Page 16 of To Hell With It

‘Of course, right, OK.’ Mairéad nodded. ‘So, you’re telling him you love him…’

‘Whispering,’ I corrected her. ‘I’ll be whispering I love him, he’ll be asleep, remember, and I won’t want to wake him up.’

‘Just to clarify you don’t actually love him?’ Mairéad asked.

‘No of course I don’t love him! It’s just what I say isn’t it. I do it to you, Una, my parents, have you not noticed?’

‘Yes.’ Mairéad smiled warmly.

‘It’s just an urge and I’ve got to say it before the penis comes. It’s not always consistent, I don’t do it to everyone, and it doesn’t make any sense.’

‘It’ll make sense somewhere we just don’t know where yet,’ Mairéad said. ‘But for now, let’s just concentrate on Jack and how you’ll cope because we don’t have much time. So you’re standing over him, he’s fast asleep, you’re whispering that you love him, then what?’

‘Then I say it over and over again because of the penis.’

‘Right, and let’s just say he stirs, do you stop?’

‘I freeze, wait until he settles and then start again.’

‘Why do you start again? You’ve already told him you love him.’

‘Because I’ve thought of a penis.’

‘And? What’s the penis going to do if you stop and walk out of the room at just oneI love you?’

‘I don’t know what the bloody penis is going to do, Mairéad, if I knew that it would all be much simpler. I’ve told you, it’s not this clean-cut thought that falls into place on explanation.’ I felt my heart speed up and whack against my chest and Mairéad must have felt it too (figuratively speaking).

‘Perhaps that’s best left for another session too,’ she soothed. ‘Let’s just concentrate on thewhat ifs. So he’s woken up, he’s staring right at you, you’ve said I love you a million times, kissed his head three times, and he’s heard and seen it all. Then what?’

‘Then I die of embarrassment.’

‘And?’

‘And I can’t explain myself – how could anyone explain that without sounding like a complete and utter weirdo?’

‘And?’

‘And he runs a mile because of said weirdo.’

‘Mmm, and?’

‘And that’s it.’ I snap.

‘No, it’s not, and then what?’

‘And then nothing.’

‘Exactly. And thennothing.’ Mairéad repeated.

‘What do you mean?’

Mairéad reached over and took my hands in hers. She must have felt me flinch. ‘I mean nothing horrendous will come of it, even if the worst thing he does is run away, which I’m sure he wouldn’t do. You might feel mortified, but that’s as far as it will go; you won’t die, you won’t go crazy, you won’t make something awful happen to someone else. He’ll either get up and walk out and think you’re totally crazy – which is fine, by the way – or he’ll stay, ask you what you’re doing and you’ll tell him.’

‘Tell him?’

‘Why not? It might help.’

‘I wouldn’t know where to start.’

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