Page 20 of The Wish
‘I’m getting there. Good days and bad days, you know?’ She takes a deep breath. ‘Jesse, though, she’s amazing. I wish I had an ounce of her strength.’
It’s all she can do to stop herself from crying. She feels Lauren’s hand on her shoulder, another hand patting her back. She lets the tears come. These womenknow, they understand, in a deeper way than any of her well-meaning friends and colleagues who sympathise but can’t comprehend what she’s going through. These other mothers do, and she’s grateful to all of them.
Someone sits her down, another woman offers her a glass of water. Mandy feels held here, her feelings acknowledged and allowed to flow – no judgement, no blame. She senses Dean looking at her again, and this time she raises her eyes to his. He doesn’t seem angry any longer, just deeply sad. He holds her gaze but then, in a gesture of defeat, he turns back to the football game.
This is Dean all over, she thinks to herself. His fear of losing control, of uncertainty, of the prospect of loss. His blunt refusal of anything that might remind him of Jesse’s prognosis. His lack of acceptance, stuck forever in the anger part of the grieving process. She cannot fix him; she has given up trying.
‘I’m home!’ Mandy burst into their house. ‘And I have a surprise!’
It was an evening in July. Mandy was late. She had driven from the dealership, buzzing with the excitement of a new purchase. Her first car bought from new, not second-hand, the kind that she had been dreaming about for years: leather interior, heated seats, a state-of-the-art sound system. It handled like a dream. And it was, not a reward, exactly – she checked herself. Actually, yes, why not? It was a reward – for the promotion in April, to publishing director, her family had been too sad to celebrate. For her birthday in May that went unmarked – which was understandable, given everything that was going on at the time, with Jesse’s health and with Sam playing up at school – but it was her fortieth. Even though she told them the family dinner Dean, Jesse and Sam cooked for her was enough, the handmade cards from them all, including the one Dean had been bullied into making with his daughter and son, had touched her deeply. But then again, there was the last eighteen months of hell.
‘Good of you to drop by,’ said Dean, under his breath.
It was his turn to cook tonight, and he made his usual fare of pasta bolognese, heaped with veggies and so much cheese it could never be called healthy. But it was delicious – Mandy loved it when he cooked. Carbs galore. But just like everything he did these days, his dinners were loaded with resentment and anger. He acted sometimes like he was the only one affected by Jesse’s illness. They had been a great team, once upon a time, parenting together effortlessly (it seemed from this vantage point) through sleepless nights, the terrible twos and countless everyday challenges, but now his emotions, his fury, were taking up all the space, burning up all the oxygen in the room. It was tiring and unnecessary and she didn’t know how much longer she could cope with being his sparring partner.
Jesse and Sam were already sitting at the dining table, waiting to be served. Mandy jangled her keys. ‘Want to see my new ride?’
The kids gasped at each other with delighted, surprised looks on their faces. Sam jumped away from the table, tearing through the door and taking the steps down to the driveway two at a time. Jesse stood up more cautiously but no less enthusiastically, squeezing Mandy’s arm as she went by. She was growing stronger, Mandy felt, but it was slow. So much slower than Amy’s progress. She checked herself: she shouldn’t be comparing Jesse’s recovery with Amy’s. They were two different girls with different battles to face.
Dean barred her way to the outside, arms folded across his chest. ‘So when were you going to talk to me about this “new ride”,’ he demanded, the last words laced heavily with sarcasm.
Mandy sighed. ‘We did talk about it, Dean.’
‘And I thought we agreed that now wasn’t the right time.’
‘We didn’t agree anything,’ Mandy was careful to keep her voice to a low hiss. ‘Yours is not the only opinion that matters in this house. I needed a new car, and we can afford it. I don’t see what your problem is.’
‘A black car? You said you wanted a black car.’
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake. You’re being ridiculous.’
She pushed past him and walked down to the car. He was not going to spoil this for her, she wouldn’t let him. She felt his presence behind her, heavy and dark, but focused instead on her children: Sam, lolling across the bonnet of the car as if hugging it; Jesse, standing a little way off, laughing at her brother.
Mandy pasted a smile on her face. ‘Who wants a quick spin?’
Sam jumped up with his hand in the air. ‘Shotgun!’ he called.
Jesse dashed to the front passenger seat. ‘You’ll have to fight me for it!’
‘Dad?’ Sam called out. ‘Are you coming?’
Dean was scowling, the muscles in his jaw working furiously, staring daggers at her beautiful, expensive-looking, chic black car, the kind of car she always wanted. She was over feeling angry about his anger, which seemed so random to her, so aggressive and unreasonable. If anything, all she felt now was exhaustion. ‘Dinner will be cold,’ he said, turning back up the path, away from the car and his family.
Mandy hoped that the kids didn’t notice the tension at dinner. If anything, they were too hyper, laughing and giggling about the short drive along the bay road, Sam extolling the virtues of the sound system, the way the car took the curves, the comfort of the front seat his sister allowed him to have. Jesse talked about all the places she could drive her to – the cinema, the mall and athletics, once she was well enough to start back – which made Mandy laugh and say that she hadn’t realised her job title had changed to personal chauffeur. Dean sat silently at the table but separate from the family conversation, forking pasta into his mouth, while Mandy tried to keep the atmosphere light. But her children were quicker than usual to take their plates into the kitchen and clear the table. Sam seemed eager to go to bed straight away, while Jesse kissed her mum on the cheek before heading off to her room to do homework, leaving Mandy and Dean alone, together.
Dean scraped his chair back, getting up and heading to the kitchen. He started loading the dishwasher noisily, pointedly. Mandy followed him, standing in the doorway watching him clean up, dreading the conversation they were about to have. That they needed to have.
‘We need to talk, Dean,’ she said finally.
‘Oh, I thought my opinion didn’t matter,’ he shot back.
‘That’s not what I said, and you know it.’ Mandy took a deep breath. ‘You’re acting unreasonably about this. We weren’t talking about it, not properly, just going round in circles, there just didn’t seem to be any point in continuing. The dealership was running an offer, so I decided why the hell not. With my promotion, we can afford the repayments, and you never outright rejected a new car. I didn’t tell you before now because I was afraid of your reaction.’
‘Afraid of my reaction.’ His voice sounded calm. Flat.
‘Yes, to be completely honest.’
‘Well, perhaps we could have used all this new money you’ve got to fly out to Cyprus, see if we could have got a cure there.’
