Conversations with Friends(70)

When I looked up I saw that Nick was watching me. We looked at one another for a few seconds and it felt so serious that I tried to smile at him. Yeah, I said. I love this baby. This is a great infant, ten out of ten. Jim replied: oh, Rachel is Nick’s favourite member of the family. He likes her more than we do. Nick smiled at that, and he reached over and touched the baby’s hand, which was waving around in the air like she was trying to balance herself. She held onto the joint of Nick’s thumb then. Oh, I’m going to weep, I said. She’s perfect.

Laura came back and said she would take the kid off my hands. She’s heavy, isn’t she? she said. I nodded dumbly and then said: she’s so lovely. Without the baby my arms felt thin and empty. She’s a little charmer, Laura said. Aren’t you? And she touched the baby’s nose lovingly. Wait until you have your own, she said. I just stared at her and blinked and said something like yeah or hm. They had to leave then, they went to say goodbye to Melissa.

When they were gone Nick touched my back and I told him how much I liked his niece. She’s beautiful, I said. Beautiful is a stupid thing to say, but you know what I mean. Nick said he didn’t think it was stupid. He was drunk, but I could tell he was trying to be nice to me. I said something like: actually I don’t feel very well. He asked if I was okay and I didn’t look at him. I said: you don’t mind if I head off, do you? There are so many people here anyway, I don’t want to monopolise you. He tried to look at me but I couldn’t look back at him. He asked me what was wrong and I said: I’ll talk to you tomorrow.

He didn’t follow me out of the front door. I was shivering and my lower lip had started to tremble. I paid for a taxi back into town.

*



Late that night I got a call from my father. I woke up to the noise of the ringtone and knocked my wrist on the bedside cabinet trying to pick up the phone. Hello? I said. It was after three in the morning. I nursed my arm against my chest and squinted into the darkness, waiting for him to speak. The noise in the background of the call sounded like weather, like wind or rain.

Is that you, Frances? he said.

I’ve been trying to get in touch with you.

I know, I know. Listen.

He sighed then, into the phone. I didn’t say anything, but neither did he. When he next spoke, he sounded immensely tired.

I’m sorry, love, he said.

Sorry for what?

You know, you know. You know yourself. I am sorry.

I don’t know what you’re talking about, I said.

Although I had spent weeks calling him about my allowance, I knew that I wouldn’t mention it now and that I might even deny the money was missing if he brought it up.

Listen, he said. It’s just been a bad year. It’s gotten out of hand.

What has?

He sighed again. I said: Dad?

Sure, you’d be better off without me at this stage, he said. Wouldn’t you?

Of course not. Don’t say that. What are you talking about?

Ah. Nothing. Only nonsense.

I was shivering. I tried to think about things that made me feel safe and normal. Material possessions: the white blouse drying on a hanger in the bathroom, the alphabetised novels on my bookshelf, the set of green china cups.

Dad? I said.

You’re a great woman, Frances. You’ve never given us a bit of bother.

Are you okay?

Your mother tells me you have a boyfriend up there now, he said. Nice-looking fellow, I’ve heard.

Dad, where are you? Are you outside somewhere?

He was quiet for a few seconds, and then he sighed again, almost like a groan this time, like he was suffering from some physical ailment he couldn’t speak of or describe.

Listen, he said. I’m sorry, all right? I’m sorry.

Dad, wait.

He hung up. I closed my eyes and felt all the furniture in my room begin to disappear, like a backwards game of Tetris, lifting up toward the top of the screen and then vanishing, and the next thing that would vanish would be me. I dialled his number again and again, knowing he wouldn’t answer. Eventually it stopped ringing, maybe his battery had run flat. I lay there in the dark until it was bright.

*



The next day Nick called me on the phone when I was still in bed. I’d fallen asleep at around ten in the morning and it was past noon by then. The window blinds were casting an ugly grey shadow on the ceiling. When I answered, he asked if he’d woken me up and I said: it’s okay. I didn’t sleep well. He asked if he could come over. I reached a hand to pull the blinds open and said all right, sure.

I waited in bed while he got in the car. I didn’t even get up to shower. I put on a black T-shirt to buzz him into the building and he came through looking very freshly shaven and smelling like cigarettes. I gripped my throat when I saw him and said something like, oh, it didn’t take you long to get into town. We went into my room together and he said yeah, the roads were pretty clear.

For a few seconds we stood there looking at each other and then he kissed me, on the mouth. He said: is this okay? I nodded and murmured something stupid. He said: sorry again about last night. I’ve been thinking about you a lot. I’ve missed you. It sounded like he’d prepared these statements in advance so that I couldn’t later accuse him of not saying them. My throat hurt like I was going to cry. I felt him touch me underneath my T-shirt and then I did start crying, which was confusing. He said: oh no, what’s wrong? Hey. And I shrugged and made weird meaningless hand gestures. I was crying very hard. He just stood there looking awkward. He was wearing a pale blue shirt that day, a button-down shirt, with white buttons.