about to leave, when she pauses.
“Your mother-in-law has been calling a lot, you know.”
“She loves her granddaughter,” I say. “I’ll give her that.”
“Perhaps,” Ingrid says. “But you should know that each time I’ve answered the to her the first person she’s asked about is you.”
When Ollie arrives at the hospital half an hour later, I tell him I have to go. He doesn’t ask where, and I’m sure he assumes I want to go home and shower, or change my clothes or get something for Harriet—we have been tag teaming in this way for a week. I let him assume that.
As I drive, I am thinking about what Ingrid said. We care too much. I wonder if it’s true. If I didn’t care, I could go on with my own life, accepting the mother-in-law I have. Like Patrick has. He doesn’t like Diana particularly but unless she had done something to irritate him in that particular moment, he is positively undisturbed by this dislike. He doesn’t pretend to get along with her, or get upset about it. It doesn’t seem to affect him at all. And so, I’m going to forgive Diana. Not because I like her or because I think what she did was forgivable. I’m going to forgive her to release myself. I’m going to give up caring so much.
I pull up in front of Tom and Diana’s house, behind Tom’s car which is parked in the front—unusual, for a work day. I ring the bell, but no one comes. After a while, I press it again.